Chapter Text
⸻
Title: “The Stars Still Shine”
Raj Koothrappali had always been good at pretending. Pretending he was fine, pretending he wasn’t lonely, pretending the silence in his apartment didn’t feel too heavy sometimes. He’d smile through awkward dinners, laugh at Sheldon’s nonsense, nod along to Howard’s stories, and keep his pain tucked behind the same easy grin that made everyone think he was okay.
But lately, pretending had become harder.
The headaches started small—just dull pressure behind his eyes that came and went. He’d brush it off as stress, maybe dehydration, or the long nights staring through telescopes at Caltech. But as the weeks passed, the pain became sharp and unrelenting, like someone tightening a band around his skull. He’d wake up dizzy, his vision blurred. Sometimes he’d forget what he was saying mid-sentence, and words would slip away like stars fading at dawn.
At first, Raj told himself it was nothing. Just tiredness. Maybe a vitamin deficiency. Maybe he needed glasses.
But deep down, in the quiet parts of himself he didn’t let anyone see, Raj knew something was wrong.
Terribly wrong.
He’d seen enough medical dramas and read enough research papers to recognize the symptoms—frequent headaches, confusion, vision loss. The fear sat like ice in his stomach. But the idea of saying it aloud, of making it real, was something he couldn’t face.
So he kept quiet.
⸻
It was a Saturday night when Leonard noticed something was off.
They were all at Sheldon and Amy’s apartment for the usual dinner night—Sheldon’s “mandatory social gathering of close acquaintances.” Raj was quieter than usual, picking at his food and squinting at the bright lights.
“You okay, Raj?” Leonard asked casually, passing him the water pitcher.
“Yeah,” Raj said quickly, forcing a smile. “Just tired. Been up late working on data charts.”
But his voice trembled, and Leonard didn’t miss the way Raj’s hand shook slightly as he poured his drink.
“Dude,” Howard said, leaning forward, “you look kinda pale. Are you sure you’re not sick?”
Raj laughed weakly. “Sick of you maybe.”
Howard smirked, but Amy frowned. “You’ve been rubbing your temples all evening. How long have you been getting headaches?”
Raj stiffened. “It’s nothing.”
Sheldon interjected without looking up from his phone. “Headaches can be caused by a variety of factors, including dehydration, eye strain, or stress induced by exposure to inferior intellects—present company excluded, of course.”
“Thanks, Sheldon,” Penny said dryly.
Raj managed another fake laugh, but the room spun slightly when he looked up. The lights blurred. His stomach dropped, and he grabbed the edge of the table to steady himself.
“Raj?” Bernadette asked sharply. “You okay?”
He blinked, forcing his focus back. “Yeah—yeah, just stood up too fast.”
Amy’s eyes narrowed, but Raj waved it off, insisting he was fine.
Inside, he wasn’t fine at all.
⸻
That night, he lay in bed staring at the ceiling.
The pain pulsed behind his eyes, steady and cruel.
He hadn’t told them because he didn’t want to be pitied.
He didn’t want to be the weak one again.
He’d worked too hard to be seen as strong, independent, finally finding his own path. But now?
He couldn’t even trust his own body.
When he closed his eyes, he saw flashes of light, shapes that weren’t there.
He’d made an appointment weeks ago—an MRI—and hadn’t told anyone.
He’d read the results on his phone that afternoon.
Multiple lesions in the frontal and parietal lobes consistent with tumor growth.
The words burned into his mind. Tumors. Plural.
He’d stared at the screen until the letters blurred, his breath shaking, his heart pounding.
He wasn’t stupid.
He knew what that meant.
He knew the odds.
And he knew he couldn’t keep it hidden much longer.
⸻
A few days later, Raj forgot where he parked his car.
Then he forgot what day it was.
He laughed it off when Leonard teased him, but the panic rose every time his mind went blank.
One afternoon at Caltech, while going over telescope data, his vision suddenly went white.
He grabbed the table to steady himself, feeling the world tilt.
His knees gave out, and he hit the floor.
When he came to, he was in the infirmary with Leonard sitting beside him, his brow furrowed.
“Hey,” Leonard said softly. “You scared the hell out of me, man.”
Raj blinked, groggy. “What happened?”
“You passed out,” Leonard said. “They ran some tests. They’re sending you for more scans.”
Raj’s stomach turned cold.
