Chapter 1
By eight o’clock, Anika’s shift had finally ended.
Unfortunately, the traffic outside the hospital hadn’t received the memo.
By the time she pulled into her neighborhood, she’d been honked at more times than she could count, cut off by impatient SUVs, and forced to slam the brakes for a cow that wandered into the middle of the road with the confidence of someone who owned it.
She finally pulled into the driveway of the massive, sprawling property that her family shared with the Mathurs. She switched off the engine and rested her forehead against the steering wheel.
“...I deserve compensation.”
Her little hatchback gave a tired creak as she climbed out.
“Hang in there,” she muttered, patting the roof. “One day we’ll both have better lives.”
The two houses stood side by side, practically bleeding into one another in a chaotic symphony of Indian middle class architecture. They were separated only by a first floor balcony that neither family had ever really acknowledged as a boundary. Over the years it had become a shortcut for borrowed sugar, forgotten lunch boxes, festival sweets, and mothers yelling at each other over whose turn it was to sweep the leaves.
As Anika stepped out of the car, her joints popping in a horrifying chorus as she stretched her aching back, the thick, humid evening air hit her.
“Twenty seven,” she muttered. “Why do I sound forty eight?”
Her father’s booming laugh drifted from the veranda, warm and familiar enough to wash away most of the exhaustion she’d brought home with her A smile tugged at her lips before she even saw him..
Anika slammed the car door and marched up the front steps, but that smile disappeared the second her keen, trained eyes immediately zoomed in on the oily, translucent paper plate clutched in her father’s hand. The distinct, intoxicating smell of potatoes and spices wafted through the air.
“Papa!” Anika barked, stopping dead in her tracks, pointing an accusatory finger at him. “Is that a samosa? Please tell me you are not planning to eat that. ”
Mr. Karthik, a robust, cheerful man in his late fifties with a formidable mustache, froze like a deer caught in the headlights of an oncoming lecture. He immediately, and very poorly, tried to casually slide the half eaten samosa behind his back.
“Anika, beta! My darling daughter! You’re home early!” he boomed, his voice pitching up an octave in guilt. “No, no, this isn’t what it looks like.”
“Really?” Anika narrowed her eyes at him.
“Yes! I was merely testing the crispiness of the crust to see if your mumma will like it now that the vendor down the street claimed he changed his frying oil. You know how much she likes samosas.”
“You’ve been using that excuse since I was fourteen.”
“It almost worked once.”
“It literally never worked.”
He looked thoughtful. “...Maybe I dreamed that part.”
Anika crossed her arms over her chest, raising a single, highly unimpressed eyebrow. “Your cholesterol is not a joke, Papa. And unless you want your latest problems to involve a stent and a bypass surgery, I suggest you hand over that.”
Grumbling good naturedly, his mustache twitching with suppressed amusement, Mr. Karthik surrendered the snack. He dropped the offending samosa onto a side table. “You doctors. You go to medical school for years just to learn how to suck the joy out of everything fried and delicious.”
She couldn’t help laughing. “You are impossible.”
“And yet,” he said proudly, “I’m still your favorite parent.”
“I only have one father.”
“Exactly.”
She took the samosa from him before he could sneak another bite. “No fried food this week.”
The fifty year old man nearly pouted. “This is oppression, beta. You don’t get to do this to me in my house.” He said playfully.
“I am saving your life so you can live long enough to annoy me in my old age,” Anika shot back, though the fierce line of her mouth broke into a dazzling smile.
He reached out and affectionately tugged at a stray, frizzy curl that had escaped her messy bun. “My daughter comes home after saving lives and the first thing she does is bully her poor old father.”
Anika raised an eyebrow and he immediately backtracked. “I’ll forgive your tyranny, beta, because you’re the best daughter. And because you get your stubbornness from your mother.”
Anika’s expression softened, a warmth blossoming in her chest. Her father’s pride was not just a bonus, it was the very foundation of her career.
Years ago, in high school, Anika Karthik had been a notorious, unapologetic slacker. She had been a whirlwind of chaotic energy, caring significantly more about choreographing Bollywood dances for the school’s annual function, organizing mass bunking sessions, and gossiping near the water cooler than she ever did about her textbooks. She lived in the moment, a bubbly, extroverted force of nature who viewed academics as a mild, recurring inconvenience.
That is, until the universe hit her with two massive, life altering revelations.
First, she had noticed her father. Mr. Karthik was a self made man, a guy who had worked his fingers to the bone, missing sleep and skipping meals to ensure his family never lacked a single comfort. One evening, she had caught him looking at a medical college brochure that had arrived in the mail by mistake.
The quiet, burning longing in his eyes as he traced the picture of the white coat had stopped the breath in her lungs. He had never once forced his dreams on her. He had never demanded she be anything other than her wild, unfocused self.
But in that moment, she saw his silent sacrifice in supporting their family and ensuring she lived a comfortable life. She wanted to be his hero, the way he had always been hers. She wanted to put that white coat on and watch his chest puff out with the kind of pride that could outshine the sun.
Second, there was Rohan Mathur.
Standing on the veranda, Anika casually, almost involuntarily, let her gaze drift upward. She glanced at the balcony of the adjacent house. The warm, yellow lights in Rohan’s room were on, casting a soft glow that spilled over his railing.
Back in high school, Rohan Mathur had been the undisputed, untouchable topper. He was the quiet, nerdy, and infuriatingly perfect boy who sat in the front row, his nose perpetually buried in an advanced biology textbook, completely oblivious to the teenage chaos around him.
And Anika had harbored a crush on him so intense, so embarrassingly consuming, that it had practically caused her some amount of love induced brain damage.
