"Chipkali, handover a shirt from the cupboard rey!"

Searching for her identity proofs, she rolled her eyes picking a random one and throwing it towards the door ajar. No sooner than a minute, he shrieked again, "Yeh floral print mera nahi hain!"

For a person who forgot to set up an alarm and was now running late for office, he sure was panicking for every right reason. Meanwhile, the one who was awake from four in the morning was busy with some last minute revision since the D-day was here.

His empty side of the cupboard got her frustrated as she yelled out, "It's empty here!"

Stepping out with the security of his towel, he rummaged through the shelves from top to bottom, leaving no corners. Running his hands through his hair, he let out a frustrated groan. He knew the laundry bag was full and he had procrastinated with the washing. But he did remember spotting two-three lighter shade shirts at some corner.

"White waale saare kaha gaye?"

"They were unusable. Tumhee ne toh saare white and colored waale mix kiye teh? It was an ugly shade of lime-green when it came out of the machine."

"Okay, but where is it?"

"Using it as the pocha in the kitchen, notice nahi kiya?"

At that his jaw hit the ground. So this is how his clothes were disappearing. She pushed back her hair, searching for her Aadhar card which she had to show at the entrance of the exam centre. Finding it finally, she went ahead with selecting the clothes she had to wear for the day while he sat back on the bed, discarding all the worries he had and watching her.

"Where is that pale blue top I had? The one with half-sleeves?"

She muttered to herself, grumbling about all the dress codes they put up. She had bought this one specifically for the exam since her wardrobe was majorly stocked with black or multi-print. Snapping his fingers, he pointed at the top shelf, "It's there on the top, behind that photo." Toes placed on the middle rack, she stood on the shelves, digging up what she was looking for and throwing it towards the bed. Or unfortunately, on his face. Getting rid of the cloth with a musty smell, the sign of its infrequent use, he stood ready to whine but stopped on watching her run her fingers on the frame of the still captured years ago.

"Love you," she whispered, kissing the joint frame of her parents and siblings, eyes slightly moist. Placing it back she sighed. Slowly and steadily she was setting things right, or rather they.

Around a month since the days she broke down and how they carried forward from that. To heal, at their own pace. To learn how to love and how to not fall weak in love. They were still learning, and will continue to do so. This fight—it was hers, it was his, it was theirs.

An arm wrapped around her stomach, bringing her down, "Don't break your bones before the exam itself." Her feet touched the wooden flooring as she took note of the real issue here. Stepping back, her head tilted as she commented, "Toh janaab jee, for all these days how were you surviving without clothes huh?"

"Tumhaara use kar raha t—"

He bit back his tongue, shutting his eyes. Her eyebrow which shot up told him that he was never hearing the end of it. No wonder he knew exactly where her which cloth was, after all she was not the only one in need. No wonder how her things were misplaced, or an organized mess as he preferred to call. Unwrapping the gift package which was securely locked in her drawer, she handed over the navy blue shirt.

"Bought it as a gift for Kairav bhaiya, might be a bit big for you chamgadar, but kaam chala jaayega."

"But—"

She rolled her eyes and he knew that it would be pointless to argue further. Once again, they hurried with the chores, moving towards the door to be out for the day. Ensuring that she did not forget anything, they hit the road as she located the centre. The traffic cleared and they reached soon enough, the rush evident. She sat there in the car for few minutes, mumbling something to herself.

"You'll do well chipkali."

"Like always?"

He rolled his eyes, smiling nevertheless. Remembering suddenly he clicked his tongue, "You should've had some dahi-cheeni. Ma rehti toh—"

Hands stretching out, she pulled him in for a quick kiss. He leaned in, bringing her face closer. "See? More than enough," she breathed out as her smile said it all. Jumping out, waving a bye she made her way inside.

Meanwhile, he sat there, lips twitching slightly. With their decision to go slow, everything else had slowed down as well as they focused on themselves more. Treading on the path of being less impulsive, the tensions on wanting more was laid to rest as patience chose to be their first and foremost priority. Of course, often ended up with them starting it off accidentally and one of them reminding the silly rules they made, as none of them were interested in breeding rabbits at the moment. He learned how to take control over his feelings, the agony not biting him back anymore as he was satisfied with what he had. They had put all their what-ifs down the gutter, the time was theirs right now. Her to let go of her past and him to not think about the future, to live in the present was an absolute bliss for both of them.

To dwell in the present.

°

"How did it go?"

She looked up from the floor she was sitting on, leaning against the bed. "Don't wanna jinx it but answer key ke hisaab sein, it went well," she said with a small smile, closing the tabs she was searching on. He settled next to her on the floor, another routine they were habituated to. Cheek rested against her shoulder, he loosened his tie, crossing his arms as her head plopped against his.

Together they sighed, only to end up chuckling.

"Eight-thirty, aren't you late today?"

