The billionaire's Salvation

11:45 PM – Virat’s Apartment

The soft hum of the city outside was the only sound filling the dimly lit apartment. Virat had just finished his night routine—feeding Luna, checking his messages, and making sure his patients were stable. It should have been a peaceful night.

But it never was.

As soon as he closed his eyes, the nightmares came.

Dark corridors. Cold metal against his skin. The sound of footsteps. Heavy breathing. The suffocating pressure of helplessness.

Virat's body jerked awake, drenched in sweat, his chest heaving. His throat burned, but no sound came out. It felt like something was pressing down on him, like invisible chains holding him still.

Then came the second phase—the one he hated the most.

The urge.

Shaking, Virat stumbled into the bathroom, locking the door behind him. His reflection in the mirror was pale, hollow-eyed, broken. His hands gripped the sink, knuckles turning white. Breathe. Just breathe.

But the weight on his chest didn’t ease.

He slid down onto the floor, knees pulled up, fingers digging into his arms—scratching, pressing, anything to feel something real. Something other than the ghosts in his head.

His nails left faint red marks on his skin, but it wasn’t enough.

He needed—

A soft meow.

Virat’s breath hitched.

A second later, Luna pawed at the bathroom door, her tiny claws scratching against it insistently.

Virat swallowed hard, pressing his forehead against his knees. “Go away, Luna,” he whispered, his voice shaking. “Not now.”

But Luna wasn’t the kind of cat to listen.

A loud thump—she was trying to headbutt the door open now.

Another scratch.

And then, the smallest, saddest meow.

Something inside Virat cracked.

With trembling hands, he reached out and unlocked the door.

The second it opened, Luna rushed in, tail fluffed, eyes wide with motherly concern. She took one look at him—curled up on the floor, red scratches on his arms—and immediately jumped onto his lap.

Virat gasped as she headbutted his chest, then began licking his face.

"Luna—"

But she wasn’t listening. She licked his tears away, one after another, her little paws pressing against his chest like she was trying to hold him together.

A small, broken sob escaped Virat’s lips.

And suddenly, he was crying.

He wrapped his arms around Luna, clinging to her like a lifeline, tears soaking into her fur. She didn’t move away. She just purred, warm and constant, like a heartbeat, like reassurance, like love.

For a long time, Virat sat there, crying softly into her fur, his breathing uneven, his body exhausted.

Luna, as always, stayed.

His little guardian. His little mother.

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Luna didn’t stop at just comforting him.

After a few moments of licking his face and rubbing against him, she suddenly jumped off his lap and dashed out of the bathroom. Virat barely had the energy to lift his head, his breathing still uneven, his arms still wrapped around himself.