STRINGS OF THE HEART

Chapter 9: In the Time Between Heartbeats

Clinic Lounge – Early Morning

The aroma of freshly brewed masala chai mingled with the sterile scent of antiseptic and clean linens. Sunlight filtered through the slatted blinds, casting gentle lines across the quiet lounge. The day hadn't begun in full swing yet—the lull before the usual whirlwind of rounds, charts, and clipped conversations.

Arpita sat curled in the corner of the worn-out grey couch, her hands wrapped around a warm ceramic cup. She took a slow sip of chai, letting the spices bloom across her tongue—ginger, cardamom, a hint of clove. The comfort of it usually helped her centre before a long shift.

But today, her thoughts were elsewhere.

Not on the cases pending review. Not on the overflowing ER. Not even on the patient who'd finally been discharged after weeks in the ICU.

Her mind lingered on last night.
On him.

The rooftop lights cast golden halos between them. The hum of distant traffic below faded into the background as Vihaan played soft melodies on his guitar. The easy rhythm of their conversation, the way time slipped by unnoticed. And then—the kiss.
Not impulsive. Not rehearsed.
Just right.

She could still feel the ghost of it on her lips. Unhurried. Honest. A kind of closeness she hadn't let herself hope for in a long, long time.

Arpita (thinking): It's been years since I've felt this way – Safe, Surprised, Seen. Vihaan... there's something about him I can't quite explain. But I don't need to. Not yet. It's enough to feel it. To let it exist without naming it.

She placed her cup down on the side table, fingers brushing the rim a moment longer than necessary. A soft smile tugged at her lips—one she didn't try to hide. The warmth from the chai had spread to her chest, but she knew it wasn't just the drink.

Moments later, she was on her feet, slipping seamlessly into her doctor self. Clipboard in hand, a stethoscope slung around her neck, her gait was confident, practiced. Rounds began, charts reviewed, vitals checked, prescriptions adjusted. But beneath her composed exterior, her thoughts danced—restless, bright.

It didn't take long for someone to notice.

Dr. Sameer, her colleague and longtime friend, leaned casually against the nurses' station as she briefed an intern.

Dr. Sameer (grinning, teasing): "Arpita, you've been lost in thought all day. Everything alright? Or should we page cardiology to check that heart rate?"

Arpita paused, arching an eyebrow at him but not rising to the bait. A knowing glint in her eye betrayed more than her words would.

Arpita (smiling, deflecting gently): "Just reflecting on some recent events. Nothing to worry about."

Sameer smirked but let it go. He'd known her long enough to recognize that tone—half-guarded, half-blooming.

She moved on, her voice steady as she gave instructions to a junior resident. But her mind—her heart—kept wandering. Not in a way that distracted, but in a way that deepened her sense of presence, strangely enough.

Between patients, she found herself replaying fragments.
The way Vihaan's eyes softened when he listened.
The reverent way he asked her questions, not for the sake of curiosity, but to understand.
The unexpected blend of steadiness and vulnerability he carried, like a man who'd been through storms, yet chose to still believe in gentle rain.

Her phone buzzed once in her pocket—a call from him.

She didn't pick it immediately.

Instead, she allowed herself a quiet, secret smile. One that stayed with her as she stepped into the next room, ready to face the day.