Third Person PoV

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3rd April'24

Yesterday was a big day for the eleven doctors chosen for the prestigious nano-drug research project. The kind of day where you could feel the tension in the air-nerves mingling with excitement as they prepared for their first semi-presentation. Weeks of burning the midnight oil and countless cups of coffee had led to this moment.

Each doctor had brought something special to the table-different expertise, different perspectives-but today, they were a team. As they stepped into the room, the weight of their hard work hung on their shoulders, evident in the dark circles under their eyes and the quiet determination in their expressions.

The presentation wasn't just slides and data points; it was a story-one that unfolded with each word they spoke. It told of late nights filled with debates, experiments that didn't go as planned, and moments of breakthrough that made it all worthwhile.

Some stumbled over their words, others spoke with quiet confidence, but together, they brought the project to life.

By the end of it, there was a collective sigh of relief. The feedback from the panel was fair-constructive criticism mixed with encouragement-but the doctors left with a renewed sense of purpose. They knew the road ahead was long, but for now, they allowed themselves a moment to bask in the small victory.

As they walked out, someone cracked a joke about needing sleep for the first time in weeks. It earned a tired laugh from the group, but in their hearts, they knew this was exactly where they were meant to be.

The mess hall was alive with its usual chaos-a chaotic orchestra of clattering trays, laughter, and the occasional shouted greeting. It was comforting, in a way, the background noise muting the day's exhaustion. I slid into my usual corner spot, the one that let me fade into the scene without becoming part of it, and poked at my plate of jeera rice and chicken lahori.

I wasn't expecting anything out of the ordinary-just another meal, another quiet retreat. But then I saw her.

Prashmita stepped in, her presence cutting through the noise like a ripple in still water. She stood near the entrance, her eyes scanning the room with a sort of quiet intensity, like she was searching for an anchor in the sea of faces. For a moment, she seemed lost-something I'd never thought possible for someone as composed as her.

When her gaze finally found mine, something flickered in her expression.

Hesitation?

Uncertainty?

I couldn't pin it down. All I knew was that it was new, and it stopped me mid-bite, my fork hovering awkwardly in the air.

She hesitated for only a second longer before making her way toward me. With each step, my heartbeat quickened, as if my body had decided to betray the calm façade I was trying to maintain.

Prashmita rarely approached me outside of work. Our interactions were always measured, professional.

So why now?

What was she about to say?

I tried to act nonchalant, but it felt like the air had thickened, each second stretching into an eternity.

When she finally stopped in front of me, her lips parted slightly as though searching for the right words. For a moment, it felt like the world had been distilled into this-the clattering noise of the mess hall fading into the background. It was surreal, like stepping into a moment that wasn't entirely real.

And yet, it was. She was here, and I was listening.

"Mind if I join you?" she asked, her voice steady, but I could sense a hint of uncertainty behind it.

For a moment, I just sat there, stunned. Did she really just ask for my help? Had I heard her right? Our relationship had softened since that Holi incident, but still, her approaching me for something personal felt... unexpected.

"Not at all," I managed to reply, my voice steady even though my chest felt like it was hosting a nervous bird flapping around. I gestured to the seat across from me. "Please, have a seat."

She nodded, her expression unreadable, and set her tray down. Chicken fried rice and chicken Manchurian, I noticed. She always seemed to make choices with a sense of deliberation, and even now, the way she placed her tray was precise, as if this moment were another task she needed to execute flawlessly.

We ate in silence at first. I didn't push her to talk-something about her body language told me she was sorting through her thoughts. The background noise of the mess hall, the clang of utensils, and the murmur of conversations created a buffer between us, letting her gather whatever it was she had to say.

When she finally spoke, her voice carried a seriousness that instantly sharpened my focus. "I've been thinking about our project... my personal project," she said, meeting my eyes. Her gaze was steady but held a weight that I hadn't seen before.

I set my fork down, my half-eaten meal forgotten. This was big-Prashmita wasn't the type to ask for help. She thrived on her independence, tackling challenges with a quiet determination that was almost intimidating.

"If she's asking now," I thought, "it's not because she couldn't handle it alone. It's because she trusts me enough to share the load."

"What do you need?" I asked, leaning forward slightly, my tone gentle but firm, letting her know I was ready to listen-ready to help, whatever it was.

"Ekta dorkar chhilo, somoy hobe tomar?" Her voice was steady, she wished for assistance, not some kind of mercy, and her tone was clear indicative of that.

[There is a problem, do you have some time in your hand?]

"Of course," I said, keeping my voice steady. "What's going on?"

She hesitated, her fingers fidgeting with the edge of her tray. Her eyes darted down, as if searching for the right words. For a moment, I thought she might leave it unsaid, but then she looked up at me, her expression tinged with uncertainty-a rare sight on someone as composed as Prashmita.

"I've hit a snag with the data analysis," she said finally, her voice steady but softer than usual. "I've been trying to correlate these variables, but the patterns... they're not making sense. I thought maybe a fresh perspective could help. And, honestly, I think I need to get out of the hospital for a bit. Would you... would you be okay meeting at a study café later?"

I froze for a moment, caught off guard by her request. Prashmita asking for help was one thing, but inviting me somewhere outside the confines of our professional routine? That was something else entirely.

"Sure," I said, maybe too quickly, my voice betraying the strange mix of excitement and nervousness swelling in my chest. "I'd be happy to help. When were you thinking?"

"Seven?" she offered, her tone almost hesitant, as though unsure of my answer. "There's a café near Bidisha Lake. It's quiet, good for studying. I've been there a couple of times."

"Seven sounds great," I said, a small smile breaking through despite my efforts to play it cool. "I'll meet you there."

