Third Person PoV

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2nd May'24

Prashmita stood at the front of the podium, her heart was drumming in her chest, though her face remained composed. Her fingers clutched the remote control for the projector, the cold plastic was grounding her nerves. 

It was her first demonstration of the project that would soon be submitted to the national board for the competition's initial stage. The screen behind her flickered to life, casting sharp images of brain scans, accompanied by detailed slides on Glioblastoma Multiforme.

She could visualize the moments shared with Devrudra, who had played a key role in shaping her ideas. A small pang tugged at her, but she pushed it aside. This moment was hers, and the spotlight was unforgiving.

Her heart beat steadily, though there was a faint tremble in her hands. But amid the technical jargon and clinical presentations, her mind wandered briefly to the daunting hours she had poured into this, the solitary nights spent in the lab, the countless hours perfecting this presentation, preparing for every question the Neurosurgery and Neuro-medicine panel might throw at her. 

The room was filled with the most esteemed doctors of the department, their eyes trained on her, waiting for her to begin.

She cleared her throat, her voice steady but soft, as she started speaking.

As she began to speak, her voice clear but measured, the room fell silent. This was her domain—the world of complex data, diagnosis, and innovation.

"Glioblastoma multiforme, or GBM, is the most aggressive type of primary brain tumor in adults. It's known for its rapid progression and resistance to conventional therapies..."

Her words were clinical, precise, but the passion behind them was unmistakable. This project wasn't just another academic requirement; it was personal for her. 

As she moved through each slide, she explained the complexities of GBM, from its molecular pathology to the potential breakthroughs in treatment. She was in her element, every word calculated, every fact embedded in her mind.

But then, a slight shift in the room's atmosphere made her pause. The door at the back of the conference hall opened, and though the panelists remained focused, Prashmita caught a glimpse of someone entering quietly, settling into a seat. And her breath hitched.

It was Devrudra.

He hadn't informed her, he would come. She hadn't expected him at all. For a split second, her mind wavered, her carefully prepared flow disrupted. 

She pressed a finger to the remote, but the next slide didn't advance immediately. She could feel his eyes on her, a quiet, unspoken support, and somehow, that unsettled her more than the daunting presence of the department's panel.

Pulling herself together, she resumed. "As we delve deeper into targeted therapies, the hope is to not only extend survival rates but also improve the quality of life for those diagnosed with this debilitating disease."

Devrudra's presence was like a shadow at the back of her mind, a familiar comfort, but also a weight. He had always seen her differently—beyond the brilliant neurologist-in-training, beyond the woman with walls too high for anyone to climb. There was a vulnerability she had shown him even for a small amount of it, but only him. 

Now, standing here, exposed in a different way, she wondered why he had come. To support her? To challenge her? Or maybe just to witness this version of her—composed, professional, and deeply driven.

Her eyes drifted toward the back of the room, just for a moment, catching his gaze. His expression was unreadable, but the corners of his lips twitched as if he wanted to smile but held back. 

It was that half-smile that she knew so well, the one that could both soothe and disarm her.

She forced her focus back to the panel. One of the doctors had raised a hand, asking her a question about the potential genetic markers for GBM.

"With recent advancements in genomic sequencing, we've identified a number of markers, including mutations in the EGFR gene," she replied confidently, though inside, her nerves danced unpredictably. 

She wanted this presentation to go flawlessly, but she also didn't want Devrudra to see her falter. Not today.

When the presentation finally concluded, Prashmita let out a breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding. The panel exchanged murmurs, some nodding in approval, others scribbling notes. 

She braced herself for the feedback, but before she could focus on that, her eyes instinctively sought him out again. Devrudra was still there, leaning slightly forward in his seat, his expression more thoughtful than usual.

The panelists began discussing her presentation amongst themselves, giving her a brief moment of reprieve. She took a small step back from the podium, her pulse still racing, and looked directly at Devrudra, who now stood up from his seat.

As he moved toward the exit, he caught her gaze once more, offering her a full, genuine smile this time. It was as if he knew that his presence, unexpected as it was, had been both her challenge and her quiet strength during that presentation.

