Chapter: The Weight of Words

Tell me one thing..." His tone was low, steady, eyes burning like 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... toh tujhe thoda bhi guilt hota?"

The words hit like thunder.

Arnav froze, then slowly shook his head, not in defiance, but defeat.

Silence. Heavy. Shattering.

Abhimanyu's breath hitched; his fingers slipped from Arnav's arm, falling lifelessly to his side.

And then,

Abhimanyu just stared at him.

For a moment, he didn't move. Didn't blink. Didn't even breathe properly. His entire face radiated hurt....raw, silent, unbearable hurt. Because this wasn't just anyone standing before him. This was Arnav. His Arni. The boy for whom he cared so much, shielded from every bruise, every harsh word. His lifeline since childhood.

And now that same Arni stood here, breaking piece by piece, drowning in recklessness, destroying himself without remorse.

It was like watching the heartbeat of his life give up on itself.

Something inside Abhimanyu cracked open, the soundless kind of breaking that leaves you hollow. His mind stilled, his chest heavy with a thousand unsaid words. He took a sharp, trembling breath, the kind that hurts on the way out. He felt like a failed brother. Like he had failed to teach his Arni how to love himself.

Tears slipped down his face before he even realised. He wiped them away roughly, almost angrily, like he wasn't allowed to cry.

Then, without a word, he turned toward the bed and began packing his laptop, movements stiff, mechanical, desperate to hold on to something other than the ache.

Arnav's heart lurched. Panic flickered in his eyes as he stepped closer.
"Mannu... kya kar raha hai?"

No reply.

Abhimanyu kept packing, jaw tight, eyes fixed on the bag.

"Mannu," Arnav said again, voice trembling now, "kuch toh bol"

When silence met him again, he reached out, clutching Abhimanyu's hand firmly, almost pleading. "Ye sab kya kar raha hai?"

Abhimanyu looked at him....eyes hollow, lifeless, tears still spilling down his face no matter how hard he tried to stop them. He couldn't. He just couldn't. His heart was shattered so brutally that even pain had gone quiet, leaving behind only numbness.

He tried to free his hand from Arnav's grip, but Arnav only shook his head, voice trembling. "Mannu...ye kya kar raha hai tu"

Abhimanyu's breath quivered. His shoulders sank as though the weight of the world had finally crushed him. When he spoke, his voice was barely a whisper, weak, broken, drained of everything it once carried.

"Please... chhod Arnav... please..."

He wasn't angry. He wasn't stern. He was pleading....genuinely, helplessly pleading and the sound of it tore through Arnav's chest like a blade.

Arnav's grip loosened at that broken plea. His heart clenched, guilt crashing over him like a wave that wouldn't stop. He couldn't breathe, couldn't even think because standing before him was Abhimanyu... shattered, hollow, and it was his fault. His words. His recklessness. His carelessness.

He had done this.

Abhimanyu slowly slipped his hand free, not harshly, just with a quiet finality that cut deeper than any shout could. He picked up his bag, his movements numb, and without a single glance at Arnav, he walked out.

The door clicked shut behind him.

And in that small, cruel sound, Arnav's world crumbled.

He stood there for a second...blank, empty, before his knees gave out. He fell to the floor, his body shaking, breath breaking. The sobs came silently at first, then harder, rawer, until he was crying like a child lost in a maze...alone, terrified, and drowning in the realisation that he had driven away the one person who had loved him beyond reason.

Outside, Abhimanyu walked down the corridor, each step heavier than the last. His mind was a blur, his heart pounding in a hollow rhythm that hurt. He stopped at Pari's door. She was sitting on the bed, going through a hospital file, and looked up when he entered.

"Pari..." His voice came out rough, almost a whisper. "Main ghar jaa raha hoon... aap bhi chalengi?"

Something in his tone, that weary tremor, that quiet plea, made Pari look up sharply. She stood and stepped closer, worry clouding her face.

"Abhi, kya hua?" she asked softly, reaching for him.

He opened his mouth, then stopped. A breath shuddered out of him. "Main theek hoon," he managed, but his voice betrayed him...low, uneven.

He tried to smile, to fix his collar, to pretend the world hadn't just shifted under his feet. But his hands wouldn't stay still. His chest rose too fast, eyes glistening despite the stubborn tilt of his chin.

"I'm fine," he whispered, more to himself than her.

And then the fight slipped.

His lips trembled, a single tear tracing down before he could turn away. He blinked hard, jaw tightening, one last attempt to stay the man everyone leaned on. But the next breath broke him.

He swayed slightly, breath catching, and before he could hide, Pari was already there, pulling him close.

His head fell against her shoulder, a muffled sound escaping his throat....half sob, half surrender. He held on tightly, as if he'd been holding too much for too long.

Pari's eyes filled up. Her voice shook when she whispered,
"Abhi... kya hua? Bhai se baat hui aapki?"

He didn't answer. Just a trembling inhale, his hands clutching her back, a man finally too tired to stand against his own breaking.

Abhimanyu cried, really cried....the kind of broken, helpless sobs that come when strength finally runs out. The kind that makes your chest ache just to hear. He couldn't hold himself anymore. Couldn't hold anything.

And for the first time in years... Abhimanyu Rathore fell apart.

