The antiseptic scent enveloped Piya like a suffocating blanket. She stirred awake in the hospital bed, the stark contrast of white sheets against her pale skin jolting her back to reality. Her heart raced, and panic clutched at her throat. She squeezed her eyes shut, blocking out the world, but the memories surged like a tide.

"Piya?"

The familiar voice of her mother broke through, a tender melody echoing in her mind.

"Promise we'll go to Shimla, just us?"

The question cascaded like a waterfall, flooding her thoughts, each ripple pulling her under.

Meena smiled, her eyes glimmering with warmth. "Of course, beta. Anything you want. But you love Kavita and follow around Rahul like Marry' s lamb? Why this sudden urge to go without them?"

"I" Piya fumbled to find the right words. "I do not like them anymore."

"Shh!" Meena hugged Piya ignoring the tubes that snaked around her arms. " One day you will understand"

The memory slipped through Piya's fingers like sand, leaving behind only the coarse ache of loss. She gasped, a soundless scream escaping her lips as her mind trapped her in that moment.The sterile hum of the hospital brought the unspeakable back—a flickering memory of wheels squeaking against the tile floor, her mother slipping away. "I'll be back soon." Those had been her last words, laced with love, on that fateful morning before the surgery.

Dominated now by memories of the fire, the crumbling shed that had once been a semblance of a life. The promise burned hotter than any flame, and she shuddered, smothering silent screams against the hospital's sterile walls.

"Piya!"

Faint sounds of movement.

Piya shot up. Her eyes darted to the door just as Rahul stepped inside, concern etched across his features.

"Hey, it's okay. You're safe."

She recoiled, her body stiffening as the whirlwind shattered the calm that clung to her fading memories of vanilla-scented summers with her mother. Anger ignited within, fuelling the fire that raged in her chest. She pushed him away, raising her hands to ward off the taint of his empathy. Rahul stepped back, the hurt flickering across his face as if it were an open wound.

"I just want to help," he pleaded, his tone gentle despite the tension crackling in the room.

She felt the weight of vulnerability. How could he even think that?

A nurse strolled in then, clipboard in hand. The mundane crunch of paper punctured the fragile emotions swirling around, jarring Piya from her turmoil.

"Good morning, Piya. You look good. Don't worry, you'll be discharged tomorrow," she announced, unaware of the tempest within. "Just some routine checks today."

The words led Piya back into reality. Tomorrow. The word loomed over her like the fiery memories of losing the shed.

"What about..." Piya typed, her fingers tapping the screen of her phone nervously, but she then faltered, words tumbling over one another. "What about the fire? My home?" she wanted to ask. Panic coursed through her. Her phone slipped, the screen reflecting the flickering fluorescent lights above her.

Rahul stepped closer, but she could only see the void between them.

"Your office, that shed, it's gone," he finished for her, his voice steady. "But we'll figure something out."

His voice was calm, but she couldn't hear it above the bedlam in her heart.

"Piya."

A sudden outburst from the bright doorway jolted her attention. Tara bounded in, sunlight wrapped in a burst of laughter. "I thought I'd find you here! How are you?"

Piya's eyes shifted to Rahul, then back to her friend, desperately seeking a tether.

"I would say you look amazing," Tara's smile faltered as she laid eyes on Piya's pallor, "but, I think you need a bit of colour." Piya half-smirked, the ghost of humour lurking behind her worries. Tara settled on the edge of the bed, her presence a gentle anchor against the whirlpool of anxiety. Rahul slipped out of the room as Tara got comfortable on the bed.

Tara bit her lip, concern shadowing her eyes. "I know it's hard, but... your health is what matters, okay?"

Piya shot her a look, seeking understanding, but all she felt was the weight of impending doom. Tara squeezed Piya's hand, her warmth grounding in the midst of turmoil. "I know this is overwhelming. The fire, the hospital... but you're not alone. I'm here. The baby is here too." She added patting her belly.

"Umm, about... our stuff." Tara's smile unpeeled, teeth revealing a mix of hope and despair.

"So, umm, the shed owner?" Tara replied keeping Piya's mobile beside her. " He is a pervert. Never really liked him. He doesn't want us there anymore, you know?"

Tara continued her voice warmer but with bleaker undertones. "Our papers, our laptops..." She shrugged. "It's all gone." She shifted a little on the bed, facing the wall instead of Piya. "He said we have to leave by the end of the month," the brightness of her smile evaporating. "but... I hinted that we saved a month's rent."

Piya forced a laugh despite the tightness and cold lodged in her throat.

"Look, I'm sure we can figure this out. We always do." Tara's voice rose brightly, laced with the kind of optimism that shook Piya's heart. "I told my husband we could stay with my parents. We'll have you. My mum likes you – you know that"

Piya's stomach twisted. A knot of guilt tightened in Piya's chest. She was the anchor dragging Tara down. The warmth of friendship clashed with her pride, threatening to suffocate her.

Tara reached out, clasping her hand with a warm, reassuring grip, grounding Piya even as her mind spun wildly through the aftermath.

Minutes passed like cold shadows. The clang of metal carts echoed in the hallway, occasionally interrupted by hushed whispers.

Tara finally broke the weighty pause. "Hey, do you remember that time we almost drowned swimming in that pond? I said the water was calling us, and you were terrified?"

Recurring laughter threatened to break the tension. Piya nodded, a half-smile stretching across her lips.

"I can't believe you tried to show off your diving skills and nearly... fell in!"

The glimmer of joy broke like dawn, chipping away at the despair enveloping them. Overhead, a small window opened, its warm golden light pouring into the sterile room, igniting hope like the steady flicker of a flame.

"Listen, we'll get through this," Tara reassured. "And after all this nonsense is over, we'll design you a new office. A real one this time. One without the risk of fire. And I'll make sure it's colorful—maybe a tropical vibe?"

The corners of Piya's mouth quirked at the thought. Piya nodded, dissipating the weight pressing against her heart.

It was time for Tara to leave. She slowly got up from the bed and stood by it for a long time. There was so much to say and yet nothing left to say. It was the end of the dream. A dream that both of them had worked for day and night for five years. A dream that left them with nothing but this nightmare. It was too much to bear. She hugged Piya ignoring the sharp breath Piya took and let the tears fall.

Time stood still as they cried in each other's arms. They cried for their past, their painful present and their uncertain future. Finally, when they could no longer cry, Tara stood up and left the room without saying a word.

Piya pulled out her phone, her fingers hovering over the screen. The words echoed in her mind—asking for help or asking for a handout, yet it was the only way. "Please ... can we get the project back ? Please"