The ward was quiet in the way children's hospitals rarely were - subdued, as if even the walls had learned to whisper.

Dhwani's footsteps softened as she approached Room 304, the one with the purple name tag and a hand-drawn rainbow taped to the door. Inside, sunlight spilled through the curtains and onto the bed where a small figure sat propped up, cross-legged, surrounded by a fort of stuffed animals.

"Morning, Dr. Dhwani!" came the chirpy voice before she even stepped in.

Dhwani smiled. "Morning, warrior princess."

The girl beamed - eight years old, skin pale beneath too-big eyes, but still radiant in the way only children can be when they choose wonder over pain.

"You're late," the little girl teased, arms crossed dramatically.

"I had a sword fight in the ICU," Dhwani said, slipping into character. "There were dragons in the vents. You don't want to know what the surgeons had to do."

"Eww," she giggled. "Did you win?"

"Of course," Dhwani said, tapping her pen against the clipboard. "Doctor's honor."

The girl leaned forward conspiratorially. "Did you bring me more stickers?"

Dhwani pulled a small sheet from her coat pocket - stars, kittens, and one extremely smug unicorn.

The girl gasped. "That one looks like you!"

Dhwani raised a brow. "Smug?"

"Magic," she said solemnly. "And tired."

Dhwani chuckled, crouching beside the bed to check her IV. "Well, magic always comes with a little exhaustion."

They sat in a soft silence as Dhwani gently examined her vitals, adjusted the sheets, and wrote her notes. The girl watched her carefully, like someone memorizing a safe face.

"Hey, Doc?" the girl said suddenly, voice smaller. "Will I be okay?"

Dhwani looked up - not rushed, not dismissive, but with the kind of attention only real care brings.

"You are braver than anyone I know," she said quietly. "And you're not alone in this battle. I'm right here."

The girl nodded, trying to look strong, but her fingers clutched her stuffed bunny just a little tighter.

Dhwani brushed a strand of hair from her forehead. "And if you ever get scared, you just tell me, okay? We'll fight the dragons together."

The little girl smiled again, but this time it trembled a bit. "Okay."

As Dhwani stood to leave, she felt a tug on her coat.

"Dr. Dhwani?"

"Yeah, munchkin?"

"I think you're my favorite grown-up."

Something in her chest tightened - not painfully, but in that quiet, aching way only genuine affection can manage.

She smiled, softer now. "You're my favorite too, braveheart."

And for the first time that day, Dhwani walked out of the room feeling something close to peace.

Her shift was done - no night duty tonight - and she was more than ready to leave the hospital walls behind. Two back-to-back emergency surgeries, little sleep, and now this growing ache in her chest she couldn't quite place.

She made it to the front corridor. Almost at the exit.

"Doctor Dhwani!" a nurse sprinted toward her, panic written across her face.

Her heart stopped.

"It's Room 304. The girl - she's crashing. They moved her to the OT. It's bad."

For a second, Dhwani didn't move. Then her bag hit the floor.

She ran.

The OT was already in motion. Dhwani scrubbed in, adrenaline drowning exhaustion. Her hands moved on reflex - steady, controlled, but her mind screamed.

Not her. Not this child.

Her small body lay lifeless, machines surrounding her like vultures. The pulse line dipped dangerously low.

"BP dropping-"

"Push 1cc-"

"She's slipping!"

Dhwani worked with the team, tried everything - every protocol, every effort, every ounce of skill - but fate had already chosen.

A flatline echoed.

Dhwani's eyes went to the monitor. Static. Cold. Final.

Time of death: 9:36 PM.

No one said anything for a moment. The surgeon sighed. "We did what we could."

Dhwani didn't move.

She stood frozen, watching as they covered her with a sheet - the same sheet she had once tucked around her shoulders like a blanket.

Her unicorn sticker still on her gown.

The child's parents were outside. Screaming. Falling to the floor. A mother's cry - the kind that shreds through walls.

Dhwani turned.

She didn't go to them. She couldn't.

Her legs moved on their own, away from the OT, away from the noise, away from the world.

She found an empty corridor - dark, deserted, barely lit by flickering lights. She dropped to her knees.

And then, the tears came.

Like a flood. Violent. Endless.

"I tried-" she whispered, voice cracking. "I tried so hard-"

Her body convulsed with sobs. Her hands pulled at her hair, her white coat clenched in her fists.

"I could've done something-should've seen it coming-she was just a child!"

Her breathing hitched.

It was too much.

Too loud in her head.

Too many deaths, too many emotions buried under professionalism. This one had broken through - splintered her heart into pieces she didn't know how to gather anymore.

And that's when she heard footsteps.

"Dhwani?"

She looked up - barely seeing through the tears.

Darsh stood a few steps away, concern etched on his face. He was in his usual tailored coat, having stopped by the hospital for a quick meeting about a donation program. He hadn't expected this.

But the sight of her - crumpled, broken, sobbing like the world had ended - hit him like a punch to the gut.

He stepped forward slowly. "What happened?"

Her lips trembled. "She died."

"What-who?"

"The girl from pediatrics... the one with the butterfly drawings... I couldn't save her... I failed her."

She pressed her palms to her ears as if trying to block her own thoughts. Her breath was ragged, shallow, erratic.

Darsh's eyes widened. He recognized the signs - panic. Real, spiraling panic.

"Hey, hey-Dhwani-look at me."

But she couldn't.

She was shaking now, back pressed to the cold wall, her knees pulled to her chest.

"I can't... I can't breathe... Darsh... I... I don't-"

He crouched beside her. "Okay. Okay, listen to me."

He took her hands gently.

"Breathe with me, Dhwani. Just try."

She squeezed her eyes shut.

"I can't-Darsh-I can't stop hearing the monitor, her crying parents, her little hands-"

He pressed her hands to his chest. "Feel this? That's my heartbeat. Breathe with it. In... out."

She matched it once, twice - a sob escaping.

And then broke again.

She clutched him like a lifeline, burying herself into his shoulder.

And Darsh, without a second thought, wrapped his arms around her.

It wasn't like their usual banter. It wasn't cold professionalism. It wasn't flirtation or subtle tension.

It was raw. Human. Real.

"I'm here," he whispered. "Let it out."

She cried. And cried.

"I loved her. I loved that little girl, and she trusted me. And I couldn't keep her alive."

"You gave her everything you had."

"It wasn't enough."

His arms tightened. "You're not God, Dhwani. You're human. And you loved her enough to try, even when it hurt."

She trembled. Her head spun.

And then-darkness.

Her body slumped forward into him.

"Dhwani?"

She didn't respond.

Panic flashed in Darsh's eyes as he caught her, cradling her limp form. "Dhwani! Hey-hey!"

Her pulse was there. Faint. Her skin clammy.

He swept her into his arms.

And in that quiet corridor - filled with the echoes of her collapse - Darsh carried her, determined not to let her break alone ever again.

---