The mansion was alive.
Children laughed somewhere upstairs.
Someone practiced violin in another room.
The smell of sambar drifted from the kitchen.
It felt like stepping into another world.
When Dr. Sumitra descended the staircase and saw the frightened girl standing in her doorway with a suitcase beside her, recognition flashed immediately in her eyes.
"Alankrita?"
The girl broke down.
Not dramatically.
Not loudly.
Simply completely.
She told them everything.
The planned marriage.
The fear.
The lies.
The loneliness.
When she finished speaking, the room was silent.
Dr. Krishnamurthy examined the injury on her leg.
"The wound will heal."
He looked toward his wife.
"The fear will take longer."
Dr. Sumitra cleaned the injury herself.
Then she held the girl's trembling hands.
"What do you want, child?"
Alankrita lowered her head.
"I want my baby to live."
The old doctor nodded slowly.
Then she smiled.
A small smile.
A powerful one.
"Then you will not stand alone."
Alankrita looked up.
Dr. Krishnamurthy adjusted his glasses.
"This house has too many rooms."
He looked around at the bustling family home.
"I think it can make space for one more heartbeat."