Pari kept rubbing slow, soothing circles on Abhimanyu's back.....the kind that silently said, I'm here. Her voice, gentle yet trembling with worry, broke through the quiet after a while.

"Abhi... kya hua?.....Bataiye na... kya hua?"

Her words were soft, but the pain lacing them was sharp. Seeing Abhimanyu, her Abhi...so broken, so lost, clawed at her heart.

Abhimanyu pulled back after a long silence, wiping his tears roughly with his sleeve. Pari quietly handed him a glass of water. He drank it in one go, as if trying to swallow the ache burning in his throat. She guided him to the bed, making him sit, and then settled down on the floor in front of him, on her knees.

She cupped his face, eyes searching his.
"Kya hua, Abhi?"

He shook his head weakly, eyes red and unfocused. "Kuch nahi, Pari."

Her voice changed, still soft, but firmer now, "Kuch nahi hua isliye aap itna ro rahe hain?" she said, the faintest edge of authority threading her tone. "Bataiye, kya hua hai?"

Something in that tone, so much like Sudha's,....cracked something inside him. The tone that had always made him speak, no matter how hard he tried to hide.

His lips trembled before the words came out, barely a whisper.
"He... he doesn't care, Pari."

Pari frowned gently. "Bhai?"

Abhimanyu nodded, the tears returning. His voice broke as he spoke, raw and uneven."He doesn't care for himself, Pari... not even a little bit... Aapko pata hai... usko sirf isliye bura lag raha hai kyuki humlog usse baat nhi kr rhe hai... He doesn't even care what he is doing to himself..."

He choked on the words, his voice barely holding together. "I failed, Pari...... I failed..."

His hand clenched into a fist on his thigh. ""Maine Maa se wada kiya tha Pari... mai uska dhyaan rakhunga... I failed..."

His eyes lifted to her, glossy with helpless tears. "I failed her.....I failed him."

Tears rolled down again, his words breaking in the middle. Pari just listened. She didn't interrupt. She didn't console with words....she just let him speak, letting him empty his heart while holding her own tears back.

Abhimanyu told her everything...how Arnav doesn't care for himself, how he doesn't even realise his recklessness is nothing but self-harm disguised as carelessness. Pari's heart broke hearing it, but she stayed silent, letting him pour everything out until the room fell quiet again....heavy, suffocating, and filled with grief.

When he stopped, Pari stood up slowly, handed him another glass of water, and gently wiped his tears. Then she said softly, but with a quiet strength in her tone,

"Abhi aap fail nhi hue..... Lekin agar aap bhai ko iss time pe chor denge toh aap Maa ko diya promise todd denge... and you can't do that..."

Her voice gained firmness, every word filled with love and command.
"Aap kamzor nhi padd skte... Bhai agar pagal pann kr rhe hai na toh aap samjhaiye unhe... jaise samjhana hai samjhaiye... maariye, piitiye, I don't care... but make it through his thick skull that he is loved... and he should love himself too."

Her tone carried finality....the kind that struck straight to the heart. It wasn't just motivation, it was truth. Something about her words steadied Abhimanyu's shaking breath. He looked at her, really looked and nodded.

Right now, he couldn't leave Arnav alone. He couldn't step back. To make Arnav realise his mistake, he would have to make his own heart stone, be cruel if needed... but he couldn't abandon his Arni.

Pari continued, her eyes softening.
"Abhi aap bhai se baat kariye... Try to get to know kyu bhai aisa kr rhe hai... achanak se kya hua... Itne saalo baad... Aapko yaad hai na last time bhai ne ye sab kab kiya tha..."

She took a long, heavy breath, holding her own storm inside. Then she cupped his face again, both hands trembling slightly but firm.

"Abhi," she whispered, her eyes shimmering, "Bhai aapse hi bolenge. Sirf aapse. Toh aap iss waqt peeche nahi hatt sakte. You can't. You don't have a choice. You have to be with him."

Abhimanyu just stared at her....her words, her conviction, her love and something in him shifted. The fog cleared. The exhaustion still clung, but underneath it burned something stronger, determination. His eyes filled with resolve, he nodded, jaw tight.

He couldn't give up. Not now. Not when Arnav needed him the most.

Abhimanyu rose and pulled Pari into a hug, this time not out of brokenness, but out of gratitude and strength. He kissed her forehead softly, voice trembling but sure. "Aap nhi hoti toh mera kya hota, Pari."

Pari smiled faintly, love glistening in her eyes as she looked at him. She placed a hand on his cheek and whispered,
"Jaiye ab Bhai ke paas... He needs you right now."

Abhimanyu nodded, kissed her forehead once more, and walked out, every step heavy, but filled with a new fire.

This time, he wasn't walking away in pain. He was walking toward his Arni, to fight for him, to bring him back.

Abhimanyu entered his room, and the sight that met his eyes made his heart bleed.

Arnav sat on the floor near the foot of the bed, knees pulled close to his chest, arms crossed tightly over them, his face buried in the small space between his chest and knees. His body trembled violently, sobs wrecking through him with every shaky breath. His shoulders heaved, his cries muffled but raw, the kind that didn't need words to be understood.

He didn't even know Abhimanyu had come back.

