The first week of Aarush's recovery was nothing short of a nightmare for him. For a man who was used to running ten kilometres a day and being surrounded by cheering crowds, being confined to a motorized hospital bed was like being in a cage. He was restless, irritated, and quite frankly, bored out of his mind.

Mihika visited his private suite three times a day. Every morning at 8:00 AM sharp, she would walk in with her iPad.

"Good morning, Aarush. Let's check the inflammation."

She would say, her voice devoid of any playfulness. She would spend thirty minutes icing his knee, checking his vitals, and guiding him through tiny muscle contractions that felt like nothing to him but were vital for his recovery.

She never gossiped and she never smiled. By the fifth day, Aarush couldn't take the silence anymore.

"Waise, Doctor Sahiba...do you charge for your smiles?"

(By the way, Doctor Sahiba…

Aarush asked, leaning back against his pillows as she adjusted the ice pack. Mihika didn't even look up. 

"My job is to fix your tear, Aarush, not to entertain you. Focus on your breathing."

Aarush grinned, his eyes twinkling.

"Arre, but scientific fact hai, happy patients recover faster. Agar aap thoda muskura dengi, toh mera ligament khushi khushi jud jayega."

(But it’s a scientific fact, happy patients recover faster. You smile a little, my ligament will recover happily.)

Mihika paused for a split second. She felt a tiny tug at the corner of her lips, but she suppressed it instantly.

"I prefer medicine over your khushi-khushi theories. Now, lift your toes."

(I prefer medicine over your happy theories.)

Aarush sighed dramatically.

"Itni khubsurat ladki aur itna gussa? It's a dangerous combination, Mihika ji."

(Such a beautiful girl and so much anger?)

Mihika finally looked at him, her expression stern.

"Mihika ji? It's Doctor Mihika for you. And stop talking. Your blood pressure rises when you talk too much."

"Woh aapki wajah se badh raha hai, injury ki wajah se nahi."

(That is because of you, not because of the injury.)

He shot back with a wink. Mihika turned away quickly, pretending to check her iPad. She felt the heat rising to her neck. 

He was a 27-year-old superstar acting like a teenager, and yet, there was something so genuinely charming about his silliness. 

As the second week began, the tension between them started to melt into a comfortable routine. Aarush had stopped complaining about the pain and started looking forward to her visits.

Sometimes she would come in at 9:00 PM, looking exhausted, her eyes heavy, just to make sure his evening meds were administered correctly.

One afternoon, Mihika was helping him move his leg slightly to prevent stiffness. Aarush was watching her intently.

"You know, you're very different from what I expected."

He said suddenly, his voice quiet for once. Mihika looked up, surprised by the change in tone.

"What did you expect? A vet?"

Aarush chuckled.

"No...I mean, I thought sports doctors were all about 'Go, go, go!' But you...you're like a teacher. Thodi strict, thodi scary, but you actually care. Maine dekha hai, when I wince in pain, you hold your breath too."

(A little bit strict, a little scary, but you actually care. I saw, when I wince in pain, you hold your breath too.)

Mihika felt exposed. She didn't realize he was observing her that closely.

"It's just professional empathy, Aarush. Nothing else."

"Accha? Toh phir kal jab main so raha tha, why were you fixing my blanket so gently? Empathy ya phir...is Aarush actually becoming your favourite patient?"

(Really? So when I was sleeping yesterday, why were you fixing my blanket so gently? Empathy or…is Aarush actually becoming your favourite patient?)

Mihika felt her heart race. 

"Tumhe galatfehmi hui hai. The blanket was sliding off, it was a safety hazard. Tum phas kar gir sakte the."

(You are mistaken….You could have fallen down.)

She lied, her voice trembling slightly.

"Safety hazard? Wow! What an excuse."

Aarush laughed. Mihika couldn't help it anymore. She looked down at her feet and let out a small, soft laugh. It wasn't much, just a tiny giggle.

