Episode 1: The First Meeting
Dhiya’s POV
The cold morning air brushed against my face as I stepped out of the airport. The towering skyline of the U.S. stretched before me—so different from home, yet oddly welcoming. This was it. The prestigious international medical conference. A dream I had worked toward for years.
My phone buzzed in my hand. Mom.
"Mom, I’m fine," I reassured her, balancing my luggage while maneuvering through the crowd.
"I know, sweetheart. But take care, alright? And don't skip meals!"
I smiled. "Yes, Mom. I’ll be careful."
"And Dhiya," my dad’s deep voice came through the speaker, "Make us proud."
My heart swelled with warmth. "Always, Daddy."
With that, I disconnected the call and hailed a cab to my hotel. The journey felt surreal, the streets lined with people who didn’t know me, yet I felt a sense of belonging. It was a new world, a new chapter.
After checking in, I indulged in a hot shower, the fatigue of travel washing away. Slipping into a crisp white formal suit, I glanced at my reflection. My dark eyes held a fire—a hunger to prove myself. I adjusted my small bindi, a silent reminder of home, and reviewed my presentation slides one last time. This conference was not just an event—it was a stepping stone.
By the time I reached the venue, the hall was filled with top oncologists from around the world. Names I had only read in journals. The air buzzed with intellect and ambition.
I exhaled. Breathe, Dhiya. You belong here.
The panel called my name. My heels clicked against the polished floor as I walked to the stage, my heartbeat syncing with each step.
"Good morning, everyone. I'm Dr. Dhiya Deepak Chandra from India," I began, scanning the audience. "Based on my research and experience, I believe that cancer awareness is crucial, especially in developing nations. The stigma, the misconceptions—these are as dangerous as the disease itself. Cancer is not a death sentence. Early detection, combined with the right treatment and mental resilience, can save lives."
The room was silent, absorbing my words. I pressed forward, explaining case studies, survival rates, and the power of timely medical intervention. By the time I finished, I saw nods of approval. Then—the sound of applause. Real, genuine applause.
And that’s when I saw him.
Akshadh.
Seated in the front row, arms crossed, his sharp gaze locked onto me. There was something about his expression—intense, unreadable. As if he was analyzing every word I had spoken, weighing it.
I had read about him. The prodigy. The surgeon who had performed miraculous procedures, saving countless lives. The man whose dedication to medicine knew no bounds.
Why was he looking at me like that?
The next moment, the host announced his name.
"We now welcome Mr. Akshadh, M.Ch (Surgical Oncology), an esteemed doctor recognized for his extraordinary service and innovative surgical techniques."
A wave of murmurs ran through the audience as he stood up, his presence commanding immediate attention.
Dressed in a tailored black suit, he exuded an effortless confidence, a quiet authority that demanded respect. He stepped onto the stage, adjusted the mic, and scanned the room before speaking.
"Cancer is not just a disease—it’s a battle. And battles are won with strategy, awareness, and resilience. We, as doctors, hold the power to give people hope, to give them a fighting chance." His deep voice resonated, calm yet authoritative. "It is not enough to cure. We must educate. We must prevent. Because every life we save begins long before a diagnosis."
His words struck a chord. Passion radiated from him, evident in every syllable. He wasn’t just speaking—he was living his words.
A strange admiration coursed through me. And something else.
A challenge?
As he concluded, his eyes flickered toward me again.
And in that moment, I knew—this was just the beginning.
To be continued…