Abhimanyu stood frozen at the doorway, his chest tightening painfully. The guilt hit him like a wave...sharp, unforgiving. What have I done? he thought, watching the boy he had raised, loved, protected all his life now sitting there like a lost, shattered child. He had left him like that. Alone.

His eyes stung. He cursed himself silently and moved forward slowly, almost afraid his own movement would break Arnav further. Kneeling down in front of him, he whispered softly, "Arni..."

No response.

Arnav didn't even flinch. He was too deep in his world of guilt and heartbreak, too far gone into the storm inside him to notice anything outside.

Abhimanyu swallowed hard, his voice trembling as he said again, louder this time, "Arni..."

Still nothing. So he gently placed a hand on Arnav's shoulder and gave a slight shake, his voice cracking now, desperate, "Arni!"

Arnav finally lifted his head, slow, hesitant and their eyes met.

For a moment, time just stopped.

Abhimanyu felt his heart twist painfully seeing Arnav's face....eyes swollen and red, cheeks flushed and damp with tears, lips trembling as if every breath hurt. He looked... small. Broken. So unlike the boy who once smiled like sunlight.

Something inside Abhimanyu gave way.

Without a word, he leaned forward and pulled Arnav into his arms....a fierce, desperate hug that said everything words couldn't. Arnav clung back instantly, gripping the fabric of his shirt like it was the only thing keeping him from collapsing. Their bodies shook against each other, not from anger anymore, but from pain too deep to name.

Abhimanyu's arms tightened around him. It was almost suffocating, that hold, but neither cared. Not now.

Arnav sobbed harder, his voice muffled against Abhimanyu's shoulder. The sound tore through Abhimanyu's heart like a blade. He rubbed Arnav's back slowly, murmuring near his ear, his voice low and trembling, "Shhh... bas Arni... bas... I'm here, Arni... I'm right here..."

He kept whispering, again and again, until the violent sobs softened into quiet hiccups.

Abhimanyu gently pulled back, brushing away Arnav's tears with his thumbs, his own eyes wet and glistening. He helped him up and made him sit on the bed, his touch steady but tender, the kind that holds you when words fail.

He picked up a glass of water and held it near Arnav's lips. "Thoda sa pi le," he murmured softly. Arnav obeyed without a word, his hands still trembling.

Abhimanyu took the glass from him, set it aside, and then reached out again, wiping the tears from Arnav's cheeks with his own hands, his touch as gentle as his guilt was fierce.

In that moment, nothing else existed.
Just the broken pieces of two hearts....one crying, one healing, both trying to find their way back to each other.

Abhimanyu, after making Arnav sit on the bed, kneeled in front of him, his eyes still glassy from the storm that hadn't fully left him. He placed a steadying hand on Arnav's knee and said softly,

"Arni... tu yeh sab kyun kar raha hai..."
His voice broke midway, the pain raw and unfiltered.

"I know tu careless nahi hai, tu aisa nahi hai... phir tu apna khayal kyun nahi rakhta, Arni? Kyun?"

He paused, his throat tightening. Slowly, he lifted his hand and cupped Arnav's face, thumb brushing over the still-damp trail of tears."Kuch hua tha kya, Arni... jab main U.S. mein tha?"
His voice had softened, not accusing, but aching, a desperate plea for truth.

(Abhimanyu had been in the U.S. for two weeks for work, and somewhere in that time, Arnav had begun to spiral quietly, hiding behind forced smiles and sleepless nights.)

Arnav wanted to shake his head, to deny it but he couldn't lie to the man in front of him, not to the one person he loved more than anything. His throat ached as he looked down, silent, his eyes avoiding Abhimanyu's. That single gesture, the refusal to meet his eyes....was enough. Abhimanyu's suspicion turned into painful certainty.

He drew in a slow, shaky breath and said, this time with a touch of firmness, though still gentle, "Bata kya hua tha..."

Arnav's fingers twisted in his lap. He shook his head weakly, his voice small, almost childlike."Tu mujhe stupid samjhega..."

For a fleeting second, Abhimanyu almost smiled at that, the innocence in his tone, the boyish guilt.

He sighed, the corners of his lips twitching faintly. "Woh toh main pehle se hi samajhta hoon..." he said, a hint of teasing warmth breaking through his exhaustion.

But when Arnav still didn't say anything, Abhimanyu's patience began to fray. His voice hardened slightly "Arnav..."
Just his name, low and warning, enough to send a shiver through Arnav.

Still, no reply. Just silence, and that familiar stubbornness in Arnav's eyes.

Abhimanyu's jaw clenched, his control slipped. "Arnav, tu bata raha hai ya main jaoon?" he snapped, standing up.

Panic shot through Arnav like a jolt. His hand shot out, gripping Abhimanyu's wrist tightly, eyes wide and pleading.
"Main bata raha hoon... tu mat jaa yaar..." he whispered, voice trembling, desperation bleeding through every word.

Flashback

Sunday mornings at the Jaisingh mansion had a rhythm....calm laughter, clinking of plates, and the faint hum of Arnav's voice reminding everyone to eat before the food got cold. Today was no different. Breakfast went smooth...a few light jokes, Maan's teasing, Anvi's dramatic stories from college, and Arnav's quiet smiles that held the whole table together.

