Yazhini(Yaa-li-nee) walked out of the music hall with the in her hand.

It had her name printed, Yazhini Subramaniam, Violin, Individual Performance.

She read her near the gate. Then she read it again near her blue Maruti Zen car. She kept looking at the again. A small smile slipped out each time she looked at the . It was like she still could not believe she finally got the . For three years, she stood behind players; now she had an opportunity to play Individual for the December concert.

She took her phone to call her maternal aunt(her mother's elder sister) to inform. But she wanted to say it to her in person, so she put the phone back in her bag. She got into the car. She adjusted the small goddess idol on the dashboard that had moved sideways.

"We got it," she whispered to the idol.

She drove the car forward. The Violin case was buckled up in the enger seat. A shared taxi suddenly cut in front of her, and Yazhini slammed on the brakes. The car stopped quickly with a jerk. A white delivery van crashed into her car from behind. The idol fell down. The noise was loud and sharp. Her left knee hit something under the steering wheel. For half a second, everything became quiet for her. She picked up the idol and wiped the dust from it with her thumb. She then got out of the car.

The back of the car was bent in. One tail light had broken into pieces and it was scattered on the road in red. The van driver kept saying sorry to her.

"Madam the brake did not catch. Small damage only," he was begging.

She stared at the van driver, and he stopped talking.

"It is not small?" she asked.

When she started the car, it coughed and died. When she got down, the van driver began to cry.

She called the regular workshop and they said they would send a tow truck. By the time she was waiting, she felt her knee getting sore. She stood in the shade pretending that she was fine. She looked at the in her handbag. That made her forget her pain.

She said to herself, "Good news followed by a bad one"

She went to her home by auto rickshaw. When she got down, her maternal aunt saw her and came fast to the gate.

"What happened?" her maternal aunt asked.

"A small accident."

"For you, everything will be small. Even if your head got hurt, you say a small headache."

Yazhini smiled at her and moved inside the house.

Her aunt (maternal aunt) saw the way she walked and asked, "What happed?"

"Small pain in knee."

Her aunt looked at her and made her sit on the sofa. The ceiling fan made a clicking sound. The room smelled of sambar, prepared for dinner. Then her aunt lifted the edge of her skirt and touched her knee. She felt the swelling on Yazhini 's knee.

"Have you seen the doctor?" her aunt asked.

"It's nothing"

"Tomorrow, you have to see the doctor," her aunt commanded her as she knew Yazhini will not see if she said in her normal tone.

"I have rehearsal in the morning."

"Doctor first," her aunt said staring at her.

"The performance is on this week."

"So? Will you play Violin with one leg?"

Yazhini looked away.

Aunt took some oil and made her sit down on the floor and stretched her knees. When her aunt rubbed the pain oil in Yazhini's swollen area, Yazhini pulled back in sudden force due to pain.

"Now say, it is small?" her aunt asked.

Yazhini looked at her and stretched her legs.

After a while, she took the bag from the bed and took the and showed it to her aunt.

Her aunt wiped her oily hand on her nightie and pressed the between her fingers, and looked at it. Her aunt smiled at her. Then she went into the kitchen and came back with one piece of Mysore pak(gram flour sweet). Yazhini bit the sweet from her aunt and it was hard at the edges as usual. Her Aunt used to buy from the same old shop and said old taste should not be betrayed.

The next morning Yazhini went to rehearsal with her swollen knee.

Thendral Mary was already at the café that's opposite the music hall, drinking filter coffee and eating a lot of sweet buns. It seemed like Thendral had a huge appetite.

Thendral looked at her as she came near her, "Don't act humble. Your face is showing full pride."

"My face is normal."

"Your face is doing katcheri(traditional concert format) by itself."

Yazhini laughed and sat down slowly.

Thendral looked at Yazhini struggling to walk.

"What happened?" Thendral asked.

"When I came in you was busy eating," looking at her and said, "You eat, eat"

"Yazhini, say"

"Small accident, a metal fellow hit my car from behind," Yazhini shrugged her shoulder and said, "Good nothing happened much."

