Secret Shaadi ...

Chapter 18

**Chapter 18: "Surgical Harmony"**

Sidharth's Pov :

As I returned from Punjab, I was
welcomed by the rhythmic cadence of the OPD door, which marked my entry into the bustling hospital . Rahul and Shubham, my partners in medical mischief, shot me inquisitive glances, their eyes carrying the weight of unasked questions.

Rahul, the perennial inquisitor, couldn't resist the opportunity. "Bhai, kuch gadbad lag rahi hai. Shaadi karli tune, aur mujhe pata bhi nahi chala?"

A sip of coffee served as a dramatic pause before I unraveled the clandestine events. "Haan yaar, Punjab ka scene tha. Bade urgent mein ki shaadi."

Shubham's eyes widened in disbelief as Eahul directed a question towards him. "Aur tune bhi mujhe bataya nahi? Tu mere bhai mera bhi dost hai, main tera dushman nahi."

Understanding his sentiment, I placed a reassuring hand on Rahul's shoulder. "Arre yaar, tu ghar pe busy tha. Pata hota toh zaroor bata deta."

Rahul, though pretending a stern expression, couldn't suppress a smile. "Arre bhai, hum toh mazak kar rahe the. Bata na sahi, kaun hai woh lucky lady?"

The laughter that ensued served as a cathartic release, an acknowledgment of the underlying complexities. "Shehnaaz Gill, college ki topper hai, cultural events mein winner bhi. Humare college mein chhupi phool hai," I revealed, inviting my friends into the enigma of my brother's wedding.

Rahul, sporting an exaggerated expression, chimed in, "Aur tu mujhe dramebaaz bata raha tha. Hero ban gaya bhai. Bhabhi se milwana next time, haan?"

The day's surgical agenda soon resumed, but the camaraderie lingered. Amidst the serious diagnosis and life-altering decisions, the bond with friends offered a respite—a reminder that beyond the surgical symphony, life played its diverse tunes.

The surgical ward transformed into a theater of healing, each case a chapter in the narrative of restoring health. As I delved into the complexities of diagnoses and treatment plans, the banter with friends became the interlude—a melody of shared laughter amidst the clinical precision.

Amidst the white-coated chaos, I found solace in the symphony of surgical instruments and the lighthearted exchanges with Rahul and Shubham. The conversations echoed through the corridors—a fusion of medical jargon and colloquial banter.

Later in the day, the hospital cafeteria became a refuge—a haven where friends dissected life's intricacies over cups of coffee. The aromatic brew accompanied discussions on cases, life, and the unfolding drama of my brother's wedding.

Rahul, ever the interrogator, seized the opportunity for deeper insight. "Bhai, shaadi mein kaisa feel hua? Kab tak chhupa raha hai? Kuch plan kiya hai ?"

"Pata nhi , dekhte hain," my response, delivered with a chuckle, touched on the surreal blend of family expectations and personal revelations. The serious tone turned light-hearted as we explored the gravity of relationships, all while savoring the bitter warmth of hospital coffee.

As the  hospital corridors became our home over the years spent here, I found myself grateful for these moments of connection, the shared laughter, and the reassuring presence of friends who could find humor even in life's uncertain moments.

As the surgical symphony played on, my laughter merged with the echoes of instruments—a testament to the resilience of friendships that withstood the intricate dance of life within the hospital walls.

In the midst of intricate diagnoses and emergency cases, the camaraderie between friends remained the unwavering constant—a reminder that even in the heart of medical challenges, life's most valuable treasures often hid in the laughter shared with those who understood the rhythm of your heart beyond the operation theater.