Apricity

Part 26

Mohit's hand hovered above the doorknob, a curious instinct telling him to proceed with caution. With a soft turn and push, he entered Suhani's room, only to find his daughter in the throes of a panic attack. Her breathing fell apart in shallow gasps that filled the air with the tension of her fear. Suhani's body trembled like the leaves of an aspen tree caught in a storm, her long wavy hair spilling over her face as she clutched at her chest.

"Suhani," Mohit whispered, his heart aching at the sight of her torment.

Suhani, desperate to maintain the facade of control that she had so carefully crafted each day, made a valiant effort to compose herself. She raised her head, revealing tear-streaked cheeks, and wipedaway the evidence of her vulnerability with the back of her hand. Forcing a smile, she met her father's gaze, but the light of concern in his eyes was impossible to extinguish.

"Papa," she replied, her voice brittle as if it might shatter under the weight of its own fragility.

As Mohit watched his daughter struggle to hold herself together, memories from her childhood surface unbidden in his mind. He recalled a time when Suhani was too young to understand the complexities of life, her laughter as pure and untainted as the first monsoon rain that quenched the parched earth. Now, standing before her, he cannot help but mourn the deep scars on her soul.

"Everything okay, beta?" Mohit inquired, hoping to coax her into sharing her pain.

"Of course, Papa," Suhani replied, her smile straining at the corners, threatening to give way to the anguish that lay beneath.

Her thoughts were a whirlpool of emotions, a chaotic maelstrom of fear and hesitation. She longed to confide in her father, to let him shoulder some of the burden that threatened to overwhelm her. But at the same time, she was afraid—afraid of his reaction, afraid of what he might think of her, and most of all, afraid of letting go of the only control she had left.

In silence Mohit stepped closer, reaching out to brush a stray lock of hair from Suhani's face. His touch was tender, filled with the love that only a parent can offer. The air was heavy with unspoken words, a tangible weight that pressed down on Suhani as she fought to maintain her composure. The trembling of her body betrayed her inner turmoil, and despite her best attempts to hide it, Mohit noticed.

"Suhani," he began, his gentle voice laced with concern and love. "What happened?"

His question hung in the air, a delicate thread threatening to unravel the fragile tapestry of calm Suhani has woven around herself. She hesitated, torn between her fear of his reaction and her need for support. Her chest tightened as her breathing becomes even more shallow, making it difficult to form words.

"Nothing, Papa," she whispered, but the tremor in her voice belied her words.

Mohit studied her face intently, his salt-and-pepper hair framing his kind eyes as they searched for answers. Unbeknownst to Suhani, he had been educating himself about trauma, trying to understand the complexities of emotional pain and healing. As he watched her now, he realized the signs were all there – she was having a panic attack.

"Deep breaths, Suhani." Mohit offered her a reassuring smile. "Take your time."

She followed his advice, inhaling deeply and exhaling slowly. The simple act brought a semblance of relief, allowing her to regain some control over her racing thoughts. Her fingers clench and unclench, seeking solace in the familiar motion as her mind races through an endless loop of fear and doubt.

"Tell me what's wrong," Mohit urged again, his voice soft and patient. "I'm here for you."

Suhani hesitated, her heart pounding loudly in her chest. She knew she couldn't keep running from the truth, and couldn't keep hiding her pain behind carefully constructed walls. And yet, the thought of opening up to her father terrifies her. She's carried the weight of this secret for so long that it had become a part of her, as intrinsic and inescapable as the air she breathes.