Chapter: Its Abhimaan For You 😤

The afternoon sun hung low, spilling muted gold through the gauzy curtains. The mansion, once alive with laughter and warmth, now sat in silence so dense it felt alive. Every corridor, every echoing wall seemed to carry the weight of what had been said, and what couldn't be unsaid.

In a quiet room tucked away from the world, Anvi sat with Aarush resting against her chest. His small body leaned into her, comforted by the steady thrum of her heartbeat. His fingers moved absently, tracing the fading designs printed across her T-shirt....soft, repetitive motions that seemed to fill the silence neither of them could break.

She held him gently, but her mind was far away...lost in spirals of regret and self reproach. Her chest tightened with every thought of her brother's face, of the way his expression had fallen beneath her words. The memory burned. She hadn't just hurt him, she had fractured something sacred, something she'd always believed unbreakable.

Her throat ached, and her eyes blurred again despite the effort to hold everything in. Tears welled quietly, slipping down her cheeks and vanishing into her hair, unacknowledged. Her heart felt heavy, caught between guilt and longing, wanting to run to her Bhaiya, to beg for forgiveness, and yet knowing she was the reason for his silence now.

Elsewhere in the house, Abhimanyu sat alone, head buried in his hands, elbows digging into his knees as if the pain might keep him grounded. The room was dim except for the thin light spilling through the blinds, painting his shoulders in fractured gold.

His mind replayed every moment of the confrontation, the crack in his own voice, the fear in Anvi's eyes, the silence that followed. He had done what needed to be done, he told himself again and again. Because Arnav... Arnav was not a man easily shaken. He could bear the weight of the world without flinching, stand tall through storms that would crush others, and still hold his family together with quiet strength. But when the hurt came from within, from the people he loved more than life itself, even the great wall of Arnav Jaisingh cracked. The world could never break him, but the distance of his loved ones could.

And Abhimanyu couldn't let that happen again. If he had to be cruel to protect Arnav from that pain, then he would be. If he had to stand as the villain for a while to make Anvi understand what her brother truly meant to her, he would wear that burden without hesitation.

He knew Anvi loved Arnav deeply, she always had. But her impulsiveness, her quick words born of emotion, cut where she never intended them to. And Abhimanyu... he couldn't tolerate that. Not when he'd seen how easily Arnav's strength faltered under the weight of love turned sharp.

The thought of Anvi's tearful face burned behind his closed eyes. His heart clenched painfully, guilt wrapping tight around his chest. She was family, his little sister in every way that mattered and he had been the reason she looked so frightened, so small.

In the room next to Anvi's, Abhimaan sat at his study table, a half open textbook before him and a mind miles away. The words on the page blurred into meaningless patterns, refusing to sink in no matter how hard he stared. His phone lay discarded on the floor, its screen still faintly lit from the game he'd played just moments before...one more failed attempt to drown the noise inside his head.

His chest felt tight, each breath uneven as memories and voices tangled in his thoughts...Anvi's words, Arnav's face, the reminder of what his brother's health had already endured. And beneath it all, older wounds he never truly let heal, the kind that throbbed quietly until nights like this tore them open again.

Frustration pulsed through him, sharp and restless. He wanted to move, to escape, to feel something other than this unbearable weight. The thought of driving....the rush of wind, the blur of lights, the rebellion against every red signal....tempted him like a promise of release. But his keys were gone. Arnav had taken them after the last time, after the reckless stunt that almost cost more than either of them could bear.

Now he sat trapped within his own thoughts, every muscle coiled, every emotion too loud to ignore. He searched for another escape...music, distraction, anything but nothing worked. The walls felt too close, the silence too thick, and the ache in his chest refused to quiet.

In that house, everyone was breaking in their own way...some with tears, some with silence, and some with storms that refused to be named.

Downstairs, the faint clatter of utensils broke the mansion's silence. Pari stood in the kitchen, sleeves rolled up, the gentle hum of the stove filling the air.
Now, she moved between the counters with quiet purpose, hands working out of habit more than focus.

But her mind wasn't in the kitchen. It drifted endlessly through the scenes of the last few hours...voices raised, tears that had fallen, silences that still hung heavy in the air. Every sound echoed back at her like an endless loop, her chest tightening each time the memory replayed. She stirred, chopped, poured all on autopilot...her hands moving while her thoughts stayed lost in the ache she couldn't ease.

The kitchen smelled of warmth, but the woman standing in it carried a storm beneath her calm.