"Imagine you dying before the performance."

"Don't talk nonsense."

"And before proper romance also."

Yazhini looked into her coffee and said, "Don't start."

Thendral smiled looking at Yazhini.

Yazhini was twenty-three years old. She had performed on lots of stages. She had even travelled by herself with a violin. This violin was bigger for her than her life. She could sit in front of teachers and get scolded, but without the violin, she couldn't. She wanted to be in the front row and perform at all major events.

But her friend Thendral talked about men and love and things, Yazhini still felt she was like a little schoolgirl trying to hide a secret note in her book. The rehearsal bell started ringing and they rushed to the hall.

Her fingers were like they had a separate brain. Her breathing got calm as the first set finished. The hall seemed big to her, which made her worries seem small. The music was like a painkiller for her. Then a sheet of music stand fell. Yazhini bent down to pick it up. A sharp pain was felt in her knee and she made a noise. Everyone turned to look at her.

Arvind, the conductor, walked with his sharp eyes and he is a person who couldn't tolerate careless mistakes. When he came to know she had not shown up to the doctor, he gave her a strict warning that, without medical clearance, she would not be allowed to participate in the performance.

After lunch, she went to a Multi-Speciality Clinic by taxi. The waiting area had green walls. There were chairs and a TV playing news. It had no sound. A child with a bandaged finger was sitting near his mother. He was eating chips. An old man was near the billing counter, arguing about the price of medicine.

"Yazhini Subramaniam," the girl from the counter called her. She got up and moved to the counter slowly. The girl gave a sheet to her and said, "Room no 15". The cabin had a desk and two chairs. There was an examination table behind a curtain. A poster of orthopric-related images, full of bones, was stuck on the wall.

Dr. Raghavendra (Ra-ghe-ven-dra) looked up at her as she entered the cabin. He was in his late thirties. His hair had some grey near the sides. His face looked serious and he smiled at her.

Nurse Jameela helped Yazhini sit on the examination table. Yazhini has worn a knee-length top and shorts to her thighs. The doctor touched her knee. His touch was professional, and the gloves in his hands felt cold. She looked at the doctor as she felt the pain. She saw the bite marks in his pen cap. His eyes said to her that all was okay.

"Just swelling," he said. "It can't be a fracture. But for few days no running, no bending fast without , no stress like standing.

"I need Clearance." she said.

"Clearance?" the doctor asked.

She said about her and he was surprised to see her dedicated to the violin.

"Everyone asks me why violin," she said.

"I was about to ask," he said, smiling at her.

Yazhini laughed before she could stop herself. He smiled in reply to her.

The nurse showed Yazhini how to apply the gel around the swelling. She accepted the male doctor appointment because she wanted the clearance. He didn't touch her more than the examination. She thought that as a doctor he could touch a little above her knees as part of the examination, but he didn't. Most guys want to touch her, and she had respect for him.

Yazhini got the clearance, and she moved from his desk.

"The performance is Saturday?" the doctor asked.

Yazhini turned and looked at the doctor and said, "Yes."

"I may come," the doctor said.

"Do you like this music?"

"I like anything that distract me from check my phones."

She smiled, looking at him. He took his card from the cardholder and wrote his number on the back.

"I have written my number, you can call me for the knee issue and give an update on the event venue."

Yazhini stared at him. He seemed unsure of what she was thinking.

"If it is uncomfortable, you can throw it away."

She kept the card in her handbag and she moved. Outside the clinic, cars honked, and a fruit seller was shouting the prices. The sun hot slapped on her. She got in the taxi and moved to her home.

That night, when she was searching for her night cream in her handbag, she looked at the card. As she looked at it, she was compelled to keep it safe. She kept it inside her Violin music book.

On Saturday, the event hall was full. When Yazhini finished her individual performance, all stood and clapped. She played with pain. The applause was a painkiller for her. Yazhini scanned the room for the appreciation given to her, and then she saw Dr. Raghavendra in a dark blue shirt.

