Chapter: Bhaiya's Avu Is The Best

Sometimes I think… maybe peace isn’t quiet.
Maybe it’s the sound of his heartbeat when he hugs me.
Because when he holds me, everything inside me just… slows down.
The world that usually feels so loud suddenly feels soft, safe....almost kind.

It’s strange how his arms can make me forget all the bad things.
The fear, the loneliness, the nights I cried, everything fades, like it never existed.
It’s like his warmth tells me, without words, that I don’t have to be scared anymore.

And the way he looks at me....it’s not just love.
It’s like he’s seeing every broken piece of me and still holding on tighter.
That thought… it makes my chest hurt, but in a good way.
Like maybe I was meant to find home, not in a place, but in a person.

And when he says “My Avu,”
it feels like the whole world becomes still.
Like I finally belong ....not because someone chose me,
but because someone refused to let me go.

~Avyuktha

Inside the room, the only sound was the faint ticking of the clock and Arnav’s strained voice echoing through the air.

"I am as important as my family…
I will eat on time…
I will take my medicines on time…”

Abhimanyu sat calmly at his desk, file in hand, pen tapping rhythmically. He flipped through documents with an unnerving calm, occasionally glancing at the wall clock, then back at Arnav, who still knelt in the corner, arms raised high, voice slowly thinning out.

Every few minutes, Abhimanyu’s gaze softened, as if contemplating mercy… but the next second, he’d check the time again and resume reading, expression unreadable.

An hour slipped by.

By now, Arnav’s hands trembled violently, his shoulders ached, and his knees screamed in protest against the hard floor. His throat burned from repeating the same lines, his voice turning hoarse and cracked.

But this time, for the first time, he wasn’t just reciting. Every word was sinking deep, carving meaning into his stubborn heart. He realised how many times Abhimanyu had told him the same things… gently, patiently, lovingly… but his stupid brain had brushed them off.
Now, with his arms trembling in the air and his dignity on the floor, he finally felt the weight of his mistake.

Outside the room, three souls sat, two tangled in worry and one utterly unbothered. While Arnav’s strained voice faintly echoed through the air, Aarush sat cross-legged on the couch, head bent, scribbling something in a small notebook Anvi had given him. He seemed lost in his own world, the scratching of his pen rhythmically cutting through the uneasy silence that filled the hall.

Across from him, on the opposite sofa, Pari and Avyuktha sat stiffly, eyes flickering every few seconds toward the closed door upstairs from where the muffled repetition of Arnav’s voice could still be heard.

Avyuktha’s fingers fidgeted in her lap, her teeth worrying at her lower lip until finally she broke.In a small, hesitant voice she said, “Ma’am… ek ghanta ho gaya hai.”

(“Ma’am… it’s been an hour.”)

Pari frowned instantly at the word. “Avu…” she corrected softly, “Pari di bol mujhe. Ye ma’am-vaam mat keh, theek hai?”

(“Avu… call me Pari di, okay? Don’t say ‘Ma’am’.”)

Avyuktha nodded, almost guiltily. “Ji.”

(“Okay.”)

“Bolo, ab.”

(“Now say it.”)

Avyuktha’s voice wavered as she repeated, “Pari di… ek ghanta ho gaya hai. Please aap kuch kariye na…”
(“Pari di… it’s been an hour. Please do something…”)

By now, even she had understood that what Abhimanyu was doing wasn’t a meeting... it was punishment. But it was unlike any she had seen before. No shouting, no hitting, no cruel words and yet, somehow, it hurt to even listen to it.
She had grown up around physical punishments, the kind that left marks. But this, this quiet, unflinching kind of lesson, still ached just as deeply.

Pari sighed, running a hand through her hair. “Haan, Avu… ek ghanta ho gaya hai. Mujhe bhi bhai ki bahut chinta ho rahi hai.”
(“Yes, Avu… it’s been an hour. I’m really worried about Bhai too.”)

Her eyes drifted toward the staircase, to the door on the upper floor that stood firmly shut. She stared at it for a moment, heart twisting, before suddenly straightening up with a glint in her eyes.

“IDEA!” she whispered sharply. “Avu baccha… tu ja unke room mein.”
(“Idea! Avu, sweetheart… you go to their room.”)

Avyuktha blinked, stunned. “Kya?”
(“What?”)

“Tu jaa,” Pari insisted, her voice rising a notch with excitement. “Abhi tere saamne Bhai ko punish nahi karenge. Tu andar jaa, bas…”
(“You go, Abhi won’t punish Bhai in front of you. Just go inside…”)

Avyuktha froze, panic flashing in her eyes. “Di, main kaise jaaun?.....Aap jaiye na!”
(“Di, how can I go? You go instead!”)

Pari shook her head quickly. “Nahi, Avu. Agar main gayi toh Abhi turant samajh jayenge ke main Bhai ko bachane aayi hoon. Tu jaa, baccha…”
(“No, Avu. If I go, Abhi will instantly know I came to protect Bhai. You go, child…”)

Avyuktha still looked unconvinced, almost pleading silently with her eyes. Pari sighed and stood up, her decision already made. “Theek hai, mai hi le chalte hoon tujhe.”
(“Fine then, I’ll take you myself.”)

Before Avyuktha could protest further, Pari bent and scooped her up in her arms, careful but firm.

“Di, main chal lungi…” Avyuktha whispered, embarrassed.
(“Di, I can walk…”)

Pari shot her a mock-stern look, that familiar warmth never leaving her eyes. “Haan mujhe pata hai tu chal legi, sherni hai meri bacchi. Lekin abhi main jaldi mein hoon, chup-chaap aaja mere sath.”
(“Yes, I know you can walk, my brave girl. But I’m in a hurry right now, so come quietly with me.”)