He looked away, biting his lip.
“Raj,” Leonard said, voice gentle, “is there something you’re not telling us?”
Raj’s eyes filled with tears. He wanted to lie—to say he was fine, just tired. But the weight of the secret crushed him.
“They found… tumors,” he whispered finally. “In my brain.”
Leonard froze. “What?”
Raj’s voice broke. “Two of them. One near my eye, one… near memory centers. I—I didn’t want anyone to worry.”
Leonard swallowed hard, tears gathering in his own eyes. “Raj, you can’t keep that to yourself. You need help.”
Raj gave a weak laugh. “I didn’t want pity. I just… wanted to be normal.”
Leonard put a hand on his shoulder. “You are normal. You’re our friend. And you’re not doing this alone.”
⸻
Within hours, everyone knew.
Penny came rushing to the hospital with a bag of snacks and tissues. Bernadette held Raj’s hand and wouldn’t let go. Howard sat by the bed, unusually quiet, his jaw tight. Amy talked softly with the doctors, translating medical terms when Raj couldn’t focus.
Even Sheldon showed up, awkward and uncertain.
He stood at the end of the bed, his hands clasped together.
“I have prepared a series of scientific articles regarding neuro-oncological advancements,” Sheldon said stiffly. “If you wish, I can review them with you and ensure you receive the best treatment possible.”
Raj smiled faintly. “Thanks, Sheldon.”
Sheldon hesitated, then added softly, “You are an important member of our social group. It would be… statistically unfavorable if we lost you.”
That was Sheldon’s way of saying I care about you.
Raj understood.
⸻
The next weeks blurred into hospital rooms, tests, and treatments.
Radiation, medication, fatigue so deep it felt like sinking into the ocean.
His hair began to thin. His vision worsened. He sometimes mixed up words, and it terrified him.
But his friends never left him alone.
Howard cracked jokes and brought Indian food that made the nurses scowl.
Bernadette brushed his hair back and told him stories about the kids.
Amy and Leonard helped him keep track of his appointments and talked to the doctors.
Penny sat with him late at night when he couldn’t sleep, just holding his hand.
Even Sheldon, in his own way, made sure Raj had fresh sheets and the perfect room temperature for “optimal recovery conditions.”
Raj felt small but loved.
One evening, after everyone left, he sat by the window looking at the stars.
He could barely see them clearly, but he knew they were there.
He whispered softly in Hindi, “The stars still shine, even when we can’t see them.”
A voice behind him said, “That’s beautiful.”
He turned to see Howard, leaning in the doorway.
“I didn’t know you were still here,” Raj said.
“Yeah, Bernie’s putting the kids to bed. I told her I wanted to check on you.”
Howard hesitated. “You know, you scared us all.”
Raj smiled sadly. “I scared myself.”
Howard stepped closer, his voice breaking. “Don’t do that again, man. Don’t keep stuff like that from us.”
Raj’s eyes filled with tears. “I just didn’t want to be a burden.”
“You’re not a burden. You’re my best friend,” Howard said firmly. “We’ve been through everything together. You think I’d let you fight this alone?”
Raj couldn’t speak. He reached out, and Howard hugged him—tight and fierce, both of them shaking.
⸻
Months passed. Treatment continued.
There were good days, when Raj could laugh again, go outside, watch a movie with the group.
And bad days, when he could barely stand or remember what he was saying.
But through it all, his friends stayed.
One afternoon, they gathered in Sheldon and Amy’s apartment. Sheldon insisted on a “wellness celebration,” complete with tea, gluten-free snacks, and banners that read RAJ’S RECOVERY PROGRESS: 47.8% SUCCESS RATE.
Penny had smacked him for the decimal, but Raj laughed so hard he cried.
He sat on the couch, wrapped in a soft blanket, watching them argue over trivia questions and snacks.
He realized something then—that no matter how uncertain life became, he wasn’t alone.
He had a family here.
Maybe not by blood, but by something stronger—loyalty, love, shared laughter, and care.
That night, after everyone left, Raj looked out the window again. The stars shimmered faintly, and he whispered, “Thank you.”
⸻
Months later, Raj’s scans showed something unexpected—the tumors had stopped growing. The doctors called it “stable,” but to him, it was a miracle.
He cried, Leonard cried, and even Sheldon said, “I suppose this calls for celebratory ice cream.”
