When It Happened
A Short Story by Vasu Gangapalli

Pawan sat on a wooden bench outside the hospital ward, his face buried in his palms. The flickering tube light above him buzzed like something out of a horror film, its sharp shadows deepening the grief etched across his face.

“Why are you so sad?” asked a soft, feminine voice.

He looked up. A young girl, about his age, stood before him. Her eyes were curious, almost kind.

“What happened to the boy inside?” she asked.

“He’s suffering from a brain hemorrhage,” Pawan replied quietly.

“Will he be alright?”

He shook his head. “No… he’s in a coma. A few hours at most.”

Her face fell. “That’s so sad. How are you related to him?”

“He’s my best friend.”

She paused, then offered gently, “Would you like to step out for a while? A walk might help.”

Reluctantly, Pawan nodded. Together, they walked out of the hospital and into the park nearby. Under a gulmohar tree, they sat facing a lake where two ducks glided across the water. The evening breeze brushed against their faces, carrying the scent of flowers.

“Do you have someone in the hospital too?” Pawan asked, sneaking a glance at her. She was beautiful. Normally, he would have stumbled over his words around a girl, but with her, the words came easily. That surprised him.

“My father’s a doctor here,” she said. “I just came to see him.”

“Oh.” He hesitated, then admitted, “I don’t have any friends who are girls.”

“You mean girlfriends,” she teased, giggling. “Neither do I have any boyfriends.”

He chuckled. “I’m… reserved, I guess. Shy.”

“I’m not,” she said brightly.

Pawan smiled faintly. “I’m Pawan,” he said, extending his hand. “Friends?”

“Ankitha,” she said, shaking it warmly. “Yes, friends.”

And just like that, the conversation flowed. They laughed and shared stories as if they had known each other forever. When the sun dipped into the horizon, Ankitha stood up.

“We should go back,” she said.

“Already?” Pawan asked, startled at how quickly time had slipped away. For the first time in days, he smiled.

“You should keep smiling,” Ankitha said softly. “It suits you.”

“But there’s too much pain around me,” he murmured.

“That’s exactly when you must smile more—so sadness knows it can’t win.”

Her words lingered in him as they walked back. Before leaving, she shook his hand again. “I’ll be here tomorrow. Bye until then.”

Pawan inhaled deeply—the faint jasmine fragrance of her touch still on his hand. Was this… love? he wondered. He looked up at the flickering tube light and whispered, If she loves me too, let the light flicker once more.

It flickered. He smiled.

Inside the ward, his best friend lay unconscious, his mother slumped in exhausted sleep beside the bed. Watching them, Pawan’s chest tightened. Life was fragile, so easily lost. Any moment could be the last, he thought, sinking onto the bench. But even amidst that sorrow, Ankitha’s smile wouldn’t leave his mind.

I can’t wait until tomorrow, his heart insisted.

At that very moment, Ankitha, too, felt restless. She had waited all her life for love. Now it had happened—and she couldn’t wait. She returned to the hospital.

She found Pawan asleep on the bench, a peaceful smile on his lips. Sitting beside him, she slipped her hand into his and rested her head on his shoulder.

Suddenly, a loud beep echoed from inside the ward. Pawan jolted awake and rushed in. His best friend’s chest rose for the last time as the heart monitor flatlined. His mother’s wail tore through the silence. Tears burned in Pawan’s eyes as he held his friend’s still hand.

A gentle touch fell on his shoulder. Ankitha stood behind him, her eyes glistening. She wiped his tears and embraced him.

Hand in hand, they stepped outside. But a stranger was waiting in the corridor. His presence was cold, commanding.

“It’s time to leave,” the stranger said.

Pawan froze. Then the truth dawned on him. The boy inside the ward—the one who had just died—was him. His body had fallen into a coma earlier, but his soul had wandered free, believing he was alive.

“Please,” Pawan whispered, turning to the stranger—Death himself. “Can I stay a little longer?”

Ankitha fell to her knees, pleading, “Don’t take him! You’ve already taken his body—leave his soul with me. I waited so long for love, and it finally came. Please don’t take this away.”

Death’s gaze softened as he looked at her. He remembered her. Fate had claimed her some time ago, cruel and premature, and on her desperate request, he had let her spirit linger.

“You can take both of us,” she said through tears. “But let us be together.”

“Don’t cry,” Death said gently. “It doesn’t suit you.” He paused, then smiled faintly. “Not today. I’ll come back for you both… later. For now, live your love.”

The tube light above them flickered once more before the corridor fell silent.