Seventy-two hours.

That was the official word.

Observation. Monitoring. Absolute rest.

Kabir Rathod hated every second of it.

He lay in the private wing, jaw clenched, eyes sharp despite the medication trying to dull him. Machines beeped steadily, a rhythm he despised because it reminded him he was restrained — not by chains, but by bodies weaker than his will.

Food arrived untouched.

Again.

The nurse hovered nervously near the bed, tray in her hands like a shield.

"Sir... you should eat."

Kabir didn't look at her.

"I'm not hungry."

"You haven't eaten since morning."

"I said I'm not hungry."

She swallowed and stepped back.

Outside the glass walls, Veer watched the exchange with folded arms.

"This is the third tray," he muttered.

Kavya sighed. "He's being impossible."

"That's not new."

A junior nurse leaned toward Kavya and whispered, "He took medicines only once today."

Veer's eyes darkened. "Why?"

"He said he'll take them later."

Veer scoffed. "Later never comes with him."

Kavya hesitated, then spoke quietly.

"Should we call... the doctor?"

Veer knew exactly which one she meant.

"She's in surgery," he replied. "Back-to-back cases."

Kabir turned his face slightly, hearing enough to understand.

He said nothing.

But his fingers tightened over the bedsheet.

Ishita Sharma didn't step out of the OT until past evening.

Her shoulders ached. Her hands trembled faintly from exhaustion she refused to acknowledge. She washed up mechanically, changed, drank half a glass of water — and was about to sit when a nurse rushed in.

"Ma'am... Mr. Rathod hasn't eaten. He's refusing food and medicines."

Ishita closed her eyes.

Once.

Twice.

Then she straightened.

"Bring his file."

She didn't rush.

That was the dangerous part.

The private family floor was quieter than the rest of the hospital. Softer lights. Controlled access. Power disguised as comfort.

Kabir was staring at the window when she entered.

"You skipped meals," Ishita said flatly.

He didn't turn. "Food was bland."

Her lips pressed into a thin line.

"You were shot six times," she snapped. "Not checked into a hotel."

He finally looked at her.

"You're angry."

"Yes."

"Because I didn't eat?"

"Because you're behaving like a child."

A muscle in his jaw twitched.

Veer, standing near the door, froze.

Nobody spoke to Kabir Rathod like that.

Kabir exhaled slowly. "I don't like people forcing me."

"I'm not people," she replied.

Silence fell heavy.

Veer's eyes widened almost imperceptibly.

Ishita picked up the tray herself, pulled the chair closer.

"Eat."

Kabir didn't move.

She scooped a spoonful and held it out.

"I said eat, Kabir."

His eyes flicked to the door.

Veer immediately turned his face away, pretending to read something on his phone.

Kabir leaned forward and ate.

One bite.

Then another.

Ishita didn't smile.

She didn't soften.

She watched him like she was memorizing every breath.

"Medicines," she said.

He obeyed.

Kavya stared openly now.

"What is she to him?" she whispered.

Veer didn't answer.

Because for the first time in his life — he didn't know.

That night, Ishita returned to her apartment.

She didn't shower immediately.

She didn't eat.

She collapsed onto the bed fully clothed, exhaustion finally claiming space her anger had occupied all day.

Her phone buzzed.

Kabir:

Did you eat?

She stared at the screen.

Didn't reply.

Another message.

Kabir:

I took my medicines.

Her fingers trembled slightly as she typed.

Ishita:

Good.

Seconds later.

Kabir:

You didn't answer.

She sighed.

Ishita:

I'm tired.

There was a pause.

Then:

Kabir:

Come tomorrow morning.

She stared at the ceiling.

Ishita:

I have surgeries.

Kabir:

I'll wait.

That was his way of asking.

Her anger softened — not gone, just quiet.

Ishita:

Sleep.

The next two days passed the same way.

Kabir refused food until Ishita came.

Refused medicines until she watched him swallow them.

He didn't say it.

Didn't demand it.

But everyone noticed.

Even his parents, who visited briefly again, sensed something unspoken.

"Doctor Sharma keeps him calm," his mother said softly to Veer.

Veer nodded. "Yes."

That was all he said.

On the third day, Ishita stood by Kabir's bed, checking reports.

"You'll be discharged tomorrow," she said.

Kabir watched her face.

"You look tired."

"You almost died."

"That's not an answer."

She closed the file.

"You don't scare easily, Kabir Rathod. But you scared me."

He didn't respond immediately.

Then quietly: "I sent Veer a message before it happened."

She looked up sharply.

"Because," he continued, "if something went wrong... I needed him to come."

Her voice dropped. "And me?"

His eyes locked onto hers.

"You were already there."

That was all.

Some battles were fought with guns.

Others with silence, fear, and love too deep to name.

And the world still didn't know who Ishita Sharma really was.

But Kabir Rathod did.

And for now — that was enough.