Author's POV
In the living room, everyone sat in uneasy silence, waiting for Ashvi. The stillness broke when Dr. Soori’s phone buzzed. He picked it up, listened intently for a few moments, and then cut the call with a grave expression.
“Uncle, whose call was it? What happened?” Yuvaan asked, his voice tense.
Dr. Soori exhaled slowly before replying. “It was Adwait. He said Ashvi is having another panic attack… the same as every year on this day.”
In an instant, the entire family was on their feet, worry etched across their faces, rushing to follow Dr. Soori down the hallway. But just as they reached Ashvi’s room, he raised a hand, stopping them at the door.
“Please, all of you wait here,” he said firmly, his voice calm yet commanding. “Let me check on her first. I’ll explain everything afterward.”
He slipped inside the room and found Adwait by Ashvi’s side, trying helplessly to comfort her trembling form. Stepping forward with the steady composure of a seasoned professional, Dr. Soori said gently, “Adwait beta, you should wait outside. I’ll take care of her from here.”
But Adwait shook his head immediately, his voice breaking. “No… I won’t leave my cupcake alone. Not like this.”
For a moment, silence hung heavy in the air. Then, seeing the raw desperation in his eyes, Dr. Soori gave a small nod. “Alright. Stay. But let me work.”
Without wasting another second, he opened his medical kit, swiftly preparing an injection of Ativan. His hands moved with practiced precision as he explained in a reassuring tone, “This will ease the panic and help her breathing return to normal.
Adwait held Ashvi’s trembling hand tightly, whispering her name as if the sound of his voice alone could anchor her back to reality. Her chest heaved in sharp, shallow gasps, and her eyes darted wildly, as though the shadows of the past were closing in again.
Dr. Soori steadied her wrist with practiced care, the needle glinting faintly in his hand. “Just a little pinch, beta,” he murmured softly, more for Adwait’s reassurance than Ashvi’s, before injecting the medicine.
Adwait flinched as though he had felt the prick himself, but he didn’t let go of her hand. Instead, his thumb brushed soothing circles over her knuckles, his broken whispers spilling in between her uneven breaths.
Moments passed like hours. Gradually, the harsh rhythm of her breathing softened, her chest rising and falling in calmer waves. The tightness in her muscles began to ease, and the frantic fear in her eyes slowly dimmed, replaced by exhaustion.
Dr. Soori placed a stethoscope against her chest, listening carefully, then gave a small nod of relief. “Her breathing is stabilizing. Ativan is working.”
Guys Ativan is a medicine which use to ease the panic which is suffering from panic attack i know this because I read it in psychology so if any of you think how I know here's the answer ....
Adwait’s shoulders sagged, tears he hadn’t noticed forming now slipping silently down his cheeks. He leaned closer, brushing back the strands of hair clinging to her damp forehead. “You’re safe, cupcake… I’m right here. Always.”
For the first time that day, Ashvi’s trembling stilled. Though her eyelids remained heavy, her fingers weakly tightened around his—an unspoken answer to his vow.
Outside the door, the family waited in suffocating silence. Every muffled sound from inside made their hearts clench tighter. After what felt like an eternity, the door creaked open and Dr. Soori stepped out. His face carried both exhaustion and calm assurance.
“Is she alright?” Arvind Chauhan blurted out before anyone else could speak.
Dr. Soori raised a hand, steady and professional. “Ashvi is stable now. What she experienced was an acute panic attack—her body went into hyperarousal. The sudden surge of adrenaline caused her heartbeat to accelerate, her breathing to become shallow, and her muscles to lock in tension. If untreated, such episodes can push her into hyperventilation and fainting. I’ve administered Ativan—an anxiolytic medication—which works to calm the overactive nervous system and regulate her breathing pattern. Right now, she’s physically out of immediate danger, though emotionally she’s still fragile.”
The explanation didn’t erase the fear from their eyes, but the reassurance in his tone gave them strength. Without waiting for another word, the family rushed past him, unable to hold back any longer.
Inside, they found Adwait still seated by Ashvi’s side, her hand cradled protectively in his. She looked pale, her lashes heavy over tired eyes, but the violent trembling had eased. The sight made every heart in the room ache, yet at the same time, it brought relief—they could see she was fighting, and she wasn’t alone.
The medicine dulled the storm inside her, and slowly, exhaustion claimed Ashvi. Her lashes fluttered once before closing completely, her breathing now steady and even. The faint lines of fear on her face softened into fragile stillness, as if sleep had finally wrapped her in its gentle arms.