They all went out together, crowding into Penny’s car, laughing and shouting over directions, just like old times.
Raj felt lighter than he had in months.
At the restaurant, Penny raised her glass.
“To Raj—the bravest, smartest, and kindest one of us.”
Raj smiled through tears. “You’re just saying that because Sheldon isn’t here.”
Howard grinned. “No, she’s right.”
They clinked glasses, laughter filling the air.
For the first time in a long time, Raj believed he’d be okay.
⸻
That night, back home, he sat at his telescope again. His vision wasn’t perfect, but he could still see faint glimmers of light. He wrote in his notebook:
Even when everything hurts, the universe keeps moving.
Maybe I will too.
He closed his eyes and breathed. The stars were still there—distant, steady, eternal.
And so was he.
⸻
Chapter Text
Title: The Stars Still Shine – Part 2: Broken Orbits
Raj was getting stronger.
The headaches weren’t as bad as before, and the fog in his mind was finally lifting. His doctors called it “progress.” His friends called it a miracle.
But Howard hadn’t said much.
He still came by the hospital, still brought food and made jokes, but the warmth in his voice was gone. The easy laughter they’d always shared—the brotherhood that had survived every fight and every prank—had been replaced with quiet distance.
Raj noticed.
He noticed every time Howard avoided his eyes.
Every time a joke trailed off into silence.
Every time his friend smiled for everyone else, but not for him.
⸻
It was a rainy evening when Raj finally decided to confront it.
He sat in his apartment, wrapped in a soft blanket, the smell of chai filling the air. His hands trembled—not from weakness this time, but from fear. He’d faced brain surgery and radiation, but this conversation terrified him more.
There was a knock on the door.
When Raj opened it, Howard stood there, drenched from the rain, holding a small box of takeout.
“I brought you dinner,” Howard said simply, stepping inside before Raj could answer.
They ate in silence for a few minutes, the only sound the rain tapping against the windows.
Finally, Raj spoke. “You’re mad at me.”
Howard’s fork paused midair. “I’m not mad,” he said quickly.
“Yes, you are,” Raj said softly. “You’ve barely looked at me for weeks. You talk to me, but you don’t see me.”
Howard sighed, setting his food down. His voice came out sharper than he intended. “What do you want me to say, Raj? That I’m not angry you kept it from me? That I’m not pissed you almost died and didn’t even think to tell your best friend?”
Raj flinched but didn’t look away. “I didn’t want you to worry.”
“Too late for that,” Howard snapped. “You didn’t even give me the chance to worry. You made that choice for me.”
The room fell silent.
Raj swallowed hard, tears burning his eyes. “I thought if I said it out loud, it would be real. I thought if I kept it quiet, maybe it would go away. And I didn’t want to see pity in your eyes.”
Howard’s voice cracked. “It wouldn’t have been pity, Raj. It would’ve been love. It would’ve been me being there for you.”
Raj looked down. “You’ve always been the strong one, Howard. You have a family, kids, a life. I didn’t want to add my problems to yours.”
Howard ran a hand through his hair, pacing. “You think I wouldn’t have dropped everything if you needed me?” His voice shook. “You’re my brother, Raj. We’ve been through everything together—relationships, heartbreaks, careers, everything. And you thought I couldn’t handle this?”
Raj’s tears spilled over. “I was scared, Howie. I was so scared.”
That broke something in Howard. The anger melted into sorrow, into the ache of nearly losing someone he loved like family. He sank down beside Raj, his voice barely a whisper. “I was scared too, man. You were lying in that hospital bed, and all I could think was—what if you never woke up? What if the last thing we said to each other was some stupid joke about my hair?”
Raj gave a shaky laugh through his tears. “It probably was.”
Howard laughed too, then wiped his face quickly. “You can’t do that to me again, okay? No more secrets. No more pretending.”
Raj nodded, his voice trembling. “No more pretending.”
Howard pulled him into a hug—tight and fierce, like he was afraid Raj would disappear if he let go. Raj held on just as tightly, his tears soaking into Howard’s shirt.
After a long while, Howard spoke softly. “You know, when you first told me, I wanted to yell. I wanted to shake you. But then I thought—maybe I would’ve done the same thing. Maybe I would’ve tried to protect everyone too.”
Raj sniffled. “You would’ve handled it better.”
Howard snorted. “Please. I once cried because I broke a Lego Millennium Falcon.”
