Crushed and Created- Tangled series (Overprotective famous brothers)

Newsflash

ALISHA

Sounds. The beeping thing was more than annoying when you were trying to sleep. Why do they have to beep? It was like an alarm clock I couldn’t snooze off. And that sucked when your chest was on fire, your throat was Sahara desert, and every cell of your body was yelling for you to let them rest.

“Doc, can we tell her after some time? She has just started to get back to normal.” I heard a hushed voice, which I recognized well. I kept as still as I could, trying to act. Acting was family business, but it just wasn’t my cup of tea. Time to test what all I learned after years of visiting film sets and hanging out with actors and directors.

“I understand, but she needs to know. At the most, I can let you tell her, or be there while we explain. But, we cannot hide it from her anymore. Not only does it violate rules, but it is also rude and dangerous.” Another voice I knew. The doctor. What were they talking about? They thought I was asleep, and I knew they were talking about me. Salman and the doctor were hiding something. And I needed to know what exactly their secret was.

“How do I? How can I possibly tell my sister that she may never be able to do a handstand, forget the Olympics. And that she has pul…” he gulped audibly, “no, I can’t. Please doctor, give it a few more days. Please.” Salman begged but the doctor didn’t reply. There was no other voice sans the beeps and my steady breath.

“Alisha, I know you are awake.” The doctor placed a hand on my shoulder and I fluttered my eyes open. Salman looked at me with teary eyes, and punched his fist on the wall, making me flinch. He knew I knew. And he hated the fact that I found out this way.

“I have what, doc? What were you talking about?” I asked not waiting for any crap to start off. Salman got to my other side, and took my hand in his. He squeezed it really tight, so tight that the wires inserted hurt.

They both looked at each other for a long moment, and doc finally answered,

“I need you to be strong right now. While your treatment, you weren’t responding well to some of our medicines. You also had a cardiac arrest, and we knew that something was wrong with the lungs.”

“Thus the biopsy.” I mumbled to myself and he nodded, helping me sit up in my bed. The pain had subsided, but I was guessing it was because of the heavy medication I was on.

“We diagnosed you with Pulmonary Fibrosis. It’s basically scarring of the lung, and I’m sorry to say this, but there is no known cure for it.”

“Is, is it fatal?” I asked in an eerily calm and normal voice. I was yet to register and process it all. It was yet to hit me with all the force.

“I’m afraid it is.” He answered again, in a professional tone. How can everyone be so calm during times like these? First the terrorists, then Greyson, then him? I hated all of them for being so diplomatic and controlled, it ticked me off for some reason.

“Why me? Why now?” I looked at Salman, but the doctor answered me.

“The X-rays show it on a developing stage, and we can control it. It may be genetic, though the environment and lifestyle do affect it. Also, the attack and blast worked as catalyst. But I may have good news.”

“After telling me that my chance at gymnastics is zero, and I might die of a fucking disease, you want to give me good news?” I barked at him with nothing but bitterness.

It had just started settling in. A lung disease, with no cure. A broken back which gave me a pink slip for Olympics. After all this time in the hospital, after all the operations and medicines? After all the things I went through at school attack? After all the prayers and wishes?