Priya had never seen Ram like this—broken, terrified, lost. The man she once knew, the one who was always so composed, so confident, now seemed like a stranger. It was as if the walls he had so carefully built around himself had crumbled, revealing a version of him that she never thought existed. She had known him to be cold, distant, even cruel at times, but this... this was a man unrecognizable, a man in torment.

Ram's body trembled, and his face was contorted with pain as he clutched his head, his eyes wild with fear. Priya's gaze shifted to his palm, where blood was slowly oozing from a deep cut, staining his pajama. It was a clear sign of his internal chaos—a reflection of the deep wound in his heart. She reached out, her voice soft but firm, as she tried to calm him, to make sense of this madness.

"Ram, what's happening? What's bothering you?" she asked, her voice filled with concern, but the words barely seemed to reach him.

His response was a chilling confession. "I couldn't save them. I couldn't save my family... I killed them." His words were raw, filled with guilt, and as he said them, they cut through the air like a blade. Priya's breath caught in her throat.

"No, Ram," she said, her voice trembling as she tried to hold onto him, trying to bring some sense of clarity to this moment. But he shook his head violently, rejecting her words. "Yes, I did," he yelled, his anguish spilling out uncontrollably. His hands slammed onto the bed next to him, his rage evident as he started pushing Priya away.

The raw emotion in his eyes was something she had never seen before—a mixture of guilt, fear, and regret. His face twisted in pain as he continued, "I  survived. I should've died instead. Why couldn't I save them?"

His words were like daggers to Priya's heart. She couldn't bear seeing him like this—his walls were completely shattered, and the once indestructible man she knew was now a shell of himself. His mind had broken, and she could see he was spiraling.

Priya knew she had to do something, anything to stop the madness inside him. Without thinking, she pulled him into her arms, wrapping her arms around his trembling body. Ram continued to struggle for a moment, his muscles tight with tension, but slowly, as the warmth of her embrace seeped through to him, he began to calm.

His breathing became slower, less erratic, and Priya could feel his body relax, even as the tears still streaked down his face. It was as if, for a brief moment, he allowed himself to break, to feel, to grieve. In that stillness, Priya's heart broke for him. She could feel his guilt, his pain, but most of all, she could feel how deeply he had been affected by whatever he had lost.

As she held him, her voice soft and steady, she whispered, "I'm here, Ram. I'm here, and you're not alone. You didn't kill them. You didn't kill anyone. You're not a murderer, you're just... broken."

Ram's body continued to tremble, but he stopped fighting her. Slowly, the chaos inside him quieted. He didn't speak, but Priya could feel the weight of his sorrow, the burden he carried so silently for so long. And in that moment, as they sat there together, locked in a fragile embrace, Priya realized just how deeply Ram had suffered.

The warmth of her presence seemed to be the only thing grounding him, and as they stayed there, together in the silence, she knew that she had done something for him that no one else could. She had given him the comfort he desperately needed—the reassurance that, even in his darkest hour, someone was there to catch him when he fell.

The night had settled into its deepest, quietest hours, the world outside still and unaware of the chaos that had unfolded within the walls of Ram's apartment. Priya sat quietly beside him, her eyes weary but her heart heavy with the weight of what had just transpired. Ram lay on the bed, his body still twitching occasionally, the remnants of his panic attack lingering in the way he fidgeted even in his sleep. He mumbled incoherently, the words tumbling out like fragments of his broken mind, lost and distant.

Priya watched him closely, her hand gently brushing through his hair. The rhythmic motion was soothing, both for him and for her. She could feel his body still trembling, the aftershocks of his emotional storm not yet fully calmed by the sedative. She knew the medicine would take its time, gradually pulling him into a peaceful slumber. But for now, her presence seemed to be the only anchor holding him steady, the only source of comfort in the whirlwind of his mind.

Her fingers traced soothing patterns through his hair, her touch soft and tender. She wished she could do more, but right now, all she could offer him was this quiet solace. The warmth of his body next to hers was a reminder of how fragile they both were—he, broken by guilt and torment, and she, exhausted from the emotional toll of the night. She could feel his breath growing slower, more measured as the sedative worked its magic, pulling him deeper into sleep.

