Daant Ka Dard, Dil Ka Raaz
The clock ticked 9:17 AM at the ETF office in Mumbai. The usual clatter of footsteps, computer keys, and Shree’s nonstop chattering filled the air. The unit was just returning from a long and gruesome night operation, all covered in bruises, soot, and the heady adrenaline that hadn’t yet worn off.
Arjun Rawte walked in with his trademark grim expression, rubbing his jaw lightly as though trying not to draw attention. His eyes were slightly red, and there was a noticeable stiffness in the way he was holding the right side of his face.
Riya, sitting at her desk, tilted her head and narrowed her eyes at him. “Sir, aap theek hai?” she asked casually, but the hint of mischief in her voice didn’t go unnoticed by the rest of the team.
Shree smirked as he leaned over, whispering to Chotu, “Ab shuru hoga asli drama.”
Chotu chuckled. “Arjun sir aur dentist? Bhai, yeh toh reality show ban sakta hai.”
Ayesha, overhearing the exchange, chimed in with a grin. “Bhaagte bhaagte toh goliyon ke saamna chale jaate hai Arjun, par ek dentist ke chair pe? Bilkul statue ban jaate hai.”
Just then, Rathore walked in holding a file, glanced around, and dropped the bomb. “Arjun, tumhara appointment 11 baje ka hai. Riya, tum jaa rahi ho uske saath.”
Arjun’s head snapped up. “Rathore, yeh kya bachpana hai? Main khud chala jaunga.”
Rathore didn’t even bother looking up. “Pichli teen baar bhi yahi bola tha tumne, par har baar kisi na kisi ‘emergency’ ke wajah se appointment cancel ho gaya. This time, you’re going. Riya ke saath.”
Riya’s eyes widened in mock excitement, and she leaned back in her chair. “Main toh tayyar hoon, Sir. Mujhe toh sirf ensure karna hai ki aap clinic ke andar ghusein… aur bhaag ke na niklein.”
Arjun shot her a look that could turn water into ice.
***
The air in the SUV was unusually silent, except for the soft hum of the AC. Arjun sat in the driver’s seat, jaw clenched, his hand subconsciously rising again to press the side of his cheek.
Riya, buckled in the passenger seat, stole sideways glances at him every few seconds. She was trying very hard not to smile.
“Sir… daant mein dard ho raha hai ya ego mein?” she asked sweetly.
Arjun glared at her. “Tum chup nahi reh sakti, Riya?”
She shrugged innocently. “Main toh sirf pooch rahi hoon. Aap toh bade brave ho na? Toh phir dentist se kya dar?”
“Main kisi se nahi darta,” he grumbled. “Bas… unnecessary procedures pasand nahi.”
Riya couldn’t help it. She burst out laughing. “Unnecessary? Sir, aapke mooh mein literally infection ho raha hai aur aap bol rahe ho unnecessary?”
He muttered something under his breath that sounded suspiciously like “Kuch zyada hi bolne lagi hai yeh ladki…”
But as the clinic building came into view, Arjun slowed down too early at a red light, even though it had just turned yellow.
Riya folded her arms. “Don’t even think about it. Main yeh plan samajh gayi hoon. Light pe rukna, time waste karna, fir kehna ‘late ho gaya, chalo waapas chalein’. Not happening, Sir.”
Arjun gritted his teeth. “Tum bohot zyada bolti ho.”
“And you, sir, are a terrible actor,” she replied smugly.
***
The clinic smelled strongly of antiseptic and minty mouthwash. It was white, sterile, and utterly emotionless—like the perfect horror set for someone like Arjun.
As the receptionist smiled politely, Riya quickly stepped forward before Arjun could come up with an excuse.
“ACP Arjun Rawte ka appointment hai. 11 baje ke liye,” she announced brightly.
Arjun gave her a dark glare.
The receptionist looked impressed. “Oh! Arjun Rawte sir! Humein bahut khushi hui. Dr. Gupta bas thodi der mein aayenge.”
Riya leaned in and whispered, “Sir, fan following har jagah hai.”
He ignored her.
After a short wait—where Arjun tapped his foot so hard it was making the chairs tremble—Dr. Gupta entered. “ACP Rawte! Welcome. Chaliye, aayiye. Let’s take a look.”
