The air in the hospital was thick with anticipation. Vikram paced restlessly in the waiting area, his eyes glued to the double doors of the operation room, his hands clenching and unclenching as he tried to keep himself together. Each time he heard Tara’s muffled cries from behind those doors, a fresh wave of helplessness crashed over him, cutting through his heart. His family and friends sat nearby, their faces etched with worry and hope. Swara, his mother, was holding his hand in an attempt to soothe him, but it was as if he couldn’t feel anything besides Tara’s pain.

Aditya, his best friend, gave him a reassuring smile. “She’s strong, Vikram. And she has you—don’t forget that.”