Dr. Beast and his Inamorata

3.Night Duty

The last time I checked the date in my calendar this noon, it was the tenth of May, not the sixteenth of June. It's neither my birthday nor any festival to get surprises one after the other, right? Then why the heck, the list of surprises is not ending? I still hadn't digested the fact that the Arrogant stranger is my senior doctor and so another surprise that my night Surgeon is the same person. Besides, It's only twelve hours and we already reached a state of—can't withstand each other presence. 

Yet, it's my job and also his, so here we are standing beside the second bed of the female surgical ward giving counseling to the patient regarding the control of hypertension. Nevertheless of his arrogant and aggressive behavior, he started making a soft corner in my heart. And it's because of his kind nature and amiable response toward the patient. I observed he doesn't smile and keeps his expressions deserted. Which, made me feel quite concerned about him and gave thought to know about him. To know what has kept a well professional Surgeon off, that he had restricted his liveliness.

"Doctor!" My Surgeon bawled, quite annoyed. "Focus!" he shouted which made nearby patients and attended to stare at me. It made me uncomfortable and also scratch the idea of—getting to know more about him. Let him and his arrogance go to hell.

I cleared my throat, "Yes."

"I said get the pen and paper!" I furrowed my brows in confusion, eyes staring at him—clueless. "So, you were not hearing, me. I said you have to monitor critical condition patients, so better take a paper and note down so that you will have a track whom to monitor." I nodded and hurled to the nurse station for a paper. Whatever, I shouldn't get negative remarks in my job. I walk back to bed. And once again he spoke to make himself clear, in other words, helped himself to avoid getting annoyed— "Pay attention. I don't like repeating."

"I will make sure," to annoy you further, "to make you not repeat." I smiled as an assurance.

He gave me one hard look, that made my throat yearn for saliva. I gulped and averted my gaze at the patient, "write her name!" Like this my surgeon...wait what should I call him? Dr. Ishaan Sharma—it's lengthy. What about Dr. Sharma—it's too formal. Dr. Ishaan, it's convenient. So, in this way he kept me saying the names and I kept noting them down on the white paper with a blue pen. At some stage, he just passed the beds and said at a time some dozen of names. 

With my head tilt down, concentration on recalling names, hand busy scribbling, and legs following his steps I bumped into someone. I lifted my head to see a human chest covered with a light green button-up shirt then lifted more to see the annoyed yet handsome face of Dr. Ishaan, with one arched brow. I have to mention that my heart fainted for a moment when his eyes made eye contact with me.

"Sorry!" I mumbled and stepped back. There was only one ward remaining, post-operative. "Hash!" I exclaimed wiping out the imaginary sweat while climbing upstairs. Again with the desert face he stared at me and stepped inside the ward. I hope it's his ethics, not a trick to irritate others. I mean for two hours he made me roam like a lamb behind him, turning one side of paper completely blue with names. 

There were only four patients in the ward whose names are mandatory to be written on that paper. But I didn't when he asked I replied simply, "The ward contained only four patients, so, I will remember them." He agreed and without a word walked out of the ward, I followed him. He stopped in front of the elevator and poke the button. My eyes examined his every action. The metal doors opened, and he stepped inside and looked at me. 

We are on the fifth floor, it's better I use the elevator. But. Will it be a good idea to go with him, in that small, closed container? No. Yes. No. 

Then he spoke, "are you gonna come or stand there itself."