He waited for her to come, she met him.

"You played beautifully," he said.

"Thanks for coming."

"I said I might."

"That usually means no."

"I am not usually."

She looked down and smiled. Her aunt called her asking, "Yazhini! Car key?"

Yazhini turned to her aunt and answered.

When she looked at the doctor, he said, "Coffee tomorrow?"

Yazhini looked at him and nodded yes in reply, without knowing she said yes.

The next evening, they met at a café. She wore her favourite T-shirt and jeans. They talked like strangers. He told her that his wife had died two years ago, due to illness. His thumb kept moving back and forth on the side of his coffee cup. Yazhini noticed his hand. She told him that she lost her parents when she was just born and her aunt took care of her. She said music was the one thing that always made her alive. She said music was her mother's life. As they spoke, their grief made them close.

Later they both walked near the beach. The wind pulled some of Yazhinis' hair to the front, and she tried to fix her hair. He watched her and then looked away.

Yazhini noticed he was looking at her, "You keep doing this," she asked him.

"What?" he asked, pretending like he didn't know.

"Looking and looking away."

"You are noticing too much."

"I play music," she said, smiling at him.

He smiled looking at her for a second, and looked away, "I am trying to behave," he said.

The words were easy to understand for her. That made them to feel serious. A boy rushed by them holding a string for his kite. A seller was roasting corn over a coal fire. The sea had turned dark now.

Yazhini's hand touched his by accident. That was all it took, one second. After that Yazhini felt something. Everything about Yazhini became different for him. They felt that it was right, like it was meant to be.

Next day, at rehearsal, Thendral kept an eye on Yazhini for minutes. After that, she pulled Yazhini behind the side curtain.

"Tell me." Thendral said.

"Tell what?"

"Don't insult my intelligence. Your face has changed."

"My face is same."

"No. Earlier your face was like sad-Violin face. Now it is secret-cinema face."

Yazhini bit her lips. She couldn't stop laughing. Thendral's eyes got wide.

"Ayyo! (like Oh no). It happened?"

Yazhini looked at her and she nodded slowly. Yazhini didn't say anything about Raghavendra, and Thendral didn't force Yazhini to say it. The tabla player was playing the tabla one beat after another. It was like someone knocking on a door that would not open for Yazhini.

For a few weeks, they met at cafes and talked for hours. They started to feel comfortable around each other. She would wait for his messages. He would look forward to seeing her. Slowly, they began to feel attracted to each other. Raghavendra felt that after a long time, someone had entered the quiet spaces of his life. Yazhini felt for the first time that someone mattered to her as much as music.

One evening after their cafe, he asked her, "Will you come over to my apartment?"

Yazhini looked at him. She was quiet for a moment. Then she said, "Okay."

They drove back in his car. He took her to his apartment. When they reached the apartment, he told her to sit on the couch. She sat down. He went to the kitchen and took the orange juice from the fridge. She looked around his room. He brought two tumblers of juice and gave one to her.

"Thanks," she whispered and took a sip.

He sat beside her and they were close enough that their knees got touched. They just looked at each other for a moment. His eyes were warm and dark and Yazhini could see it. Yazhini felt her cheeks become hot. She kept the tumbler on the table.

He moved close to her. Their shoulders touched. He softly touched her hand, looking at her and he leaned in close and kissed her. She felt her body stiff, like a leaf that is blowing in the wind. She had a lot of questions in her mind.

She was thinking, "Is this okay? Am I doing this right?" and she closed her eyes and kissed him back.

His hand was on her waist. Her fingers were on the front of his shirt, feeling the buttons. Her breathing became quick. He pulled back a little. He looked into her eyes. His thumb gently touched her cheek. Then she kissed him again.

His hands slowly slid under her T-shirt. His palms reached her back. Yazhini gasped softly. He pushed her T-shirt up. She raised her arms a little. He pulled it over her head and looked at her white bra. She looked down. He kissed her neck slowly, tasting the light salt of her skin. She tilted her head, a small moan escaping her lips without her meaning to.