Avyuktha went silent, her arms instinctively looping around Pari’s shoulders.

Aarush, still scribbling, looked up briefly, completely unfazed, then went right back to his notes as if nothing extraordinary was happening.

Pari rolled her eyes at him but didn’t slow down. She strode straight to the kitchen, still carrying Avyuktha on one arm, and with her free hand, quickly made two cups of instant black coffee. The smell of the strong brew filled the air, sharp, grounding.

Balancing both mugs carefully, she climbed the stairs, her heart thudding faster with each step. At the top, she stopped before Abhimanyu’s door, exhaled softly, and lowered Avyuktha to her feet.

Kneeling to her level, Pari brushed a strand of hair from the girl’s face and whispered, “Baccha, tu ye de aa... jaldi se, theek hai?”
(“Sweetheart, go and give this quickly, okay?”)

Avyuktha shook her head, eyes wide, silently pleading please don’t make me.

But Pari cupped her cheek and smiled, a mother’s firm smile, full of love and certainty.
“Jaa, Avu. Main yahin hoon. Kuch nahi hoga.”
(“Go, Avu. I’m right here. Nothing will happen.”)

Her voice left no room for argument.

Avyuktha swallowed hard, gathered all her courage, and finally turned toward the door. She took a shaky step forward, coffee mug trembling slightly in her small hands, and with a deep breath, pushed the door open.

Without knocking, she stepped inside.

The sight that met her eyes made her freeze mid-step.

Arnav was on his knees, arms trembling high above his head, voice faint but steady, his expression a strange mix of exhaustion and repentance.

Abhimanyu sat at his desk, flipping through his file, his expression unreadable… calm, controlled, with just the faintest trace of worry hidden in the corners of his eyes.

For a moment, neither of them moved.
Then Abhimanyu’s gaze lifted from the file and met hers.

Avyuktha stood there with two cups of coffee, her presence soft but striking in the heavy silence, while Arnav dared not lower his arms, frozen mid-sentence, caught somewhere between guilt, pain, embarrassment, and hope.

Avyuktha stood frozen at the door for a moment, clutching the two cups carefully.
The heavy silence of the room pressed against her chest, making her voice come out smaller than she intended.

“Woh… haath mein coffee thi, isliye knock nahi kiya… sorry,” she murmured, stepping forward hesitantly.
(“Umm… I didn’t knock because my hands were full with the coffee… sorry.”)

But just as she took the next step, her injured foot brushed wrong against the floor. A sharp sting shot up her leg, so sudden that she hissed, the sound escaping her before she could stop it.

The tiny sound cut through Arnav like an electric jolt. In an instant, exhaustion forgotten, punishment abandoned, he pushed himself up from the floor and rushed toward her.

“Jab pair mein chot lagi hai toh chal kyun rahi ho, haan? Aur tujhe coffee kisne laane bola?” his voice broke with concern, trembling more from fear than scolding.
(“When your foot is injured, why are you walking, huh? And who told you to bring coffee?”)

His own body was burning, his knees raw, his arms aching from being raised so long but none of that registered now. The only thing that mattered was the pain on her face.

Before he could say another word, Abhimanyu had already crossed the room. With silent efficiency, he took the two mugs from her small, trembling hands before they could spill. His calm presence filled the space like gravity itself.

He looked at Avyuktha for a long second, the faint wince on her face, the way her eyes tried to hide it and something unreadable flickered across his gaze. Concern, recognition, quiet restraint.

Arnav’s hands hovered near her, wanting to comfort her, to make sure she was okay. His heart beat too fast, breath coming uneven. And then, out of pure instinct, he leaned in, wanting to pull her close, to steady both her and himself.

But Avyuktha stepped back.

The movement was slight, almost imperceptible, but it sliced through Arnav like a blade made of silence.
His hand froze mid-air, his gaze falling, disbelief and pain clouding his eyes.

Avyuktha turned to Abhimanyu, her tone low but steady. “Bhai… Pari di ne aapke liye coffee bhejwaai thi,” she said softly, nodding toward the mug he now held. “Main chalti hoon.”
(“Bhai… Pari di sent coffee for you,” she said softly. “I’ll go now.”)

She turned to leave, but before she could take another step, Arnav’s voice broke through the quiet.

“Avu… ruk. Main le chalta hoon. Tujhe chot lagi hai.”
(“Avu… wait. I’ll take you. You’re hurt.”)

She froze, eyes wide, body stiff, as if even his touch would burn her.
The fear in her gaze hit him harder than any wound could, leaving Arnav’s heart clenching in helpless confusion.

Avyuktha shook her head, her voice barely a whisper. “Nahi… main chali jaungi.”
(“No… I’ll go on my own.”)

But Arnav saw it.
It wasn’t hesitation. It was distance.
The same wall he had worked so hard to break....now standing tall again....colder, stronger.

Why?
Was it because of his dizzy spell yesterday? Had that scared her so much she didn’t want to be near him? But he had told her he was fine. He had promised.
Then why this distance again?

His chest tightened painfully, breath uneven.

“Avu… kya hua, baccha?” he asked softly, taking a small step toward her.
(Avu… what happened, child?)

“Mujhse aise door kyun bhaag rahi hai?”
(Why are you running away from me like this?)

There was no anger in his tone... only confusion, a trembling ache that made the words sound more like a wound than a question.

Every syllable was heavy, begging for warmth, for understanding... anything that could tell him what had gone wrong.

Avyuktha’s fingers curled tightly around the hem of her kurti. Her gaze stayed fixed on the floor. She didn’t answer. Didn’t move.

