Arni and His Mannu

Arnav stood at the doorway, the faint click of the door closing behind him sounding louder than it should have. His feet felt rooted to the floor, yet his chest ached to move, torn between the urge to flee and the desperate need to make things right.

His heart screamed to go to his Mannu, to apologise, to explain, to somehow undo the hurt. But his mind... his mind was in chaos, every instinct pulling him backward, away from the quiet storm sitting on that couch.

The air felt heavy, thick with everything left unsaid.

He closed his eyes for a moment, replaying Pari's voice in his head, And maybe she was right. Running away had already cost him too much.

So he forced himself forward. One step. Then another. Each one slower than the last, his heart pounding in his ears like a guilty drumbeat.

Abhimanyu sat there, calm and unbothered or maybe pretending to be. The glow of the laptop lit his face, and in that light, Arnav saw what he feared most. Not anger. Not fury.

Disappointment.

And that... that broke something inside him.

His chest tightened, throat burning, because this was worse than being shouted at, worse than any punishment. Seeing that quiet, cold distance in the eyes of the man who'd been his anchor... it made every heartbeat hurt.

Every breath felt like an apology he couldn't yet form.

He stood beside Abhimanyu, maintaining a careful distance. His throat tightened, courage warring with fear. And finally, in a voice barely above a whisper, he said,

"Mannu..."

No response.

Not even a flicker.

Abhimanyu didn't look at him, didn't even pause. The only sound in the room was the harsh rhythm of typing, each keystroke louder than the last, slicing through the silence like a blade.

Arnav swallowed, his heart thudding painfully. "Mannu... I'm sorry..." he tried again, his voice trembling.

Nothing.

He felt his chest cave in. The indifference hurt more than anger ever could. "Mannu, baat toh kar... really sorry," he whispered, his words cracking at the edges.

Still, Abhimanyu didn't look up. The tapping of keys grew faster, harder and with every sharp click, Arnav's hope faltered a little more.

"Mannu..." he pleaded, voice breaking now. "Galti ho gayi, please... sorry na..."

But Abhimanyu remained unmoved, his silence heavy, suffocating, deliberate. That calm coldness was torture.

And something inside Arnav snapped.

Before he could stop himself, he stepped forward, snatched the laptop from Abhimanyu's lap, and clutched it tightly against his chest....like a shield, like his only defense left.

Abhimanyu's head lifted instantly, eyes sharp, the sudden movement making Arnav's heart jolt. He stood up, slow but steady, his presence alone enough to make Arnav take two hurried steps back.

Clutching the laptop tighter, Arnav's voice came out rough, desperate. "Main nahi dunga... pehle mujhse baat kar!"

Abhimanyu stared at him, that piercing gaze making Arnav's pulse stumble. It wasn't fury in his eyes that scared him. It was disappointment. Quiet, unshaken, piercing disappointment.

And that was worse than any anger.

Abhimanyu took a step forward, trying to take the laptop back, but Arnav shook his head frantically, tears pricking his eyes. "Nahi! Pehle mujhse baat kar, phir dunga!"

His voice cracked under the weight of guilt and fear...stubborn, pleading, desperate, like a little boy trying to hold onto the only bond that ever made him feel safe.

Abhimanyu looked at him once again, a single, unreadable glance and without a word, turned away. He walked towards the bed with quiet, deliberate steps, removed his shoes, and lay down, turning his back to Arnav.

Not a word.

Not a sigh.

Just silence.

That silence screamed louder than any scolding ever could.

Arnav stood frozen, the laptop still clutched against his chest, his breath trembling. His heart twisted painfully, he had seen his Mannu angry before, furious even... but never like this. Never quiet. Never distant.

Abhimanyu was never the kind of man who punished with silence...no, he was the storm that shook sense into you. The kind who'd rather break the air with his words than let the weight of quiet guilt fester. His anger was never absence...it was presence, fierce and deliberate, a mirror forcing you to face yourself. He was the kind of person whose fists talk first then words. But this silence? This cold, aching withdrawal, it wasn't discipline, it was distance. And that was far crueler than any scolding, far louder than any raised voice.