Priya, too, was drained. Her eyelids grew heavy with the weight of the night's events, her body and mind finally succumbing to the exhaustion that had built up over the past hours. She had been strong for Ram, but now, as the quiet of the room enveloped her, she couldn't hold on any longer. Her own thoughts began to blur, and the gentle rhythm of Ram's breathing lulled her into a peaceful trance.

With a final, soft exhale, Priya closed her eyes, her head leaning slightly against the edge of the bed. Her hand, still resting on Ram's hair, remained there as if she, too, needed the comfort of being needed, of being close to someone who, for all his brokenness, had let her in. The world outside seemed to disappear, and the only thing that mattered was the warmth of the man beside her, the quiet lull of the room, and the certainty that, in this moment, she wasn't alone.

And as sleep finally overtook her, her last thought was a quiet one: For tonight, it's enough to simply be here, together.

The soft, melodic chirping of birds outside the window cut through the stillness of the morning, rousing Priya from her deep, exhausted slumber. Her eyes fluttered open, adjusting to the quiet light streaming in through the curtains. For a moment, she lay still, the peacefulness of the morning settling around her. But as she shifted slightly, she realized she wasn't alone. She turned her head slowly, and her heart skipped a beat.

Ram.

He lay beside her, so close that she could feel the warmth radiating from him, even in his slumber.

With a quiet sigh, she pushed herself up from the bed, she moved quickly toward the washroom, not daring to look back at Ram. Once inside, she stared at her reflection in the mirror, trying to steady her racing thoughts. Ram is just another patient, she reminded herself firmly. And doctors help their patients when they need it. That's what I did for him last night.

Her reflection seemed almost foreign to her, a woman who had once trusted this man and now stood on the edge of something she could never return to. Her eyes, tired and red from lack of sleep, stared back at her in silence. I can't weaken myself again, she thought. I won't mess my life up for him, no matter how helpless he is right now. Once he regains his memory, he'll go back to being the same man who never cared. The thought of that old, confident Ram sent a pang of hurt through her chest, and a tear slipped from the corner of her eye.

With a swift motion, she splashed cold water onto her face, the chill bringing her back to reality. She took a deep breath, straightened her shoulders, and walked back to the room, determined to keep her emotions in check.

As she entered, she saw Ram, already awake, his gaze confused as he scanned the room, probably wondering what kind of mess he had created the night before. Priya stood in the doorway, her arms crossed, watching him with a mixture of caution and resolve.

The mess you created here, you're going to clean it up yourself,she spoke out loud, her tone matter-of-fact.

Ram jerked his head up at the sound of her voice, clearly startled. His eyes locked onto hers with an intensity that made her uneasy for just a moment. "When did you come?" he asked, his voice low and rough, as though the remnants of his panic attack still lingered in his throat.

"Last night," Priya replied, her voice steady despite the emotions swirling within her.

"Did I mess up again?" he asked, running a hand through his hair, clearly disoriented. His voice cracked with frustration, and Priya couldn't help but notice the self-loathing that seeped into his words. "I had that dream again. Shit... I'm bothering everyone around me. This is crazy."

Priya's heart twisted as she saw the brokenness in his eyes, but she quickly pushed those feelings aside. She had a job to do, and this wasn't the time to get caught up in his misery. "Your caretaker left, but don't worry," she said, her tone neutral. "Mrs. Mehra said she's on her way. Do you want coffee?"

Ram didn't respond immediately, his gaze lingering on her, as though he was searching for something in her eyes. But in the end, he simply shook his head, as if too overwhelmed to make a decision.

"Okay," Priya said with a faint nod. "I'm going to make some for myself."

She turned toward the kitchen, her steps measured, as if each one took her further from the man who, despite everything, still held a part of her heart. The room behind her was silent, save for the soft rustling of Ram's movement. But in that moment, Priya knew that no matter what happened next, she couldn't allow herself to get swept back into the same storm that had once broken her.