Abhimanyu stood still, his usual sharp gaze softening as he watched Arnav, the exhaustion etched into his face, the guilt, the confusion, the helplessness, and then Avyuktha, who kept withdrawing into herself, like she was afraid of something neither of them could see.

The silence between them was suffocating.

Arnav took another hesitant step forward, voice shaking.
“Baccha… kyun kar rahi hai aisa? Kya hua hai? Bata na…”
(Child… why are you doing this? What happened? Tell me, please…)

His eyes searched her face, desperate, pleading, like maybe if he looked long enough, she’d finally let him in again.

But Avyuktha only shook her head, a tear slipping past her lashes. Her breath hitched, her lips trembled, and then, in a voice so fragile it could barely hold itself together, she whispered

“Aap… durr rahiye mujhse…”
(Please… stay away from me…)

Arnav froze.
Her voice cracked, her body trembling like she was fighting the words even as they fell out.

“Please…” she whispered again, almost breaking apart.

That single word, Please, shattered whatever was left of Arnav’s restraint.

“Matlab?” His voice cracked, the single word hanging heavy in the air. He reached out, desperate to hold her hands, to pull her closer  but Avyuktha shook her head frantically, stepping back, her panic spiking.

(What do you mean?)

“Please durr rahiye aap mujhse!” (Please, stay away from me!) she cried a little louder this time, her voice shaking but firm.

Arnav stopped mid-step, his face pale, eyes wide with hurt.
“Avu…”

Abhimanyu frowned slightly, his tone quiet but edged with concern.
“Avu, ye kya keh rahi ho?”
(Avu, what are you saying?)

He took a slow step forward, his instinct to comfort but before he could reach her, Avyuktha shook her head violently, tears spilling freely now.

“Aap bhi durr rahiye mujhse, bhai… please!” she whispered, voice trembling so hard it broke midway.

(You too, brother… please stay away from me!)

Both men froze.

Abhimanyu blinked, confused. “Matlab?”
(What do you mean?)

Avyuktha’s lips quivered as she nodded through her tears, her voice barely holding together.“Aapko bhi chot lag jaayegi, bhai… meri wajah se…”
(You’ll get hurt too, brother… because of me…)

The dam inside her broke. The words spilled, trembling and incoherent but heavy with guilt.

“Aapko bhi chot lag jaayegi… please durr rahiye mujhse… main… main bad omen hoon, bhai…”
(You’ll get hurt too… please stay away from me… I… I’m a bad omen, brother…)

Her voice cracked, her small frame shaking as the confession tore through her. “Jahaan jaati hoon, jiske paas jaati hoon… usko nuksaan hota hai…”
(Wherever I go, whoever I’m close to… they end up getting hurt…)

For a heartbeat, the world stood still.
Both Arnav and Abhimanyu froze, eyes wide, hearts sinking.

Behind the half-open door, Pari, who had been standing quietly, watching through the small gap...went completely still. Her breath caught in her throat as the words sank in.

Arnav’s heart pounded, a cold disbelief rushing through him. His voice rose slightly, not out of anger, but sheer desperation.
“Kya bakwaas kar rahi hai tu, Avu, haan? Kisne bola teri wajah se kisi ko nuksaan hota hai?”

(What nonsense are you talking, Avu? Who told you that anyone gets hurt because of you?)

His voice cracked as he tried to reach for her again, to shake her free of the madness she’d started believing but she stepped back again, shaking her head violently.

“Bhaiya, yehi sach hai…” Her voice came out between sobs.
(Brother, it’s the truth…)

“Aap dur raho mujhse… meri wajah se aapki tabiyat kharab ho gayi thi kal…”

(Stay away from me… it was because of me that you fell sick yesterday…)

Her tears fell faster now, voice dissolving into broken whispers.
“Please… durr rahiye aap mujhse…”
(Please… stay away from me…)

And as her words faded, the silence that followed felt like grief itself....raw, cold, and deafening.

The sound that left Avyuktha’s lips wasn’t just a sob, it was the kind that cracked something raw inside every person present. Arnav’s world stilled for a moment, his breath hitched, and before he even knew what he was doing, he was already moving, closing the distance between them in two long strides.

Her words, “meri wajah se sab hua…” still echoed like shards of glass in his head.

His chest constricted painfully. How could a child carry such guilt? How could she believe her very existence was a curse?

His throat burned with helplessness, his eyes stung, and for a split second, he felt the same rage he once felt toward the world that broke him....only this time, it was for her.

He couldn’t bear another second.

He dropped to his knees before her and pulled her into his arms, clutching her with a desperation that was almost frightening.

Avyuktha stiffened, trembling violently at first, her hands pushing weakly at his chest, as though afraid of affection itself. But Arnav only tightened his hold, pressing her head against his shoulder, murmuring something incoherent....half apologies, half prayers.

And then she broke.

Her resistance crumbled as a choked sob tore from her throat. Tiny fists balled into his shirt, clutching the fabric like it was the only thing keeping her from drowning. Her tears soaked through his chest, and he didn’t move, didn’t speak, just held her tighter, his own tears silently tracing down his face.

It wasn’t a hug.....it was survival.
A desperate, trembling embrace that tried to erase years of bruises, blame, and silence.

Across the room, Pari’s hand flew to her mouth, eyes glistening as she fought the ache clawing at her chest. Abhimanyu’s jaw tightened, his gaze heavy with a pain he couldn’t voice. They both knew, some wounds didn’t bleed, they echoed.

Slowly, Avyuktha’s sobs began to fade, her body slumping from exhaustion. Arnav still didn’t let go, waiting until her breathing steadied. When he finally eased the hold, it wasn’t to create distance.....it was to care.

Pari, already teary-eyed, handed him a glass of water without a word.