Upstairs, the softest sound in the house was that of Avyuktha's breathing. She sat curled against Arnav, her small arms looped around his chest as if she could hold him together by sheer will. Arnav leaned back against the bedrest, one arm draped tightly around her shoulders, tighter than necessary, almost desperate. His chin rested lightly against her hair, and his eyes were closed, as though shutting them might quiet the storm inside him.

The silence between them wasn't peaceful, it was heavy, trembling under the weight of what had been said and done. Arnav's heart still echoed with Anvi's words, each one cutting deeper than he'd expected, but what ached more now was the memory of Abhimaan...his Maan...the tears in his eyes, the pain he hadn't meant to cause. He had wanted to protect, to correct, to hold his family together, but somehow, he had ended up hurting the ones he loved most. The image of Abhimaan's broken expression replayed again and again, each time squeezing his chest tighter until breathing itself felt like a punishment.

Avyuktha clung to him without a word. She didn't know how to heal him, didn't even know what to say...she only knew she couldn't let go. So she stayed, small and silent, her presence speaking the comfort words couldn't. Like a child watching her parent fall apart, she had no solutions, only the simple hope that her closeness might ease the ache, even a little.

But her own heart wasn't quiet either. The scenes of the day ran through her mind on a painful loop...Anvi's outburst, Abhimanyu's fury, Arnav's hollow silence, and Maan's tears. Everything had shattered too quickly, too deeply. And Avyuktha, who had just begun to believe she had found a family again, could only pray that the cracks wouldn't last. That somehow, love would find its way back before everything she had just found slipped away.

By afternoon, the aroma of food began to spread through the quiet house...soft, familiar, and warm, just as Pari had intended. She called the servants in, her voice calm but subdued, asking them to set the dining table and call everyone downstairs. The clinking of plates and the rustle of movement filled the stillness that had hung too long.

One by one, they came.

Abhimanyu was the first...expression unreadable, shoulders still carrying the weight of the morning. He took his seat in silence, eyes lowered, lost somewhere far from the meal before him.

Anvi came next, unwilling, unable to refuse Aarush's persistence. On the way, he had earnestly repeated some bizarre story he genuinely believed...about an old woman who cut noses if anyone skipped meals and somehow used it to convince her. With that same innocent determination, he tugged her all the way into the hall, his tiny hand firm around hers. She wanted to pull back, to hide, but guilt weighed her down but reluctantly she stood beside him, head lowered, fingertips trembling against the chair.

Arnav entered soon after, Avyuktha still in his arms. He refused to let her walk on her injured leg, his protective hold firm but gentle. He guided her to the table, seating her carefully before glancing briefly at the others...a fleeting look, more weary than stern.

One place, however, remained empty.
Maan's.

When the servant returned with quiet steps, murmuring that Abhimaan wished to have his lunch in his room, a heavy pause followed. No one said anything, but the silence said enough.

Arnav's jaw tightened slightly. He nodded once, wordlessly, and set Avyuktha down on a chair. Without another word, he turned and walked toward the staircase. He knew he had to go to him, to his Maan before the distance hardened into something deeper than hurt.

At the table, the others waited, plates untouched, eyes fixed on nothing, the air thick with emotions too fragile to name. The food sat warm between them, a quiet attempt at comfort, while upstairs, another storm waited to be faced.

In Maan's room, the light from the laptop flickered faintly across the walls, casting moving shadows that danced with the laughter of F.R.I.E.N.D.S playing quietly in the background. But Abhimaan wasn't watching. The book before him lay half-open, his gaze fixed somewhere far beyond its pages...lost, unfocused, hollow.

The door creaked softly behind him, but he didn't turn. He assumed it was the servant. "Thank you....khaana table pe rakh dijiye," he said absently, his voice flat, distant.

The sound of footsteps approached instead of retreating. Then, a gentle hand rested on his shoulder... firm, familiar.

Abhimaan froze.

Slowly, he turned his head, and there stood Arnav.

For a heartbeat, the numbness that had held him all day cracked open, and the fury rushed back like fire meeting air. His jaw tightened, his throat ached, and his eyes hardened. Without a word, he looked away, his face turning sharply to the other side...refusing, rejecting, protecting himself from breaking again.

Arnav stood still, his hand slipping from Abhimaan's shoulder, guilt thick in his chest. The sight of his son turning away, his Maan, who had always run to him without hesitation, tore something deep inside him.

When he finally spoke, his voice was barely above a whisper, soft and trembling with remorse. "I'm sorry, baccha... really sorry."

Maan rose from the table, shoulders stiff, as if moving could put distance between the raw ache inside him and the man who had caused it. He took a step, then another, but Arnav's hand caught his wrist gently yet firmly.

"I'm sorry, baccha... apne Bhaiya ko maaf kr de, please," Arnav whispered, his voice low, soft, pleading, carrying the weight of every pang in his heart.

