A few days later, Abhi was deep into a long operation while Tulasi sat outside, diligently filling case sheets like the overworked intern life had personally chosen her as its mascot.
That's when she walked in.
A girl.
Correction — a whole Instagram reel of a girl.
Sleeveless blouse, short shorts, hair perfect, face glowing like she had her own personal beauty filter.
"Dr. Abhi?" she asked, voice soft and syrupy.
Tulasi looked up.
Froze.
Then blinked twice like the universe had played a practical joke on her.
Head Nurse saw her and immediately panicked like someone caught a fire.
"Oh, no-no-no," the nurse muttered and swiftly grabbed the girl's hand, dragging her inside a room and shutting the door like she was hiding national secrets.
Tulasi stared, confused.
Shashirekha stared, even more confused.
A few minutes later, the girl walked back out.
Shashirekha pounced first.
"Who was that, Sister? Dr. Abhi's relative?"
The senior nurse gave a smile — the "if only you knew" smile — and shook her head.
That was immediately a terrible sign.
"Then who was she?" Shashirekha insisted, because curiosity was her full-time job.
The nurse looked at her like, why do you want to die early?
Shashirekha grabbed Tulasi's hand and said, "Look, this is Dr. Abhi's assistant. She needs to know. Tell Tulasi who she was."
The nurse sighed…
leaned in…
and whispered the truth.
Tulasi's soul LEAPT out of her body.
Shashirekha's jaw hit the floor.
"What? Is she that type?" Shashirekha gasped.
Tulasi's face lost all color.
She looked like she'd been hit by a bus.
Or lightning.
Or both.
"Yes, isn't she beautiful?" another nurse added, as if that helped anything.
"Oh, so that's how they are…" someone murmured.
Shashirekha, still scandalized:
"Oh my God, does Dr. Abhi have this habit too? Since when?"
Tulasi still couldn't speak.
Her brain had short-circuited.
"It's been five years since I joined," the nurse said calmly, "and he already had this habit back then. She usually doesn't come here. They meet outside."
That was it.
The kill shot.
When Abhi finally finished the operation, he went straight to his room.
Tulasi… couldn't bring herself to go anywhere near him.
She stood behind a wall, watching.
A minute later, he stepped out.
And the girl walked out behind him.
They exited together.
Tulasi's heart did something physically painful — like someone reached in and squeezed it.
Her legs went weak.
She felt numb.
Sad.
Confused.
Why do I feel like this? she wondered, but the answer was too sharp to touch.
She went home.
Closed the door.
And the tears came like a waterfall someone forgot to turn off.
She cried until she couldn't breathe properly.
"'Abhi and that prostitute'…"
Just the thought stabbed her deeper.
She felt crushed.
Betrayed.
Even though she knew she had no right to feel betrayed.
"But I had said no to him, hadn't I?" she reminded herself, painfully.
When he'd teased her as his wife… she had rejected the idea.
And now…
Now this?
People talking about them like they're married?
No.
That shouldn't happen.
It wouldn't bring any good to him.
She tried to stop crying but her tears had unionized and gone on strike.
The image — Abhi walking out beside that woman — kept replaying in her mind, stabbing her over and over.
Hours passed.
Eventually, she remembered:
"If I don't study, he'll scold me tomorrow."
She opened her book while still crying.
Because heartbreak didn't give her a day off, and neither did Abhi.
She cried herself to sleep without eating.
The next morning, Tulasi called the hospital to say she was unwell.
Which she was — body weak, fever mild, heart totally shattered.
She returned the following day, still terrified to face him.
Abhi arrived at eleven as usual.
He looked at her once.
"How are you?"
"I'm fine, sir."
And that was it.
Nothing else.
Just work.
Routine.
Cold normalcy.
It hurt in a new, sharp way.
Days crawled on like this.
Then one morning, Tulasi practically danced into the hospital like a walking sunshine emoji.
Shashirekha blinked.
"What's with all this happiness?"
Tulasi grinned. "Today no operations! No OPs! I am FREE!"
"What? How so?"
"Dr. Abhijit has a seminar today. So I'm completely free!"
"Oh really? I don't have much work either," Shashirekha said.
Tulasi rolled her eyes. "You never have much work, do you? You got a good doctor. You're always chilling. Look at me — I'm like a dried chapati! No moisture, no life!"
And honestly?… she wasn't wrong.
"Shall we go to the mall?" Shashirekha asked.
"Yes! Shopping, eating—everything!" Tulasi squealed.
"But Abhi Sir will come soon, right? You should see him off for the seminar. Then we'll book a cab and run," Shashirekha said.
"Okay done!"
Right then Abhi arrived.
Tulasi quickly reported the inpatient details.
"There are no operations today, sir. You have a seminar."
"Yes, I know. Come," he said.
"Sir?"
"Why are you standing? Come."
Tulasi's soul attempted to leave her body.
"But sir… it's a seminar. Why should I come?" she tried.
He just looked at her.
That one sharp, villain-level look.
She scrambled for excuses.
"I mean, sir, I already studied all these things. I passed the exam. Why should I attend an MBBS seminar again?"