Raj laughed again, a real laugh this time. The tension between them eased, replaced by the familiar warmth of friendship that had always carried them through.
They stayed there for hours, talking about everything—old memories, their favorite dumb jokes, even the things they’d been too afraid to say before.
When the rain finally stopped, the sky outside was clear. Stars peeked out between drifting clouds.
Raj looked out the window and smiled faintly. “You see them?”
Howard followed his gaze. “Yeah. Still shining.”
“They always are,” Raj whispered. “Even when we can’t see them.”
Howard glanced at him, his voice thick. “You’re one of those stars, Raj.”
Raj turned to him, smiling softly. “So are you.”
⸻
The next day, when the group met for dinner night, Sheldon announced that the “emotional tension between Howard and Raj has now returned to baseline levels.”
Penny rolled her eyes. “Translation: they made up.”
Howard grinned. “Yeah, we’re good.”
Raj nodded, nudging him playfully. “Until the next time he tries to fix my Wi-Fi and deletes my entire music library.”
Howard smirked. “Hey, that was one time!”
Everyone laughed, and for the first time in a long time, Raj felt normal again. Not sick. Not scared. Just home.
The stars outside were faint through the city lights, but they were there—steady, glowing, and eternal.
And so were they.
⸻
Chapter Text
Raj had been getting better—or at least, that’s what everyone believed.
The headaches weren’t daily anymore, and his strength had slowly returned. He’d even gone back to Caltech part-time, running small telescope projects with Leonard and Amy’s students.
But recovery, the doctors had warned, wasn’t a straight path.
“Expect good days and bad days,” Dr. Kim had said. “The brain heals slowly. You might have fatigue, dizziness… even seizures as your body adjusts.”
Raj had nodded, trying not to think too hard about that last part.
He wanted to believe it was behind him—the fear, the weakness, the hospital smell that still haunted his dreams.
He wanted to feel normal.
⸻
It was a bright Tuesday morning when everything went wrong.
Raj had woken up later than usual, sunlight spilling across his bed. He was supposed to be at work by ten, but he still felt tired, his muscles heavy. He told himself he just needed a shower to wake up.
He turned on the water, steam filling the bathroom. For a while, it felt good—warm, cleansing, like washing away the months of sickness and fear.
But as he reached for the soap, his vision blurred.
The walls seemed to tilt.
“Not again…” he whispered, gripping the edge of the sink.
The sound in his ears turned into a high, piercing ring. His hands started shaking. He tried to call out—to reach his phone—but before he could move, the world went white.
He fell hard, the back of his head hitting the tile. His body convulsed, water still running over him as the seizure took hold.
Minutes passed.
The apartment was silent except for the sound of the shower and the faint, broken gasps escaping Raj’s lips.
⸻
By noon, everyone at Caltech noticed Raj hadn’t shown up.
Leonard checked his phone first. No texts. No calls. That was unlike Raj—he was never late without warning.
“Maybe he overslept,” Penny said over the phone when Leonard called her. “You know him—he probably stayed up watching romantic comedies again.”
Howard didn’t laugh. Something in his gut twisted. “No. He’s been weird the past few days. Quiet. Tired.”
Leonard frowned. “You think something’s wrong?”
“I’m going to check on him,” Howard said, already grabbing his keys.
⸻
Raj’s apartment was locked when Howard arrived. He knocked once, twice, louder each time.
“Raj? It’s me—open up!”
No answer.
Howard’s chest tightened. He tried calling Raj’s phone again. The ringtone came from inside, faint but audible.
Something was wrong.
He ran down to the building manager, barely explaining before the man opened the door. The moment Howard stepped inside, he froze.
The sound of running water.
Steam spilling from under the bathroom door.
His heart dropped. “Raj?”
No response.
Howard pushed the door open—and the sight made his blood run cold.
Raj was on the floor, half under the shower curtain, his body limp and pale. The tiles were slick with water, and his lips had a faint bluish tinge.
“Raj!” Howard shouted, rushing forward. He shut off the water, grabbed a towel, and gently turned Raj onto his side.
Raj’s body jerked violently—a second seizure. Howard held his head steady, panic flooding his chest. “Hey—hey, I’m here, buddy. You’re okay. I got you.”
He fumbled for his phone, dialing 911 with shaking hands. “Yes—this is Howard Wolowitz. My friend—he’s having a seizure. Please—please, hurry.”
