Tulasi had barely opened her mouth in the operating theatre when Abhi fired his daily missile at her.
"How did you manage to pass out of your school?" he barked, like her existence personally offended him.
She blinked, offended right back. "Sir, why do you say that? I was TOPER in my school."
Oh, wrong thing to say.
The whole OT practically held its breath.
Abhi scoffed, one eyebrow shooting up. "Oh really? Is your school in Andaman and Nicobar Islands? You couldn't have come first anywhere else. Now, go do your work!"
Everyone laughed.
Tulasi wanted to throw the scalpel at someone. Preferably him.
She stomped off dramatically, lips forming her signature angry pout.
If she had glanced back, she would've seen Abhi hiding a smile like an absolute menace.
He thought, "No matter what… making her angry is more fun than Netflix. And that pout—wow."
"Assistant. Come here."
She marched toward him like a tired soldier.
"Sir?"
He held up a syringe.
"Who kept this here?"
Tulasi replied honestly, "Sir, you kept it there."
His expression:
Absolute offence.
"ARE YOU TEACHING ME?"
She blinked slowly.
Sir… you literally did keep it there.
But she valued her life more than the truth.
"No sir," she corrected herself instantly.
"Exactly."
He threw the syringe aside.
"Use your brain."
"Sure, Sir"
Their unusual dynamic continued. One day, a patient, heavily intoxicated, arrived for an OP. A patient walked in smelling like an entire brewery. Tulasi took one step back, half covering her nose, face twisted like she'd seen a ghost dipped in ethanol.
Abhijit said nothing then, but after the patient left and all OPs were complete, he summoned Tulasi. "In the second cabinet, there's a vodka bottle. Bring it," he instructed.
Tulasi was shocked. "What?" she stammered.
"Yes, a vodka bottle. Go, bring it!" he repeated.
"Why should I bring it?" she asked, aghast.
"Why won't you?" he challenged. She crossed her arms, standing firm.
"At home, I never even touched a bottle, even when my father drank. Why should I touch it here? It's not my concern," she declared, pressing her Luscious lips,but her expression screams DISGUSTING
"Oh, really? Fine then," he said, picking up the landline and dialling a number. Tulasi watched in horror as she realised it was the Dean's number. "All the mistakes you've made in the operating theatre these days, the abuses you write in the case sheets... I let it slide by not informing your inefficiency. But today, you'll see what happens!" he threatened. Panicked, she quickly snatched the phone and cut the call. her face turning red with anger, and her Luscious lips pressed even more.
She used her shawl like she was handling radioactive waste and placed the vodka bottle on his table with trauma-level caution.
"Now, go get the glass and soda from the other cabinet. And the fridge," he ordered.
She glared.
He stared back like he had all the time in the world.
She returned with the items.
"Pour exactly this much soda and this much vodka. Not more. And only two ice cubes, okay?" he instructed like he was teaching rocket science.
Tulasi's jaw dropped.
"Have your ears stopped working along with your brain?" he added, still poker-faced — but there was definitely a smile threatening to escape.
Her face burned red.
"Pour exactly this much soda and this much vodka. Don't pour too much. And only two ice cubes, okay?" he began, giving precise instructions. Tulasi stared, mouth agape.
"What? Have your ears stopped working along with your brain, too?" he asked sternly, though a hidden smile played on his lips.
Her face flushed with anger. Using tissues, she carefully poured the exact amounts, her mind flashing back to chemistry experiments in college. "This wicked demon will scold me if I mix it wrong. 'Don't you even know how to fix a glass? Who gave you a degree?' I've truly fallen into the hands of a demon!" she cursed inwardly. Carefully, she prepared the drink and placed it before him.
He tasted it. "Hmm, for a first attempt, it's mixed quite well," he acknowledged. Then, he added, "Now, bring a cigarette and light it".
Her face turned even redder. "No way!" she declared. She thought, "When people are tired, they drink water or juice. What is this demon doing? Drinking alcohol first, then smoking? I will absolutely not light it!". She turned to leave room.
"What? Why are you going far? Come here and light the cigarette!" he demanded.
"This is too much, Abhi! I absolutely won't light it!" she cried, narrowing her eyes .
"Abhi? You called me 'Abhi' like how a wife call's her husband? Call me 'Abhi Sir,' 'Sir'!" he retorted. Then, a roguish glint in his eye, he asked, "Are you feeling like I'm your husband?".
