Third Person PoV

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29th March'24

The setting sun bathed the campus in a warm, amber glow, the last vestiges of daylight clinging to the horizon as the air began to cool with the approach of evening. Devrudra stood at the entrance of the Neurosurgery block, his heart palpitating faster with each passing minute. 

The March evening was tinged with the scent of blooming flowers and the distant hum of life winding down after a long day. The trees lining the pathway swayed gently, their leaves rustling softly in the breeze, adding a sense of calm that sharply contrasted with the turmoil inside him.

It had been three days since the Holi incident, and the memory of it still weighed heavily on his mind. The vibrant colors that had once felt so liberating now felt like a burden, each hue tied to the moments of tension between them. Devrudra couldn't shake the feeling of regret, his thoughts spiraling back to every word, every expression from that day.

That evening, when he finally gathered the courage to approach her, hoping for some closure, for anything, she brushed it off with a dismissive wave. "It's nothing," she said, her voice was distant, as if the whole event was insignificant. Before he could utter a single word, before he could even ask if she was truly alright, she excused herself, leaving him standing there in silence, with unsaid words lingering in the air.

Now, the weight of that unfinished conversation gnawed at him, filling his mind with questions.

Why hadn't she let him speak?

Was it her way of avoiding him?

Yesterday's group meeting had been strained, Prashmita avoiding his every attempt at conversation, her silence cutting deeper than any words could. He had replayed the moments over and over, searching for something, anything, that could help him make things right.

As the clock ticked closer to 6 PM, the usual buzz of the hospital was starting to fade. The occasional murmur of departing staff and the soft clink of keys as people locked up for the night filled the air.

Devrudra shifted on his feet, glancing down the hallway where he knew Prashmita would soon emerge. His thoughts were a jumble of what he would say, how he could apologize, how he could get her to listen.

The door to the neurosurgery wing swung open, and his breath caught as he saw her step out. Prashmita looked as composed as ever, her face, a mask of calm, but Devrudra knew her well enough to sense the tension beneath.

She spotted him almost immediately, her steps faltering for just a second before she straightened and continued toward the exit, her eyes fixed ahead, as if he wasn't there.

Devrudra's anxiety spiked, his palms sweaty, as he took a deep breath and stepped forward, blocking her path. The evening light cast long shadows on the ground, making the space between them feel more expansive than it actually was.

He searched her eyes for any sign of the warmth she had once shown him, but all he found was a guardedness that made his chest tighten.

"Prashmita," he began, his voice softer than he intended, "can we talk?"

She didn't answer right away, her eyes briefly flickering to his before she looked away, her expression unreadable. The silence stretched between them, thick with unspoken words and unresolved emotions. He could feel the weight of his mistake pressing down on him, the need to fix things overwhelming.

"Please," he added, his tone tinged with desperation. "I'm sorry."

Prashmita finally met his gaze, her expression hardening. "Devrudra, I'm tired," she said quietly, her voice betraying a hint of the exhaustion she felt—not just from her shift, but from the emotional strain of the past few days. "I don't want to talk about this right now."

He swallowed hard, nodding slowly, but he couldn't let her walk away again, not without trying. "I understand, but... I just need a minute. I didn't mean to hurt you. I never wanted this."

Her eyes softened, just for a moment, before the walls went up again. "It's not that simple," she replied, her voice firm but laced with an underlying sadness. "We can't just pretend nothing happened."

"I know," Devrudra admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. "But I can't stand the thought of losin- of not being able to fix this."

Prashmita sighed, the weight of their situation pressing down on her. "Devrudra... I need time. We both do."

He nodded again, the ache in his chest deepening. "I'll give you that," he said, his voice strained. "But please, don't shut me out completely."

For a moment, it seemed like she might say something more, but instead, she just gave a small nod, stepping around him and heading toward the exit.

Devrudra watched her go, his heart heavy, knowing that things wouldn't be the same, but holding onto the hope that they could still find a way back to each other.

As she disappeared down the hallway, the first cool breeze of the evening washed over him, a reminder that March was ending, and with it, perhaps, a chapter in their story.

Devrudra watched Prashmita as she stepped around him, her retreat feeling like a finality he wasn't ready to accept. Desperation clawed at him, compelling him to try once more before the distance between them grew insurmountable.

"Prashmita, wait," he called out, his voice breaking slightly as she paused, her back still turned to him. "Please, I need to know—what can I do to make this right? I can't stand this tension between us."

She hesitated, her hand gripping the strap of her bag tightly, before slowly turning to face him. Her eyes held a mix of frustration and something softer, something that told him she wasn't entirely indifferent.

"Devrudra," she began, her tone weary, "I don't know if this can be fixed with just words. What happened... it's not just about the incident. It's about trust, respect, and understanding. You can't just brush those things aside and expect everything to be okay."