By the time they finished, Viren had gone back to his newspaper, Maan to his phone, and Anvi, as usual, had a new mission: Operation Convincing Arnav

Because at that very moment, Princess Anvi Jaisingh was tailing her elder brother through the hallway like a lost puppy, all wide eyes, hesitant footsteps, and suspicious sweetness.

"Bhaiya..." she started softly.

"No," came Arnav's instant reply without even turning around.

"Arre!....You didn't even let me ask!"

"That's exactly why I said no," Arnav shot back, folding his arms.

Anvi twirled a strand of hair nervously, trying to match Arnav's brisk steps as he moved from the dining area toward the living room.

"Bhaiya... suno na..."

"Chutki, I said no."

"You don't even know kis baat pe no bola!" she huffed, half running to keep up.

Arnav finally turned, eyebrows raised in mock patience. "Okay..... Main guess karta hoon......Either it's some new shopping plan, ya phir college bunk karne ka, ya phir..." he paused dramatically, "some stupid college party."

Anvi blinked, caught. "It's not stupid!"

Arnav's eyes narrowed. "So it is a party."

"Late night party," Maan supplied helpfully from the sofa, munching on an apple. "Club mein."

"Bhaiyu!" Anvi glared daggers at him.

"What?" Maan shrugged innocently. "Tu chhupake jaati fir bhi bhaiya ko pata chal jaata."

Arnav turned slowly toward her, the calm-before-storm expression settling on his face. "Late night party. At a club."

"Bhaiya please!" Anvi clasped her hands dramatically, switching on her best puppy eyes. "It's just one night! Senior farewell party hai, everyone's going! I'll be back before twelve!"

"Twelve?" Arnav folded his arms. "Not happening."

"Bhaiyaaa!" she groaned. "Main bacchi nahi hoon!"

"Exactly," he said sharply. "You're not a kid, but clearly not wise enough to say no to club parties."

Bhaiya, please na!.....everyone's going!" she said, almost hopping beside him as Arnav tried to escape into the living room.

Arnav didn't even glance at her. "It's at a club, Anvi. You're soon to be eighteen, not eighteem. That's not happening."

Anvi groaned dramatically, folding her arms. "Bhaiyaaa, it's not even that kind of party!......Papa said he's fine with it!"

At that, Arnav stopped for a fraction of a second, the faintest tightening in his jaw, the smallest flicker of something in his eyes before he turned back, tone calm but firm. "And what Papa says doesn't change the fact that it's not safe."

Viren, who had been reading the newspaper on the couch, looked up at that, voice light but pointed. "Arnav, it's just one night. Let the girl live a little."

Arnav's head snapped toward him, a measured silence falling in the room. Maan, sensing the tension, quickly tried to break it with a laugh. "Anvi, tu rehne de, bhaiya kabhi haan bolte hi nahi."

"Because he doesn't trust me, that's why," Anvi muttered, her irritation rising.

Arnav's brows furrowed, his tone now edged. "It's not about trust, Chutki, it's about...."

"control," she interrupted, voice sharper now. "You're becoming overbearing, Bhaiya!.....Papa toh jaane de rahe hain, pata nahi aapko kya problem hai!"

Her voice cracked slightly, but her anger held firm.

"Overbearing?" Arnav repeated, his tone calm, too calm.

"Yes!" she snapped, stepping closer. "Papa toh jaane de rahe hain!.....Pata nahi aapko kya problem hai!"

The words hung in the air....sharp, careless, echoing louder than they should have.

Maan froze. The apple in his hand was forgotten as his eyes darted between the two of them. Even Viren shifted in his chair, uncomfortable, but said nothing.

For a long second, Arnav didn't move. He just stood there, expression unreadable, but his eyes... his eyes dimmed.

Inside, something cracked, quiet but deep.

He'd spent his whole life holding this family together. Every scraped knee, every fever, every late-night worry, it was him, not Viren, who had been there. He'd fought, studied, worked, built...all so Maan and Anvi never had to feel the absence he once did.

And yet, in that one sentence, she'd reminded him that maybe she still saw him as a temporary guardian, a substitute for someone she now had again.

His chest tightened painfully. He wanted to scold her, to reason with her, but all that came out was a soft, flat voice.

"If you want to go, Anvi... you can."

She blinked, startled.

"But I don't give you my permission," he added quietly, eyes fixed somewhere past her shoulder. "It's not like you need it anyway."

The words were simple, but they cut deep, more than any shout could have.

He turned and walked away before anyone could see the flicker of hurt on his face. The sound of his footsteps faded down the hall.

Maan clenched his fists, jaw tight as he glared at Anvi. "Happy now?" he muttered, his voice low with anger. "You could've just disagreed, Anvi, but you had to say that."

Anvi's throat went dry. The heat of her anger evaporated, leaving behind only guilt and a hollow ache in her chest.

She hadn't meant it, not like that. She knew who had been there when Papa wasn't. Who stayed up with her when she was sick. Who handled every tantrum, every nightmare, every heartbreak.

And yet... she'd said it.

Anvi's eyes burned as she whispered, almost to herself, "I didn't mean to hurt him..."

