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Top - Jadeja
Bottom - Kuldeep
Request - MadhubrataMajumdar
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Jadeja had never been one to show weakness.

As the feared mafia king, his life was a constant game of power, manipulation, and ruthlessness.

He'd been shot at, stabbed, and betrayed more times than he cared to count. But this... this was different.

The bullet had grazed his forearm during a confrontation with a rival gang.

It wasn't a deep wound, but the blood had started to pool and stain his shirt and the pain was sharp.

Jadeja didn't trust anyone he needed someone he could control, someone who wouldn't ask too many questions.

That's when one of his henchmen suggested Dr. Kuldeep Yadav.

Jadeja knew of him —the man who saved lives for a living, who never turned anyone away, not even criminals.

But Jadeja had never been to a doctor for anything more than the occasional sprained wrist. He never considered seeking help from someone who healed, rather than destroyed.

"Take me to him," Jadeja ordered, wincing as his arm throbbed.

When Kuldeep arrived, his eyes fell on the man being brought in by two bodyguards.

Jadeja.

The mafia king himself.

His reputation preceded him, and Kuldeep had heard the rumors—rumors of brutality, manipulation, and violence.

Yet, here he was wounded and needing help but looking like the king he was despite the blood seeping from his arm.

Kuldeep tried to keep his composure. He couldn't afford to be intimidated, not by this man.

His job was to heal, to care for everyone who needed him.

No exceptions.

"Sit down," Kuldeep instructed gently, motioning to the examination table. His calm voice seemed to put Jadeja slightly at ease.

Jadeja grunted but complied, sitting on the table with his arm still dripping blood. "Fix it. I don't have time for small talk."

Kuldeep's eyes narrowed as he examined the wound. The bullet had caused a deep laceration on the side of his forearm, but it wasn't life-threatening.

Still, it was a painful injury that required careful attention.

Kuldeep began to clean the wound, his fingers gentle but firm as he worked.

Jadeja winced when the antiseptic hit his skin, but he didn't flinch.

He couldn't.

Not in front of the doctor, not in front of anyone.

"You're going to be fine," Kuldeep said, his tone reassuring, but with a hint of something that Jadeja couldn't quite place.

He looked up for a moment, meeting the doctor's warm brown eyes. Something in him stirred—an unfamiliar feeling that he quickly pushed aside.

He didn't let anyone close.

Not with the life he led.

But as Kuldeep worked with skillful hands, his touch was soft and caring. For the first time in a long while, Jadeja felt vulnerable.

"Why do you help people like me?" Jadeja finally asked, his voice low, though there was an edge to it.

Kuldeep glanced up, locking eyes with him. "Because everyone deserves a chance to heal. No matter who they are."

Jadeja's breath hitched for a second, a strange tug in his chest that he could not dismiss. "I don't need your pity," he said gruffly.

"Who said anything about pity?" Kuldeep replied, smiling softly. "I'm just doing my job."

Jadeja grunted, he couldn't deny that there was something about Kuldeep's warmth that made him feel oddly peaceful.

He'd been used to people bowing before him, obeying his commands and fearing him.

Kuldeep was different.

When Kuldeep finished tending to the wound and wrapped it carefully, Jadeja stood up to leave. But before he could, Kuldeep spoke again.

"Come back if it gets worse. Or if you need anything else."

Jadeja hesitated, something twisting in his chest. "I'm fine."

But before he could step out the door, Kuldeep's voice stopped him. "You're not fine, Jadeja. No one is, not really."

It was a simple truth. But for some reason, it unsettled him.

Days passed. Jadeja tried to dismiss the thoughts of Kuldeep that kept creeping into his mind. He told himself it was nothing—just an after effect of a man who saved his life.

He was a mafia king. There was no room for weakness.

But then, one evening, as Jadeja drove past a street corner near the hospital. He saw a young man with flowers, walking toward the hospital doors.

Towards Kuldeep.

Jadeja's pulse quickened. He watched from a distance, his grip tightening on the wheel.

He couldn't see the man's face clearly, but it didn't matter.

Kuldeep was laughing and smiling as the man handed Kuldeep the flowers, a small bouquet of bright and colorful blooms.

Jadeja's anger flared suddenly. A raw, bitter and irrational heat surging through him.

He could feel his pulse pounding in his temples, his hand twitching toward the ignition like he might burn the whole city down in a fit of rage.

Who was this man?

What right did he have to give Kuldeep anything?

Jadeja didn't even realize he was gripping the wheel until his knuckles turned white. He slammed his fist against the dashboard in frustration.

This is ridiculous. It's nothing. It means nothing.

But even as he tried to convince himself, a dark thought lingered: No one gets to give him flowers.

No one gets to make him smile except me.

The next day, Jadeja found an excuse to go back to Kuldeep's clinic. His arm—still wrapped in a bandage—was fine, but it hurt. Just a little.

It wasn't much, but it was enough to bring him to Kuldeep.

When Kuldeep saw him, his brow furrowed. "Jadeja, it's not that bad, is it?"

Jadeja grunted. "Just a little discomfort. Thought I should get it checked."

Kuldeep didn't question him, though a part of him wondered. He examined Jadeja's arm carefully, but he couldn't shake the sense that there was something else going on.

"You're fine," Kuldeep said after a moment, giving his arm a final look. "No need for more bandages."

Jadeja nodded, trying to keep his distance, but he couldn't ignore the urge to linger. "I'll be going, then."

But Kuldeep stopped him, his voice warm. "Take care of yourself. No more injuries, okay?"

Jadeja's chest tightened at the genuine concern in Kuldeep's voice. He tried to shake it off. "I'll be fine."

As he turned to leave, he felt something strange.

A pull.

Something inside him didn't want to go. But he couldn't admit it—not to himself, not to anyone.

So he did what any mafia king would do: he ignored it.

But as he walked out the door, Jadeja found himself thinking, 'I'll be back. I just need to find a reason.'

The next week, Kuldeep received another visit. This time, Jadeja had walked into Kuldeep's clinic for the most ridiculous of reasons—a paper cut on his finger.

"Really?" Kuldeep raised an eyebrow as Jadeja sat in front of him, trying to look serious despite the tiny cut that barely bled. "A paper cut?"

Jadeja shrugged,"It's... worse than it looks." He said in his gruff voice.

Kuldeep rolled his eyes ,"Why do you always talk in such a rude voice?"

"I don't." Jadeja firmly denied

"You do. You can try to be a little sweet." Kuldeep said as he stood in front Jadeja.

Kuldeep reached for a small bandage and some antiseptic. He was careful as he applied it, his touch firm yet gentle, completely unaware of how this small gesture was being seared into Jadeja's mind.

The doctor's hands were soft, his focus solely on the wound and Jadeja found himself watching him with a strange intensity.

"You're lucky it's just a paper cut," Kuldeep muttered, dabbing the antiseptic on the cut.

"I'm not so sure about that," Jadeja said, almost under his breath, his eyes lingering on Kuldeep's face.

"Done." Kuldeep announced

"Thank you." Jadeja said as he stood to leave, his voice a lot softer, even surprising him.

As he drove down the street his mind replayed the fleeting contact from earlier.

The quiet care, had stirred something deep inside him. Something warm, something he wasn't used to feeling.

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Hey guys,
Don't worry this is Part 1
Part 2 coming soon

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I am trying my best to give you updates even with my college trying to crush me to death.
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