Aanya limps into the room, trying her best to act like she didn't just wipe out in the hallway like a complete disaster. Her pride throbs more than her ankle does, but she pushes the embarrassment aside, focusing only on the figure lying under a thin blanket on one of the nursing room beds.
[Soft creak of the door opening]
Her eyes immediately find the patient. Someone's lying there-face turned away from her, hair slightly messy against the pillow. The way the blanket rises and falls with shallow breaths makes her chest tighten.
It has to be him.
The school nurse, who's adjusting the patient's arm under the covers, glances up at her with mild curiosity. Like this sort of frantic entrance happens all the time.
"He's running a bad fever," the nurse says casually, straightening up. "Should rest here for a while."
Aanya's stomach drops like a stone.
She takes a hesitant step forward, heart hammering against her ribs. She can barely hear anything over the rush of blood in her ears.
He looks so still. So quiet.
Is he okay? Is he breathing properly?
Why didn't he tell me he was this sick?
[Soft ticking of a wall clock]
Her emotions whirl around like a storm she didn't even see coming. Anxiety, guilt, fear-all tangled up with that wild panic she hates but can't seem to stop. She wants to reach out, check his forehead, tuck the blanket tighter around him-do something. Anything.
But she just stands there, rooted to the floor.
And then-
[Soft footsteps approaching from behind]
"Didn't know you and Deepak were this close."
The voice behind her is unmistakable. Low, calm, edged with that dry teasing tone she's come to recognize without even thinking.
Aanya whirls around so fast she nearly trips over herself again, the sudden movement sending a painful jolt up her sore ankle-but she hides it quickly.
"Wait-what?" she gasps, blinking up at him.
And there he is. Pradeep. Standing just a few steps behind her, holding a bottle of water in one hand and a crumpled permission form in the other. His brows are slightly lifted, his face unreadable except for the faintest hint of amusement twitching at the corner of his mouth.
It takes her a few heartbeats to process what she's seeing.
She points awkwardly to the sick figure on the bed. "That's... not you?"
Pradeep shifts his weight, giving a small shake of his head. "Nope. That's Deepak. He nearly passed out in class. Teacher asked me to bring him here."
Aanya's face flames hotter than the sun. She wants-needs-the ground to open up and swallow her whole. Right now. Preferably before she can humiliate herself any further.
[Soft, awkward shuffle of her shoes against the floor]
She rubs the back of her neck, forcing a laugh that sounds about ten times more strained than she intended. She looks anywhere but at him-the floor, the wall, the slightly dusty curtain on the window-anything to avoid those maddeningly calm eyes.
Pradeep watches her quietly. His expression is unreadable, but there's something softer about it now, something almost... patient.
"You okay?" he asks, voice low.
Aanya presses her lips together. She can't exactly say, 'No, I'm busy dying of secondhand embarrassment because I thought you were unconscious in there, and I was about to launch into a full dramatic meltdown like some heroine in a bad soap opera.'
Instead, she blurts out, "I-uh-I thought you were..."
Her words trail off mid-sentence, crumbling into an awkward silence.
[Soft hum of air conditioning]
Pradeep doesn't press. He just stands there, letting her stumble through her awkwardness, the way he always does. There's no teasing grin, no sarcastic comment-just quiet patience that somehow makes it worse.
Aanya risks a quick glance up at him and finds that he's not mocking her. He's just... there. Calm. Solid. Watching with those steady eyes that never seem to rush or judge.
She exhales sharply through her nose, trying to gather what's left of her dignity.
"So... Deepak's really sick?" she asks, desperate to change the subject.
Pradeep nods slightly, glancing over his shoulder at the bed. "Yeah. Doctor said it's probably a viral fever. They're keeping him here until his parents come."
Aanya's gaze softens as she looks at the still figure again. Despite everything, she's relieved Deepak is getting help. Even if her own arrival was a complete trainwreck.
"You brought him here?" she says, voice dropping into something more thoughtful.
Pradeep shrugs, like it's no big deal. "Teacher needed someone. I was around."
He hesitates, then adds with a slight tilt of his head, "Didn't expect you to come running like that, though."
[Soft teasing undertone]
The way he says it-casual, almost curious-makes Aanya's cheeks flame all over again. She forces a weak smile.
"Yeah, well..." she mutters, stuffing her hands into her pockets. "Just... wanted to make sure."
She doesn't mention the way her heart had been pounding. Or how scared she had been. Or how relieved she feels now, just seeing him standing there.
Pradeep doesn't comment on her awkwardness. He just steps aside, giving her room to leave if she wants to.
The nurse's voice cuts in before either of them can say anything else.
"Ugh-again? These kids..." she mutters, glancing down at her pager. She jots a quick note on her clipboard and then turns briskly to them.
"Stay here, you two. I need to check on another student. Don't touch anything."
Without waiting for a response, she hustles out of the room, the door swinging shut with a soft thud.
For a moment, the room falls into a weird, hushed stillness.
Aanya shifts awkwardly, stuffing her hands deeper into her pockets, wishing she could blend into the wall.
From the bed, a groggy voice pipes up.
"Oi," Deepak mumbles without even opening his eyes. "If you're gonna stare at me like I'm dying, at least bring chocolate."
Aanya blinks, startled, then lets out a surprised laugh.
Even sick and half-asleep, Deepak manages to be Deepak.
Pradeep, leaning casually against the wall, raises an eyebrow at her.
"See? Not even on his deathbed, and he's still making demands."
Deepak cracks one eye open, peering blearily at them.
"Priorities, bro. Chocolate first. Sympathy later."
Aanya covers her mouth to stifle a giggle.
Pradeep shakes his head, amusement tugging at the corners of his mouth. "You're lucky I didn't just leave you to faint dramatically in the hallway."
Deepak gives a weak thumbs-up before flopping back onto the pillow, already half-asleep again.
Aanya chances a glance at Pradeep.
He catches her looking and smirks slightly-not teasing her, exactly, but there's a tiny flicker of mischief there now.
Something almost warm.
"You really thought I was him, huh?" he says, voice low.
Aanya groans internally, feeling her ears heat up again.
She ducks her head, pretending to examine the floor.
"In my defense," she mumbles, "you both have messy hair."
Pradeep chuckles-an actual, low chuckle that rumbles in his chest-and somehow, the sound makes her heart trip all over again.
"Well," he says easily, "next time, just check for who's bossing people around. That'll be Deepak."
Aanya smiles despite herself.
The room settles into a quiet, comfortable stillness again.
Not awkward anymore. Just... familiar. Calm.
She shifts slightly on her feet, the movement sending a sharp jolt through her sore ankle.
She stiffens instinctively, hiding the wince-but Pradeep doesn't seem to notice.
Or maybe he does, and he's giving her space.
Like he always does.
The soft ticking of the clock fills the silence.
Outside the window, faint shouts from the sports field drift up-another reminder that life is still bustling outside this little pocket of peace.
Somewhere in the hallway, footsteps echo.
The nurse's voice filters in from the distance, busy with the new patient.
Aanya lets herself relax just a little, breathing in the cool, antiseptic-scented air.
Maybe she stumbled today-literally and metaphorically.
Maybe she'll replay this moment a hundred times later, cringing at herself.
But standing here now-next to someone who doesn't rush, doesn't judge-
It doesn't feel like falling anymore.
It feels a little bit like staying.
---
To be continued....