Amidst the whispers, we found little solace in understanding. Instead, we clung to each other in our shared grief, forced to navigate a world forever altered. Our daughter and grandson were gone, leaving behind memories, echoes of laughter, and the unfulfilled potential of a life cut tragically short.

In the aftermath of their loss, I vowed to honor Kavya and Avi by sharing their story, hoping to spark conversations about the silent struggles that many endure. I wanted to challenge the norms that silenced my daughter, advocating for a world where reaching out for help was seen as strength rather than weakness.

As I stood by their graves, surrounded by marigolds and the scent of incense lingering in the air, I whispered a promise to them—a promise to fight for change, to speak when others couldn’t, and to ensure that their memory became a beacon of hope for those trapped in similar despair.