Ananya clutched her mother’s hand tightly as the car wound through the misty hills toward the remote private facility. At nineteen, she had always been the quiet, obedient daughter—topper in college, shy smiles, and dreams of becoming a teacher. But lately, the anxiety had crept in like shadows at dusk. Heart palpitations during exams, nightmares that left her gasping, and one tearful confession to her parents: “Mummy, mujhe lagta hai main pagal ho rahi hoon.” (Mom, I feel like I’m going crazy.)

Her parents, worried but loving, had heard of Dr. Vikram Rathore’s renowned private asylum nestled in the hills. “He’s the best,” her father had said. “Private, discreet. No one will know.”