He nodded, the gravity of her words sinking in. "I know I messed up, and I don't expect you to just forgive me like that. But I want to learn, Prashmita. I want to understand where I went wrong, and how I can do better. I don't want to lose what we have—what we had."

She looked at him, her gaze softening slightly. "It's not about losing what we had, Devrudra. It's about whether we can build something better, something stronger, after this. And right now... I'm not sure."

His heart clenched at her words, but he forced himself to stay calm. "I'm willing to try, to prove to you that I can be better. I don't want to give up on us, on this connection we've been building."

Prashmita sighed, the weight of the situation clear in her posture. "Devrudra, it's not just about you trying. It's about me too—about whether I can trust you again, whether I can let my guard down without worrying about getting hurt."

He stepped closer, his eyes pleading. "I'll do whatever it takes to earn that trust back. I don't want to be just another person who disappoints you."

"Ami tomake bolechilam, I don't like it," Prashmita's voice was calm, almost indifferent, yet beneath the surface, emotions churned, unspoken and unresolved. "Tokhon nischoy kono ekta karon chhilo, which is  why I said that. Don't you think so?"

[I already said to you, I don't like it]

[then, there was certainly a reason behind it]

Devrudra's heart ached at her words, the weight of his mistake pressing heavily on him. "I know, I know... ami janina keno, but Amar sudhu mone hoyechilo... I just wanted to see you smile, to bring you even a moment of happiness," his voice was soft, barely above a whisper, laden with the sincerity of his intentions. "Sotti bolchhi, I had no other purpose, no other motive. Just that."

[I don't know why, but I thought that...]

[I'm stating truth, please trust me]

The plea in his voice hung in the air between them, a fragile thread connecting their hearts despite the growing distance.

"Amake ektu somoy debe? Be-beshi na, ek ghonta moto," Devrudra's voice trembled with a plea so raw it seemed to reach into the depths of his soul. "I know you've just come back from a long shift, and I know it's unfair to ask for your time now. But... I'm helpless, Prashmita. The weight of this is crushing me, and I don't know how much longer I can bear it. Please, just a little time."

[Can you please give me some time? Not mu-much, just one hour]

His words hung in the air, vulnerable and aching, the desperation in his tone a testament to the turmoil within him.

Prashmita stood there, her eyes softening as she looked at Devrudra, the weariness of the day etched into her features. She could hear the desperation in his voice, and it tugged at something deep within her.

"Devrudra..." she began, her tone gentler now, though still cautious. "I understand that this is hard for you, but... it's not easy for me either. I'm exhausted, not just physically, but emotionally. I don't know if I have the strength to go through this right now."

She paused, searching his eyes, seeing the sincerity, the regret. "But I also see how much this is affecting you, and I don't want to be the cause of your pain. Ek ghonta..." she sighed softly, the weight of her own emotions pressing down on her. "Okay, I'll give you that. But after that, I need some space. We both do."

[One hour]

Her voice carried a mix of resignation and a quiet strength, a resolve to protect herself while still trying to be there for him.

"Tatei hobe, tatei hobe," Devrudra's voice began with a rush of excitement, a spark of hope igniting within him. But as the reality of the situation settled in, the words tapered off into a soft whisper, as if he was speaking more to himself than to her, trying to convince his heart that this small moment of grace would be enough.

[That'll be enough, that will be enough]

"Bolchi, Block-3 er pasher je lake ta, sekhane gele hoi," Devrudra suggested, his voice tender, almost pleading. "Ekhon oi jayga ta besh shanto thake. Please, mana koro na. Just this once, please."

[I'm saying that the lake, which is beside block-3, we can go there]

[That place usually remains calm during this time, please don't deny]

His words were gentle, a quiet invitation wrapped in the hope that she might find solace in the serenity of the place, just as he sought to find it in her company.

Prashmita wanted to refuse, her instinct urging her to protect the fragile boundaries she had built. But as she looked into his eyes, the sincerity of his effort softened her resolve.

"Fine," she whispered, her voice carrying a reluctant acceptance, a small surrender to the quiet persistence in his gaze.

With steady steps, they walked towards the lake, just a short distance from the Neurosurgery block. The evening air, though tinged with a slight chill, carried a sweet, soothing sensation that brushed against their skin.

The quiet rustle of leaves accompanied their footsteps, and as they neared the water's edge, the serene beauty of the scene seemed to wrap around them, offering a brief escape from the weight of their unspoken words.

The lake, nestled quietly beside the Neurosurgery block, was a hidden gem, its tranquil surface reflecting the soft hues of the setting sun. Its waters, a deep, reflective blue, shimmered with the last golden rays of daylight, creating a mosaic of light and shadow that danced gently with the ripples.

The edges of the lake were fringed with tall grasses and wildflowers, their delicate colors muted in the fading light, adding a touch of natural elegance.

