The corridor stretched endlessly, dimly lit by flickering bulbs. The air was thick with an eerie silence. Anika’s footsteps echoed faintly as she moved forward, her breath hitching with every step. She didn’t know why she was here, but the dread in her chest felt all too familiar.

Then she saw her.

Mira.

Her sister-in-law stood at the far end, her scarf flowing like a tether to reality. Mira’s lips moved, forming words Anika couldn’t hear.

Suddenly, dark hands emerged from the shadows, grabbing Mira by the arms.

“No!” Anika screamed, but the sound was swallowed by the void. Her legs felt glued to the ground as Mira was dragged backward toward a door that seemed to materialize out of nowhere. The door creaked open, a fiery red light spilling from within.

Mira’s tearful gaze met Anika’s just before the door slammed shut, leaving behind an echoing bang.

Anika jolted awake, gasping for air. Her heart pounded like a war drum as she clutched her sheets, her damp hair plastered to her forehead. The dream was back—relentless, cruel, and vivid.

The room around her came into focus, its familiarity grounding her. She sat up, reaching for the glass of water on her bedside table.

Her trembling hand knocked it over, the water pooling on the floor.

“Mira...” Anika whispered, her voice breaking. It had been months since she had spoken that name aloud, but it lingered in her mind like a wound that refused to heal.

The photo on her fridge caught her eye as she made her way to the kitchen. The five of them stood together, smiling, their arms wrapped around one another: her eldest brother Raghav and his wife Mira in the center, flanked by Ayan, Arjun, and herself.

Raghav had been the glue of their family—steady, warm, and always ready with a laugh. Mira had matched him in every way, her kindness and resilience lighting up their lives.

Now, they were gone.

Her phone buzzed, breaking her reverie. Ayan’s text was blunt, as always:“Family meeting. Don’t skip. You’ve been avoiding us long enough.”

Anika sighed, her chest tightening. Ayan was right—she had been avoiding them. Ayan, her elder brother, had taken on the mantle of responsibility for the family, but his way of coping was to push forward, expecting everyone else to do the same.

Then there was Arjun, the second brother. Quiet, intense, and a man of few words. As a police officer, he buried himself in work, chasing justice for others while ignoring his own pain.

And then there was her—Anika, the youngest sibling, who had always been the emotional one. Now, she felt like the weakest link, too broken to hold anyone else together.

The dream lingered in her mind as she prepared for her shift at the hospital. It wasn’t just a nightmare—it was a reminder of everything she couldn’t fix, everything she had lost.

She paused at the door, staring at the photo one last time. Her brothers were waiting, but she couldn’t face them—not yet.

“Not today,” she whispered, grabbing her keys.