Chapter 2: The Price of Success

Ten years had passed. I was no longer the lonely boy lost in his own world—I had become Dr. Aarav Mehta, a successful neurologist. My life was everything I had dreamed of. The long nights of studying, the endless shifts at the hospital, and the sacrifices I made had all led me to this point. I had earned respect, wealth, and a life of purpose. Yet, despite everything, there was an emptiness that lurked in the quiet corners of my heart.

I had no time for love or marriage. Work was my only companion, my passion, my escape. While others longed for companionship, I found solace in the silent corridors of my hospital, in the rhythmic beeping of machines, and in the lives I saved. I convinced myself that this was enough—that love was a distraction, something I had outgrown. But my parents thought otherwise.

"When will you get married?" my mother would ask every morning at breakfast, her voice laced with impatience. "You're 27 now, Aarav. Every girl in this city would kill to be with you, but you keep rejecting them. Do you want us to leave this world without seeing our grandchild?"

I had lost count of how many times I had heard those words. It wasn’t that I didn’t understand their feelings. I did. But how could I explain to them that marriage wasn’t something I could decide in a matter of minutes? That I wasn’t willing to settle for just anyone? That deep down, a part of me was still searching for something—someone?

I had thought that once I became a doctor, my parents would finally be proud of me, that they would stop forcing their expectations on me. But I had been wrong. No matter how much I achieved, they always wanted more.

Despite my success, something was missing. I had everything I once wished for, but happiness remained elusive. There was a void, an invisible weight pressing down on me, a feeling that something—someone—was absent from my life. And then, just as that thought crossed my mind, the news changed everything.

I was sitting in my office, exhausted from back-to-back surgeries, when the TV in the waiting area caught my attention. The headline flashed across the screen in bold letters:

"BREAKING NEWS: Top Actress Isha Kapoor Quits the Industry Due to a Mysterious Illness!"

My heart stopped.

Isha Kapoor.

It had been years since I had last heard that name, but it still held power over me. The girl who had once been my best friend. The girl who had seen something in me when no one else did. The girl I had loved in silence.

I watched as reporters speculated about her condition. The queen of Bollywood, the shining star, was walking away from fame, vanishing from the world she had conquered. And I knew—something was terribly wrong.

Before I could process it, my phone rang. The hospital’s reception.

"Dr. Aarav, there's an urgent appointment scheduled for this evening. The patient requested you personally."

I sighed, rubbing my temples. "Who is it?"

There was a pause before the receptionist hesitantly said, "Miss Isha Kapoor."

For a moment, the world around me blurred. My grip on the phone tightened.

Isha.

After all these years… she was coming back into my life. But this time, not as the girl I once knew—this time, as my patient.

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