Arjun stepped off the bus, rolling his shoulders to ease the stiffness. The evening air carried the scent of damp earth—fresh rain had swept through, leaving behind puddles that shimmered under the streetlights. A distant rumble of thunder echoed across the sky, as if the storm had only paused, watching.
He glanced at his phone. 5:45 PM.
"One more bus, and I'll finally reach."
With a sigh, he boarded the next bus and slumped into a seat, resting his head against the cool glass of the window. Outside, the city flickered with restless energy—vendors shouting their last sales, neon signs buzzing with fractured light, pedestrians weaving through the chaos, their faces drawn with the burdens of the day.
But inside his mind, a storm brewed.
Am I making the right choice? Four years of studying—just to land a job? They said college days were the best years of life, but had he truly lived them? Or had they slipped through his fingers like grains of sand?
Doubt curled in his chest, suffocating. Would this new chapter be any different?
The rhythmic sway of the bus lulled him into an uneasy sleep. Until—
BANG!
A violent jolt sent him forward. His eyes snapped open.
The bus had come to an abrupt stop. Confused murmurs rippled through the crowd.
"What happened?" Arjun rubbed his eyes, still groggy.
"Some accident ahead, sir," a fellow passenger muttered.
People rushed toward the scene. Arjun hesitated for only a second before following.
Up ahead, a lorry lay overturned, its cargo of grain spilled across the road. The driver was slumped inside, pinned against the twisted metal of the steering wheel. A thin trickle of blood ran down his forehead.
"We need to break the front to get him out!" someone shouted.
Arjun's gaze darted around. "Does anyone have a metal rod or something strong?"
Silence. Then, a man hesitantly handed him a rock.
Arjun gripped it tightly and slammed it against the windshield. A splintering crack spread across the glass.
"Stand back!" he warned.
Inside, the injured driver stirred, his trembling hand reaching for something—a steel water bottle wedged near the dashboard.
"Sir, throw it at the windshield!" Arjun urged.
With a desperate effort, the driver hurled the bottle. CRASH! The windshield shattered into jagged shards.
People hurried forward, clearing the broken glass. Arjun climbed inside, his hands shaking as he fumbled for a pair of scissors on the dashboard. He worked quickly, slicing through the seatbelt.
"Sir, can you move?"
The driver groaned, his movements sluggish. As Arjun helped him forward, a shard of glass caught his arm, slicing deep. A sharp sting—then warmth as blood trickled down his skin.
Sirens wailed in the distance. Relief flooded through him. Help was here.
Paramedics rushed in. One reached for Arjun's arm, but he shook his head. "Check on him first."
As the medics carried the driver to the ambulance, another approached Arjun, dabbing antiseptic onto his wound. "It's deep but not serious. You'll heal in a week."
Numbly, Arjun nodded, his mind still caught in the wreckage.
The police arrived. "It'll take a day to clear the road," an officer announced. "Find alternate routes. This area will remain blocked."
People sighed in frustration. Some turned to Arjun, patting his shoulder, murmuring thanks.
As he boarded the bus again, exhaustion settled over him. He pressed his hand against his bandaged arm and exhaled.
By the time Arjun reached Ananya's house, it was 8:30 PM.
Rain poured in sheets, drumming against the rooftops. He slipped a hand inside his shirt, only to find it drenched. His blood-stained shirt.
Standing at the door, he knocked lightly. Moments later, Ananya appeared, her expression shifting from surprise to concern.
"Arjun? I thought you were coming tomorrow." Her gaze flicked to his shirt. The dark stain had spread, stark against the wet fabric. "What happened to you?"
"There was an accident on the hill road. I helped with the rescue. Just a minor injury."
She stepped aside. "Come inside. I'll get the first-aid kit."
He walked in and collapsed onto the sofa, the events of the evening weighing heavy on his body.
"Ananya, can you bring me a cloth?"
"Yes, yes." She returned, first-aid box in hand, sitting beside him. Without a word, she grabbed his arm and carefully snipped away the old bandage.
The room was silent except for the rhythmic patter of rain outside.
She worked methodically, dabbing antiseptic, cleaning the wound. Arjun winced slightly, but neither spoke.
After re-bandaging, she disappeared into another room and returned with a set of clothes. "Here. This should fit."
Arjun opened his mouth to speak, but she cut him off. "They're my brother's."
He nodded, saying nothing. Taking the clothes, he stood to leave.
"I'll go sleep now," she said abruptly.
As he reached the door, he hesitated. Turning slightly, he murmured, "Thank you."
She just smiled.
Upstairs, he changed into the dry clothes and collapsed onto the bed, his body heavy with exhaustion.
Downstairs, Ananya quietly cleaned up the scattered first-aid supplies. Neither had asked anything. Neither had explained.
Maybe it was the timing. Maybe it was the exhaustion. Maybe the weight of the day had stolen their words.
One slept on a king-size bed, lost in peaceful slumber.
The other lay awake, staring at the ceiling, thoughts tangled in the night's events.
Two people. Two different worlds. Under one roof.