He made her lie on the couch. He then pulled down her jeans with her panties. He pulled down his pants and briefs. He positioned himself between her legs. As he felt his cock on her, she pushed him away.

"No, I don't want to," she got up and sat.

She put back her dress and said, "Sorry, I am moving."

He didn't speak and they kept looking at each other.

"I will drop you," he said.

She said no and took a cab to reach her home.

The next morning, Yazhini woke up in her room. She lay on her bed, lost. She heard the usual sound of a pressure cooker whistle from the kitchen. Sound of milk man. Everything seemed normal for her till yesterday night. She looked at her phone. Saw she had sent one message.

'Reached home? I am sorry. I lost myself.'

Yazhini read it many times. Then she kept the phone under her pillow like she was hiding her marks.

Days ed. Raghavendra messaged her occasionally. Not talking about that night. Trust was not the same as peace. Whenever she ed by the clinic, he came to her mind.

One Saturday afternoon, after visiting hours, she went back to the clinic and asked to meet him at the reception for an appointment. She went to meet him in his private cabin. When he looked at her, for one second, both of them forgot what to say. She walked towards him. He looked at her eyes and stood.

"Only if you are okay," he said.

Yazhini looked at the desk, the chair, and the curtain.

She looked back at him and said, "I don't know why I came, but," she paused and looked at him.

His face changed and he asked, "So, yes."

He took a step closer to her, "I do not want to hurt you," he said again with a low and rough voice.

She looked at him. He held her hips. He gently pushed her back to the wall. Then he pulled at her dupatta. She wanted to feel him close to her. She wanted him to be inside her. He could see it in her eyes.

He grabbed her salwar and undid her payjam knot. It dropped to her ankle. He pulled her panties up to her thigh. He glanced at her eyes. He then pulled down his pants. He held his penis in his hand.

He wanted to ask her, as he doesn't want to break the feel again.

"Yes," he asked.

She nodded at him. He slowly pushed inside her. She took a breath, and her hands grabbed his shirt tight. She felt his big warm inside her. They were breathing hard, and they were looking right at each other. His hips moved back and forth. He wanted to feel all of her and make her feel.

"Yazhini..." he whispered, voice full of hunger.

She held his shoulders, whispering, "Do not stop... I want to feel you," and she sucked his mouth harder.

He groaned softly and began to push harder. Then they heard the knock at the door. They froze. He was still buried inside her pulsing. Her heart slammed in her chest.

"Doctor? Are you there?" Nurse Jameela called from outside.

His face went tight with shock. He pulled out quickly, breathing fast. He closed his eyes for a second. Yazhini's heart was beating fast, it felt like it was going to jump out of her throat.

"Just a minute," he said in a steady.

Yazhini fixed her hair and her dress. He fixed his dress and went near the door. Yazhini sat down in the chair. She picked up an old magazine from the table. She was holding it upside down. Raghavendra saw her, and he almost smiled. Then he opened the door.

Jameela stood with a file in her hand and said, "Signature, doctor."

He signed them, looking at the paper. Yazhini kept her eyes on the upside-down magazine. Jameela looked at Yazhini, and she looked at their dress. Raghavendra shut the door again.

"That was close," he said.

Yazhini put the magazine down. The fear had cooled in her. Not everything but something to make her quiet.

"I should go," she said.

He nodded, though it hurt him. She stood by the door, then she turned around. For a moment they looked at each other.

"I don't know why I felt for you," she said.

"I don't know what I am doing."

"I know," she said, smiling at him.

He looked at her like that sentence had entered him and stayed. Yazhini opened the door. She stepped into the corridor. Yazhini walked past the boy and the old woman in the waiting area with her handbag held. Yazhini felt the weight of a secret, for the time, and it felt real.

Yazhini sat inside the car and took her phone.

She typed, 'Can I come to your home.'