And that realization shattered Arnav.

His eyes stung as he watched Abhimanyu lie there, unmoving. He had hurt him, not by disobedience, not by mistake, but by breaking something far deeper...trust.

The man who never turned his back on him had just done exactly that.

Arnav's throat ached as he whispered into the heavy air, "Mannu... please..."

But there was no reply. Just the steady rhythm of Abhimanyu's breathing...calm, controlled, distant while Arnav's own heart cried in silence, knowing this was a punishment he had no strength to bear.

Arnav placed the laptop back on the couch, his hands trembling slightly. The silence in the room was unbearable....thick, suffocating. He took hesitant steps toward the bed where Abhimanyu lay, his heart pounding painfully against his ribs.

He sat down near Abhimanyu's feet, eyes burning, and reached out to gently shake his leg. His voice came out small, cracked.

"Mannu... please, I'm sorry... please baat kar na..."

But there was no response.

Not even a flicker of movement.

The stillness tore at him. His throat tightened until the words barely came out, breaking apart mid-sentence. "Mannu, please..." he whispered again, and a lone tear slipped down his cheek, falling soundlessly onto the bedsheet.

When Abhimanyu still didn't react, desperation clawed at Arnav's chest. He couldn't take it anymore....that distance, that silence. Without even realizing, he slid down from the bed's edge and clutched Abhimanyu's foot, his grip trembling, desperate.

"Mannu... I'm sorry," he choked, voice trembling, "please aisa mat kar, please..."

The words tumbled out between sobs now, his tears wetting Abhimanyu's skin as they fell freely. He looked up through the blur, pleading eyes searching for even a glance, a word...anything.

"Mannu, please..." his voice broke again, raw and small, like a child's.

And suddenly, Abhimanyu shot up, startled by the touch and the weight of those words. He tried to remove Arnav's hands from his foot, but Arnav only tightened his grip, clutching harder as if letting go would mean losing him completely.

His eyes were red, brimming with tears, lips trembling as he shook his head. "Nahi... pehle baat kar... please..."

Each word came out strangled, desperate....the sound of guilt, fear, and love all tangled together, bleeding into the quiet of the room.

When Arnav didn't let go of his foot, Abhimanyu's fury finally burst. His voice rose, sharp and thunderous, "Arnav, pair chhod mera!"

Arnav flinched but still didn't release him, eyes wide and pleading. The next moment, Abhimanyu's temper snapped-his hand came down hard on Arnav's arm. The sudden, sharp sound cut through the room-loud enough to make Arnav's fingers loosen in shock.

Abhimanyu stood up abruptly, pulled Arnav by the arms, and made him stand in front of him.

Arnav's heart thundered now, his pulse racing as he saw Abhimanyu's face....eyes blazing, jaw tight, the kind of anger that came from fear.

Abhimanyu's voice cut through the air, rough with fury.

"Kya baat karni hai... huh?!"

He stepped closer, emotion trembling in his tone as his hand came down sharply on Arnav's arm.

"Bata, kya baat karni hai...bol!"

Arnav stumbled back, clutching his arm where Abhimanyu's hand had landed moments ago. Words tumbled out in panic.

"Mannu, I'm sorry! Main galti se bhool gaya tha dawai lena! I'm sorry!"

Abhimanyu closed the distance between them again, anger and fear bleeding into his tone.

"Galti se? Galti se, huh?" His hand came down again...once, twice....each strike punctuating the words that followed.

"Do you even realize what could have happened to you today?!"

Arnav's breath hitched, eyes wide and glistening. He took a few steps back, voice breaking.

"Mannu... sorry," he whispered shakily. "Woh... ghar mein itna sab chal raha tha, Mannu... isliye bhool gaya..."

