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AAVYA RAJAWAT

"And what about the headache?" My voice barely rose above a whisper. Doctor Prem didn’t answer immediately. He kept his eyes fixed on the MRI scan in his hand, his face unreadable—too unreadable. My fingers nervously picked at the edge of my nails, skin raw from a habit I never managed to break.

The silence in the room began to weigh on me. The low hum of the AC, the distant sound of footsteps in the corridor, the rustle of the scan paper—all of it felt painfully loud compared to the stillness between us. I swallowed hard. Loud enough to hear it myself.

That was when he finally looked up. “You okay?” he asked, his tone gentle, but his eyes searched mine like they already knew the answer I didn’t want to hear. I offered him a shaky nod, but even I wasn’t convinced. Something about the way he was staring at the scan… It wasn’t just a headache anymore. It never was.