Arnav sat right there on the floor, cross-legged, gently settling Avyuktha in his lap like something fragile. Her face was pale, swollen, streaked with tears. There was a dark wet patch on his shirt where her sorrow had soaked through.

“Bas… enough now,” he whispered, though it was more to himself than her.

He lifted the glass to her lips, his hands trembling slightly as he helped her drink in small sips. She didn’t resist, just obeyed silently, too hollow to think. When she was done, he kept the glass aside, wiping her face with his thumb, his touch trembling but unbearably tender.

Then, he pressed a soft, lingering kiss on her forehead, his lips trembling against her skin. The gesture wasn’t just affection....it was a promise, an apology, a vow.

When he finally pulled back, he guided her head gently to rest against his chest, his hand cradling her crown protectively. His voice, when it came, was low, cracked, yet steady enough to reach where words rarely did.

“Avu…” he began, his thumb stroking her hair, “teri wajah se kuch nahi hua, baccha…”

And she.....too tired, too broken to argue, just listened.

As the silence in the room grew heavier, Abhimanyu and Pari exchanged a brief, wordless glance. Both of them knew what the other was thinking, Arnav and Avyuktha needed this moment alone. They quietly stepped out, leaving the door slightly ajar, the soft sound of their retreating footsteps fading down the corridor.

Outside, Pari took a shaky breath, blinking away the wetness in her eyes. She turned toward the hall where Aarush still sat, scribbling absently, his little brows furrowed in concentration, blissfully unaware of the storm that had just calmed behind those walls. Abhimanyu’s hand brushed her shoulder lightly, not as comfort, but as quiet understanding. They would take care of the boy. Arnav would take care of the broken girl.

Inside the room, the air felt different, still thick with sorrow, but gentler now, like the world itself was holding its breath.

Arnav sat still, his arms wrapped protectively around the trembling form in his lap. Avyuktha’s small head rested against his chest, her hair damp with tears, her breath shallow and uneven. He lowered his face to her forehead and pressed a long, soft kiss there again, the kind that spoke of every unspoken promise, every ounce of love he had ever buried beneath his guilt.

Avyuktha blinked up at him from his embrace, her wide eyes still glistening, fragile, a question trembling in their depths.

Arnav tilted his head slightly, brushing away a stray tear from her cheek with his thumb. Then, leaning down, he pressed a soft kiss to her forehead once more.

“Baccha…” his voice came out low, almost a whisper meant only for her, “Bhaiya ki baat sunogi ?”

Avyuktha didn’t say anything, just looked up at him, her lashes still wet, lips quivering faintly.

He cupped her face gently, as though holding something fragile, something sacred. His thumbs traced light, trembling circles against her skin before he bent again, pressing another kiss to her forehead.

“Bhaiya ki baat sunogi na, Avu?” he repeated, softer this time, so full of quiet ache that it melted her heart.

She nodded against his chest, her small hands clutching at his shirt as though anchoring herself to him.

Arnav drew a shaky breath, his voice breaking as he began, “Baccha… teri koi galti nahi thi. Meri tabiyat isliye kharab hui… kyunki maine dawai skip kar di thi.”

He paused, his throat tightening painfully as guilt clawed through him. His chest ached...burned...because she had carried a guilt that never belonged to her.

His voice cracked, thick with self-blame. “Bhaiya is bad, baccha… bhaiya is really bad…”

He swallowed hard, the tears he’d been holding finally glazing his eyes. “Bhaiya ne Avu ko rulaya… bhaiya is very bad… very, very bad…”

The words came out like confession....raw, trembling, his heart bleeding through every syllable.

Avyuktha looked up from his embrace, her tiny hands trembling as she saw the unshed tears shimmering in his eyes. For a second, her breath hitched....something sharp and unbearable twisted inside her chest.

It wasn’t just his tears… it was the way he looked at himself, as if he deserved every bit of pain in the world. And that, that burned her. His words scorched through her heart, each one hurting more than the last.

How could he… he, the only person who had ever made her feel safe, the only warmth her trembling world had ever known… say such cruel words about himself?

She wanted to cover his mouth, to make him stop because every word he spoke felt like it was breaking him further, and she could feel that break inside her too. His tears weren’t just his anymore; they burned in her chest, stung behind her eyes, made her whole being ache.

And he....Arnav....was unraveling, every breath like a confession of guilt he couldn’t escape. He wanted to tear himself apart, to pay for being the reason she had ever thought she was a bad omen, a burden, a curse.

Before she could even think, the words slipped out of her trembling lips, soft but fierce, fragile but unshakable
“Bhaiya is not bad…”

It wasn’t a whisper anymore. It was a plea, a protest, a desperate promise trying to pull him back from the edge.

The words hung in the air....soft, trembling, yet carrying the weight of her little heart.

Arnav froze, his heart twisting painfully. She looked up at him through tear-blurred lashes, her little face pressed against his chest, eyes wide and pure, pleading him to believe her words.

He let out a shaky breath...half a sob, half a laugh and smiled weakly through the ache. He leaned in once more, kissing her forehead again, then the corner of her eye, as if each kiss could erase the filth of every cruel word ever thrown at her.

“Bhaiya is bad…” he murmured again, voice breaking. “He skipped his medicine… he made his Avu cry. Bhaiya is very bad.”

Avyuktha’s small hands clenched in his shirt, and she shook her head fiercely, her brows knitting together in an angry little frown. Her cheeks flushed red, the same color as her pain, as her love and she looked like a tiny storm ready to defend him against the whole world.

“No!” she said in her little voice, trembling yet firm, “Bhaiya is very good.”

