⸻
Saturday, city bus stop
"Permission to raid civilization?" Nikki saluted with a reusable tote slung like a guitar.
"Granted," Akshu declared. "We need shampoo, notebooks, and a soul."
"I'll take pani puri," I said.
We squeezed into a city bus, the kind that smells like dust, feverish sunshine, and other people's stories. Akshu claimed the window, Nikki guarded our bags like they contained diamonds, and I let the wind tug loose baby hairs from my braid.
"Today, we are responsible adults," Akshu announced grandly.
"Define 'responsible'," Nikki said.
"Buying the cheap notebooks instead of the cute ones."
Nikki gasped. "Blasphemy."
We laughed our way through the market—fabric shops spilling color, a street vendor coaxing jalebis into spirals, the faint tang of incense and frying chilies. For two hours we went feral: shampoo, file folders, sticky notes, scrunchies. Nikki bought socks with cartoons and defended himself in court. "Warmth is universal."
"Five minutes," I told them at the curb near the pharmacy. "I'll get migraine strips."
"Meet at the signal," Akshu said, pointing. "If I'm not there, assume I fell into a sale rack."
I nodded, crossed... and stopped.
Across the road, by the the big glass entry of Shri Vidya Memorial Cancer Centre, a familiar figure stood frozen in the sunlight like he had forgotten how to move.
Professor Vishnu.
Only he didn't look like our smiling Hindi sir who said good morning to everyone. He looked... small. Shoulders drawn, phone clenched, eyes red like sleep was something he had let go.
My feet moved before my brain.
⸻
Hospital foyer
"Excuse me—sir?" I asked softly.
He startled, then pasted a smile that didn't belong on his face. "Vidhu? What are you doing here?"
"Shopping nearby," I said, then lowered my voice. "Are you... okay?"
He swallowed. "Yes—no—just... a check on someone."
"Family?" I ventured.
His jaw worked once before he nodded. "My mother. Ward 4B." He tried to make it light. It wasn't. "She'll scold me for looking like this."
"I can wait outside," I offered. "If you... need—"
"No, no." He shook his head fast. "Thank you."
He walked toward the billing desk, then stopped because two men were already arguing there. I drifted aside and pretended to study a poster. Which is when I heard it—his voice, low to the cashier.
"Can we continue treatment if I clear part of the pending today? I'll arrange the rest by next week."
The woman at the counter looked apologetic yet immovable. "I'm sorry, sir. The estimate for the next cycle must be deposited."
A pause. A tiny, fragile pause.
"All of it?" he asked.
"Yes."
"Right now?"
"I'm afraid so."
Something in me clenched—a small, fierce thing.
I stepped back, thumb already unlocking my phone. Don't think. Just do. I walked to the second counter and kept my voice low.
"Hi," I said. "I'd like to cover a patient's advance as a well-wisher. Anonymously, if possible."
YOU ARE READING
Between the Classes(Two different worlds)
RomanceShe was supposed to be just another student. He was supposed to be just another professor. Vidhu never believed in early mornings, strict rules, or the idea of love waiting inside a classroom. But when Siddharth Rai walked into her college as the ne...
