That evening felt peaceful.

  Too peaceful.

  Karan and Riya were sitting on the floor, leaning against the sofa. A small board game lay between them.

  "You moved twice," Riya said, narrowing her eyes.

  "I didn't," Karan replied calmly.

  "You did," she insisted.

  "I call it strategy," he said with a straight face.

  Riya crossed her arms. "That's called cheating."

  "Only if I lose," he answered.

  From the kitchen, their mother looked at them and shook her head.

  "Wash your hands. Food is ready," she called out.

  "Yes, ma'am," Karan replied dramatically as he stood up.

  Riya muttered, "Cheater," but she was smiling.

  They sat at the small dining table together.

  Rice.

  Vegetables.

  Simple food.

  Riya tasted it first and made a face.

  "It needs more salt," she said.

  "You say that every day," their mother replied.

  Karan tasted it and nodded seriously. "Yes. This is a national problem."

  Riya burst into laughter.

  Their mother tried not to smile but failed.

  For a few seconds, Karan forgot everything.

  Forgot hospitals.

  Forgot machines.

  Forgot reports.

  He felt light.

  Safe.

  Normal.

  Then the tightness came back.

  Stronger.

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  Sudden.

  He stopped talking in the middle of a sentence.

  Riya noticed first.

  Her smile faded immediately.

  "Are you okay?" Riya asked, leaning forward.

  Karan nodded quickly. "Yeah."

  But his voice was weak.

  Too weak.

  Riya pushed her chair back and stood up.

  "You're not okay," she said firmly.

  Their mother looked up at once.

  "What happened?" she asked, already afraid of the answer.

  "He's not breathing properly," Riya said.

  "I can breathe," Karan tried to say.

  But the air felt heavy.

  His chest tightened.

  Like something invisible was pressing down on it.

  Their mother came to his side and held his face gently.

  "Look at me," she said softly.

  Karan tried to focus on her eyes.

  The room felt smaller.

  The sound of the fan grew louder in his ears.

  Riya grabbed his hand tightly.

  "It's getting worse," she whispered.

  Fear filled the room.

  Not loud.

  Not dramatic.

  Just heavy.

  And real.

  "I'm calling an ambulance," their mother said, her voice shaking.

  She stepped aside and made the call quickly.

  Riya stayed beside Karan.

  "I'm here," she said, holding his hand.

  "I know," he replied softly.

  His breathing became uneven.

  They waited.

  Those few minutes felt longer than they should have.

  Then distant sirens grew louder.

  Red and blue lights flashed through the window.

  The ambulance arrived.

  Paramedics entered quickly with equipment.

  Questions were asked.

  Answers were given.

  He was placed carefully onto a stretcher.

  Riya didn't let go of his hand until the paramedic gently moved her aside.

  "I'm coming," she said quickly.

  They all rode together in the ambulance.

  The siren filled the night.

  Inside, everything felt too bright.

  A mask was placed over his face.

  "Stay awake," one of the paramedics said.

  "I am," Karan replied weakly.

  Riya held onto the side rail, her eyes fixed on him.

  "You promised," she whispered.

  "I'm still here," he answered.

  But even he could hear the weakness in his voice.

  At the hospital, everything moved faster.

  Nurses recognized him.

  He was taken back to the same ward.

  The same white lights.

  The same ceiling.

  The same old machines.

  Wires were connected again.

  Cold pads pressed against his chest.

  The machine started its steady rhythm.

  Beep.

  Beep.

  Beep.

  For now.

  Their mother stood near the nurses, asking questions in a low voice.

  Riya stayed beside the bed.

  She didn't cry.

  She didn't look away.

  She just held his hand tightly.

  "You're not going anywhere," she said quietly.

  Karan turned his head slightly toward her.

  "I told you," he replied, trying to smile.

  But his smile didn't reach his eyes.

  The machine continued.

  Beep.

  Beep.

  Beep.

  The room felt too bright.

  Too clean.

  Too controlled.

  Their mother returned and stood beside the bed.

  "It will be okay," she said, but her voice trembled.

  Karan looked at both of them.

  He wanted to say something stronger.

  Something that would make them believe it.

  Instead, he whispered softly,

  "I'm fine."

  Riya shook her head immediately.

  "Don't say that," she said.

  Her fingers tightened around his.

  As if she was afraid that if she loosened her grip, he might slip away.

  The machine kept its slow rhythm.

  Beep.

  Beep.

  Beep.

  The night outside the window grew darker.

  The ward became quieter.

  Doctors said they would observe him for the night.

  Everything was under control.

  That's what they said.

  Riya pulled a chair closer to the bed and sat down.

  She didn't let go of his hand.

  Their mother sat on the other side, watching the numbers on the screen as if staring hard enough could keep them steady.

  Karan looked at the ceiling.

  The white light above him didn't move.

  The machine beside him did.

  Beep.

  Beep.

  Beep.

  He listened to it.

  Counted the sound without meaning to.

  One.

  Two.

  Three.

  It was steady.

  For now.

  Riya rested her head lightly against the side of the bed.

  Her fingers were still wrapped around his.

  And he held on to her just as tightly.