"Dr. Dhwani! Room 4, now! Patient's crashing-BP's dropping!"

The hallway roared with urgency.

Screams. Crying. The blare of heart monitors. The rapid shuffle of nurses' shoes on tiles slick with tension. Welcome to CityCare Emergency Hospital, where time was a luxury and miracles were expected by the hour.

Through the mess of white coats and panic, a figure moved-swift, steady, precise.

Dr. Dhwani Singhania.

Hair pinned up in a messy knot, her white coat stained faintly at the sleeves, stethoscope hanging like a lifeline around her neck. Her eyes-sharp, sleepless, unwavering.

She didn't walk. She stormed.

She turned into Room 4 without hesitation, gloves already on, voice clipped and commanding. "Vitals?"

"Ninety over sixty and falling fast."

"She's not responding to fluids-"

"Okay, 1mg epinephrine. Stat. Get me a crash cart just in case," Dhwani ordered, already beside the bed, checking the patient's pulse herself.

The nurse blinked. "Doctor-uh, aren't we-"

"Now, nurse!"

No more questions.

In this battlefield of beeping machines and suffocating anxiety, Dhwani didn't blink. Her hands moved like muscle memory, her voice cut through fear like a scalpel. She was no stranger to chaos. In fact, she lived in it.

Minutes passed. Breaths held.

And then-

A soft beep.

A stronger rhythm.

The nurse let out a shaky sigh. "We've got a pulse."

Dhwani stepped back, peeling off her gloves. Her throat burned from the dry air. Her back ached from twelve hours straight on her feet. But her eyes never lost that glint of fire.

"Stabilize her," she said, already turning. "Let me know when she's ready for transfer."

"Dr. Dhwani," another nurse called from the hall. "Trauma case in the ER-male, head injury. ETA five minutes."

Of course.

Because sleep was a myth.

Dhwani nodded, brushing a strand of hair from her forehead. "I'll be there."

She jogged down the hall, not a second wasted, weaving past stretchers and worried relatives. The emergency room was a nightmare to most, but to her, it was routine. Predictable in its unpredictability.

And in that rhythm-this frenzy-Dhwani found her peace.

A cup of chai sat forgotten at the nurse station.

Her phone buzzed. Ten missed calls from her mother.

She silenced it.

Family issues could wait. Patients couldn't.

Somewhere in this city, a man named Darsh Malhotra was living in silence, steel, and corporate power.

And here she was-in blood, sweat, and saving lives.

Two worlds.

Bound to collide.

Soon.

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