Page 3 of A Lab Rat’s Guide to Fated Love

He glanced at the sender’s email address again to check if it looked legitimate, and weirdly enough, it did. Raking a hand through greasy locks of his hair that were begging for a shampoo he had no energy for, he double-clicked on the attached files to skim through them, too.

Both treatments were experimental. The first one proposed to replace his heart with a bionic one, claiming to extend his life by up to ten years, in the best-case scenario.

The second option looked a bit more complex, using a combination of nanotechnology and biomechanics of some sort.

He’d never seen anything like it, and reading further told him exactly why.

There wasn’t anything like it. The treatment hadn’t even been tried on humans before.

He’d be the first human lab rat, if he let them turn him into one.

It absolutely had to be a joke. And what earlier telephonic correspondence was she going on about? He’d never—

Vir swore, reaching for his phone on the nightstand beside him.

Adi answered on the second ring. “Did you hear from them?”

“What have you done?” Vir groaned. “Why didn’t you talk to me first?”

“You wouldn’t have listened.”

“So, you impersonated me over the phone? You know I’m not getting another transplant for it to fail again. And this other option looks like some kind of advanced torture method straight out of a science fiction novel. How long has this been going on?”

“Not long.” Adi paused, not sounding remotely ashamed for the mess he’d created. “A few weeks. I found out about a last-minute opening for this program at your university, of all places. At first, I couldn’t believe my eyes. I mean, if this isn’t fated, I don’t know what is. Naturally, I applied.”

“Naturally. ”

As if the sarcasm dripping from Vir’s tone wasn’t evident at all, Adi continued, “Your name is also in multiple waitlists for a regular heart-transplant at medical institutions across the country, in case you’d rather prefer that than something from a science fiction novel.

And before you waste your breath on asking how, your brother has contacts. And you’re welcome.”

Vir swore again. He’d assumed wrong. The ass hadn’t gone through the five stages of grief in order. Instead, he’d skipped the acceptance bit altogether to take an about turn and bulldoze his way straight into denial again.

“Anyway,” Adi continued, “The people I spoke to earlier—as you, of course—weren’t very forthcoming with why they suddenly approved your application after declining it earlier.”

“Declining—?”

“The program is brand new and is supposed to be extremely hard to get into. I checked, and there’s already a full waitlist for next year. But I asked Fehim to do some digging and—”

“You roped Fehim in this, too? You barely even know the guy, for God’s sake!”

“—turns out one of the other shortlisted candidates dropped out because of higher risks involved as compared to waiting for a donor, and another was deemed non-viable at the last moment. They’re in a time crunch and can’t officially screen more candidates without losing this year’s grant. But that’s great news for us, right?”

“And you thought I’d just nod along and serve myself on a platter to be experimented on? What were you thinking?”

“I wasn’t thinking!” Emotion finally broke through Adi’s calm.

“I didn’t have to. I’m not going to sit on my ass and watch my—” Silence.

“Look, I know I can’t force you, but can you at least consider your options?

Just… talk to them once. Hear them out before you decide.

Please.” His voice wavered at the last word.

Vir groaned again, dragging a palm roughly down his face.

Fine. He could do that. He didn’t have to agree to the unnecessary torture, he’d already had enough of it for a lifetime.

But he could pretend to consider his options, if it meant getting Adi off his back once and for all.

And then he’d promptly disappear into a beachy sunset before anyone caught on what he was up to.

“Fine. I’ll talk to them,” he replied. “But I’m not going to promise you anything.”

“Thank you.” The hint of a smile peaked through Adi’s voice. “And I’m sorry, I am. But we both know you’d have done the same for me.”

“I know.”

He didn’t have a single doubt about that. He’d have dragged his brother across states to force his ass into any program that remotely offered him a chance to live, if he had to. Adi was at least asking him nicely, for the most part.

Disconnecting the call, Vir pushed himself off the bed, tossing the book Fehim wanted into his backpack on his way to the bathroom. He’d hand it to him before his visit to the admin office later.

After a quick shower, he swiped a palm across the foggy bathroom mirror to meet his own impassive dark eyes staring back at him.

Days’ old stubble lined his sharp jaw, hair jutting out in stark contrast to the pale gauntness of his face, the face of a dying man, withering away with each numbered beat.