Tulasi, still fuming, replied sarcastically, "husband?Oh yes, where else can one find such a righteous, noble man ? A man of such good virtues as you, That's why I've come to choose you and pray to you!my lord". She replied sarcastically
He took a step towards her, his gaze intense. "What's wrong with me? I'm good-looking, well-educated, have a good job, I'm handsome, what more could be missing?" he challenged. He added, with a suggestive smirk, "And I have a lot of experience too, my dear wife".
"Don't talk like that, sir. Someone might hear you calling me like that. We are just strangers, that's all," she insisted, trying to draw a clear boundary.
"Do you have any lovers?" he asked, surprising her. If not, why is she rejecting him? he wondered.
Tulasi nearly choked on air.
Plural? Lovers? Do I look like a walking dating app?!
Her anger flared even higher. Her eyes turned red, and she clenched her fists . "Lovers? Why use the plural? Do I look like someone who maintains more than one boyfriend?".
"Oh, isn't it?" he challenged. He couldn't stop himself from teasing her more.
"Don't think of me as a terrible characterless person!" she snapped.
"Oh, so there's only one then?" he teased.
"Ugh. No one. I have no one!" she declared with pouting lips.
"Really? Tell me the truth. In school, college, or MBBS, MS was there really no one?" he pressed, taking another step closer. She is such a beauty. why would any man ignore such a …
"Oh, with my problems and all.. I don't need any of that"
"Truly, no one,"
"My lord, I have no one, I swear, it's true!" she insisted. Annoyed, she tried to walk away. Abhi swiftly grabbed her elbow, stopping her. She looked back, questioning. He merely pointed his eyes towards the cigarette. "I won't do it, I absolutely won't!" she declared, crossing her arms.
"Okay, fine then," he said, pulling the landline towards him.
"He's going to eat me alive," she muttered, grudgingly taking a cigarette from the packet and placing it in his hand. He pointed to the lighter. With clenched fists and a face red with fury, she slowly picked up the lighter, fumbled with it for a moment, and eventually lit the cigarette.
He put the cigarette to his mouth and smiled at her.
Abhi put it to his mouth and smiled at her.
That smile.
That infuriatingly pleased smile.
Her blood boiled.
"This wicked demon… he's truly showing me hell," she thought, storming off to the washroom.
There, she scrubbed her hands like she was trying to erase her karma.
Handwash.
Sanitizer.
More sanitizer.
Soap.
More rubbing.
"These hands which do pujas and light incense to GOD — now this demon made me mix alcohol and light a cigarette! Drinking during duty? No one says anything? It's my fate. My karma. My curse."
Her hands were practically red by the time she finished.
Meanwhile…
The moment Tulasi disappeared, Abhijit burst into laughter — REAL laughter — the kind that shook him from the inside out.
He replayed her angry pout.
Her wide, furious eyes.
Her shaky hands.
Her dramatic expressions.
"There's such a kick in making her angry. It's pure entertainment," he thought.
"She's like a tiny rabbit dancing in anger in front of a lion."
And yes — the lion was absolutely enjoying the show.
The next day, Tulasi reached the hospital early—fresh, hopeful, ready to avoid Abhijit like a mosquito avoids All-Out.
But God?
He LOVES drama.
The moment she stepped into the corridor, someone called out:
"Assistant doctor… this file is for the nursing station…"
She froze.
That voice…
That tone…
That little sprinkle of "I own your soul"…
ABHIJIT.
He stood there in his white coat, arms folded, looking like a walking attitude problem.
Tulasi took the file silently.
She didn't even look at him.
Because today she had decided:
Even if the world ends, I will not talk to this man unless absolutely necessary.
But Abhijit?
He sniffed the disrespect.
His eyebrow twitched.
"No good morning?" he asked.
Tulasi blinked.
Good morning?
To HIM?
She muttered, "G-good morning sir…"
His eyes narrowed.
"Say it properly."
"GOOD. MORNING. SIR," she said like a soldier shouting a war command.
He smirked, satisfied.
Honestly?
It was terrifying.
As Abhijit—Abhi, the hospital's walking terror alert—had promised, he began showing Tulasi exactly what hell looked like… and honestly, he seemed to be enjoying it like it was his new hobby.