⸻
By the time the paramedics arrived, Raj had stopped convulsing but was still unconscious. Howard rode with him in the ambulance, gripping his hand tightly.
“Come on, Raj,” he whispered, voice breaking. “You promised—no more pretending. You promised you’d tell us if something was wrong.”
The paramedic glanced at him. “He’s breathing, that’s good. You said he’s been recovering from a tumor surgery?”
Howard nodded. “Yeah. He was doing better. He’s been tired but—” His voice cracked. “I should’ve checked on him sooner.”
⸻
The hospital felt like a cruel déjà vu.
Same white walls. Same antiseptic air.
Leonard, Penny, Amy, Bernadette, and Sheldon arrived soon after, their faces pale and worried.
“Is he okay?” Penny asked, her hands shaking.
“They’re running tests,” Howard said numbly. “They think the seizure was triggered by pressure on the scar tissue. His body’s still healing.”
Amy nodded slowly. “That can happen after neurosurgery. It doesn’t mean the tumors are back.”
Howard sat down heavily, his head in his hands. “He was by himself. He fell. He could’ve drowned or hit his head worse. If I hadn’t gone—”
Bernadette put her arm around him. “But you did go. You found him. You saved him.”
Howard didn’t answer. His eyes were fixed on the closed door down the hall.
⸻
Hours later, Raj finally stirred.
The first thing he saw when he opened his eyes was a familiar face—Howard, slumped in a chair beside the bed, fast asleep, his head resting on his arms.
Raj’s voice was hoarse. “Howie?”
Howard jolted awake instantly. “Raj! Oh thank God.”
Raj blinked groggily. “What… happened?”
“You had a seizure,” Howard said softly. “In the shower. I found you. The doctors said it was caused by stress and fatigue.”
Raj’s eyes filled with tears. “I thought I was past that. I thought I was better.”
Howard shook his head. “You are better. You just pushed yourself too hard.” He smiled weakly. “Typical Raj—overachieving even in recovery.”
Raj gave a faint laugh, but his eyes were wet. “I’m sorry, Howie. Again.”
Howard reached out, squeezing his hand. “You don’t have to be sorry for being sick. Just… promise me you’ll stop trying to do everything alone. You don’t have to prove anything.”
Raj nodded, his voice breaking. “Okay. I promise.”
Howard smiled through his own tears. “Good. Because I’m not letting you go through this again by yourself. You’re stuck with us, buddy.”
Raj smiled faintly. “Best kind of stuck.”
⸻
Later that night, when everyone had gone home, Howard sat quietly beside Raj, watching the heart monitor beep steadily.
Raj was asleep, breathing slow and even. His face looked peaceful for the first time in days.
Howard looked toward the window. Through the blinds, the faintest shimmer of a star peeked through the city haze.
He whispered softly, “Keep shining, man. We still need your light.”
And in that quiet hospital room, with the hum of machines and the soft rhythm of life returning, the stars still shone—distant but unwavering.
Just like Raj.
⸻
⸻
Chapter Text
⸻
Part 5 – Uncle Raj’s Little Bride
Raj had been slowly regaining strength. His headaches were less frequent, his balance returning, and the seizures had stopped—at least for now. He spent most of his days with Howard and Bernadette’s kids, helping with homework, playing games, or simply sitting with them in the living room, watching cartoons while Halley clutched his arm like a little shadow.
One quiet afternoon, Bernadette was tidying up toys while Halley sat cross-legged on the floor, drawing stars and planets. Raj was helping her label them.
“Uncle Raj,” Halley said suddenly, her small finger pointing to a bright yellow star on the page, “I’m going to marry you one day.”
Raj blinked, almost dropping the colored pencil in his hand. “What?”
Halley nodded seriously. “Yep. You’re my husband. Mommy and Daddy said I can pick whoever I want. And I picked you.”
Bernadette froze mid-step, a small box of crayons in her hand. She exchanged a glance with Howard, who was leaning against the counter, arms crossed, trying not to laugh but failing miserably.
Howard whispered, “Did… did she just say she’s marrying Raj?”
Bernadette smiled softly. “Kids say the sweetest things.” She knelt down beside Halley. “Honey, Uncle Raj isn’t your husband yet. He’s your special friend, okay?”
Halley frowned, thinking hard. “But he’s my favorite. He helps me with everything. He makes me laugh. He’s my star.”