Arnav’s chest constricted, he wanted to weep and smile all at once. That little pout, that angry spark in her eyes, it was innocence fighting back against years of hurt. He couldn’t help himself, he cupped her face and kissed her tear-stained cheek softly.

“Bhaiya’s Avu,” he whispered against her skin, “is also very good......She’s the best. The best.”

He kissed her forehead again, lingering longer this time, his lips trembling against her skin as if trying to seal her wounds shut.

But when she looked up again, her eyes shimmered with fresh tears and the next words she spoke shattered him completely.

“Avu is bad…” she said in a small, broken whisper. “Avu is a bad omen.”

Arnav froze. The words felt like knives carving into his chest. His arms tightened around her instantly, protectively, as if by sheer force he could shield her from the venom that had been fed to her so young.

His mind screamed.....with anger, guilt, helplessness. He wanted to find every person who had made her believe that, who had let her carry that curse alone. He wanted to destroy every whisper, every look, every hand that ever made her shrink.

But right now, his Avu was trembling in his arms. And right now, nothing else mattered.

He cupped her face gently, his own tears spilling freely now, and shook his head. His voice came out soft, cracked, but sure
“Bhaiya’s Avu is the best.”

He said it like a vow.
Like a prayer.
Like the only truth that existed in that moment.

Avyuktha’s eyes shimmered again, glassy and trembling, her voice small as a thread.
“No, Bhaiya… Avu is bad… isliye sab Avu ko chhod ke chale jaate hain…”

The words fell like quiet bombs.....soft, fragile, but shattering everything inside Arnav. His breath hitched, his heart twisted violently in his chest as if someone had reached in and torn it apart. For a moment, he couldn’t breathe.

How could a child sound so convinced… so certain of her own unworthiness?

He couldn’t stop himself, he pulled her close, almost desperately, pressing her trembling little frame to his chest. His lips found her foreheaad, her cheeks, the corners of her eyes.....gentle, aching kisses that carried every ounce of love he had, every ounce of pain he wished he could take from her.

“My Avu is the best…” he whispered against her skin, again and again, like a prayer.
Then, softly, he kissed the tip of her nose and added, his voice tender yet fierce, “Aur ye sab… jisne tujhse kaha hai na, baccha…”

He paused, brushing her tangled hair away from her face, his fingers gliding through them in slow, soothing strokes. “They are bad. Very bad.”

His tone softened again...low, hushed, like a lullaby meant to reach the parts of her heart that had forgotten what warmth felt like.“Bhaiya ki baat manegi, Avu?” he murmured.

Avyuktha nodded weakly, her forehead brushing against his chest. Her small hand fisted in his shirt, seeking that safety she had never known before.

Arnav smiled through tears, cupping her tiny face and tilting it upward gently. “Does Avu trust her Bhaiya?” he asked softly.

She looked up at him....eyes still wet, but this time filled with something fragile and beautiful. Trust.
It wasn’t loud or dramatic...it was quiet, pure, almost sacred.

And she nodded.

In that small gesture, Arnav felt something inside him break and heal all at once.

She trusted him.

After all the fear, all the loss, all the shadows that had followed her....she finally trusted him.

His vision blurred, and for a moment he had to blink hard to keep his tears at bay. He bent down, pressing a lingering kiss to her forehead, his lips trembling against her skin.

“If Avu trusts her Bhaiya,” he whispered, voice cracking, “then she should also believe… that Bhaiya’s Avu is the best.”

He looked at her again, waiting. Her tired eyes searched his face like she wanted to be sure and when she didn’t reply, he smiled gently, brushing his thumb across her cheek.

“Avu trusts her Bhaiya na?” he asked again, soft and pleading.

Avyuktha nodded once more, firmer this time.

A faint smile broke through Arnav’s tears. He pressed another kiss to her forehead and said, “Then Avu should say it… Bhaiya’s Avu is the best.”

He wrapped his arms tighter around her, his voice barely above a whisper as he nudged her gently, “Say it, baccha… Bhaiya’s Avu is the best.”

For a moment, she stayed quiet....hesitant, her lips quivering, breath shaky. But when Arnav cupped her face again, eyes soft and full of love, she finally whispered, broken but real

“Bhaiya’s Avu is the best…”

The words were so faint that they almost dissolved into the air, but to Arnav, they echoed louder than anything he’d ever heard. His entire face lit up....eyes shining, smile trembling with overwhelming emotion.

He couldn’t hold back. He leaned in, kissing her forehead again and again....her eyelids, her nose, her cheeks, each kiss softer and more desperate than the last, as if trying to seal her words inside her heart forever.

He stopped, smiling through tears, brushing his thumb along her cheekbone.

“Say it once more, baccha…” he whispered, his voice tender, coaxing.

Avyuktha smiled faintly.....eyes wet, lips trembling between laughter and tears. She looked up at him and whispered again, a little louder this time, her voice wobbly but sure...

“Bhaiya’s Avu is the best…”

Before he could hold it back, he leaned in again, kissing her forehead....again and again, her eyelids, her nose, her cheeks....each kiss softer and more desperate than the last, as if trying to seal her words inside her heart forever.

Avyuktha blinked through her tears, watching him smile....really smile...and something inside her just… melted.
The warmth in his eyes, the way his trembling hands held her so gently, the way he looked at her like she was something pure....it broke her in the most beautiful way.

And then, somewhere between his kisses and his whispered apologies, a sound escaped her.

A giggle.

Soft, watery… but real.

It rose from a place so deep inside her that it startled her....a sound she hadn’t heard from herself in what felt like forever. It wasn’t just laughter. It was release. It was relief. It was the first breath of someone who had finally stopped drowning.

Because in that moment, when Arnav smiled and kissed her like she was something worth cherishing, she felt it,
for the first time in her life, someone wasn’t just telling her she wasn’t at fault… someone was making her believe it.