He snapped his fingers.
"Yes. That's my problem too. You just passed. Your knowledge is limited. Come."
The AUDACITY.
Tulasi silently screamed:
Demon! Won't you leave me alone even today?!
She walked behind him, miming strangling his neck.
Her friends snickered.
Shashirekha signed, Not coming?
Tulasi shook her head violently and pretended to punch Abhi's back.
Right then, he turned around.
Tulasi froze like a statue.
"What are you doing?" he asked.
"Nothing, sir! Flies! So many flies!" she blurted.
He stared.
"Do you think I've lost my brain like you? If you act smart again, I'll make you come on Sundays too."
"NO NO SIR PLEASE! No Sundays, sir. Never Sundays."
"Walk," he commanded.
And she obeyed.
"Walk," he commanded, and started walking.
The seminar hall was massive — practically an auditorium swallowed whole.
Nearly 300 students buzzing like a hive.
Until Abhi walked in.
Silence.
Instant.
Like someone pressed the mute button on humanity.
Within seconds, a crowd of boys and girls swarmed him for doubts.
Meanwhile, everyone else was staring at Tulasi.
Some girls whispered with dramatic envy:
"Omg, that's the lady doctor who's always with Abhi Sir!"
"She gets to go to OPs with him every day!"
"So lucky!"
"I wish I were in her place."
Tulasi blinked at them, horrified.
Lucky?? Are you all mad?? Do you want to die early??
Do they even know the amount of trauma she went through today alone?
Finally, Abhi told the students he'd answer other doubts later and dismissed them.
Tulasi called out, "Sir!"
"Go and sit somewhere," he said, waving her off.
Wicked demon, she thought, stomping to the LAST bench like she was doing the walk of shame.
She borrowed a pen and paper from the girl beside her.
The seminar began.
he class began in pin-drop silence, everyone listening intently.
To her shock…
Abhi was good.
Actually good.
Like "I'm-teaching-this-topic-so-well-your-whole-career-will-thank-me" good.
He explained concepts, used examples, added new tech updates — the whole package.
Tulasi stared like she had discovered a new species.
Abhi was an excellent speaker. He explained everything beautifully, not just with theory but with live examples and discussions of new technologies, never straying from the topic, keeping everyone engaged. Tulasi herself was surprised. "Can this subject really be taught so well?" she wondered.
Suddenly, there was a sound. Abhi, who was writing on the board, turned sharply. A boy was doing something under his bench. Abhi hurled a piece of chalk at him. The boy stood up, trying to explain, "Sir, it's just..." but those around him gestured for him to stop. "Get out!" Abhi commanded. The boy tried to speak again, but the others urged him, "Go, go!". Tulasi realised this was a common occurrence all the students are scared of Abhi's wrath.
Tulasi realised — oh…
So she wasn't the only soul traumatised by him.
The seminar eventually concluded.
"Any doubts?" Abhi asked.
That was all the invitation needed.
A tsunami of boys and girls rushed toward him like he was distributing free diamonds.
Tulasi watched the chaos, unimpressed.
She walked up and asked, "Sir, may I leave?"
"What will you do if you leave? Wait for a bit," he said, barely looking at her.
She pouted harder.
What will I do?
UM, STAY ALIVE? BREATHE FRESH AIR WITHOUT YOUR TORTURE?
Instead she stood there examining the crowd around him.
Abhi answered the boys first.
Then dismissed them like he was granting mercy.
Then came the girls.
The flirting.
The posing.
The dramatic hair flips.
The "Sir… this doubt, Sir… that doubt…"
Tulasi watched each one with a combination of pity and secondhand embarrassment.
Some girls genuinely asked good questions.
But the rest?
Abhi absolutely destroyed them.
"Do you even have a brain?"
"How did you pass your By.P.C.?"
"I taught this last year. Did you forget it this year? And will you forget again next year?"
"Your doubt is nonsense."
Tulasi felt a deep sense of peace.
Thank God I'm not the one and only dumb person in his life.
Hello sisters, welcome to the club.
She even smiled looking at the other victims.
Then came the funniest moment.
A girl asked an unbelievably silly doubt.
Abhi clenched his jaw like he was holding back a storm.
"Who was your tenth-grade teacher?" he asked.
She gave a name.
"Do you know where she lives?" he asked.
"No, sir."
"Then go find out."
"What? Why, sir?"
"This isn't my syllabus, it's hers! Did you really pass tenth grade and come here? OUT!"
The girl left — STILL staring at him with heart eyes.
Tulasi nearly choked.
What is wrong with these people? Why do they enjoy getting roasted?
But the crowd didn't shrink.
For every girl he dismissed, two more arrived.
Tulasi shook her head.
Sisters, I pity you. You're all trapped by his debonair face. And you're doing the world's stupidest things for his attention.
Right then, Abhi glanced at her.
"Alright. I'll see the remaining doubts in the next class. Let's go," he said.
He turned.
She followed.
And that was how the world's most chaotic seminar ended —
with Tulasi marching behind him, still annoyed, still confused,
still hopelessly tangled in the storm called Abhi.