AIIMS campus felt too massive to be real.
Every hallway, every floor, every white coat passing by carried the same silent message:
If you're here, you earn it every day.
Aarav Mehta walked through the main academic block with his bag and a crumpled schedule printout His heart was pounding.
He had dreamed of studying here. He had burned nights preparing for NEET, convinced half the time that he'd never crack it.
Yet he was here now, trying to breathe normally.
He checked the room number.
Lecture Hall 2 - Neuroanatomy.
His first class.
He stepped inside. Students were scattered around the room, ten minutes early just like him.
He chose the second row: not the front, not the back. Safe.
He didn't know the professor.
He didn't know anyone.
He didn't know if he would make friends or stay invisible.
But he knew one thing:
He was not going to ruin his first day.
The lecture hall door opened.
A man walked in. No white coat. Just a black shirt with sleeves folded to his elbows, a file in one hand, and a face carved from stone.
Not young.
Not old.
Not ordinary.
Aarav tensed.
Maybe it was the silence.
Maybe the intensity.
Maybe something in him warning that this man wasn't a normal teacher.
The man didn't introduce himself. He simply picked up a piece of chalk and turned to the board.
Aarav reached into his bag for a pen.
His fingers brushed the bottle tucked loosely in the side pocket.
It slipped out, rolled across the desk, tipped at the edge-
and dropped forward.
And the disaster struck
Water splashed across the man's black shirt.
The room froze.
The chalk snapped in his fingers.
Aarav felt the world stop.
He shot up from his seat.
"I'm sorry-sir-I didn't mean-I-"
The man slowly turned.
He walked toward Aarav.
This was the first time Aarav met the eyes of Dr. Riyan Malhotra.
Except he didn't know that name yet
All he saw were eyes dark enough to swallow the room, holding something unreadable behind them. Cold, controlled, frighteningly calm.
But there was no anger. No irritation.
Just stillness, like a flame that doesn't flicker.
Aarav's muscles locked
Riyan looked at him as if memorising his face in a single, sharp glance.
He stepped closer.
Aarav took a step back, staring at the floor.
Riyan stopped when he was close enough for Aarav to feel the chill of his presence.
"You look tense," Riyan said.
Aarav swallowed hard. "Sir, I'm sorry. I really didn't mean to-
Riyan lifted a hand
but didn't touch him.
The class held its breath.
"Accidents happen," he said, voice calm and firm. "Especially on the first day."
Aarav blinked, confused.
Riyan continued, "Next time, ensure the accident doesn't happen to your patient."
The line hit harder than any scolding.
Before Aarav could respond, Riyan walked back to the table, picked up a new piece of chalk and finally introduced himself
"Dr. Riyan Malhotra. Neurologist."
A ripple of panic went through the class.
The infamous professor.
The strict one.
The brilliant one.
The rumoured, emotionless one.
Aarav's stomach tightened.
Out of all people in this institute... it had to be him.
During the lecture, there was a moment when Riyan's eyes landed on Aarav again. Just a second. As if the accident mattered a little more than it should have.
Aarav looked down quickly.
-
Author pov-------
Neither of them realised that a tiny mistake had already tied their lives together.
Not understood yet.
But soon.