"The first of many"

Colliding Paths and Lingering Doubts

The days following the wedding festivities were a blur for Srija. Between her hospital shifts and the fleeting memory of Vivek’s words, her mind was constantly at war. The rational part of her tried to dismiss his comment as casual politeness, but her heart couldn’t let go of the way he had looked at her on the terrace.

"Why would someone like him be interested in me?" she muttered under her breath one evening, pacing her apartment. She caught her reflection in the mirror and frowned. "He’s this accomplished, charming radiologist, and I’m just... me. Always anxious, always second-guessing everything."

She thought back to her UG days when she had spent hours scrolling through his Instagram, marveling at his achievements and easy confidence. The same insecurities bubbled up now, whispering cruel thoughts: He’s just being nice. Don’t read too much into it.

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Meanwhile, Vivek couldn’t get her out of his head. He was back in Mumbai, juggling hospital rounds and planning his next project, but his thoughts often drifted to Patna, the city he was previously not so interested in—and to Srija ofcourse. Her genuine nature and quiet strength intrigued him, as did the vulnerability she tried so hard to hide.

One evening, he found himself scrolling through Instagram, something he rarely did. He came across a story Srija had posted—a picture of a sunset over the Ganges, captioned: Chasing peace in a restless world.

Smiling to himself, he sent her a message before he could overthink it: Beautiful capture. Hope you’re doing well.

---

Srija nearly dropped her phone when the notification popped up. Her first instinct was to ignore it, convinced he was just being polite. But after several minutes of internal debate, she replied with a simple: Thank you! Yes i am and Hope you’re doing well too.

To her surprise, his response came quickly: I am. But I feel like our last conversation was left unfinished. Do you mind if we continue it sometime?

Her heart raced as she read the message. Continue? What does he mean by that? she wondered.

After much hesitation, she replied: Unfinished?

Yes, he wrote back. I still owe you an answer to your question on the terrace. Why I’m glad fate keeps throwing us together.

Srija stared at her screen, her doubts surging again. She typed and deleted several responses before finally sending: I don’t think I want to know. It’s probably not what I think it is.

His reply came almost immediately: What if it is?

Her breath caught in her throat. She didn’t respond, unsure of how to handle the emotions his words stirred.

---

A few weeks later, fate intervened again. Srija was attending a medical conference in Delhi, presenting a case study she had worked tirelessly on. The room was packed with seasoned doctors and residents from different branches of well renowned medical colleges, and her nerves were running at an all-time high speed.

As she stood at the podium, her eyes scanned the audience—and froze when they landed on a familiar face. Vivek was sitting in the third row, watching her intently.

She stumbled over her words for a moment but quickly regained her composure. The presentation went smoothly, earning her a round of applause and several questions from the audience.

Afterward, she stepped outside for some air, her nerves finally catching up with her. She leaned against a pillar, trying to steady her breathing.

"You were incredible," a voice said, and she turned to see Vivek standing a few feet away.

Her cheeks flushed. "You’re here?"

He nodded, his hands in his pockets. "I had a feeling I’d see you. And I wasn’t going to miss your presentation. You did an amazing job."

She looked away, the familiar self-doubt creeping in. "I’m sure you’ve seen better. I’m still just learning."

He stepped closer, his voice firm yet gentle. "Don’t do that, Srija. Don’t downplay your achievements. You’re brilliant, and it shows."

She shook her head, her insecurities spilling out. "You don’t understand, Vivek. I’m not like you. I don’t have your confidence, your charm. I’m just... ordinary."

Vivek’s eyes softened, and he reached out, hesitating for a moment before placing a hand on her shoulder. "You’re anything but ordinary," he said quietly. "I see the way you light up when you talk about your work, the care you put into everything you do. That’s rare, Srija. Don’t sell yourself short."

Her eyes filled with tears, but she quickly blinked them away. "Why are you saying this?"

He smiled, a hint of vulnerability in his expression. "Because I mean it. And because I want you to start seeing yourself the way I see you."

For the first time in years, Srija allowed herself to believe that maybe, just maybe, she was worth more than she gave herself credit for.

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