Adwait adjusted the blanket carefully over her, his hand never leaving hers. The family, who had crowded near her bedside, instinctively lowered themselves into seats around the room. Not a single word was spoken—no one dared to disturb her hard-won rest.
The silence was thick, yet it wasn’t empty. It was filled with the unspoken prayers of every heart in that room. Even the smallest movements were still, breaths held back, as if the entire family had promised the night itself that nothing—nothing—would shatter her fragile peace.
Time seemed suspended. The only sound was the soft rhythm of Ashvi’s breathing, a quiet reminder that she was still here, still fighting, and that gave them all a reason to stay rooted in place, waiting patiently for the moment she would open her eyes again.
Minutes melted into hours, though no one in the room counted them. The family sat in a circle of silent vigil, eyes fixed on the pale figure resting on the bed. The dim light of the bedside lamp casts soft shadows across her face, making her look almost childlike—delicate, breakable.
Adwait, still clutching her hand, hadn’t blinked in what felt like forever. Every rise and fall of her chest was a lifeline he dared not look away from. His thumb brushed against her knuckles, a silent plea whispering through the touch: Come back to me, cupcake…
Then, as if answering that plea, Ashvi stirred. A faint crease formed between her brows, her lashes fluttered against her cheeks, and a weak sigh slipped from her lips. The room tensed as one, hearts stopping mid-beat.
Slowly, her eyes opened, hazy and uncertain, searching for something familiar. And the first thing they landed on was Adwait’s tear-stained face, bent over hers with a trembling smile of relief.
“You’re safe,” he whispered hoarsely, tightening his grip on her hand.
The family exhaled together, a collective breath they had all been holding. Dadu’s eyes shone, Yuvaan pressed his palms together in silent thanks, and even the strongest among them found moisture gathering at the corners of their eyes.
No one spoke loudly. No one rushed to crowd her. They stayed exactly where they were, holding onto the fragile stillness of the moment—as though her awakening was the miracle they had all prayed for in the hush of that long day.
Ashvi’s eyes widened with a sudden, frightened clarity. Her voice came out thin and pleading, every syllable raw with terror.
“Bhai… I won’t hurt the baby. Please tell them… please, Papa… please free me from that nightmare — it’s hurting.”
The words fell over the room like a shard of ice. Adwait’s grip tightened until his knuckles blanched; he leaned closer, voice breaking, “Cupcake, no—no, you won’t. We’re with you.”
A stunned silence followed, then a dozen small sounds of heartbreak — Dadu’s breath hitching, her mother’s hand covering her mouth. Dr. Soori moved gently to the bedside, his face composed but grave. He exchanged a look with Adwait, then spoke in measured tones meant to reassure both the family and Ashvi, “She’s still frightened. We’ll talk to everyone, and we’ll help her through this. For now, let her rest and we’ll handle the rest together.”
Adwait pressed his forehead to hers, whispering promises into the space between them as the family closed ranks around the bed, determined to protect her from the nightmare that had reached out into the waking world.
As the haze of fear slowly lifted, Ashvi’s eyes flickered open again. For a moment, she seemed lost, but then recognition dawned—the familiar faces, the safe walls of her room, and the steady presence of her family surrounding her. Her breath steadied further, the panic loosening its grip.
And then, without a second thought, she reached out and threw herself into the arms of her Chote Papa, Raghav. Her hug was fierce, desperate, as if her very life depended on that single embrace. Raghav tightened his hold, whispering soothing words against her hair, one hand cupping the back of her trembling head.
Sometime later, breaking the heavy silence, Aman’s voice came small yet curious. “Bade Papa… ek baat puchun?”
Siddharth turned to him, his voice gentle but firm. “Puchho, beta.”
Aman hesitated, then asked the question that had been gnawing at him. “Bade Papa… humare ghar mein do doctor hain. Fir bhi Soori Uncle hi Sparkle ko kyu treat karte hain?”
For a heartbeat, the room was still. And then, almost like a chorus, all eight men answered in unison, their voices filled with raw protectiveness—
“Because we can’t risk our daughter’s life by handing it to that donkey brother of yours.”
The words carried both a sting of truth and the weight of their fierce love, leaving no doubt in Aman’s mind: Sparkle was too precious, and they would never gamble her fragile heartbeat on anything less than the best.
Here's the chapter ❤️
Give your precious time to vote and comment
For next update stay tuned 🙂
Write a comment ...