Vaibhav

Vaibhav reached home earlier than usual that evening.

No surgeries were scheduled that day, and by seven, he was already stepping inside — the familiar comfort of home settling around him. After a quick bath and change, he joined his parents at the dining table for dinner.

It didn’t take him long to notice.

His mother was unusually cheerful — humming softly, smiling more than usual.

“You seem very happy today,” he said, glancing at her. “Kya baat hai?”

She looked up, eyes lighting up immediately.
“Aaj mandir mein main apni ek purani dost se mili.”

His father raised an eyebrow, interested.
“Achha?”

“suhasini,” she continued. “Hum saalon pehle touch mein the, phir kahin kho gaye. Aaj achanak mandir mein mil gayi.”

She went on to tell them everything — the surprise, the laughter, the memories, and how Nandini had invited them over for Sunday lunch.

“Unki beti bhi hai,” she added, smiling. “Bahut pyaari.”

Vaibhav listened quietly, a faint smile forming.
“Achha hai,” he said simply.

His mother looked at him pointedly.
“Toh Sunday ghar par rehna. Guests aa rahe hain. Help chahiye hogi.”

Before he could respond, his father nodded.
“Main bhi hoon. Dono milkar sab sambhal lenge.”

Vaibhav chuckled softly.
“Okay, Maa. I’ll be home.”

Dinner ended with light conversation and contented silence.

Later, in his room, Vaibhav lay down, the day catching up to him. Thoughts drifted — hospital corridors, familiar routines, and somewhere in between, an unexplainable calm.

Sleep claimed him easily, unaware that Sunday was already carrying something more than just guests.