"Oye hoye! Finally!"

He teased, clapping his hands.

"Dekha? Your face didn't break. You look much better like this."

(See?)

"Chup karo, Aarush. Seriously."

(Shut up, Aarush.)

She said, still smiling, her face glowing.

"Nahi karunga. You should smile more, Mihika. Life is too short to be serious all the time."

(I won’t.)

By the end of the second week, the barrier between doctor and patient had shifted into a friendship. Mihika had finished her rounds, but instead of leaving, she found herself sitting on the edge of the chair next to his bed.

Aarush looked bored. His PlayStation was off, his phone was kept aside, and he was just staring at the rain hitting the window.

"Mihika...don't go yet."

He said as she stood up to leave.

"Please? Baat karo na. I'm going crazy in this room. Main deewaron se baatein karne laga hoon."

(Talk to me….I have started to the walls.)

Mihika hesitated. But then she looked at him, propped up on pillows, his leg in a heavy brace, looking like a little boy who just wanted company.

"What do you want to talk about? I don't know anything about football."

She warned, sitting back down.

"Thank God for that."

Aarush sighed in relief.

"Mujhe waise bhi football ki baat nahi karni. Tell me about you. Bachpan mein kaisi thi? Were you always this to the point and serious?"

(I don’t want to talk about football….How were you in your childhood?)

Mihika smiled, a real, relaxed smile this time.

"Actually, haan. I was the kid who used to organize her crayons by colour and shade. My parents used to call me their little professor. I never liked playing outside much. I just wanted to know how things worked. Like, why does a finger bend? Why do we feel pain?"

(Actually yes.)

"Deep."

Aarush remarked, nodding.

"Main toh bilkul ulta tha. I hated books. Agar mere haath mein ball hoti, I was the king of the world. My mom used to scream at me because I'd come home with mud all over my uniform and my knees scraped. Tab koi Mihika nahi thi bandage lagane ke liye."

(I was the opposite….If I had a ball in my hands, I was the king of the world….I didn’t have a Mihika then to bandage me.)

They spent the next two hours talking. They talked about his childhood, how he used to save his pocket money to buy second-hand boots, and how his first big pay check went into buying his mother a gold necklace.

Mihika told him about the pressure of being an overachiever, how she felt she had missed out on having fun because she was too busy being the perfect daughter and the perfect student.

"Do you regret it?"

Aarush asked softly.

"Not having time for relationships or...you know, life?"

Mihika looked at the rain.

"Sometimes. My parents are obsessed with me getting married now. They think I'm expiring because I'm turning 30 soon. It's annoying. I feel like I've built this whole career, but to them, I'm just a girl who isn't a wife yet."

Aarush reached out and gently nudged her arm with his hand.

"30 is not expiring, Mihika. It's like the second half of a match. The first half is just warming up. The real goals happen in the second half."

Mihika laughed, feeling a warmth in her chest that had nothing to do with the room temperature.

"Tumhare liye sab kuch football hai na?"

(Everything is football for you, right?)

"Pretty much."

He grinned.

"But seriously...you're amazing. Marriage will happen when it has to. Don't let them make you feel like you're running out of time."

Mihika looked at him, touched by his sincerity. 

"Thanks, Aarush."

She whispered.

"Anytime. Waise...since I'm your favourite patient, can we get some actual food tomorrow? Yeh hospital ka khana...it's a crime against humanity. Please? Ek baar biryani?"

(By the way…since I’ your favourite patient, can we get some actual food tomorrow? This hospital food…it’s a crime against humanity. Please? Biryani just once?)

Mihika rolled her eyes.

"Absolutely not. No oily food. You're on a strict recovery diet."

"Ek spoon?"

(One spoon?)

"No."

"Adha spoon?"

(Half spoon?)

"Aarush, so jao!"

(Aarush, sleep!)

She walked out of the room, shaking her head, but she was smiling.