??????? 53

                                        

                                              

                                

                                    
                                
                                  
                                      
                                  
                                  
                                    
                                      
                                      
                                    
                                  
                                 
                                
                                
                              
                              
Nervousness?
No. This was something else. Heavier. Like something pressing against my chest, making it hard to breathe. Like my heart was running a marathon while my body stayed frozen.
Maybe anxiety.
Or maybe even a full-blown panic attack brewing beneath my ribcage.
And why?
Well, a lot of reasons.
First: I was finally leaving this doom of a place. This hospital—where the air perpetually smelled like medicine and disinfectant. I probably smelled like it too. Five days. Just five. But it felt like a lifetime. 
The doctors wanted me to stay longer, of course. Something about "monitoring healing" and "mental rest." But mentally? I couldn't breathe here anymore.
And then... one teary-eyed look from me and one sharp order from Dad later—boom. Discharge papers signed.
I was out.
What shocked me the most? The sentence.
"We own this hospital."
Excuse me?
We what now?
I was like—woooahhh.
That means they're not just rich—they're elite-rich. Ultra-platinum-card-rich.
The kind of rich that gets things done in a single sentence.
I mean, the Joshis were pretty well off too, but the Oberois?
Next. Level.
And you know what? For once... for the first time in my life, I'm actually seeing a benefit of being from one of those families.
But none of that really matters when your heart's racing because you're heading to a place that everyone keeps calling "home."
'We are going home, Aisha.'
'Can't wait to have you home.'
'Everything's ready for your welcome.' 
But how do I explain that "home" isn't a word that fits in my mouth?
It's foreign. Distant.
I don't know how it's supposed to feel.
Because for me, a building with people inside wasn't a home. It was just a place I had to survive in. A place filled with orders, conditions, silence, or anger. A place where love had price tags and affection had expiry dates.
So yeah.
Everyone's excited.
Except me.
I stared at my lap, trying to stop the storm inside. My dress felt soft under my fingers, but I kept fidgeting—restless, like my skin didn't fit.
That's when a gentle touch snapped me out of the spiral.
"Boop!"
A soft tap on my nose.
I blinked and looked up.
Kavya bhabhi stood in front of me with a soft, motherly smile.
I couldn't help it—I smiled back. She radiated warmth. The kind I didn't know how to react to... but also didn't want to push away.