The hospital felt different in the morning.

  Less frightening.

  More ordinary.

  Karan walked slightly ahead of his mother, like he always did.

  "I can come alone next time," he said.

  "No," she replied without looking at him.

  His sister followed behind them quietly.

  Inside the doctor's room, the air felt cold.

  The doctor checked the reports on his screen.

  "How have you been feeling?" he asked.

  "Fine," Karan answered.

  The doctor looked at him carefully.

  "Tell me honestly."

  "A little tired," Karan said.

  "Any trouble breathing?"

  "Sometimes."

  The doctor nodded and turned the screen slightly toward them.

  "Your condition is stable," he said.

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  His mother let out a slow breath.

  "But he depends more on the machine now."

  Her expression changed again.

  "What does that mean?" she asked.

  "It means the machine is helping him more than before," the doctor explained. "So regular monitoring is important."

  "And that is safe?" she asked.

  "It is manageable," the doctor replied.

  Karan noticed that word.

  Manageable.

  "We have asked for newer machines for this ward," the doctor added. "The current ones are old."

  "When will they come?" his mother asked.

  "Approval takes time," the doctor said.

  He did not say how long.

  Outside the room, his mother walked more slowly than before.

  "See?" Karan said lightly. "Stable."

  She nodded, but she held the file tightly.

  At home, everything looked normal again.

  The fan turned slowly above them.

  The kitchen smelled of spices.

  His sister threw her bag on the sofa and looked at him.

  "You didn't tell the doctor about last night," she said.

  "It wasn't important."

  "You couldn't breathe properly."

  "I could."

  "You were scared."

  "I wasn't."

  She looked at him for a few seconds.

  "You don't have to act strong all the time."

  He smiled. "Someone has to."

  "That's not funny."

  "I'm not joking."

  There was a short silence.

  Then he lightly pushed her shoulder.

  "Come on," Karan said. "Help me make tea."

  "You'll burn the milk," his sister replied.

  "I fixed the fan," he said.

  "That's different," she answered.

  They both laughed.

  For a little while, the house felt normal.

  Later that night, Karan lay on his bed and looked at the ceiling.

  The fan turned slowly above him.

  He listened to the steady sound.

  He liked things that moved in a simple, predictable way.

  His sister knocked softly on his door.

  "You awake?"

  "Yeah."

  She stepped inside and sat on the edge of his bed.

  "You're not going anywhere, right?" she asked quietly.

  He frowned. "Where would I go?"

  "Just answer."

  He looked at her.

  "I'm not going anywhere."

  She watched his face for a moment.

  Then she nodded.

  "Good."

  After she left, he lay back down.

  The room was quiet.

  He placed a hand on his chest.

  The tightness was small.

  Manageable.

  He watched the fan turn slowly above him until he fell asleep.