Abhimanyu's gaze darkened further, shadows cutting across his face. He stepped toward Arnav, each step deliberate, heavy with restrained fury. Arnav instinctively gulped and took a small step back, his heart thundering in his chest.

Without a word, Abhimanyu caught his arm in a firm grip and dragged him toward the door. His voice came low, deadpan....too calm to be safe.

"Get out."

Arnav jerked in surprise but didn't move. Every instinct screamed at him to obey, but something deeper...fear of silence, fear of losing his Mannu again, rooted him to the floor.

If he left now, he knew Abhimanyu would shut him out completely. And that, he couldn't bear.

He took several steps back into the room, his own frustration bubbling up.

"Maine bola na sorry.....ho gayi galti, yaar!" his voice cracked, trembling between guilt and defiance. "I promise, dobara nahi hogi... ghar mein itna sab chal raha tha, Mannu, it was an honest mistake! Sorry na, please!"

Abhimanyu's eyes hardened further, his expression unreadable...cold, furious, hurt all at once. The air between them grew sharp, tense enough to cut. He took a few threatening steps forward, the sound of his footfalls echoed against the floor

Then,

Before Arnav could process what was happening, the sharp sound of the moment cut through the air, his breath hitched, his face jerked to the side in stunned silence. His hand instinctively rose, cupping his cheek, eyes wide as they met his Mannu's. Tears welled instantly, spilling down his face.

His Mannu had slapped him.

For a heartbeat, the world stopped. The sound still echoed in the air... sharp, echoing, final....before the silence took over. A silence so heavy it seemed to pulse with pain.

Neither of them spoke. The air between them trembled....thick, raw, and suffocating.

Abhimanyu’s chest rose and fell in uneven bursts, his breath jagged, his eyes burning with a storm he could no longer contain. Rage flickered first, wild and consuming, before disbelief took its place, and then something far more dangerous… hurt.

Arnav stood frozen. His fingers brushed his stinging cheek, trembling, eyes glistening with unshed tears. He didn’t speak. Didn’t move. Just looked at him, the man who was both his anchor and undoing, with the kind of heartbreak that made even silence bleed.

And that look… that look shattered something inside Abhimanyu.

His breath faltered. His fists clenched at his sides as his jaw locked tight, trying to cage the flood inside him. But the guilt.....oh, it clawed. It clawed deep and merciless.

“Tujhe samajh kyun nahi aata, Arnav…” His voice came out hoarse, breaking mid-sentence. “Kya kar raha hai tu apne saath?”

Arnav shook his head helplessly, voice quivering. “Mannu… maine sach mein bhool gaya tha… Ghar mein itna sab....”

“Bas!” Abhimanyu’s voice sliced through the air like glass, his temper cracking under the weight of worry. “Stop it! Just stop with your...your emotional manipulation!”

The words landed harder than the slap.

Arnav’s lips parted, his breath catching. The tears in his eyes no longer fell, they hung there, suspended, as if even they feared to move.

Abhimanyu’s voice dropped, rough and tired, laced with something that wasn’t anger anymore, it was exhaustion, heartbreak, disbelief.

“Do I look like a fool to you?” he rasped, barely above a whisper.

He sank onto the edge of the bed, elbows on his knees, head in his hands....a man torn between fury and fear. His breath trembled, a broken rhythm of restraint and regret.

“Ghar mein do-teen din se problems chal rahi hain, Arnav…” he whispered, each word trembling. “Aur jis halat mein tu aaj tha…” His throat closed around the words. “...tune kayi dino ki medicines skip ki hai.”

The truth hit like a quiet explosion.

When he finally lifted his gaze, his eyes weren’t burning anymore, they were wet, hollow, and bleeding ache. His voice softened, barely audible, the edges cracking under the weight of love that refused to die even in anger.

“Kyuu karta hai tu aisa, haan?”

It wasn’t a question.
It was a wound, a blade wrapped in heartbreak, slicing through the air and finding its mark right in Arnav’s chest.