And just like that, he was gone, leaving her to face the feedback alone, but with a strange sense of warmth lingering in the back of her mind.

As Devrudra slipped out of the room, the air seemed to settle back into its professional rigidity. The panel of neurosurgeons began their formal feedback, each one offering their critique and praise in turn. Prashmita kept her posture straight, nodding attentively, though her thoughts flickered back to the man who had just left.

"Dr. Prashmita, your depth of research is impressive, especially your focus on EGFR mutations," began Dr. Nair, the head of the department of Neurology. "However, I'm curious about your thoughts on the long-term viability of targeted therapies. How do you anticipate overcoming tumor heterogeneity in glioblastoma?"

Prashmita's mind snapped back into focus. This was the moment she had been preparing for—the grilling, the tough questions. Her heartbeat, which had quickened from Devrudra's sudden appearance, steadied. She drew in a breath and responded confidently.

"The tumor heterogeneity in GBM is indeed a significant challenge. That's why I believe a multifaceted approach, combining targeted therapies with immunotherapies, might hold the most promise. By addressing both the genetic abnormalities and the immune evasion mechanisms of the tumor, we could potentially create a more comprehensive treatment strategy."

Dr. Nair nodded, considering her answer. A few other panel members jotted down notes, murmuring quietly to each other. The tension in the room lifted slightly, signaling that her answer had satisfied them, at least for now.

"Your methodology is sound," Dr. Mehta chimed in, adjusting his glasses. "But I wonder, have you considered the ethical implications of the experimental therapies you're proposing, especially in the context of terminal cases?"

Prashmita had anticipated this question. Ethical concerns were always at the forefront of cutting-edge medical research. She shifted slightly, her nerves easing now that she was back in control.

"Yes, absolutely. In fact, I've incorporated a section in my project dedicated to the ethical considerations surrounding patient consent, quality of life, and the balance between extending survival and maintaining dignity. It's crucial that we don't lose sight of the human element in this battle against GBM. Our patients deserve not just time, but time that is meaningful."

As the discussion continued, she could feel the panel's respect for her work solidify. They weren't just nodding along—they were engaged, impressed by both her depth of knowledge and her ability to navigate complex topics with grace.

But all the while, in the back of her mind, Devrudra lingered. Why had he come? And why hadn't he told her he'd be there?

After the final round of feedback, Dr. Nair concluded, "Well done, Dr. Prashmita. We'll deliberate on the details, but I must say, your presentation has been one of the strongest we've seen in a while."

A flush of relief spread through her. She had done it. All those sleepless nights, all the pressure—it had paid off. The panel gave her nods of approval as they started packing up their papers, signaling the end of the session.

As the panelists left one by one, Prashmita gathered her things, trying to shake off the strange feeling Devrudra's presence had left behind. She couldn't help but wonder if he had come out of some sense of duty—after all, they were friends, not to forget his contribution. Or was it something else? She didn't have time to think about it, not now.

Just as she was about to leave the conference room, her phone buzzed. She fished it out of her bag, her heart skipping when she saw the name on the screen.

Devrudra: You were brilliant, as always. Want to grab coffee?

Her heart fluttered involuntarily. She stared at the message for a moment, unsure of how to respond. Coffee? Now? After everything?

Before she could type a reply, another message popped up.

Devrudra: Ami hospital er samner caffe te achi. No pressure.

[ I'm at the café across from the hospital]

Prashmita exhaled slowly, the corners of her mouth lifting into a small smile despite herself. Of course, he would leave it up to her. It was always that way with Devrudra—never pushing, just quietly there, offering, waiting.

She glanced at the door, her mind spinning with thoughts. Should she go? After all, there were still questions between them, unspoken things that had lingered for too long.

With a quiet sigh, she made up her mind. She typed back a quick response and headed for the exit.

Prashmita: On my way.

Prashmita entered the café, scanning the room until she spotted Devrudra seated near the window, nursing a cup of coffee. He looked up as she approached, offering her that easy, familiar smile that always seemed to put her at ease—though today, it didn't quite do the trick. The events of the morning presentation were still fresh in her mind, and his unexpected appearance had rattled her more than she cared to admit.