She nodded, her shoulders relaxing just slightly as she turned back to her food. The tension between us eased, and the conversation shifted back to familiar territory-work deadlines, shared frustrations over the mess hall's uninspired menu. But the air between us felt different now, charged with something unspoken.

As we finished eating, I couldn't stop glancing at her out of the corner of my eye. This wasn't just about data or variables. For someone like Prashmita, who rarely leaned on anyone, this moment felt significant.

When she finally got up to leave, offering a quiet "See you later," I found myself watching her go, my thoughts spinning. Her words replayed in my head as I left the mess hall, the anticipation growing with every step.

It wasn't just the prospect of helping her with her project that stayed with me. It was the idea that she'd trusted me enough to ask, that she'd invited me into her world-even if only a little. And tonight, for reasons I didn't fully understand yet, felt like it was going to mean something.

Later that evening, as seven o'clock approached, I wrapped up my work and grabbed my bag, filled with notes and data printouts which might be helpful to her. The walk to the café was refreshing, the cool breeze off the lake helping to clear my mind. When I arrived, the café was exactly as Prashmita had described-cozy, with soft lighting and a calm atmosphere that was perfect for focusing.

I spotted her right away, sitting at a table by the window, the lake visible just beyond the glass. She was already engrossed in her notes, her expression focused, but when she looked up and saw me, she smiled-an unguarded, genuine smile that I rarely saw from her.

"Hey," she greeted me, closing her notebook as I approached. " I'm glad je tumi aste perechho."

[you could make it]

"Ki kore chhari bolo ei offer ta?" I replied, setting my bag down. "This place is nice-good choice."

[How could I even miss this offer]

She simply shook her head in subtle understanding, a faint, knowing smile playing at the corners of her lips.

We settled in, spreading out our notes and laptops across the table. The café's ambient music was soothing, and the quiet chatter of other patrons created a comfortable background hum. It didn't take long for us to dive into the work.

"So, here's where I've been stuck," Prashmita began, showing me a series of complex data charts on her laptop. "I've been trying to correlate these variables, but the patterns aren't making sense. I know there's something there, but I can't quite see it."

I leaned in, studying the screen. As we discussed the data, something clicked in my mind, a connection I hadn't seen before. I threw out a suggestion, something I had considered but hadn't thought to mention until now. Her eyes lit up immediately.

"That's it!" she exclaimed, her voice full of relief and enthusiasm. "That's the angle I was missing."

I couldn't help but grin. "Glad I could help. It's funny how a change of scenery can clear up the fog."

We continued working, our conversation flowing easily as we brainstormed and problem-solved together. Before we knew it, hours had passed, with some good number of coffee servings and the café had started to empty out. The evening light outside had faded into night, the lake now a dark, reflective surface under the city lights.

Finally, we reached a natural stopping point. Prashmita leaned back in her chair, her shoulders visibly relaxing as she let out a quiet sigh. "I think we've made real progress today," she said, her voice carrying a warmth that wasn't there earlier. "I couldn't have done it without you."

I shook my head, smiling softly. "We're a team, Prashmita. That's what we're here for."

For a moment, neither of us spoke. It wasn't the kind of silence that begged to be filled but one that felt easy, like we'd both come to understand something unspoken. It wasn't just about the project anymore-something else had shifted, something I couldn't quite name yet.

As we packed up, Prashmita turned to me, her eyes carrying a hint of something lighter than her usual guarded demeanor. "Maybe we should do this more often-step away from the hospital. It helps to clear the mind."

"I'm all for it," I replied, my voice steady, though I felt a flicker of hope. "Sometimes a change of scenery is exactly what you need."

I hesitated for a second before asking, "May I walk you to your hostel?"

She glanced at me, a flicker of surprise crossing her face. There was a moment of hesitation, but then she nodded, a small smile gracing her lips. "Sure. I'd like that."

We stepped outside, the crisp night air brushing against us. The quiet hum of the city at night seemed far away, replaced by the gentle rustle of trees and the soft sound of our footsteps.

I broke the silence first. "It's peaceful by the lake at night," I said, glancing toward the dark water that reflected faint glimmers of light. "Feels like a completely different world from the hospital."

Prashmita nodded, her gaze steady on the path ahead. "It is. Sometimes you need that-a place to think without distractions."

"I'm glad we came," I said, stealing a glance at her. "Not just for the project but... it was good to talk, you know?"

She turned to me, her expression softer than usual. "Yeah. It's not often I let someone in like this. I guess... I'm glad too."

I smiled, feeling a strange but pleasant warmth spread through me. "Well, for what it's worth, I think we make a pretty good team."

She chuckled softly. "You're not wrong about that."

As we neared her hostel, the familiar sight of the building coming into view, I felt a pang of disappointment. The walk had been short but meaningful, the kind of moment that lingered.

"Thanks for tonight," she said, stopping just before the gate. "Not just for the work, but... for being here. It's nice to have someone who listens."

"Anytime," I replied, meaning every word. "I'm looking forward to the next one."

She gave me one last smile, a real one that reached her eyes, before turning and heading toward the door. I watched her go, her silhouette disappearing into the building, and felt a strange mix of contentment and anticipation.

The night had been unexpected in the best way, and as I made my way back, I realized I wasn't just looking forward to our next project meeting. I was looking forward to whatever this was becoming. Slowly, steadily, it felt like the beginning of something neither of us had fully acknowledged yet-but it was there, undeniable and quietly growing.

----

Then peradventure there's a flash of lightning:
whomever I see that instant I fall in love with.
I call that person and cry:
'This life is blest!for your sake such miles have I traversed!'
All those others who came close and moved offin the darkness -
I don't know if they exist or not