Arnav froze. His breath hitched, eyes wide and wet. The words cut deeper than any blow could have. His throat bobbed uselessly as he tried to breathe, to speak, to exist under that voice.
“Mannu…” he whispered, but his voice broke halfway through.

He took a step forward, hesitant, trembling and his knees nearly buckled under the weight of his own guilt. His lips parted, but nothing came except a sharp, broken sound, a gasp strangled into a sob.

The silence that followed was not empty. It was alive.
It pressed down on them, heavy, trembling, pulsing with everything unspoken. Love. Anger. Fear. And a kind of pain that only existed between two people who loved too much.

Abhimanyu stood there, still, his jaw tight, his chest rising in slow, burning breaths. When he finally spoke, his voice came low, deep, dangerous, the kind that made your skin prickle.

“Arnav… sach sach batana.”

A pause.

“Kitne dino se tune medicines nahi li?”

Arnav’s fingers twitched. His throat closed. He couldn’t look up.

He wanted to answer, but the moment he did, he knew what would follow. The disappointment. The silence. The distance.

So he said nothing.

Abhimanyu’s patience cracked. He stepped forward, closing the distance in two strides, the air thick with fury barely leashed. His hand shot out, gripping Arnav’s arm firmly, not cruelly, but with the kind of strength that left no room for escape.

“Kitni medicines skip ki?” His voice wasn’t loud, it was worse. Controlled. Deadly.

Arnav’s shoulders tensed under his touch, breath shuddering. He didn’t answer. His silence screamed louder than words.

Abhimanyu’s fingers tightened, the pressure sharp enough to make Arnav flinch. Then, suddenly, he released him, the motion so abrupt it made Arnav sway.

“Get out,” he said, voice low and trembling with restraint.
“Get out Right now. Before I do or say something I regret.”

Arnav blinked, tears blurring his vision. He didn’t move. Couldn’t.

“Get. Out!”
Each word hit like a slap to his chest.

He shook his head weakly, voice barely there. “D… do hafte ki…”

The silence that followed felt suffocating. Abhimanyu’s eyes darkened....slow, steady rage brewing behind them.

He stepped forward again, catching Arnav’s arm once more, grip unyielding. His thumb pressed against the skin, the hold firm enough to make Arnav wince, his breath hitching audibly.

“When was the last time you had a proper meal?”

“J-just now… dinner…” he muttered, trembling, eyes darting everywhere but Abhimanyu’s face.

Abhimanyu’s hand came down sharply against his arm, a quick, stinging motion, enough to make Arnav flinch violently, his breath catching as pain flashed through him. His shoulders jerked, a startled sound escaping before he could stop it.

“You know what I mean,” Abhimanyu said, voice tightening, low and furious. “Before that. Tell me.”

Arnav’s throat worked helplessly. His lips trembled, “Mannu… galti ho gayi… I’m sorry… dobara nahi hoga…”

“Answer. My. Question.”
Each word was ground out through his teeth, measured, terrifying.

“A… a day before yesterday…” he whispered, voice barely holding.

Abhimanyu’s jaw flexed. He stared for a long second.....silent, unreadable and then his hand came down again, sharp and controlled, against Arnav’s shoulder. The sound cracked in the still air.

Arnav flinched hard, breath stuttering. His fingers clenched into his shirt, eyes shutting tight as another sharp contact landed against his upper arm, enough to make him gasp, his whole body recoiling instinctively before he steadied himself again, blinking back tears.

“Tu ye keh raha hai…” Abhimanyu’s voice was low but trembling with anger, “ki tune pichle do din se kuch nahi khaya?”

Arnav’s lips quivered. “Sirf… sirf coffee…” he managed, eyes glistening.

Abhimanyu’s chest rose and fell, breath heavy. His hands dropped for a second, as if trying to calm the storm inside....before finding Arnav’s arms again. His palms connected in quick, frustrated motions, each sharper than the last, making Arnav wince and twitch under the contact.