She slid into the seat across from him. "You really could've given me a heads-up."

Devrudra chuckled, placing his cup down. "I wanted to see you in action without making you nervous. I thought it'd be better if I was just... there."

Prashmita raised an eyebrow, though her lips curved into a reluctant smile. "You didn't think showing up out of the blue would do exactly that?"

His smile widened, a slight teasing glint in his eyes. "Maybe. But you were great anyway."

"Thanks," she said, her tone softer now, though she still wasn't sure how to feel about his presence during the presentation. Her mind had been split between focusing on the panel and the fact that Devrudra had walked in without so much as a text. 

But it wasn't just the surprise—it was the awareness that he had chosen to be there for her, quietly, almost deliberately. She didn't know what to make of it.

They sat in silence for a moment before Devrudra leaned back, folding his arms casually. "How did it feel, finally being done with the presentation? You must be relieved."

Prashmita exhaled, relaxing into her seat. "Honestly? It's a huge weight off my shoulders. I've been working on that project for months, and I didn't realize how much pressure I was under until it was over."

Devrudra nodded, taking a sip from his cup. "It showed. The panel seemed impressed. You handled their questions really well, especially Dr. Mehta's ethical debate. He's not easy to win over."

She allowed herself a small, proud smile. "I've learned how to anticipate the tough questions." She paused for a moment, then added, "But I'm still surprised you showed up."

His expression turned thoughtful. "I didn't want to miss it. I know how much this project means to you, and I figured I'd just... be there. As a friend."

Friend. The word hung between them, simple yet loaded. Prashmita nodded, feeling a strange knot in her chest. She knew that Devrudra's intentions were genuine, that he wasn't implying anything more, but still—his presence had stirred something she couldn't quite name.

"Well, I appreciate it," she said, choosing her words carefully. "Even if it caught me off guard."

"I won't make a habit of it," he teased, though there was a seriousness behind his tone, a quiet acknowledgment that he understood he had unsettled her in some way.

They shifted to lighter topics—how chaotic the hospital had been lately, the latest research in neurology and radiology—but there was still a subtle tension beneath the surface, as though they were both aware of the undercurrent of unresolved feelings but unwilling to confront them directly.

After a while, Prashmita glanced at her watch. "I should get going. I have a meeting with Dr. Nair about the next phase of my research."

Devrudra nodded, though he seemed reluctant to end the conversation. "Sure, I won't keep you." He paused for a moment, his eyes holding hers before he added, "I'm proud of you, Prashmita. I mean that."

She blinked, surprised by the sincerity in his voice. Her usual defenses—the ones that kept people at a distance—wavered for a second. She wanted to respond, to say something that would match the weight of his words, but instead, she simply nodded.

"Thanks, Devrudra," she said quietly. "That means a lot."

They both stood, gathering their things. As they walked out of the café, there was no awkwardness, but the unspoken tension still lingered, a quiet understanding that whatever was between them wasn't ready to be addressed just yet. They parted with a casual wave, the air between them charged with everything that had been left unsaid.

Prashmita headed toward the hospital, her mind turning over the events of the day. She wasn't sure what it meant that Devrudra had come to her presentation or why it mattered so much, but one thing was certain—things between them had shifted. And she wasn't sure where that would lead.

But for now, they were still friends. Friends with budding emotions, friends with boundaries. And perhaps, for now, that was enough.

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Author's note/Glossary

EGFR GENE : The epidermal growth factor receptor (EGFR) gene is a gene that produces a protein that controls cell growth and survival . It is also known as ERBB; ERRP; HER1; mENA; ERBB1; NNCIS; PIG61; NISBD2

EGFR mutation : Mutations in the EGFR gene can cause cancer cells to produce higher than normal amounts of EGFR proteins, which can lead to faster cell division and cancer spread. EGFR gene mutations have been found in some types of cancer, including non-small cell lung cancer, GBM.

Datas are taken from the website of NCBI, one can go through, if they have interest in further knowledge, I tried to put a simplified version of it.