Raj laughed quietly, tears pricking his eyes. “I’m honored, Halley. I’ll be your… uncle-husband for now, okay?”
Halley giggled. “Okay! But only if we can have star cookies every day.”
Howard groaned. “Star cookies every day? Are you raising a future baker or just trying to ruin my diet?”
Bernadette shook her head, laughing. “Leave her be, Howard. She’s harmless.”
Raj felt warmth flood his chest. Being with these kids, being included in their little world, made him feel alive again—like he mattered, like he had a family beyond just his friends. Halley’s simple, innocent declaration wasn’t romantic—it was pure love. And it filled the hole his illness had left behind.
That evening, while putting Halley to bed, Raj sat beside her on the edge of her tiny bed. “You know, Halley, I feel really lucky,” he said softly.
“Why?” she asked, blinking sleepily.
“Because I get to be your special friend,” Raj said with a smile. “And because I get to see you grow up. You’re amazing.”
Halley yawned, hugging him tightly. “You’re amazing too, Uncle Raj. My bestest friend.”
Raj kissed her forehead gently. “Goodnight, star.”
Later, downstairs, Howard and Bernadette sat together quietly.
“She really loves him,” Bernadette said, her voice soft. “Even after everything he’s been through.”
Howard nodded. “Yeah. And honestly… I think it helps him too. Being around her… it reminds him there’s still good in the world. He’s not just recovering—he’s living again.”
Bernadette smiled. “Exactly. And no matter what happens, we’re all here for him. We won’t let him go through it alone again.”
Howard reached over, squeezing her hand. “He’s lucky to have all of us. And we’re lucky to have him. Even if Halley’s already planning a wedding we can’t say no to.”
They both laughed quietly, the sound mingling with the soft night outside. Raj’s soft snores came up the stairs, and for the first time in a long time, the house felt full of peace—and love.
The stars outside twinkled faintly through the window, distant but steady. And inside, Raj shone just as bright.
⸻
Raj had been sleeping a lot lately. Everyone expected it—recovery was exhausting, and the doctors had warned them he’d be fatigued. But today felt different.
Bernadette had Penny and Amy over, sipping coffee and chatting quietly in the living room while Halley played with her toys nearby. The laughter from outside seemed distant to Bernadette’s ears. Something inside her tightened, an unexplainable knot of worry.
“I’m going to check on him,” she said, setting her cup down.
Penny and Amy both looked at her. “He’s been fine all week,” Amy said softly. “Maybe he’s just tired?”
Bernadette shook her head. “I know him. This… feels wrong.”
⸻
The guest room door was closed. Bernadette pushed it open slowly, calling his name. “Raj? Hey… you awake?”
No response.
Her heart began to race. She stepped closer, the soft glow of the bedside lamp illuminating Raj’s face. At first, she thought he was just deeply asleep—but then she noticed something—his chest wasn’t rising.
“No, no, no…” Bernadette whispered, panic surging through her. She grabbed his shoulder. “Raj! Raj, breathe!”
Penny and Amy came running as Bernadette screamed for help.
“Oh my God!” Penny shouted. “Call 911!”
Amy was already dialing. Bernadette dropped to her knees beside Raj, checking his pulse. It was faint, almost gone. Her hands shook as she began performing CPR, her voice cracking as she counted aloud. “Come on, Raj. Breathe, please… just breathe.”
Halley’s tiny voice echoed from the doorway. “Mommy? Uncle Raj?”
Bernadette’s tears fell freely. “Sweetie, stay back! Stay with Penny!” she commanded gently, even as her heart broke.
Minutes felt like hours. Bernadette’s hands moved mechanically, guided by adrenaline and desperation, while Penny and Amy shouted encouragement.
Then—a thump of boots on the stairs. Howard burst into the room, eyes wide, face pale. “Bernadette! What’s happening?”
“He’s not breathing!” Bernadette sobbed. “I… I can’t…”
Howard dove to her side, taking over compressions without hesitation. “I’ve got him. We’re not losing him.”
Within moments, the sound of sirens grew louder outside. Paramedics arrived, rushing into the apartment with medical bags. Howard and Bernadette moved aside, hands still trembling as they watched professionals take over.
“Clear!” one EMT shouted as they attached the defibrillator pads.