“So you’re telling me,” Abhimanyu’s voice broke, deeper now, “that you haven’t eaten properly in two days. That you’ve been running on coffee and nothing else?”

Another restrained motion, landing against Arnav’s arm, not meant to hurt, but it did. Because it came from someone who cared too much.

Arnav winced again, shoulders jerking slightly, a shaky breath escaping as his eyes finally lifted, meeting those furious, burning eyes that held equal parts pain and love.

He wanted to say something, anything, but his voice failed him. His lips parted, trembling, his breathing shallow and uneven.

Abhimanyu took a deliberate step back, his breath tearing through the silence. His hands dragged down his face roughly, as if he could scrape the storm out of himself but it clung to him, thick, choking, unrelenting. His chest heaved, the rise and fall jagged, as if every inhale burned and every exhale tasted like regret.

When he finally turned to face Arnav, the fury had gone still but it wasn’t gone. It simmered under the surface, dark and dangerous. His gaze was flat, cold, deadpan, the kind of look that didn’t need shouting to break someone apart.

“Yaha se jaa, Arnav,” he said. His tone was clipped, hollow, stripped bare of warmth. Every syllable bled disappointment.

Then something shifted, barely, but enough. His voice softened, not in mercy, but in grief. “I don’t want to look at you right now.”

The words cracked mid-way, as though they hurt him too, but he still said them.

That broke something inside Arnav.

He didn’t move...couldn’t. The world tilted. All he could see were the faces, Abhimanyu’s cold fury, Pari’s wounded silence, Avyuktha’s frightened eyes, Aarush’s clenched fists, Maan’s disappointment, Anvi’s tears.
Each one a mirror reflecting his failure.

His chest felt like it was collapsing inward, ribs pressing against a heart that wouldn’t stop bleeding. Pari’s voice still echoed in his head “Avu ka nightmare…” and it clawed at him, over and over.
He became the reason for her nightmare when he wanted to make her safe.
And now, the one person who had always been his anchor… refused to even look at him.

His throat burned. His vision blurred. His tears slipped silently, tracing the shape of his guilt as they fell. His body felt weightless and heavy at once, like grief had stolen his bones.

He didn’t know what to say anymore. He didn’t know how to fix what he had broken.

Abhimanyu sank onto the bed in front of him, elbows on his knees, head in his hands. His shoulders were rigid, trembling from the strain of holding in too much. His breath came harsh, uneven, the sound of a man trying not to drown in his own love and anger.

Inside him, everything clashed....fear, rage, helplessness. He was furious at Arnav’s carelessness, yes, but underneath that was something far worse....terror. The kind that keeps you up at night.
Because Arnav, his Arni...the one who had made his world make sense again, was breaking himself piece by piece, and Abhimanyu couldn’t stop it.

He had watched Arnav stay awake for others, feed others, heal others but when it came to himself, he had nothing left to give.

At twenty-five, his body was already surrendering, his heart constantly under strain, and still… he refused to rest.

Abhimanyu’s fists clenched. His knuckles went pale. His eyes burned. Every pulse in his body screamed with fear disguised as fury. Because what if one day, he didn’t wake up? What if the next headache wasn’t just exhaustion? What if this.....this foolishness, this self-neglect....was the beginning of losing him for good?

The thought alone made his vision swim. His chest hurt.

He looked up and saw Arnav still standing there. Small. Shaking. Eyes wide, face pale, like a shadow of the boy he once knew.

Something cracked.

Abhimanyu dropped his gaze again, trying to calm the tremor in his breath. But Arnav......Arnav couldn’t stand it anymore.

The words “I don’t want to look at you” kept echoing in his mind until they became unbearable.

He took a step forward, one trembling, unsteady step and then another. His knees were weak, his lungs raw. Abhimanyu sat on the bed, head still buried in his hands, unaware of how broken the man before him had become.