The surrounding trees, their branches lightly swaying in the evening breeze, cast long, dappled shadows on the water, enhancing the lake's serene, almost ethereal quality.

As they settled on a nearby bench overlooking the lake, the evening's tranquility provided a gentle backdrop to their conversation. The surface of the water rippled softly in the fading light, mirroring the hesitant, yet hopeful tones of their voices.

"Tumi boso, ami ektu aschi," he said, his voice carrying a gentle urgency as he gestured towards the iron bench beside the lake. His movements were swift but careful, wanting to make sure she was comfortable while he attended to a small task.

[You please sit, I'm just coming in a bit]

A few moments later, he returned with a warm smile and two steaming coffee mugs in hand. The soft scent of freshly brewed coffee mingled with the evening air, adding a comforting aroma to the tranquil setting.

"Please take it, just the way you like," he said, offering her a mug with a tender touch. His eyes held a hint of hope as he watched her, his gesture a silent promise of care and consideration.

Prashmita looked at the mug for a moment, her initial hesitation giving way to a soft smile as she accepted it. The warmth of the coffee seeped through the ceramic, offering a small comfort against the cool evening breeze. She took a sip, the familiar taste a gentle reminder of the thoughtfulness behind his gesture.

As they settled on a nearby bench overlooking the lake, the evening's tranquility provided a gentle backdrop to their conversation. The surface of the water rippled softly in the fading light, mirroring the hesitant, yet hopeful tones of their voices.

Devrudra spoke first, his voice earnest and soft, as if the serene setting gave him the courage to express his thoughts more openly. "Prashmita, I want you to know that my inten-intentions were never to cause you any distress. I just wanted to bring a moment of joy, to share something special with you."

Prashmita listened intently, her gaze fixed on the shimmering lake. The weight of his words settled around them, mingling with the calm of the evening. 

She took a deep breath before responding, her voice carrying a mixture of reflection and vulnerability. "I understand that now. But the way you approached things... it caught me off guard. It felt like my feelings were being overlooked, and that hurts, that hurts the most. "

Devrudra nodded, his eyes reflecting both regret and understanding. "I realize that. I should have been more sensitive-more sensitive to your feelings, more aware of how my actions would affect you. It wasn't fair to you, and for that, I am truly sorry."

"I was never comfortable around colour, I know it may seem utter lie, but-" her voice was in whisper, almost inaudible.

Devrudra nodded, his expression one of understanding and compassion. "I respect your need for privacy, Prashmita. You don't have to share anything you're not ready to. I'm here for you, no matter what."

The breeze rustled through the grasses, a soothing sound that seemed to emphasize the honesty of their exchange. Prashmita's expression softened slightly as she considered his words.

"It's not just about the incident itself" she let a gentle hush "but about how we communicate and understand each other. I need to know that my feelings are valued, that we can talk about things openly."

Devrudra leaned forward, his tone earnest and sincere. "I want to work on that, Prashmita, I really do. I want us to be able to talk about anything, without fear, without any hesitation. I want to rebuild that trust, to show you that I value and respect you."

She looked at him, the last light of the day casting a warm glow on her face. "Rebuilding trust takes time, and truth to be told it's a journey we both need to embark on together. I'm willing to take that journey, but I need to see that your intentions are genuine."

A moment of silence fell between them, filled only by the soft lapping of the water against the shore. The lake's calmness seemed to seep into their conversation, offering a quiet space for healing and understanding.

Finally, Devrudra spoke, his voice a whisper of hope. "Thank you for giving me this chance, for listening. I promise to be more mindful, to respect your feelings and work towards earning back your trust."

Prashmita nodded, her expression thoughtful yet hopeful. "Let's take it one step at a time, and see where it leads us. We have to be patient with each other."

As the evening continued to unfold, the lake remained a tranquil witness to their conversation, its serene beauty reflecting the beginning of a new chapter in their relationship—one built on understanding, trust, and a renewed sense of connection.

----

You will remain, in silence, within my heart,
Like the quiet, full-moon night, wrapped in shadowed art.

My life and my youth, my world entire,
You will fill with grace, like the night's quiet fire.

In solitude, your compassionate gaze shall wake,
And the shadow of your veil will shelter me, for my sake.

My sorrows, my dreams, my hopes, and my pain,
You will perfume with solace, like the night's gentle rain.

The song "তুমি রবে নীরবে হৃদয়ে মম" ("You Will Remain, in Silence, Within My Heart") by Rabindranath Tagore is a soulful expression of quiet, enduring love. It captures the essence of a love that is profound yet unobtrusive, like the gentle presence of a full-moon night. This love fills the poet's entire being, offering comfort and strength, even without words or visible gestures. The lyrics celebrate the quiet beauty of companionship that stays constant, illuminating the heart's inner world in silence and solitude.

I personally felt that this song perfectly reflects the essence of love of Devrudra that he felt for Prashmita.