Samriddhi

Sunday arrived softly.

Samriddhi got ready in a black floral anarkali, her silver jhumkas swaying gently as she moved. After breakfast, she and her parents left for the Khanna house around noon, the afternoon sun warm and unhurried.

Nandini and her husband, Anil, welcomed them with open smiles and warmth that felt instantly familiar. Water was served, snacks placed on the table, conversations flowing easily.

And then—

He walked in.

For a moment, the world paused.

Their eyes met, disbelief flashing across both faces.

“You?”
“You!”

The simultaneous words echoed through the room.

Confusion settled on their parents’ faces.
“Tum dono ek dusre ko jaante ho?” Nandini asked.

They blinked, composure returning slowly, and explained — the hospital, the accident, the child.

Understanding dawned, smiles replacing surprise. Heads nodded knowingly, as if fate had only been waiting to be acknowledged.

Lunch followed soon after.

The dining table filled with warmth, laughter, and conversation. When dessert was served — kheer — Samriddhi took a spoonful and smiled.

“It’s really good,” she said appreciatively.

But moments later, her breath hitched.

Her chest tightened.
“Is… is there cardamom in this?” she asked, voice strained.

“Yes,” Nandini replied, alarm rising. “Why?”

“She’s allergic,” Suhasini said instantly.

Panic rippled through the room — but Vaibhav was already moving.

He supported her, gave her the medicine, his calm grounding the chaos. When red rashes appeared on her neck, he spoke firmly,
“She needs rest.”

He led them to his room, helped her lie down, and gently ensured she was comfortable. One by one, everyone stepped out.

Except him.

As she slept, he noticed the sweat on her forehead and wiped it away carefully, staying by her side through the evening — silent, attentive.

Their parents noticed.

Glances were exchanged. No words spoken.

Later, when Samriddhi woke up, she felt lighter. Together, they walked back to the dining area where concern poured in from every direction.

“I’m okay now,” she reassured them softly.

She turned to Vaibhav.
“Thank you… for taking care of me.”

Their eyes held for a second longer than necessary.

A throat cleared.

They looked away, almost embarrassed.

Dinner followed, unplanned but welcomed. Afterward, Samriddhi and her family bid their goodbyes and headed home.

That night, lying on her bed, exhaustion pulled her into sleep — her thoughts lingering on the calm hands, the steady presence, and the feeling of being cared for.