Abhimaan's chest tightened. He wanted to stay angry. He wanted to turn and walk away, to hold on to the hurt and the fury that had kept him numb all day. But the softness of Arnav's apology...the vulnerability, the quiet desperation in his eyes....cracked something deep within him.

When he finally dared to look, he saw it. The unshed tears, the guilt carved into Arnav's face, the heartbreak mirrored in the eyes of the one who had always been his protector. That look, raw and exposed, splintered Abhimaan's resolve.

Without a word, without hesitation, he threw himself into Arnav's arms. His body shook violently, his sobs muffled against the broad chest he had always run to. He tried to hold them back, tried to be strong, but the grief, the fear, the frustration, the anger...it came spilling out in the form of tears.

Arnav froze for a heartbeat, then tightened his arms around him. As his hands wrapped fully around his little brother, the weight of everything....the fear, the fury, the exhaustion, the guilt...broke through his own walls. He sank down slightly, holding Abhimaan close, letting the bitter, heart wrenching sobs shake him from the inside out.

Arnav's heart clenched painfully, seeing his little brother broken. Guilt gnawed at him, knowing that none of this was truly Abhimaan's fault, yet he had let his own mistakes push him into that pain. He had been the one to distance himself, to let his Maan break, and now seeing him so raw and fragile was unbearable.

The little mischief maker, the jokester, the one who had always lightened the world with laughter, now trembling and crying in his arms, made Arnav's chest ache like it might split. He rubbed Abhimaan's back gently, whispering, "Bas, baccha... Bas...I'm sorry, .....please... chup ho jaa... please, baccha..."

He kissed the top of Abhimaan's head, rubbing his back, cooing him softly, murmuring words meant to heal what could be healed. Slowly, the tremors of sobs eased, the hiccups faded, and the hug broke just enough for Arnav to help him sit on the bed.

He offered him some water, gently wiping the tears from his face. Then, brushing a lock of hair from his forehead, he pressed a loving kiss there, his heart full of both sorrow and relief, relief that his Maan was still here, and sorrow for the pain he had caused.

For a long moment, they just sat there, two hearts battered, aching, yet slowly, imperceptibly, starting to mend in the quiet intimacy of shared grief and love.

Downstairs, the dining table was set, the food still tucked away in closed vessels. No one reached for it. Plates sat untouched, steam rising faintly from the lids, but the room remained thick with a silence heavier than the aroma of the meal.

Anvi sat stiffly, head lowered eyes fixed on the empty plate before her. She didn't dare look at anyone, her face still flushed from crying, the faint purple mark on her chin a cruel reminder of the storm she had weathered just hours before.

In her lap, Aarush clung stubbornly, refusing to let her go. He insisted that Avyuktha sit beside him, and when the little girl tried to wiggle away, he planted himself firmly, tugging her gently toward Anvi's side. He wanted her there, safe, immovable...a small child's way of making sure the broken pieces of his world didn't drift away.

Abhimanyu and Pari sat at either end of the table, silent, their hands resting loosely in their laps. They stole glances at Anvi, hearts tightening with every flicker of her downcast gaze. The girl who had never been able to stay quiet for ten minutes, the girl whose voice had always filled rooms, now sat muted, clinging to Aarush like a safety net. She didn't speak, she didn't meet their eyes, and yet every subtle movement, every tremor in her shoulders, spoke volumes about the guilt and sorrow weighing her down.

The room was a tableau of quiet pain, each person lost in their own thoughts, each glance filled with unspoken care, and each breath heavy with the hope that soon, somehow...the fractured pieces of their family might start to fit together again.

Upstairs, In Abhimaan's room, Arnav kneeled in front of him, his movement slow, deliberate...the kind that made Abhimaan's brows crease instantly.

"Bhaiya... kya kar rahe ho?" he muttered, frowning as he instinctively tried to pull Arnav back up. But Arnav stayed stubbornly where he was, his hands wrapping gently around Abhimaan's trembling ones.

For a long second, neither spoke. The quiet hum of the ceiling fan filled the space between them...soft, steady, grounding. Arnav's eyes lifted, finding Abhimaan's face lowered, his gaze fixed on his lap. His lashes were still damp, his cheeks flushed pink from all the crying, his lips pressed tight in that familiar effort to stay composed.

Arnav's heart clenched at the sight.

"Maan baccha..." he began softly, his voice low and aching, "please maaf kar de. Main dobara aisa kabhi nahi karunga. I'm really sorry, baccha."

There was no defense in his tone, no justification...only raw guilt, heavy and real. But Abhimaan didn't respond. He just sat there, shoulders stiff, eyes fixed downward, refusing to look at him.