Thump. Thump. Thump. Thump.

With a weary sigh, he traced a bony finger along the vertical scar over his sternum before slowly dragging it to the left over the small scribble he’d gotten tattooed last week.

He fought against the urge to scratch the flaky ink.

It’d been a spur-of-the-moment decision.

The drawing itched like a bad rash, but it appeared to be healing well.

He slapped some Vaseline on, recalling the name of the symbol, Algiz—the most powerful rune of protection, or so he’d been told. As if that mattered.

He dried off and pulled on a pair of jeans with a loose white t-shirt, before stepping out of the apartment.

“Hey!” Fehim Ahmad stood leaning against the corridor wall right outside his door.

At six-foot-three, nearly as tall as Vir, Fehim was a good-looking south Indian guy and a fellow PhD scholar at the same university, different department.

He wore a pair of large rectangular glasses that had a habit of slipping down his long, pointed nose regardless of what he did to them.

“I said I’d bring it to you.” Vir shook his head, reaching into his backpack .

“I just heard.” Fehim flashed him a grin. “You got accepted!”

“Yeah, sorry Adi dragged you into this.” Vir grimaced, handing him the battered old hardcover.

“Hey, I’m glad he did. I know a few seniors at the bio-research center. Have you decided which option you’re going with?”

“I’m going to decline.”

“What? Wait—why? Are you serious?”

“I’m serious. Don’t tell Adi if he calls you again. I told him I’d consider my options, but there’s really nothing to consider.”

“But—”

“Let it go, Fehim.” He pushed the fresh tinge of guilt aside at his friend’s withering expression while they made their way downstairs.

“Are you headed to class?” Fehim changed the subject.

“Nope. To the admin office. I’m dropping out.”

Fehim shook his head. “I’m starving. Let’s grab a bite first.”

Nori

T he fact that Nori’s potential new subject now had options and the trajectory of her career relied on his free will, wasn’t the only reason why she’d been teetering on the verge of tears since stepping foot in this god-awful campus a few days ago.

There was another. One shaped like the boy she’d sworn she was never going to speak to again—the rotten, abandoning, dramatic ass that he was. Out of hundreds of research-based universities in the country, he had to be a PhD student in this exact one.

Double tapping her phone woke its display to the last opened page of her messaging app, where a series of text bubbles sat neatly stacked one over the other. Months’ worth of chat, all undelivered. The call history had a similar story to share.

Ryan Matthews, her best— ex -best friend.

Brother from another set of parents, if you will.

Ryan Ass Matthews, the boy who’d stuck to her like a stubborn piece of gum ever since she’d sat next to him on her first day of school in Canada.

The boy who’d followed her around, trying to make her swap trading cards with him even though she’d had none.

Socializing hadn’t come easy to her, even at that age.

And if this overly chatty boy with a mushroom-cut hadn’t adopted her as his own, she knew she would’ve gone through the entire length of her school years as a complete recluse.

The clown’s tireless persistence had grown on her, and the two had been inseparable since.

Till their dumb conversation roughly a year ago.

Nori winced at her brain’s insistence she revisit the memory again .

After weeks of being cooped up at the lab, she’d stepped out to meet Ryan at their favorite local diner to pig out on the new thin-crust-pan-fried-pizza on the menu. Only the lunch had turned into a confession of sorts, effectively short circuiting her brain.

“ What? ”

“Which part do you need me to elaborate?” Ryan responded to her dumbfounded lack of vocabulary as he peeled pineapple chunks off his slice to discreetly move them to her plate, while actively refusing to make eye contact with her.

“The ‘I’ve had feelings for you for a while, and we should date’ part, or the ‘I’m looking into PhD programs in food science’ part?

Because I’ve already found some great options near Alberta. ”

“WHAT?” She downed her glass of water—and half of his—in an attempt to compose herself enough to use more words, like a person who knew how to use more words.

“What do you mean by ‘we should date’? You’re like my brother.

We’re practically siblings! And you know I don’t date.

What are you even—Ryan, what’s wrong with you? ”

Ryan stuffed his face with pizza instead of replying to her this time, his giraffe-like neck turning an alarming shade of red. A long moment passed where neither of them spoke. Yet the diner around them bubbled with laughter and music and bits of gossip flying about.

“We’re not siblings…”