The woman with the mesmerising eyes walked out of the doctor’s office. Her face seemed familiar, and I wondered briefly if maybe we had crossed paths somewhere before, but my mind was too tired to remember anything. I noticed that she was looking less anxious, and that gave me hope that the psychiatrist could help me gain control of what was happening to me. I saw that she had even let go of the cushion she had been holding so tightly to her chest when I first walked in. I didn’t have a cushion; perhaps I should have tried her soothing technique, because I felt the familiar pain in my chest driving me into another attack at the thought of going through to see the doctor. The woman stood at the receptionist’s desk, confirming her next appointment before leaving the room. Before the door closed behind her, her face was buried in her phone. Why couldn’t I distract myself in the same way others did? And why hadn’t she done it before, when she quite clearly needed to be distracted? I looked around and noticed the sign that cell phones weren’t allowed in the reception area. Quickly, I reached for mine and switched it off. My hands shook uncontrollably.

‘Stop it,’ I whispered, close to tears.

‘Ashray, the doctor will see you now.’ The receptionist walked out from behind her desk with a file that held the forms I had filled in earlier. I tugged on my collar, sure that I was going to be told there was something drastically wrong with me. A pine door opened. Inside, the room was decorated in a way I am sure my Maa would have loved. Burgundy and blues added touches of colour to a room filled with wood and leather. Dr Shyam stood at the door, hand outstretched. I wiped my hand on my trouser leg, wanting to spare a stranger from the clamminess of my palms. I shook his hand.

‘Take a seat anywhere you’re comfortable,’ he said, indicating the couches in the room. I tugged on my collar.

‘Ashray, are you okay?’

I pulled the pills out of my pocket before realising that I had taken one less than an hour ago. I put them back and lifted my hands above my head, trying to breathe deeply.

‘Ashray,’ he said as he put his hand on my shoulder, ‘you don’t need the pill, not now.’ I counted as I breathed in, but I felt like I didn’t have the strength to let it out again. ‘Ashray look at me.’ I willed my eyes to meet his. ‘Tell me five things you can see right now.’ I looked at him, shocked. Was this man serious? I was in the middle of a panic attack! I couldn’t breathe, and he wanted me to tell him what I could see. ‘Ashray. Tell me five things you can see,’ he tried again calmly.