That she wasn’t a bad omen.
Not useless.
Not filth.
Not unwanted.

For someone....for him...she was good.
She was enough.
She was his.

And when he whispered, “Say it once more, baccha…” his tone gentle, coaxing, full of love, she couldn’t help but smile through her tears.

Her eyes were wet, lips trembling between laughter and sobs as she looked up at him and whispered again, a little louder this time, her voice wobbly but sure..

“Bhaiya’s Avu is the best…”

Arnav’s heart flooded with warmth so intense it almost hurt. He smiled through the tears streaking down his face and pressed another loving kiss to her cheek, holding her as if she were the most precious thing in the world... because to him, she truly was.

Arnav sat there on the floor, cross-legged, Avyuktha nestled safely against his chest. The world outside that moment didn’t exist, only the quiet rhythm of their breathing and the faint sound of her heartbeat against his.

She had gone silent for a while, her small fingers tracing absent circles on his shirt as though trying to find courage in that simple motion.

Then, after what felt like forever, she whispered....so softly that it almost broke the air itself.

“Bhaiya… phir mujhe sab chhod ke kyun chale jaate hain?”

The question stilled Arnav completely. His breath hitched, his hand froze halfway through her hair. It was a question too heavy for her small voice… too painful for him to answer.

His grip on her instinctively tightened, pulling her just a little closer, as if protecting her from a truth even he wished didn’t exist.

Her tiny form fit so perfectly against his chest, her tears soaking through his shirt, each drop burning like acid on his heart. He pressed a trembling kiss to her forehead, eyes closing for a second, his breath catching somewhere between pain and peace.

“Avu… Meri baat dhyaan se sunn baccha” he whispered, his voice breaking softly at the edges.

He sighed softly, his gaze lingering on her as if afraid a single wrong word might break her. “Sometimes…” his voice was low, quiet, almost like he was confessing to himself, “…people leave, just because their paths take them somewhere else.”

His fingers reached out, brushing a loose strand of hair from her face, tucking it gently behind her ear. “And sometimes,” he continued, his thumb grazing lightly against her temple, “some people choose to run away...from their responsibilities… from us.”

Her eyes shimmered, the unshed tears catching the light, and he paused, letting her breathe, letting the silence hold the weight of the truth. Then, his hand slid softly through her hair, his touch grounding, tender.

“But that doesn’t mean it’s our fault,” he murmured, his tone a trembling mix of pain and defiance. “It’s not because we were bad, or unworthy. It’s because they chose to leave. And somehow…” His voice cracked slightly, “We end up carrying the brunt of their choices, when it was never ours to bear.”

He looked at her then, really looked, as if trying to make her feel every word.
“It’s not our fault,” he repeated, almost like a vow. “Not this time. Not ever.”

It killed him....that this little girl, his Avu, had learned to blame herself for the world’s cruelty. That somewhere along the way, someone had convinced her that she was the reason for her own loneliness.

His throat ached as he went on, his words quiet but steady.
“But some people… some people never leave.....Samjhi?”

He leaned in, his breath warm against her temple as he kissed her again, this time slower, deeper....not out of habit, but out of need. His need to convince her. To convince himself that she’d finally believe him.

“They are always there… like the sunrise and the night that follows…
Like the wind that never stops… like the stars that shine above you all night long…”

Avyuktha’s little hands clutched his shirt tighter, as though trying to hold on to every word. Arnav’s voice grew softer, steadier, a promise bleeding through every syllable.

“And Avu…” he whispered, brushing away the tears from her cheeks with his thumbs, his eyes glassy, “…from now on, Bhaiya is one of those people.”

He bent down, kissed her forehead again, lingering there until she felt the weight of his vow. “Bhaiya will always be here, through every pain, through every distance…”

His hand found its way to the back of her head again, fingers curling protectively around her, his thumb moving in soothing circles.

“Like a heartbeat that never stops… like the air that always flows…”

He felt her breathing slow, syncing with his own. Her tiny frame relaxing, trusting. That trust shattered something inside him and healed it all at once.

“You will never be alone....Samjhi baccha?”

He paused, his voice trembling now, that rare crack that escapes when words can no longer carry the weight of what the heart feels. “Bhaiya is here… and will never leave.”

He kissed her forehead again, then her cheek, then her hair....as if trying to mark every corner of her pain with his warmth.

And in that moment, as he held her tighter, he realized, it wasn’t just her who needed to believe this. It was him too.

Because Arnav knew what loneliness felt like...
So when he whispered, ‘Bhaiya will never leave,’ he wasn’t just promising her peace.
He was trying to give himself a reason to breathe again too.”

He held her closer still, one hand protectively cupping the back of her head, the other wrapped around her waist. Avyuktha’s breathing grew calmer against his chest, her small hands still fisted in his shirt, but her grip softer now, as if for the first time… she believed she was safe.

Arnav closed his eyes, resting his chin on her head, whispering once more into her hair.....a soft, trembling vow only the two of them would ever hear.

“Bhaiya’s Avu will never be alone again… not in this lifetime.”

For a long while, neither of them moved.
Just the soft rhythm of breaths, one syncing with the other....like the world had finally gone still, letting them exist in this one fragile, healing silence.

Arnav’s hand continued its slow path through her hair, his fingers light, tender, tracing comfort into her trembling heart.

He could feel the way her small body clung to him....like she was afraid that if she let go, the world would fall apart again.

And then, after what felt like forever, the silence broke....not with noise, but with a whisper.

So soft, so hesitant, he almost thought he’d imagined it.

“Promise bhaiya…”

He stilled, his hand pausing in her hair.