But Arnav was already gone.

Arnav closed his room door behind him, the faint click sounding heavier than usual. The walls seemed too quiet, too still. He didn't even bother turning on the light, the soft morning glow filtering through the curtains was enough.

He sank onto the edge of the bed, elbows resting on his knees, fingers clasped tightly together, like he was holding himself from falling apart.

His mind was a blur, but one thought pulsed through, steady and cruel.
Overbearing.
That's what she had called him.

He had spent his entire life being everything but that.

He remembered the day everything changed, the day their mother closed her eyes for the last time. He was seventeen. Barely a man, still a boy. But that boy didn't get to cry for long. Because two pairs of eyes, tiny and tearful, were looking up at him, calling him bhaiya, but needing him like a father.

He had learned to braid Anvi's hair, to pack Maan's tiffin, to stitch torn buttons when they didn't have help. He had stayed up nights reading books on child care, on fever remedies, on how to make a child smile again after loss.

When other boys his age were learning to drive and planning trips, he was learning how to iron a school uniform without burning it. When his friends posted pictures of college parties, he was measuring fever temperatures and holding crying siblings in his lap.

And back then... when it was too much, when the weight of it all became unbearable, he would sneak out of their room, go to Abhimanyu's, and cry. Cry until his chest hurt. Abhimanyu would hold him in silence, sometimes saying nothing, just letting him breathe again.

Then morning would come, and Arnav would wear his best smile, as if nothing inside him was broken. Because he couldn't afford to be a child anymore.

Now, years later, his little sister's words had peeled off that armour in one cruel second.

He got up slowly and walked to the small shelf near his bed. His fingers trembled as he picked up the framed photo of his mother. Her gentle smile stared back, soft, warm, everything he'd been trying to give Anvi and Maan all these years.

"Maa..." his voice cracked. "Aap kyun chali gayi..."

The tears came fast, unstoppable. He didn't even try to hide them this time. His shoulders shook as he pressed his forehead against the frame, his thumb tracing her face like she could feel it.

"I tried, maa....," he whispered, voice breaking. "I tried to be there for them....but maa....i didn't even knew when i became overbearing to the. ."

The room stayed silent, just the sound of his uneven breaths and the faint hum of the ceiling fan above.

Minutes bled into hours. The sunlight moved from bright gold to a dull orange, sliding across the floor. But Arnav didn't move. He just sat there, still clutching that photo, tears long dried on his face, eyes empty, staring at the only person who had ever made him feel like a child.

MINI FLASHBACK IN A FLASHBACK

The golden light of the present dimmed, fading into the pale grey of memory. The room around him dissolved into another, smaller, colder, filled with the faint smell of incense.

He was seventeen again. The house was wrapped in mourning silence. White curtains fluttered faintly against the window. Maan, barely 10, sat curled up in a corner, clutching his soft toy so tightly his knuckles had turned white. Anvi, tiny, no older than nine, sat on the floor, eyes swollen, hiccuping quietly.

Their mother's body had just been taken away.

And in that hollow quiet, the only sound that remained was Anvi's trembling voice. "Bhaiya... Maa wapas aayengi na?"

Arnav had knelt down in front of her, his hands shaking, his throat burning with the effort not to cry. He wanted to say yes. God, how badly he wanted to. But the truth was sitting like a stone in his chest.

He swallowed hard, forcing a smile that didn't reach his eyes. "Chutki....Maa. Bhagwan ji ke paas gyi hai...Ab vo nhi aayengi baccha."

"Par unko wahan pasand nahi aayega," she whispered, tears spilling down her cheeks. "Unhe humare bina neend nahi aayegi..."

Arnav's chest broke open. He pulled her into his arms, pressing her head against his shoulder, his own tears silently falling into her hair. "Main hoon na... main hoon tum dono ke saath," he murmured, as much to convince himself as to comfort her.

Behind him, Maan's small voice quivered. "Bhaiya... Maa gussa hain kya? Humne kuch galat kiya?"

That was it. That single question tore him apart.

He gathered both of them into his arms, his voice shaking but soft. "Nahi, Maan. Maa kabhi gussa nahi hoti. Wo... wo bas thak gayi thi. Ab rest kar rahi hai."

Both of them cried against him until exhaustion took over. Arnav sat there through the night, holding them, rocking them gently like his mother used to.

Hours later, when they finally slept, small, tear-streaked faces pressed into his chest, Arnav looked at their mother's photo on the table.

He wiped his eyes with the back of his sleeve and whispered,
"Main sambhal lunga, Maa. Don't worry. Main sambhal lunga."

He meant it.

And from that night on, he never cried in front of them again.

End of mini flashback

Main sambhal lunga, Maa..."

The echo of that seventeen-year-old's voice lingered in the air long after the memory faded.

And then, slowly, the room around him changed, the dim, tear-soaked night of the past dissolved into the muted stillness of his present. The same photo still rested in his hands. The same face, smiling gently, frozen in time. Only the boy who made that promise was no longer a boy.

Arnav blinked, realizing his cheeks were wet again. His fingers tightened around the frame. "Main sambhalta raha, Maa..." he whispered hoarsely. "I tried maa....I really tried...."