“Come on, Raj,” Howard whispered under his breath, gripping his friend’s hand. “Don’t do this to me, buddy. You’re not leaving us now. Not like this. You hear me?”
Bernadette held Halley tightly, whispering assurances to her daughter even as her own body shook. Penny and Amy hovered nearby, gripping each other’s hands, hearts racing.
Minutes later, the defibrillator shocked Raj, and his eyes fluttered open weakly. A gasp, a cough, and then—the rise and fall of his chest.
Howard let out a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding. “Thank God,” he whispered, tears streaming down his face. “You scared the hell out of me.”
Raj’s voice was hoarse. “H… Howie?”
“I’m here,” Howard said, holding his hand tightly. “You’re safe now.”
Bernadette sobbed softly, leaning against Howard. “You can’t do this to us, Raj. You hear me? We need you.”
Raj blinked, still weak but aware. Halley peered around Bernadette, her small face serious. “Uncle Raj… don’t go away again,” she whispered.
Raj tried to smile, his lips trembling. “I… I won’t. I promise.”
Penny wrapped an arm around him gently. “You’re stronger than you think, Raj. But you don’t have to do this alone. Ever.”
For the first time in days, Raj felt the warmth of love and support flooding around him—overwhelming, real, and necessary. Even the terror of that moment couldn’t erase the comfort of being surrounded by the people who would never let him go.
As the paramedics prepared to transport him to the hospital for monitoring, Howard bent down and whispered in his ear. “You’re my brother, Raj. Always. You hear me?”
“I hear you,” Raj whispered back, squeezing Howard’s hand weakly. “Always.”
⸻
Chapter Text
The hospital room smelled faintly of antiseptic and machines. Raj lay in the crisp white bed, a thin blanket covering his frail frame. Howard and Bernadette sat on either side, holding his hands tightly. Halley perched on a chair nearby, clutching her stuffed unicorn, her big brown eyes wide and worried.
Dr. Kim, calm but serious, entered with a clipboard. Penny and Amy trailed behind, whispering reassurances to Halley.
“Mr. Koothrappali,” Dr. Kim began gently, “we’ve reviewed your latest scans and your recent seizure episode. It appears that the brain block clot we removed last surgery… has shifted slightly. It’s pressing against the cardiac nerves and causing irregular heart rhythms, which explains the seizure and the sudden collapse in your apartment.”
Raj’s face went pale. “So… it’s… bad?”
Dr. Kim shook her head, her tone measured but firm. “It’s serious, yes. But we caught it in time. If we hadn’t, the outcome could have been catastrophic.”
Howard’s jaw tightened, and Bernadette gripped Raj’s hand tighter. “So… what now?” she asked.
“We need to operate again,” Dr. Kim explained. “The clot needs to be removed safely. It’s a delicate surgery, but with your current condition and the support system you have, we are confident you’ll make a full recovery.”
Raj’s voice was barely a whisper. “Another surgery… again?”
Penny knelt beside him. “Raj… you’ve already survived so much. You can do this. We’ll all be right here.”
Amy nodded, her tone soft but insistent. “You’re not facing this alone, Raj. You have people who care more than you realize.”
Halley tugged at his sleeve, tiny hands trembling. “Uncle Raj… you can’t leave us again.”
Raj’s chest tightened. His throat ached, tears threatening to spill. “I… I don’t want to… go through this again. I’m scared.”
Howard leaned closer, brushing a damp lock of hair from Raj’s forehead. “I know, buddy. I’m scared too. But fear doesn’t mean we stop. We fight. And we fight together.”
Bernadette added softly, “You’ve survived before, Raj. You’ll survive again. You have an army here—your family, your friends. We’re not going anywhere.”
Raj blinked, swallowing hard, taking in their faces—so full of love, worry, and determination. He wanted to be brave for them, even though his own heart thudded in panic.
Dr. Kim continued, explaining the procedure in careful detail, making sure Raj understood every step. Howard took notes diligently, asking every possible question, while Bernadette held Halley’s hand tightly, ready to soothe her when the time came.
Later that evening, Raj sat quietly, staring at the ceiling of his hospital room. The memory of collapsing in his apartment, alone and helpless, still haunted him. But the warmth of his friends and chosen family pressed in around him, a shield against the fear.
Halley climbed onto the bed beside him. “Uncle Raj… when you’re done with the surgery… can we bake star cookies?”