"Had to complete it, subah gaya bhi toh late tha," he reminded with a smug smile, getting her to turn her head away as she tapped her nails on her cheeks to get the pink to disappear. He laughed at that, winding his arm around hers but not moving an inch away. Meanwhile she sat there, a smile playing on her lips as she felt him trace the insides of her arms.

"I feel... happy today."

He looked up slightly, before going back to what he was doing. Fingers finding the gap of her palms, he pressed lightly sensing the incoming.

"This exam, was really important to me. And I think I've done well enough to score a seat in neurosurgery. Hopefully."

She sighed once again, gracing it with a slight smile.

"Back when I was interning, I definitely wanted to become like your taiji or your brother. But then, during residency I switched. Was doing general surgery so had to go for a specialization as well. Bas neuro karna hain baad mein decide kiya."

She paused, the white walls and yellow roses clogging her thoughts. A memory now, or better said, a memorial now. Those roses definitely were.

"You know, ek baar I kinda slightly messed up. Small mistake, paged the wrong doctor. The SR under whom I was working was so pissed that day, again she was going through a terrible phase herself, that she set me up to babysit this 16 year old kid in room 301, third floor. Kids are difficult to handle, teens even more."

The hand hold tightened.

"The kid, trust me, one look and you wouldn't find anything wrong with him. Always rambling something or the other. First day and he kept calling me pulmonary embolism, or shortened version- PE," she laughed at that name, recalling how she did not entertain it back then.

"Oh PE! You can smile you know? Dekho aise, first touch your fingertip on the corner of the right-side of your mouth. Simultaneously use another tip on the left corner and lift both of them upwards together, and tada! Keep practicing, you'll learn. Smart toh dikhti ho. After that I'll teach you how to laugh also."

She chuckled harder, remembering the friend who helped her brush up her humor skills. The funny bone she never knew she had, came up only when she was around certain kind of people. From PE to Rohi, the transition happened just like that. Her reverie broken down by the curious question, "Why PE?" got her back to being smug again. "Well, talented toh I was, managed to take everyone's breath away," she replied, flipping her hair nonchalantly. He rolled his eyes, muttering, "Kahi jaan hee naa le jaaye yeh jaan," which fortunately came out muffled.

"You said something?"

"Bilkul nahi. Waise, what was he diagnosed with?"

At that her face darkened, as she managed to spit it out, "GBM. Glioblastoma, brain cancer."

"My first friend after a very long time, not that I ever accepted it. He had a way with words for sure, irritating at times but eventually lightens up any heavy day I had. Almost every break, either the lawn or his ward, we used to meet up. Asked me to let go of everything. Give yourself a new start when you can afford one, before it's too late."

She looked at him, wondering if he dozed off. The twinkle in his eyes remained intact, blending with a swirl of pride. She had come a long way, and so had they as he brushed her thumb locked in his hand.

"And then I decided. To not look back. Not keep stumbling over something behind me."

"Not even me?"

The drowning blacks caught his browns as she smiled, "No, cause you're right beside me."

He wrapped her into his arms, holding her as she pushed her nose into the space of his neck, taking in the cardamom unchanging. Fingers running over the goosebumps pricking her arms, he kissed her hair, tucking her under his chin as she played with the loosened tie of his. "The day he stopped having the seizures and fell asleep, never to wake up again... that's when I called her," she breathed out, blinking away her tears. Worth of human life, losing it makes one realize.

"Why?"

"I just needed to hear her voice, and I knew everything will be alright."

Working her lips on his nape, she pulled away slightly as his touches seared on her back. Muttering against his skin, "We should stop, jaldi sona hai. Lots of work tomorrow." Wet kisses marked their trail from the bottom of her ear to the collarbone which stood tall with pride as he groaned, "Kaisa kaam?"

"Water bill, electricity bill, rent, grocery... but we'll start with filing tax."

He pushed back, lifting himself off her as he called out, "You're such a turn off yaar, aise waqt par tax ki baat kaun karta hain chipkali," came the frustrated whining as she laughed. If he could ask whether they were having a moment or not, then why couldn't she? Watching him stomp his foot and drop inside the duvets, she doubled over whereas a smile sneaked into his face, watching her laugh like that.

Brushing off her laughing tears, she started making way to get the dinner ready before he stopped her, holding her by her wrist.

"His death was not the first one you saw right? Then..."

He trailed off, wondering how to phrase it. She got his point. For a child who had seen her mother die right in front of her, for a doctor who had seen many patients die even during her internship, for a junior resident Dr. Aarohi Goenka who had seen infants succumb to death, why was this a big deal? She might have been emotionally attached to this one patient particularly, but that never compromised with the fact that death was inevitable in her head. She was always prepared.

"His..."

She felt herself choking as she cleared her throat. Her whisper echoed, as she smiled sadly.

"His name was Kartik."

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