His voice trembled. "Par aaj laga... shayad main kabhi unke liye kuch tha hi nahi.....I became a temporary guardian for them and nothing more...."

The ache in his chest burned. He lowered his head, pressing the frame against his heart as if he could feel her warmth through the glass. "Aapko yaad hai na, Maa, aap kehti thi, 'Arnav, bada bhai pitah saman hota hai'... Par lagta hai, Maa, wo bas aapko lagta tha."

Tears slipped silently down his face. His breaths came uneven, shallow, years of quiet strength finally cracking.

He stayed that way for hours, unmoving, eyes fixed on her smile. The weight of years pressed down on his shoulders, years of love, sacrifice, silence.

When the sunlight faded completely, his voice broke one last time, barely a whisper, "Main thak gaya hoon, Maa...Mujhe aapke pass aana hai .....please...."

The photo slipped from his hands, landing softly against his lap. And the room went still.

And for the first time in years, Arnav let himself cry, not as a brother, not as a guardian, but as the boy who had lost his mother far too early, and never really stopped grieving.

End of flashback

The words hung heavy in the air. The faint hum of the ceiling fan, the distant sound of evening outside, everything blurred into silence.

Arnav sat on the edge of the bed, eyes red and distant, his hands curled in his lap. Across from him, Abhimanyu knelt quietly, one knee pressed to the floor, his gaze fixed on his brother......not the strong, composed Arnav the world knew, but the boy beneath the armor.

"I don't even know when it happened, Mannu..." Arnav's voice was barely a whisper. "When did I stop being their bhaiya and became someone they can't stand? I tried so hard to protect them... to keep them happy..." His throat closed up, the rest spilling out in broken gasps. "After Maa died... I didn't have anyone left except them.....I didn't know how to live for myself, so I lived for them."

Abhimanyu didn't interrupt. His eyes glistened, jaw tight, his own heart twisting as Arnav's voice cracked again.

"When Maa died..." Arnav's breath hitched, his voice trembling, " I had to grow up overnight.....I didn't know how to braid hair, how to comfort them, how to handle fevers, but I learned. Because I had to......I was seventeen, Mannu... seventeen." His voice faltered, turning raw. "And I used to cry in your arms, remember?.....Every night, I used to come to you after putting them to sleep......You were the only one who saw me break."

Abhimanyu's fingers twitched, that memory cut him too deep. He remembered. Every night of it. The trembling shoulders. The muffled sobs. The boy who never let anyone see his pain, except him.

Arnav's voice dropped to a whisper, almost as if he were confessing something sacred. "And I thought... if I just keep loving them enough, they'll never feel that emptiness again. But today..." he gave a hollow laugh, tears spilling again, "...today, I realized maybe I was wrong. Maybe I was just......too much. Maybe I'm just... unnecessary now."

Arnav continued, " I know it's stupid of me to get so hurt...I know i am not their father.... Lakin pata nhi.... " His voice wavered he couldn't even express how he was feeling right now.

Something inside Abhimanyu snapped.

He rose from his kneeling position in one swift motion and pulled Arnav into his arms....hard, fierce, desperate.

Arnav froze for a second, and then the dam finally broke. His body trembled as sobs tore out of him, raw and helpless. Abhimanyu held him tighter, one hand on the back of his head, the other wrapped firmly around his shoulders, his own eyes wet.

"Its ok to feel that way Arni" Abhimanyu whispered, his voice low, rough. "You are not stupid for feeling bad...."

Arnav's fingers clutched at his shirt like a child's, his tears soaking the fabric. Abhimanyu said nothing more, no lectures, no comfort lines. Just silent strength, the kind that told Arnav he didn't have to pretend here. Not with him.

The silence that followed felt heavy... almost sacred. Arnav's words still hung in the air, fragile and trembling like his breath. He sat on the edge of the bed, eyes red, face streaked with tears, voice barely above a whisper.

"This... this was the reason," he managed, choking on his words, "I buried myself in work. I forgot to eat... forgot my medicines. I just wanted to stop thinking, Mannu."

Abhimanyu's chest clenched. He could feel his own throat tighten, the ache crawling up to his temples. For a long second, he didn't speak, he simply reached forward, fingers brushing away the stray tears still falling down Arnav's cheeks.

He leaned in, breaking the hug only to cup Arnav's face in both hands. His thumbs traced over the damp trails of tears, his eyes burning with helpless affection.

"Arni," his voice cracked softly, "They love you,....They really love you ... I know it hurt you....I know.....But iska matlab yeh nahi hai ki tu khud ko taqleef dega."

He paused, searching Arnav's face, his boyish face that looked far too tired for his age. "Tune baat ki Anvi se uske baad?"

Arnav shook his head, his gaze falling to the floor. "Nahi..... I used to go early and come back late. It's been two weeks... even after bringing Avyuktha and Aarush, we haven't talked."

Abhimanyu exhaled heavily through his nose and moved his hand to the back of Arnav's neck, squeezing it gently, grounding him. "Talk to them, Arni...... Talk to them, baccha."

That one word, baccha, hit something deep in Arnav's chest. It wasn't just a word, it was a lifeline. Whenever he heard it, it felt like someone reminding him that he didn't always have to be the strong one. That someone was still there for him too.