Her voice quivered...thin, uneven...like it had travelled a long, painful way from inside her tiny chest.

“Promise… aap mujhe kabhi nhi chodoge na …”

Arnav’s throat closed. He wanted to answer, but her next words came too quickly, tumbling out in small, desperate breaths.

“Mujhse koi galti ho gyi tb bhi nhi na?”

She shifted slightly in his arms, her face still buried against his shirt.
“Mai kabhi rone lagi ya gussa krne lagi tb bhi nhi na...”

He felt her fingers clutch at his shirt tighter, tiny fists trying to hold on to something bigger than fear.

And then she slowly lifted her face, her tear-wet lashes trembling, her gaze finally meeting his.

Her next words came barely above a whisper, breaking like glass between them

“Mai buri ban gayi tab bhi nahi na…”

That last line tore through him.

Arnav’s breath hitched....not out of surprise, but out of pain. A pain so deep it rooted itself behind his ribs.
For a heartbeat, he couldn’t speak. He could only look at her...at those pleading eyes, too small to carry such fear of being unloved.

Then, gently, he cupped her face in both hands....thumbs brushing her cheeks, steady but trembling all the same.

“Avu…” he whispered, his voice breaking. “Mujhe dekh.”

Her eyes lifted hesitantly, scared, like a child waiting to be told she wasn’t enough.

Arnav’s smile wavered, soft and wet.
“Tu chahe jitni galti kare… chahe jitni roye, gussa ho… chahe duniya kuch bhi kahe… Bhaiya kabhi nahi chhodenge......Galti krne pe daatunga, punish bhi karunga lakin kabhi bhi akele nhi chodunga.”

He leaned forward, pressing his forehead lightly to hers.

“Tu buri ban hi nahi sakti Avu,” he said, his words shaking against her skin. “Aur agar kabhi tujhe lage na… ki tu buri ban gayi hai…” His voice broke completely  “Toh main tujhe apni godh mein bithakar phir se samjha dunga ki tu sabse acchi hai....That Bhaiya's Avu is the best.”

Avyuktha’s lips quivered, a sob slipping out before she could stop it. She threw her arms around his neck again, holding him tighter than before.....as if she wanted to bury every leftover fear inside his heartbeat.

Arnav closed his eyes, his arms circling her small frame, one hand cradling her head. “Bhaiya will never leave HIS Avu alone,” he murmured into her hair. “Never.”

And somewhere between those words and her muffled sobs, something inside her finally unclenched,  the ache of abandonment melting into the warmth of being found.

Avyuktha lay against his chest, her small body finally relaxing after what felt like hours of trembling.

For the first time in days, she felt something different bloom quietly inside her.....a warmth that didn’t burn, a peace that didn’t scare her away. It spread slowly across her chest, wrapping around her heart until even her tears forgot their way.

A faint, sleepy smile touched her lips....one that reached all the way to her eyes.

Arnav looked down at her, his own eyes soft, the edges of his mouth curving into a smile that held both relief and love. His voice came out low, gentle… like he was speaking directly to her soul.

“Aur tujhe pata hai…” he whispered, brushing a stray strand from her face, “meri Avu kabhi buri ban hi nahi sakti…”

Before she could say anything, he leaned forward playfully and kissed the tip of her nose. “Itni chhoti si, pyaari si naak wali bacchi… buri kaise ho sakti, haan?”

Avyuktha let out a tiny, hiccupy giggle, the sound delicate and pure....like the first drop of rain after a storm.

Arnav’s eyes softened even more. He took her tiny hands in his much larger ones, studying them as though they were made of glass. “Itne chhote chhote, pyaare pyaare haath…” he murmured, his voice almost breaking with tenderness.

Then, without pause, he lifted both her hands and kissed them softly… one after the other… like sealing a vow on her skin.

Her laughter came again, shy and breathless, her cheeks glowing with warmth.

Arnav smiled faintly, his gaze falling lower. “Aur itne chhote chhote, pyaare pyaare pair…” he said softly.
He took both her feet gently in one hand and pressed a tender kiss over them.

Avyuktha gasped....her breath catching in her throat. No one had ever touched her with such care, such reverence. The thought that someone would bend down to kiss her feet was beyond imagination and yet, here he was  doing it as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

Then he looked up again, eyes glistening. “Aur itni pyaari pyaari, badi badi aakhein…” he whispered, brushing his thumb lightly across her lashes before pressing a feather-light kiss there too.

Her giggle turned into a small laugh now....light, sweet, bubbling straight from the heart.

Arnav’s gaze lingered on her face, his voice softening even more. “Aur itne pyaare pyaare gaal…” he murmured, cupping her cheeks gently. He leaned in and kissed them both, softly, lovingly, his eyes radiating a warmth she had never seen before.

It made her heart swell....too full, too fragile to contain what she felt. No one had ever loved her like this… so gently, so wholly, so unconditionally. In that moment, she just knew....she had fallen in love with him, not the kind that needed words or promises, but the kind that made her feel safe.

Arnav couldn’t help but smile too. That little sound of her laughter melted something deep inside him.....a place he hadn’t known had frozen over. His lips curved into a soft grin as he whispered,

“Bas… meri Avu firse hansi.”

He shifted slightly, cradling her in his lap, his arms firm and protective. Slowly, he began to rock her to and fro....the rhythm unhurried, gentle, like the sway of peace itself.

Then, in a voice low and full of affection, he began to sing....half tune, half whisper. “Choti si Avu… choti choti naak…”

He bent down, his smile playful now, and kissed her nose softly.

Avyuktha blinked, startled for a heartbeat then warmth spread through her chest, slow and deep, melting something she hadn’t even realized was cold.

