"Kahi dard aise hote hain jo dikhayi nahi dete... par andar hi andar tod dete hain."
(Some pains don't show-but they break you from the inside.)

Mumbai's monsoon hadn't relented all morning. Streets glistened under the cloud-heavy sky, reflecting neon hoardings and honking rickshaws. Amidst the buzzing chaos, Shivangi Rathore tugged her umbrella down, shaking droplets off her jeans as she approached the sleek glass doors of ''Aaradhya Women's Wellness.''

She exhaled, reading the clinic name again.

Wellness, she thought bitterly, hugging her sling bag tighter. Ironic.

The receptionist greeted her with a smile. 

"Appointment?"

"Shivangi Rathore. 11 AM."

The receptionist checked her screen and nodded. 

"Yes, with Dr. S. Randhawa. Kindly fill this form and take a seat."

Shivangi scribbled her details and sat in the corner, her leg bouncing with restlessness. Her stomach had been bloated for weeks, mood swings were off the charts, and she hadn't seen her period in two months. Google had drowned her in possibilities: PCOS, thyroid, stress. And so, for the first time in years, she walked into a gynaecologist's clinic.

She had assumed, by default, the doctor would be a woman.

"Miss Shivangi Rathore?"

Her head snapped up. A nurse was waiting at the corridor.

"Doctor will see you now."

She followed her through the white-washed hallway, her eyes catching the soft artwork of feminine figures and motivational quotes on walls. Everything was pristine, soothing, fragrant. And that's when the nurse opened the consultation door.

A man. Early thirties. Tall, clean-shaven with a neatly pressed white coat. Dark eyes. Composed expression.

She stopped. Blinked.

"Good morning," 

he said, standing up. 

"I'm Dr. Samarth Randhawa."

Her brain stuttered. 

"You... I thought- I mean-"

He smiled gently, used to the confusion.

 "I assure you, I've studied just as many ovaries as any female doctor."

She blinked again. "Uh..."

"Please have a seat. Don't worry. Nothing I haven't heard before."

She hesitated, sat on the edge of the cushioned chair, her arms wrapped protectively around her body.

He opened her form.

 "So. You've missed two cycles?"

She nodded.

 "And I'm not pregnant."

"Other symptoms?"

"Bloating. Hair fall. Sudden acne. I've gained weight-like weird, around my lower abdomen."

"Hmm. Mood swings?"

She laughed bitterly. 

"Ask my neighbor who heard me scream at my oven last night."

He chuckled. 

"Alright. Any history of irregular cycles before?"

"They've always been a bit... moody."

"Painful?"

"Sometimes. But I thought it was just normal."

He nodded thoughtfully, his gaze clinical yet kind.

 "Alright, I'll need to run a few tests. Ultrasound, blood profile. But from what you've described..."

He leaned forward slightly.

"You might have PCOS."

Her throat dried. 

"P-C-O-what?"

"Polycystic Ovarian Syndrome. Common in women of reproductive age. It affects hormone levels, which explains the mood swings, missed periods, and the weight."

She swallowed.

 "Cyst? Matlab mere  andar kuch hai?"
(Cyst? You mean something's inside me?)

"Chhoti chhoti fluid-filled sacs hote hain ovaries mein. Har kisi mein nahi, but in some cases."
(Small fluid-filled sacs in ovaries. Not always, but in some cases.)

She stared at him, her hands curling.

"Yeh... yeh dangerous hai?"
(Is it... is it dangerous?)

"Not life-threatening. But it needs management. Lifestyle changes, sometimes medication. And-"

"And it affects fertility, right?" 

she interrupted.

He paused. 

"It can. But it doesn't mean you won't conceive. Just that your cycle needs support. You came at the right time."

Tears threatened to prick her eyes. 

"I'm not even married. Mujhe nahi pata tha mere andar kuch itna gadbad ho raha hai."
(I didn't even know something so messed up was happening inside me.)

Samarth softened. "You didn't cause this, Shivangi. And you're not alone. One in ten women have it. You just... didn't know the signs."

She looked away, ashamed. 

"Mujhe laga main bas lazy ho gayi hoon."
(I thought I'd just gotten lazy.)

"No," he said firmly.

 "You've been fighting your body without even knowing it. That's brave."

Her lips trembled.

"I'll prescribe tests today. Once we have reports, we'll create a plan. PCOS isn't a punishment. It just needs a new approach."

"Like... no sugar?"

 she asked weakly.

He grinned.

 "We'll start slow. No one touches a writer's chocolate stash on day one."

She blinked. "How did you-"

"Your form said you're an author. You carry ink in your fingers. And a storm behind your eyes."

Shivangi blinked again. No one had ever said that to her. Not like that.

A long silence passed. Rain continued to beat the glass pane.

He closed the file. "You're doing the right thing. And I'll help you through this."

She stood up slowly. 

"Thank you... doctor."

He opened the door for her.

 "And next time? No assumptions."

"About what?" 

she raised a brow.

He smiled. 

"About who can understand a woman's pain."

She left with that line echoing in her chest. Somewhere between fear and relief, her heartbeat steadied.

And something within her said-this was not just a clinic visit. It was the beginning of something else.

Something she hadn't even known she needed.

To be continued...