Raj’s lips trembled into a smile. “Yes, Halley. Star cookies for every successful surgery. Deal?”
“Deal!” she cheered, holding his hand tightly.
Howard, sitting beside them, whispered softly, “You’re going to be okay, Raj. We’ve got you. Always.”
Raj closed his eyes for a moment, drawing strength from their presence. Fear still lingered, but for the first time since the seizure, hope felt real.
The stars outside the hospital window shone faintly through the evening sky. Raj thought of Halley’s small hand in his, of Howard’s steady presence, and of the laughter and warmth waiting for him at home.
He could fight this. He would fight this.
And he wouldn’t fight it alone.
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Chapter Text
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The apartment was quiet except for the soft hum of a small robot Raj had been tinkering with on the workbench. The evening sun filtered through the blinds, casting golden stripes across the floor. Raj sat in his worn armchair, his hair graying slightly at the temples, his eyes still warm and lively, though a hint of loneliness lingered.
He was in his late forties now, living alone in a modest apartment a few blocks from Howard and Bernadette’s home. After years of full recovery, he had built a life that was quiet and comfortable—but mostly quiet. He never married. Never found the “one” he might have once imagined. But he had family, friends, and Halley, who had grown from the small, energetic child who clung to him into a young woman pursuing her dreams.
Tonight, the door opened quietly, and a familiar voice called out.
“Uncle Raj? Are you still awake?”
Halley stepped inside, her laptop tucked under her arm, a backpack slung casually over one shoulder. She was twenty now, tall and confident, her hair tied back in a practical ponytail. Her eyes sparkled with determination—the same spark Raj remembered from her childhood.
“Hey, Halley,” Raj said softly, standing to greet her. “How’s the future robotic engineer doing tonight?”
Halley laughed, dropping her bag near the couch. “Studying,” she said simply, though her eyes twinkled. “I figured I’d check on you while I work on my project. Mom said I should make sure you’re not sitting in the dark, talking to yourself again.”
Raj chuckled, ruffling her hair affectionately. “Your mother’s right—you never know with me.”
They settled into the living room together, Halley opening her laptop to a schematics file for a robotic arm she was building for a competition. Raj pulled up a small workbench next to her, tinkering with his own project—a tiny motorized telescope.
“You know,” Halley said after a moment, “I never really thanked you properly for… everything. All those years you spent helping me and teaching me, even when you were recovering. You always made time, even when it was hard.”
Raj paused, his hands stilling on the telescope. “Halley… you don’t have to thank me. That’s what family does. And… you know, you’ve made it easy. You’re smart, capable, and funny. I’m proud of you.”
Halley smiled, her cheeks flushing slightly. “Thanks, Uncle Raj. You know… I’m really glad you were there. I don’t think I could have handled growing up without you around.”
Raj’s heart swelled. He’d spent decades caring for the girl who once clung to him, now a young woman standing on the cusp of her own life. Even though he had never found a partner, his love for her had always been enough—powerful, steady, and unconditional.
“I’m glad I got to see you grow up,” Raj said softly. “And I’ll be here for the next steps too. You’re going to do amazing things, Halley.”
Halley grinned. “I’ll try. But I hope I can make you proud along the way. Even if I end up building robots better than your telescopes.”
Raj laughed, a deep, warm sound that filled the room. “Challenge accepted, kiddo. But remember, telescopes let you see the stars. Don’t forget to look up while building robots.”
They worked together quietly for a while, sharing tools, ideas, and laughter. In that apartment filled with gentle chaos and the hum of machinery, Raj felt a deep contentment. Life hadn’t gone exactly as he might have imagined—but it had gone beautifully in its own way.
Years later, in his forties, still single and independent, Raj had built a life surrounded by love—not romantic, perhaps, but unwavering nonetheless. He had friends, family, and Halley, the bright star of his world, thriving and chasing her dreams. And sometimes, that was more than enough.
As Halley packed up to leave, Raj watched her go, a soft smile on his face.
“Don’t forget to call me if you need anything,” he said.
“I know, Uncle Raj,” she replied, pausing at the door. “You always taught me to reach for the stars. Guess it’s my turn now.”
Raj looked up at the evening sky through his window, the first stars twinkling faintly against the darkening sky. His heart was full.
And in that quiet moment, he realized: the stars he had once studied, feared losing to illness, and celebrated surviving—were still shining. Just like him.
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