17. Orchids

ABHINAV RANDHAWA

"You need to eat it, Palak. Don't behave like a damn child," I declared, pushing the porridge bowl slightly toward her on the hospital bed table.

"Oh man, I hate this," Palak muttered, fiddling with the spoon and mixing the porridge.

"Come on, yaar," I yawned as I lay on the bed, staring at the white ceiling. While thinking about what to gift Palak, a strange idea popped into my mind.

"Palak?"

"Bolo," she said, her eyes glued to the TV as she slowly ate.

I stood up and stretched my arms. "What's your favorite flower?"

"Aren't you supposed to know that?" Palak's face held a playful glare. "I am hurt, Abhi. I can't believe my boyfriend doesn't even know my favorite color."

I swear to God, I've never heard anything more melodious in my twenty-seven damn years. As far as I knew, I didn't have any heart disease, so why the hell was this stupid organ beating so fast that I could feel it in my throat?

And why did the fact that she called me her boyfriend instead of a fake boyfriend do something weird to my gut?

AAAAAAAA.

"I don't know, jaana," I leaned in, gave her a peck on the cheek, and patted her hair. "But I'll try, okay? And don't be scared, alright? You've been through a lot, so if you need anything, call the nurses—or I'll be here."

A small smile formed on my lips as she quietly nodded.

Just as I opened the door to leave, I heard her voice.

"Jaldi aaiyega."

I think I got a cardiac arrest for sure.

I turned around and winked. "Meri jaana ne bulaya aur main na aau?"

"Bye!"

DARSH AGNIHOTRI

I was in the middle of scrolling through my phone when Abhinav’s name flashed on the screen.

"Abhi, what’s up?" I answered, putting the call on speaker as I leaned back against the couch.

"I need a favor, yaar," came his voice, slightly breathless, as if he had run a marathon.

"Did you finally commit a crime?" I smirked. "Do I need to be your alibi?"

"Shut up, idiot. I need to know Palak’s favorite flower."

I raised an eyebrow. "And you’re calling me for that?"

There was silence on the other end. Then, a dramatic sigh. "I already admitted I don’t know. Don’t rub salt in the wound."

I laughed. "Okay, okay. Hold on."

I turned my head towards Swastika, sitting beside Siya, our colleague, as we wait for the dinner who was sitting across from me. "Swastika, do you know Palak’s favorite flower?"

She looked up, pushing her phone aside on the table "Of course," she said, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. "Orchids. Especially blue ones."

I relayed the information to Abhinav, but not before adding, "Good luck finding blue orchids, Romeo. They’re rare."

"Doesn't matter," Abhinav said, determination lacing his voice. "I’ll find them, I am the Abhinav Randhawa, man, I have my sources."

The call ended, and I shook my head with a grin.

Swastika tilted her head at me. "What was that about?"

"Nothing," I shrugged. "Just a man in love, about to do something ridiculously romantic."

She rolled her eyes but smiled. "Typical."

ABHINAV RANDHAWA

I had to pull a few strings, but after a whole lot of convincing, pleading, and possibly threatening a florist (just a little), I finally had what I wanted—a bouquet of rare blue orchids.

Standing outside Palak’s hospital room, I took a deep breath before stepping inside.

She was half-asleep, but her eyes fluttered open at the sound of the door.

Her gaze landed on the bouquet in my hands, and for a moment, she just stared.

Then, softly—almost in disbelief—she whispered, "Abhinav…"

I sat down beside her, placing the bouquet on her lap. "You called me your boyfriend, jaana. Toh boyfriend hone ka kuch toh faida uthaaun, nahi?"

She blinked, then let out a small laugh, her fingers grazing the petals. "Blue orchids… these are rare."

I leaned in slightly, voice teasing. "And so are you."

She looked at me then, something unreadable in her eyes. And damn it, if my heart didn't do that stupid fluttering thing again.

Her fingers tightened around the bouquet, and she whispered, "Thank you, Abhinav."

And in that moment, I knew—I was completely, utterly, hopelessly gone for this girl.

AADVIK MALHOTRA

I love her.

There, I said it.

The way her eyes sparkled when I said those words to her—deep down, I know she loves me. Maybe she doesn’t, but that doesn’t mean she doesn’t like me. We were always meant to find our way to each other. I have always belonged to her, in this life and every other that exists.

Right now, I’m sitting in her living room, watching TV, but my mind is completely hijacked by a certain 5'3" girl with curly hair who loves to sing and draw.

She’s in her room, sleeping. It’s currently 3:32 a.m.

The TV flickers in front of me, but I barely register what’s playing. Some late-night movie, probably one I’ve seen before, but my mind is somewhere else. Or rather, with someone else.

Veda.

I glance at the closed door of her room. She’s just a few steps away, wrapped in her blankets, lost in dreams I wish I were a part of.

I should go to sleep too. But how can I, when my mind won’t stop replaying the way she looked at me earlier? The softness in her eyes when I said those words. The way she bit her lip, like she was holding something back. Like she felt something too.

My chest tightens.

I love her. I love her so much that it scares me.

A part of me wants to shake her awake, to tell her everything—that I’ve never felt this way about anyone, that she’s the only thought in my head at 3:32 a.m., that I would give up anything just to see her smile.

But I don’t.

Instead, I let out a sigh, sinking further into the couch. I’ll wait. For as long as it takes.

Because if there’s one thing I’m sure of, it’s this—Veda is worth waiting for.

I have waited for a decade for her, then why can't I wait a few more months, or even years? But at the end, feelings no matter how buried, don't just disappear.

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