The next evening, Aadhya's quarters sounded more like a marketplace than a hospital. Twelve doctors were scattered around Aadhya's suite—some helping, most getting in the way—as she packed.
"Careful with that file!" she said without raising her voice, yet everyone froze instantly. Years of working under her made even the calmest words sound like command.
Nishant peeked into her suitcase and frowned. "Aadhya, these are all surgical coats again."
"You know," Mira said finally, "most people pack vacation clothes when they go on vacation."
Aadhya glanced up briefly. "I'm not most people."
"That's exactly the problem," Nishant muttered under his breath.
Elena leaned forward, peeking into the half-zipped suitcase. "Doctor, this is all lab coats and scrubs. You're going to India, not a surgical camp."
"They're comfortable," Aadhya replied simply.
The three exchanged looks, then called out almost in unison, "Master!"
Moments later, her mentor appeared at the doorway, hands clasped behind his back, a faintly amused look on his face. "I assume this intervention is about luggage again?"
"Yes!" Nishant said, jumping to his feet.
"She's packed like she's attending a conference, not her brother's debut match."
Magnus walked over, peered into the suitcase, and gave a quiet sigh. "Aadhya," he said, tone patient but firm, "you're not going to be performing surgeries on the cricket field."
She blinked, faintly puzzled. "I know."
"Then maybe," he continued, gesturing toward the neatly folded coats, "you could consider… wearing something that doesn't have a hospital tag."
Mira gasped as she noticed the absence of anything remotely casual. "You don't even have jeans! We're going shopping tonight."
"No," Aadhya cut in calmly.
"But—"
"No time," she added, looking at the clock.
"We leave tomorrow morning. You can shop in India."
The disappointed groans that followed could've filled an auditorium. Nishant clutched his chest dramatically. "Denied again. My wallet is relieved, but my heart isn't."
Aadhya ignored him, closing her suitcase with a quiet snap.
Magnus, who had been silently observing the exchange, turned toward Nishant. "Speaking of travel, did you finish booking the flights?"
"Yes, sir," Nishant replied quickly. "Economy class, as Aadhya requested."
Magnus paused. "Economy?"
"She said it's practical," Mira said. "And we didn't argue, because... well, she gives that look."
Aadhya looked up, brows slightly raised. "It's a four-hour flight. It doesn't require luxury."
Magnus gave a soft chuckle. "You may not require it, but your team deserves comfort. And so do you." He pulled out his tablet, typed a few swift commands, and within seconds, looked back up. "I've upgraded all thirteen tickets to business class."
The reaction was immediate. The team erupted in cheers, some even clapping, others grinning like children.
"Master, you're officially our favorite human," Nishant declared.
Magnus smiled mildly. "Just make sure you all come back alive. Especially her."
Aadhya opened her mouth to object, but he raised a hand. "Don't argue. Consider it a parting gift."
There was warmth in his tone, the kind reserved for the rare few he truly cared for. Aadhya inclined her head slightly, the closest she ever came to affection in words. "Thank you, Master."
As the team filed out, still debating what they'd shop for in India, Magnus lingered by the doorway. "You've built something good here, Aadhya. A family. Don't forget to let them in once in a while."
She didn't reply, just gave him a faint smile and turned back to her half-packed suitcase.
By afternoon, the institute was buzzing with quiet excitement. The news of her departure had spread quickly, though no one quite knew why she was leaving. For years, she had been the immovable constant of the Geneva Medical Institute—the surgeon who never took a day off, who treated exhaustion like an inconvenience.
Now, she was leaving.
And somewhere else, thousands of miles away, Reyaan was on the field.
The Mumbai air shimmered with heat as the team finished their practice session. The sound of leather striking willow echoed through the empty stadium. Reyaan leaned casually against the boundary ropes, towel slung around his neck, watching Ruhaan run a few extra laps after the drills.
"Take it easy, rookie," he called out. "You'll burn yourself out before your debut."
Ruhaan slowed, grinning. "Can't afford to. I've got a point to prove."
Reyaan smirked. "To whom?"
Ruhaan shrugged. "Everyone."
They shared a brief laugh before heading toward the benches. The sun was setting, streaks of orange glancing off the seats. For a moment, it almost felt peaceful.
But peace never lasted long in Reyaan's world.
As he wiped the sweat from his forehead, his phone buzzed. His assistant, Aarav, was standing near the dugout, holding a folder. "Sir, a small update."
Reyaan took it without much interest—until he saw the name on the header.
Dr. Aadhya Raivarma.
Subject: Dr. Aadhya Raivarma— Extended Leave Approved.
He stared at the report longer than necessary.
Aarav spoke carefully. "There are reports she's left Geneva. A long-term leave. Possibly her first in years. She's traveling with twelve of her core members."
Reyaan's eyes flicked up. "Reason?"
"Confidential. But one source mentioned she's visiting someone important to her."
The words hung in the air longer than they should have. Reyaan didn't answer right away. His jaw tightened slightly.
"And which country?"
Aarav hesitated. "That part wasn't disclosed."
Reyaan leaned back against the bench, eyes narrowing a fraction. "No need to dig further."
"But sir—"
"No," he interrupted quietly. "We don't pry into her personal life. Our job is to protect her, not invade her."
Aarav nodded, sensing the finality in his tone.
When the younger man left, Reyaan remained still, eyes distant. The evening breeze carried the faint echo of Ruhaan's laughter across the field, but his mind was elsewhere.
Aadhya.
A woman who had everything yet chose to live away from the world. Who had spoken a few words on stage and left him unsettled for nights after. And now—she was traveling, after years of unbroken work, to meet someone she called important.
He didn't know why that detail bothered him. Maybe it shouldn't. But the thought lingered, uninvited, pulling at something unfamiliar inside him.
Jealousy.
It was subtle, almost laughable. But it was there—quiet, possessive, and entirely his.
He closed the folder and leaned forward, elbows resting on his knees. "Where are you going, Doctor?" he murmured under his breath.
He didn't know yet that soon, he wouldn't have to wonder.
Because the next flight landing in Delhi would carry the very answer to that question.