His eyes stung again.

Abhimanyu's voice softened, tender but firm. "Stop crying now.....Sir dard ho raha hai na tera?"

Arnav nodded slowly, almost like a small boy admitting his mistake.

"Rukk," Abhimanyu murmured, getting up.

A moment later, he returned with a small bowl of warm oil. Without a word, he made Arnav lie down, his head resting in Abhimanyu's lap. His fingers, steady and gentle, began massaging his scalp in slow, circular motions.

Abhimanyu knew. He always knew. The entire Jaisingh family suffered from sinusitis and crying always made their heads explode in pain. Arnav had cried a river today, of course, his head must be pounding.

Arnav's breathing began to even out. His eyes fluttered shut, the tension in his shoulders slowly melting under the familiar touch. In his brother's arms, he finally felt like he could breathe again, fragile, but safe.

Yet somewhere inside, guilt clawed at him. He'd made his Mannu so angry. And still, here Mannu was, massaging his head, comforting him like nothing else mattered. The thought twisted something in his chest.

Suddenly, Arnav sat up, eyes wide and guilty. He clutched his ears with both hands. "Mannu, phirse kabhi nahi hoga. I'm really sorry."

Abhimanyu looked at him for a long second at that genuinely terrified, childlike face and despite himself, he smiled. Gently, he reached forward, lowering Arnav's hands.

"I'll make sure of it," he said quietly. "Meet me in my room after breakfast tomorrow."

Arnav froze. His face went pale instantly. He blinked, processing. Oh no.

He knew exactly what that meant.

He was doomed.

But beneath that dread, there was something else....relief. His Mannu was talking to him again. The punishment didn't seem like punishment anymore, it felt like forgiveness disguised in discipline.

Still, he couldn't resist whining, voice turning soft and pleading. "Mannuuu, tune itna maara na... ab punish bhi karega? Please mat kar na..."

He gave his best puppy eyes, the kind that had melted many before but not this man.

Abhimanyu only shook his head, voice firm but fond. "Meet me in my room after breakfast, Arnav."

Arnav frowned immediately. "Arni," he corrected in a firm voice.

Abhimanyu raised an eyebrow.

"It's Arni for you," Arnav said again, more stubborn this time.

Abhimanyu let out a small chuckle, shaking his head at the childishness. For a second, he saw the boy beneath the layers, the same Arni who used to chase him around the mansion years ago.

But his eyes then flickered to the mark on Arnav's cheek....red, faint, but visible. A pang of guilt sliced through him. He got up silently, went to the drawer, and came back with a cooling cream.

He knelt beside Arnav, dipping his fingers in the cream and gently applying it to his cheek. "Sorry," he whispered, voice breaking slightly, "for losing control."

Arnav hissed, intentionally dramatizing the pain. "Ahh!"

Abhimanyu froze, guilt flashing across his face.

Then he saw the deep red fingerprints on Arnav's arm....deep, visible. He swallowed hard, guilt hitting him like a wave. He applied the cream there too, murmuring again, "Sorry."

Arnav looked up at him with wide, watery eyes, voice small but teasing. "Mannu dekh... tune kitni tez maara. Bahot dard bhi hua."

Then, trying his luck, he added softly, "Mannu, tune already itna maara... ab punish mat kar na?"

Then, trying his luck, he added softly, voice small and testing the waters, "Mannu... tune already itna maara... ab punish mat kar na?"

Abhimanyu's lips twitched despite himself - that familiar, foolish innocence tugging at the corner of his control - but his expression stayed firm, his tone calm and measured. "I am not going to punish you."

For a fleeting second, Arnav's face lit up - eyes wide, hopeful, almost glowing like the moon on a full-moon night. His shoulders even relaxed a little, a soft sigh of relief escaping him.

But Abhimanyu's next words made that fragile joy crumble.
"You will face the consequences of your actions," he said evenly, his voice steady as stone. "I know you were emotionally distressed, Arnav... but that doesn't give you the right to harm yourself."

Arnav's smile faltered instantly, his lower lip jutting out just a little, eyes blinking rapidly as if trying to process what just happened. "But-Mannu, I said sorry na..." he murmured, almost sulky, like a child trying to bargain his way out of trouble.

Abhimanyu's gaze softened for the briefest second before he exhaled slowly, crossing his arms. "Sorry doesn't erase recklessness, Arni. This isn't about anger....it's about learning...."

Arnav's brows knit together, his shoulders slumping as he shuffled a step closer. "Learning?" he echoed, voice small and wounded. "Yaar Mannu... tune jitna aaj maara aur jitna rulaya na, main toh already sab seekh gaya hoon......Next time toh ye sb karne se pehle hi tujhe call kar dunga." he added, tone half-pleading, half-dramatic.

Abhimanyu's jaw ticked, but the faintest trace of amusement flickered in his eyes. "Next time?" he repeated, one brow arching in warning.

Arnav froze, realizing his slip. "I mean...not next time... matlab koi next time hoga hi nahi!" he said quickly, hands flying up in exaggerated defense. "Bas... hypothetically agar hota, toh..."

Abhimanyu took a slow step toward him, his voice even, almost too calm. "Arnav."

