SIDDH

The aircraft descended through a vast stretch of white, where the sky and the mountains blended so seamlessly that it was difficult to tell where one ended and the other began.

Sunlight struck the snow-covered peaks with an almost blinding sharpness, turning the entire landscape into something unreal—too still, too perfect to belong to the same world as crowded hospital corridors and sleepless nights under artificial lights.

It should have been calming... But it was not.

Because life, in its infinite sense of irony, had decided to place Sagarika right next to me.

Leaning very comfortably against my shoulder.

Sagarika was fast asleep, her head resting against me as if this arrangement had been mutually agreed upon, as if I had willingly taken up the role of a human pillow. Or worse—like she had claimed it as if she owned it.

A few strands of her hair brushed against my jaw, light enough to be harmless, distracting enough to be irritating. The rest lay scattered across my shoulder as though it belonged there.

I did not move. Couldn't move.

She, meanwhile, remained completely undisturbed.

Her breathing was slow, steady, warm against my neck.

At some point, she shifted even closer.

“Unbelievable,” I muttered under my breath, keeping my gaze fixed ahead.

She had no concept of personal space, boundaries, or basic professional etiquette.

I still did not move.

Not because I could not, but because I was calculating consequences with the same precision I used in an operating theatre. If I shifted, she might wake up. If she woke up, she would talk. If she started talking, the remainder of this flight would become significantly more exhausting than it already was.

So I stayed exactly as I was—still, upright, controlled.

I had handled far more complex situations in my career. Surgeries that demanded absolute precision, complications that allowed no hesitation, hours of standing without pause.

I had patience.

A considerable amount of it.

And yet this—

This was testing it in ways I had not anticipated.

Carefully, I attempted to adjust my shoulder, intending only a minor correction.

It was a mistake.

Instead of pulling away, she moved closer, as if my shoulder alone had not been sufficient. Her hand slid forward and settled around my arm, her fingers curling slightly, not tightly, but enough to make her intention clear.

She had found something stable.

And she intended to keep it.

I went completely still.

For a moment, I looked at her hand. Then straight ahead. Then back again, as if ignoring it might undo what had just happened.

It did not.

Across the aisle, one of the junior residents noticed.

He smiled.

Actually smiled.

I turned just enough to meet his eyes and gave him a look that required no explanation.

The smile vanished instantly, replaced by a sudden and very deep interest in the window.

A wise decision.

Beside me, the cause of all this remained entirely undisturbed.

She sighed softly and settled further, as though she had finally achieved the exact level of comfort she had been aiming for.

I exhaled slowly, forcing my attention forward. I didn't want her to wake up, as I couldn't tolerate her arguing with me at this hour.

For god's sake, we had to leave in the middle of Vihan and Roohi's wedding because of the seminar. I was exhausted, but I couldn't sleep, at least not with her resting on me like this.

Forty-five minutes, I told myself. You have handled worse than that.

The longer I remained there, the less convinced I was that it was true.

With her, there was one constant I had already learned.

There would be trouble.

There was always trouble.

---

By the time the aircraft landed, the cold struck with deliberate sharpness, as if the mountains themselves were reminding us that we did not belong here.

Sagarika stirred as soon as the aircraft came to a halt, stretching slightly before straightening in her seat, completely unaware of the situation she had created.

“Did we land?” she asked, her voice still soft with sleep.

I did not answer immediately.

Instead, I waited.

Long enough.

She turned toward me, her gaze dropping to where her hand still rested on my arm.

There was a pause—just enough for most people to register embarrassment.

Sagarika was not like most people.

Her lips curved into a small, unapologetic smile.

“Good morning, Dr. Jindal.”

“Remove your hand,” I said calmly.

She did, but slowly after giving a faint mischievous smile, as though she were indulging me rather than correcting herself.

“You look tense,” she observed. “Didn’t sleep well?”

Oh that innocent smile... I am not buying it. Miss Malhotra.

“I had no such luxury.”

“Why? Personal problems?” she asked with a raised eyebrow.

“It became a shared problem when you decided to use me as a pillow.”

She considered that with unnecessary seriousness before her smile returned.

“You should take it as a compliment. I clearly trust you.” she flashed me with a smile.

“That is not reassuring.”

She sighed dramatically. “Such hostility. And here I thought you enjoyed the company.”

“I enjoyed the silence,” I replied. “Something you seem incapable of providing when you are awake.”

She placed a hand against her chest in a mock offense. “Ouch!! That’s rude, Dr Jindal.”

“But accurate. I prefer professionalism.”

“I am professional,” she said, standing up, completely unbothered. “I just don’t believe in unnecessary stiffness.”

That explained more than she intended. She stepped off the aircraft as though nothing had happened.

As though she had not spent the entire flight turning me into furniture. I watched her for a moment before following.

Ugh!! God keep me sane!

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