Vashti Dhiman was done with promises.
She wanted action.
Not roses.
Not late-night texts.
Not quiet stares from across operating tables.
She wanted effort.
And if Shabd Heer wasn't going to give her that, then maybe she'd finally let Armaan take the spot he kept dancing around.
That night, she walked into the cafeteria wearing her old grey hoodie and messy bun—zero makeup, zero glam, zero energy.
And Shabd?
Was waiting at her usual table.
With two trays of food.
And a surgical anatomy book opened to their shared case from tomorrow.
"You're late," he said, sliding her tray toward her.
She blinked.
"What is this?"
"Studying," he said simply. "You said if I want you, I should start fighting for you. So I'm here. Not at the gym. Not avoiding you. Not ghosting. Just... here."
She sat down slowly, eyeing him like he was a foreign object.
He looked up, honest. "I'm not good with grand gestures, Vashti. But I know how to show up. I can learn the rest."
She stayed quiet, eyes narrowing. "You were ready to throw Armaan through a wall, and now you're... soft?"
"I'm both," he said, tone serious. "I'll fight anyone for you. But I'll also sit with you at 1 a.m. and quiz you on cranial nerves."
Vashti stared.
This… felt different.
He wasn't just being romantic—he was being real.
She took a bite of her fries, eyes still locked on him. "You really think you deserve me?"
He didn't blink. "No. But I'm willing to work until I do."
Silence.
Then she leaned forward, mouth inches from his, and whispered—
"Good. Because I'm not easy to love."
And just before pulling back, she added with a smirk—
"But I'm unforgettable once you do."
Shabd grinned.
"Already figured that out."
And under the harsh hospital lights, surrounded by cold trays and textbooks, something finally shifted—
Not a dramatic moment.
Not a kiss.
Just two people finally meeting in the middle.
And that?
Was way more dangerous.
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