Arnav sank to the floor. His knees hit softly, but the sound felt deafening. His trembling fingers reached up, holding his own ears in a desperate, childlike gesture. His face was blotched red from crying, his lips quivering, his breath shallow.

“Mannu…” His voice cracked. The word came out like a wound. “Please aisa mat bol…”

Tears slipped down faster. “I’m really sorry, Mannu… please mujhse baat karna mat band kar…” His voice broke again, collapsing into a sob that wracked through his whole frame.

His words came tumbling out....uneven, broken, spilling faster than his breath could catch up, “Tu mujhse baat nahi karega toh phir kaun karega yaar… I know I messed up… I know I did… Avu ko meri wajah se nightmare aaya…”

His voice cracked into silence. He could barely breathe between the sobs. “Tujhe aur Pari ko bhi meri wajah se itni pareshani hui… main bahut bura hoon, Mannu, lekin… please mujhse door mat jaa…”

He didn’t even realize when he started shaking. His shoulders trembled violently, breath hitching as he pressed his forehead to Abhimanyu’s knee, too broken to care about pride anymore.

Abhimanyu didn’t move. Not at first. His head stayed buried in his hands, his chest rising and falling, his fingers digging into his scalp.

But when he finally looked up and saw Arnav kneeling there, hands clasped around his ears, crying like a child, something inside him just… shattered.

His jaw locked. His throat constricted. His eyes burned.
This wasn’t the guilt of a man who didn’t care....it was the breaking of someone who cared too much.

Slowly, Abhimanyu reached forward. His trembling hands wrapped around Arnav’s wrists, pulling them down from his ears, not roughly, but firmly enough to stop him from hurting himself.

“Tujhe pata hai…” His voice was quiet, thick, trembling with too many emotions at once. “Yahi teri problem hai.”

Arnav blinked through his tears, breath catching.

Abhimanyu inhaled shakily, wiping at his own eyes with the back of his hand. “Teri yahi problem hai, Arni…” he said again, his tone fraying between anger and pain. “Tujhe ye dikh gaya ki Avu ko nightmare aaya, mujhe aur Pari ko so-called pareshaani hui… lekin tu abhi bhi nahi samjha.”

His voice broke completely then. “Hum log terey wajah se nahi, tere liye pareshan hai.”

The words hung between them, trembling, heavy, true.

His tone rose, not in rage, but in helplessness. “Teri yahi problem hai,” he said again, eyes shining, “Tu apne aage duniya bhar ko rakhta hai… tujhe sabki chinta hai, bas apni chhod ke…”

The pain in his voice wasn’t anger anymore...it was desperation.

Abhimanyu suddenly stood, the motion sharp, unrestrained. Arnav flinched instantly, body recoiling, breath caught, like every nerve in him still expected punishment.

But Abhimanyu didn’t shout. Didn’t strike.

He just grabbed Arnav’s arm....firm, trembling and pulled him up from the floor, forcing him to stand. His grip burned, not from force, but from the emotion behind it.

“Tell me one thing…” His tone was low, steady but his eyes, god, his eyes were a storm. “Agar tujhe ye nahi pata chalta… ki Avu ka nightmare tujhse trigger hua tha… ya hum sab tujhse baat karna band nahi karte…”

He leaned in closer, their faces inches apart, breaths colliding, silence deafening.

“…toh tujhe thoda bhi guilt hota?”

The words landed like thunder.

Arnav froze. His lips parted, no sound coming. His chest rose once, twice, then fell with a shudder.

And then, very slowly, he shook his head.

Not in defiance. Not in denial.
In defeat.

A slow, trembling motion, like his soul had just caved in.

The silence that followed wasn’t just quiet, it was suffocating. Thick. Heavy. Unforgiving.

Abhimanyu’s breath hitched. His eyes closed for a moment as if the answer had stabbed straight through him.

A muscle in his jaw twitched. His fingers slipped from Arnav’s arm, falling to his side, lifeless.

And then
___________________________________________

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