Arjun stood rooted. Riya gently nudged him. “Sir? Aap jaa rahe ho ya main khud statement likh ke bheju Rathore sir ko ki patient bhag gaya?”
Muttering a curse, Arjun stood up and walked in with the grim reluctance of a man walking toward a war zone.
***
The overhead light shone harshly. The dental chair looked more like a torture device than a medical tool to Arjun.
Dr. Gupta gestured. “Please, have a seat.”
Arjun sat stiffly. His fists were clenched, his back arched, and he looked like he was ready to draw a gun at any second.
Riya, leaning against the wall, bit her lip trying not to laugh.
“ACP Rawte,” Dr. Gupta said, adjusting the chair, “bas halka sa check-up karna hai. Pain kaha hai?”
Arjun opened his mouth reluctantly and gestured vaguely. “Right side. Back. Do din se dard ho raha hai.”
Dr. Gupta poked around gently. Arjun flinched.
“Hmmm… Seems like an impacted wisdom tooth. Infection ho gaya hai. We’ll need to extract it.”
Arjun sat up suddenly. “Kya? Aaj hi?”
“Sir, agar abhi nahi kiya, toh infection aur badh jaayega. Painkillers se kaam nahi chalega.”
Arjun’s face was pale. “Extraction matlab… woh… injection bhi hoga?”
Riya finally burst out laughing from the corner. “Sir, aap toh aise react kar rahe ho jaise Dr. Gupta ne aapko interrogation room mein le jaakar torture karna hai.”
“Tum bahar jao,” he growled.
But Riya held up both hands, mock surrender. “Nahi Sir. Rathore sir ka clear order hai. Main ensure karun ki aap treatment poora karwayen. Mujhe toh lagta hai, mujhe video proof bhi bhejna padega.”
Dr. Gupta smiled. “You have a very… vigilant team, ACP.”
“Don’t remind me,” Arjun muttered.
***
As the anesthetic injection approached, Arjun’s knuckles turned white gripping the chair’s armrests.
“Thoda sa chubhega,” Dr. Gupta warned gently.
Arjun’s eyes widened slightly. “Doctor, aapne confirm kiya na ki anesthesia kaam karega?”
Riya, filming discreetly on her phone (for strictly professional blackmail purposes), stifled another laugh. “Sir, aap har baar terrorist ke saamne aise reaction dikhate toh aaj tak har case solve ho chuka hota.”
The needle entered.
“Ahh…” Arjun flinched.
Dr. Gupta raised an eyebrow. “Relax, sir. Breathe.”
Riya walked over and patted his shoulder mockingly. “Saans le lo, sir. War zone nahi hai yeh. Civilian zone hai.”
“Mujhe tumse sympathy lene ki koi zarurat nahi hai,” he grunted through a half-numb mouth.
***
Thirty minutes later, the extraction was done. Gauze stuffed in his cheek, Arjun looked like he had fought a personal war and lost one tooth of honor.
As they walked out, he was quiet.
Riya, trying her best to look supportive, finally spoke up. “Sir… proud of you.”
He gave her a look.
She smiled. “Sach mein. Aap bhaage nahi. Cry bhi nahi kiya. Toh… cake cutting kab?”
He mumbled something indecipherable.
“Sir, ab toh soft food hi milega na? Matlab… ice cream?” she teased.
He gave her a long, side-eye glare.
“Main Rathore sir ko bolti hoon ki har interrogation se pehle ek dental appointment fix kar dein,” she said sweetly.
His jaw twitched in irritation. “Tumhara transfer kab hoga, Riya?”
She giggled. “Aapko toh meri presence se sukoon milna chahiye. See? Aaj aapka treatment bhi poora ho gaya.”
He rolled his eyes but didn’t argue.
As they entered the elevator, Riya turned toward him, softer now. “Sir… waise… aap dentist se darten ho, but emotions se nahi. That’s rare.”
Arjun looked at her, gauze still in his cheek, painkillers wearing off, but there was a flicker of surprise in his eyes at the sudden shift in tone.
She met his eyes and smiled gently. “Aapke andar sirf anger aur darkness nahi hai. Dard bhi hai… aur dard bardasht karne ki himmat bhi.”
He didn’t say a word.
But his silence wasn’t the cold kind. It was the thoughtful kind.
And maybe, just maybe, behind the numbing medication and gauze, Arjun Rawte smiled—just a little.
~The End~
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