Page 52 of Trapped By the Maharaja

Sanjana stepped out of the operating theater, her scrubs damp with sweat, but her mind was relieved and energized.

The boy’s small, fragile chest had risen and fallen under her steady hands, and after hours of tension, the beeping monitor now showed a steady rhythm of life.

The boy’s parents’ faces looked at her in fear, and when they saw her smile, their faces smoothed into relief.

“Your son is doing well. He will be awake in two hours, but you can check on him now.”

“Thank you, Dr. Shetty,” the young boy’s mother said with a sob.

Sanjana patted the woman’s arm gently before allowing the parents to check on their son.

With a smile, Sanjana walked the hallway to take a much-needed break.

Just as she turned a corner, she saw Dr. Rao.

His lips were pressed together in a tight line.

She knew he was unhappy because she had just performed surgery on a patient he had refused because it was high-risk.

But now, he must have gotten the news that the surgery was successful.

She braced herself, expecting a snarky remark, but shockingly, the older man remained quiet.

That’s strange.

She also noticed that Dr. Rao hadn’t been passing any remarks or taunts for a while. She wondered what had caused the sudden change.

Whatever it was, she was glad that she didn’t have to deal with constant disparaging remarks.

The staff room was empty when she stepped inside.

She pulled off her cap and dropped it on the counter, running her fingers through her hair.

The familiar scent of antiseptic clung to her, mixed with the faint smell of chai lingering from someone’s earlier break.

She let out a long exhale and sank into the chair by the window, letting her body go slack for the first time all day.

A soft knock came at the door.

“Sanjana?”

She looked up. Rajesh stood in the doorway, his white coat crisp, his stethoscope slung around his neck. In his hand was a paper cup, steam curling from it.

“You look like you need this,” he said, stepping inside.

Despite her exhaustion, she smiled. “You’re right. I do.”

He placed the cup in front of her. “Chai. Extra cardamom, the way you like it.”

Her fingers curled around the warm cup, and she took a careful sip. The sweetness spread over her tongue, easing the tight knot in her chest. “Thank you, Rajesh. Really.”

He leaned against the edge of the counter, watching her. “Congratulations on the surgery. Not everyone would’ve taken the risk, but you did. That boy’s alive because of you.”

Sanjana felt her cheeks warm faintly at the praise. “It was a team effort.”

“You led the team,” he corrected gently.

For a moment, there was a comfortable quiet between them, broken only by the ticking of the wall clock. It felt almost normal—like the years before her life had been swept into Ram’s world.

She finished half the cup and pushed herself to her feet. “Rounds won’t wait. I’d better get back.”

But halfway across the room, her steps faltered.

Her hand shot out to the back of a chair for balance. A sudden wave of dizziness blurred the edges of her vision.

Rajesh straightened, frowning. “Sanjana?”

She shook her head, trying to clear the sudden fog. But the haze deepened, her surroundings warping, tilting. She blinked rapidly, her pulse thudding in her ears. The cup she had set down blurred into two, then three.

She knew it wasn’t lack of sleep because she normally could function well without much sleep.

Something is wrong.

“Sanjana—” Rajesh’s voice reached her, low and strained.

Through the blur, she saw his face. Strangely, he didn’t look alarmed or asking if she was okay. And neither was he rushing to grab her vitals or call for help. His expression was oddly guilty.

She tried to speak and call for help, but her lips barely formed the sound. Soon, her knees gave way.

“Ram…” she whispered before everything went black.