Arnav’s voice carried on, smooth as a hum. “Chote chote pair…”

He reached down, taking her tiny feet into his big hands, rough palms holding something impossibly soft. He kissed them gently, reverently, his lips lingering as if afraid to let go.

Avyuktha’s heartbeat stumbled...not in fear, but in something she didn’t yet have words for. That touch, so full of care, so unlike anything she’d ever known, made her chest ache with a sweetness that almost hurt. For the first time, being held didn’t feel like being trapped....it felt like belonging.

Her smile bloomed wider, brighter...timid but real.

But Arnav didn’t stop. His voice stayed low, full of warmth and quiet laughter.
“Chote chote haath…”

He lifted both her palms again and kissed them one by one.....slow, lingering, as if every touch was a promise carved in affection. Each brush of his lips whispered silently, You are precious. You are loved.

Her little fingers curled around his thumb, holding it as if anchoring herself to that promise.

Arnav smiled, his voice still carrying that faint melody as he looked down at her twinkling eyes. “Badi badi akhiyaan… jaise do taare,” he sang softly, lowering his head to kiss her eyelids.

Avyuktha’s lashes fluttered against his lips, her giggle escaping....soft, shy, and filled with wonder. That single sound seemed to light up the air around them.

Then he continued, his voice a low hum that filled the room like sunlight spilling through curtains. “Laal laal gaal… jaise aam ke paare,”

(Your red cheeks are as soft and sweet as mango slices.)

He bent forward and kissed both her cheeks....one, then the other...drawing a breathy, delighted laugh from her that made his heart melt completely.

Avyuktha couldn’t stop smiling now, every word, every touch wrapped around her like warmth itself. Each kiss, each whisper felt like stitching together the cracks she’d carried for years. No one had ever loved her like this....gently, proudly, as if she were something sacred.

Arnav’s voice softened again, wrapping the room in tenderness as he murmured the English verse, his tone still carrying the same melody:

Little Avu, so tiny and sweet,
Tiny little feet, tiny little hands to meet.
Big big eyes, like two shining stars above,
Rosy red cheeks, like sweet mango slices I love.

By the time his voice faded, Avyuktha’s giggles had melted into quiet, breathy laughter. Her eyes were glassy, her heart unbearably full.

Arnav brushed his thumb across her cheek, smiling through the faint shimmer of tears in his own eyes.
“Bas…” he whispered, voice trembling with peace, “meri Avu phirse hansi.”

And in that moment, it felt like the world itself had exhaled...like her laughter had mended something in both of them that had been broken for far too long.

And before she could even think of stopping him, Arnav stood up....lifting her effortlessly into his arms. A startled squeal left her lips as he began to spin her slowly, his laughter melting into the soft tune that slipped from his throat.

“Chhoti si Avu… chhoti chhoti naak…”
he sang, his voice teasing and tender all at once.

She laughed, breathless, clutching his shoulder for balance. The world spun around them, but somehow, she felt steady....safe....because he was holding her.

“Chhote chhote pair, chhote chhote haath…”
he continued, twirling her again. Her laughter rang out, light and full, wrapping around his heart like sunlight breaking through clouds.

Arnav’s gaze softened mid-spin...his smile trembling between joy and ache.
“Badi badi aakhiyaan… jaise do taare…”
he sang, lowering her just enough to brush a tender kiss against her temple.

“Laal laal gaal… jaise aam ke paare…”
His words turned into a half-laugh, half-breath as he looked at her....cheeks flushed, eyes sparkling, the kind of innocence that could shatter every dark corner inside him.

Avyuktha’s laughter broke through the air....wild, pure, and unguarded. Her tiny arms flew around his neck, pulling him close, her giggles muffled against his skin.

Arnav slowed, his chest heaving softly, breath mingling with hers.

For a heartbeat, the world stopped spinning....there was only her warmth, her scent, her trust.

He brushed a few loose strands from her forehead and whispered, voice rough with something he couldn’t name,
“Aise hi hasti raha kar…”

The way he said it ....quiet, aching, almost like a prayer....made her heart flutter painfully. It wasn’t just a wish. It was a plea. A promise. A desperate need for her smile to keep existing in his world.

Something inside Avyuktha stirred, a warmth so deep it almost hurt. She didn’t understand it, couldn’t name it. But she knew one thing....when he held her like this, the world didn’t feel lonely anymore.

So she hugged him tighter, her tiny arms locking around his neck, face buried in the crook of his shoulder.

Arnav exhaled....a shaky, content breath and wrapped his arms around her in return. His palm rested protectively on her back, and in that quiet embrace, something inside both of them healed a little.

After the song and the laughter, they finally settled on the bed. Arnav held Avyuktha close, and she nestled her face against his shoulder as if she truly belonged there. There was no hesitation now, she felt the right to hold him, fully and without fear.

Arnav felt her warmth, the steady rhythm of her breathing, the small weight of her body no longer trembling against his. A calm spread through him, soothing something deep inside.

In that quiet moment, they simply sat together, holding each other, sharing the same gentle warmth....a silence that spoke of trust, comfort, and a bond that needed no words.

___________________________________________

💛 A Tiny Note from Your Author 💛

Hey you! Yes, you reading this.....I poured my whole heart into this chapter, making every hug, every laugh, every little heartbeat between Arnav and Avyuktha full of love. It made me cry, smile, and sigh all at once… did it do the same to you?

Please, please comment! Tell me how it made you feel, even if it’s just one word
....I want to read all your tiny reactions, every little feeling. Your comments are the biggest hug I could ever get!

And do tell me, how was the little song.... Its an improvised version of the song my mother used to sing to me when i was a kid just replace Avu with Gouri 🙈😅

Always,
Your sappy, heart-full author 😸😊