That one word had Arnav instantly shutting his mouth, lips pressing together. He looked up at him with wide, imploring eyes, the kind that could melt anyone else, but not the man standing in front of him.

Abhimanyu sighed, the sternness never leaving his tone. "You scare people who love you when you do things like that. And no amount of puppy eyes will change that."

Arnav blinked, trying one last time. "Ek baar aur try kar loon? Shayad iss angle se kaam kare..." He widened his eyes ridiculously, tilting his head like a mischievous little child.

Abhimanyu exhaled through his nose, shaking his head, a chuckle escaping despite himself at how innocent, how utterly childlike, how hopelessly foolish his Arni was. The ghost of a smile finally appeared on his lips. "Not today."

He sat cross-legged in front of him now, voice turning serious, almost parental. "Tell me one thing, why didn't you come to me?"

Arnav looked down, playing with the edge of his sleeve. "Tu U.S mein tha na..."

"Haan toh call kar sakta tha na!....Main turant aa jaata," Abhimanyu said, his voice rising, frustration laced with hurt.

"I didn't want to disturb you," Arnav mumbled, barely audible.

Without hesitation, Abhimanyu whacked his head, a light but sharp wack.

"Ow!" Arnav's eyes went wide.

Abhimanyu's tone hardened, leaving no room for argument. "Aaj ke baad yeh sab socha aur tune mujhe reach nahi kiya, Arni....toh note it, I won't ever talk to you again......Mark my words."

Arnav's face fell in horror. "Nahi, nahi!" he blurted out, shaking his head frantically. "Main pakka aaunga tere paas, hamesha!"

He even pinched his throat, eyes wide and pleading. "Sacchi!"

The sight made Abhimanyu's heart ache and then soften. He let out a breathy laugh, unable to help the small smile that spread across his face.

He gently made Arnav lie down again, resuming the massage with slow, rhythmic strokes. Within minutes, Arnav's breathing steadied. His lashes fluttered, his body went slack, and soon, he was asleep, his head still in Abhimanyu's lap.

Abhimanyu watched him, the faint rise and fall of his chest, the dried tear stains on his cheeks, the quiet peace after the storm.

He sighed softly, leaning back without disturbing him. His hand stayed in Arnav's hair, fingers absentmindedly combing through the strands.

He wasn't going to move. Not tonight.

Not when the boy who called him Mannu finally looked like he could breathe again.

The room had fallen into a fragile kind of silence. The only sound left was Arnav's slow, steady breathing, a quiet rhythm against the backdrop of the night. His head still rested in Abhimanyu's lap, his face finally peaceful, the tension in his jaw gone, the faint traces of exhaustion softening under sleep.

Abhimanyu's fingers kept moving through his hair in slow, absent strokes, his gaze fixed on the boy who had spent his entire life protecting everyone but himself.

His mind, though, didn't still.

He replayed Anvi's words, the sharp tone, the hurt they'd carried, and the deeper wound they'd left behind. He knew she hadn't meant it, not truly. But Arnav wasn't built to take such words lightly. Not when every part of his existence revolved around the two of them.

Abhimanyu exhaled slowly, his jaw tightening. He knew Arnav wouldn't talk to her....not yet. Not when that ache was still raw.

So he made up his mind.

He would talk to Anvi himself. Tomorrow, when she came home from college. He would sit her down and make her understand, not with anger, but with calm, the kind that carried weight.
She needed to know how much power words hold, how a single careless sentence could unravel a man who'd built his whole world around her smile.

His eyes softened again as he looked down at Arnav, brushing a strand of hair off his forehead.

"Pagal kahi ka," he whispered almost to himself, a ghost of a smile playing on his lips. "Itna sb kuch apne dill mai bhar rakha tha....batana chahiye tha na...Nhi toh tere Mannu ka kya kaam...Useless ho jaunga mai toh...."

He sighed, leaning back against the headboard. The exhaustion of the day began to seep into his own bones. His eyes fluttered once, then again.

And as the night deepened, both brothers, one broken, one trying to hold the pieces, drifted into sleep.

The photo frame on the nightstand caught the moonlight once more, their mother's gentle smile watching over them, her boys, still trying to heal in the only way they knew.

___________________________________________

Thanks for reading

How was this chapter

This chapter broke me a little while writing it.

Watching Abhimanyu trying so hard to stay composed, only to fall apart the moment he felt safe with Pari... it just hit differently.

He's always the strongest one, the one who never lets anyone see him bend and yet tonight he couldn't hide behind that strength anymore.

What did you feel watching him break?
Did you see the same pain in his silence that I did?

Did your heart ache for Pari too, seeing the man who never lets anyone fall, finally need to be held himself?

And Arnav... god, that man.

The way he still looks at Abhimanyu with that childlike trust, that desperate need to make things right....did it melt you too?

When he tries those puppy eyes or that little smile, do you see a kid just wanting his Mannu back, even after everything?

Also, what about his reaction to Anvi's words?
Was it really stupid of him to get hurt, or do you feel it's justified after everything he's done for her?

Whose part hit you harder

Abhimanyu's quiet breakdown, Pari's heartbreak, or Arnav's innocent guilt at the end?

Tell me below, I'd love to know what moment stayed with you the longest.