"You're glowing," Priya teased as Vashti pulled her hair into a quick ponytail before the morning rounds.
Vashti rolled her eyes. "It's the hospital lights. Or sleep deprivation. Take your pick."
But maybe it wasn't just the lighting.
Maybe it was the quiet that came with finally letting go. Or at least trying.
It had been weeks since she stopped orbiting around Shabd Heer.
Weeks since she quit waiting for glances, comments, or crumbs of attention.
She had stopped chasing.
And in that stillness, something strange happened.
Peace.
Not complete. Not permanent.
But enough to make her laugh louder with colleagues. Enough to let her breathe without the weight of "what if."
Until he started showing up again.
Subtle at first.
A cup of coffee placed silently beside her during a 2 a.m. shift.
A short "You handled that trauma case well" in passing.
Then… longer stares.
Pauses that lingered.
Comments that almost felt like flirtation—if she were still holding on to hope.
But she wasn't.
Not anymore.
So when Dr. Armaan Kapoor, the charming orthopedic resident, asked her to grab dinner after work—she said yes.
Not because she wanted to make Shabd jealous.
But because it felt good to say yes to someone who actually wanted her around.
That night, they laughed over sushi and hospital horror stories.
And as Vashti reached for her phone to check the time, she saw it.
A message.
Shabd Heer:
You're out late.
No emojis. No context. Just that.
She stared at the screen for a moment.
Then turned it face down and returned to her miso soup.
Because she had given him years.
And if he was just now realizing what he let go…
He'd have to do more than send a message.