Arnav swallowed, the silence stabbing sharper than any words could. He tried again, his voice a whisper now, almost breaking "Mani... itna naraz hai ki dekhega bhi nahi apne bhaiya ko?"

That word, Mani...slipped out instinctively, tender and old as their bond.

It was the nickname Arnav had given him when they were little, born out of one of their countless childish arguments. Back then, whenever little Abhimaan got angry with his big brother, he'd cross his arms, puff up his cheeks, and shout, "Mujhe aap Maan mat bulao! It's Abhimaan for you!" His tiny voice trembling with righteous fury that only made him look more adorable.

So Arnav, laughing even through those mock fights, had come up with Maani, his secret peace offering for those angry times. A name that was soft enough to melt his little brother's temper, yet personal enough to remind him who was saying it.

And just like that, Mani had stayed, not as a name, but as a feeling. A word that belonged only to Arnav and his little brother, something warm enough to make even anger feel like love.

Abhimaan's throat tightened at the sound. Slowly, reluctantly, he looked up, meeting Arnav's eyes. His brows drew together, a mix of irritation and emotion flashing across his face.

"“Pehle bed pe baitho aap,” Maan muttered, voice still hoarse from crying. “Aise neeche mat baitho.”

Before Arnav could protest, Abhimaan reached out and tugged at his arm, pulling him up almost forcefully and making him sit beside him on the bed. The gesture was clumsy, urgent… and so very Maan.

Arnav couldn’t help it...a small smile broke through his guilt, a soft chuckle slipping out as he took in his brother’s flustered, teary face.

Maan’s glare snapped up instantly.
“Kya hai? Hasse kyun rahe ho?” he grumbled, trying hard to sound stern.

But the effect was undone completely.

His big, still wet eyes, the slight redness spreading across his cheeks from crying, and the natural pink of his lips made him look more like a stubborn little child than someone angry. To Arnav, he looked exactly like the four year old Mani he used to chase around the house.



Arnav’s heart softened instantly.
He reached forward and cupped Abhimaan’s face, thumbs brushing away the lingering tear tracks, and gently tugged at his cheeks.

“Kitna cute lag raha hai mera baccha,” Arnav said with a watery laugh, voice thick with affection.

Maan frowned, glaring up at him for the cheek pulling, his eyes dropping almost immediately after. He looked down at his lap, shoulders tight, breath uneven.

And suddenly the room fell quiet...not empty, but full.

Full of the heaviness of things they couldn’t say, the ache of hurt, the relief of closeness… and the fragile, trembling bond that made both brothers hold on a little tighter.

Arnav's chest ached watching him like that...so small, so quiet, when his Mani was never meant to be either. Guilt dug deeper into his heart, he had been the reason for those tears, the reason for that silence. Shifting closer, he gently slipped an arm around Maan's shoulders, pulling him a little nearer.

"I'm sorry, baccha..." he murmured softly, his voice low, trembling with sincerity.

For a moment, Maan didn't move. Then, after a few long seconds, he turned his face toward Arnav. His eyes were glassy, his lashes wet, his lips trembling as he whispered, voice breaking, "Aap promise karo... phirse nahi karoge aisa."

Arnav's throat tightened. He nodded instantly, brushing a thumb over Maan's cheek. "Nahi karunga, baccha. Kabhi nahi."

Maan sniffled, his voice barely a whisper but cutting straight through Arnav's chest. "Aapne dobara aisa kiya na, Bhaiya... toh main bhi apni jaan de dunga."

The words hit like a slap.

Arnav's expression hardened instantly, his heart lurched, fury and fear crashing together as his voice rose, sharp and trembling, "ABHIMAAN, Ye kya bakwass kr raha hai...Haa?....I know you're hurt... lekin agar aisi bakwaas dobara boli na, toh kheench ke laga dunga ek abhi!"

But Maan only shook his head, stubborn even through his tears. "Nhi...agar aapne phir se aisa kiya toh...Mai mar...."

Before he could finish, Arnav's hand came down hard on his shoulder, not out of anger, but out of panic, raw and desperate. "Ek baar ki baat samjh nhi aati hai?....Bakwaas band karne ko bola na maine!" he snapped, voice cracking with emotion.

Maan winced, rubbing the spot where Arnav had hit him, his lips wobbling as he looked down again, refusing to meet his brother's eyes. The air between them trembled, thick with love, and the ache of almost losing something neither could live without.

Maan's voice came out small, trembling, barely a whisper. "Maine sirf... marne ki baat ki, tab aap itna gussa ho gaye..."
He paused, his lips quivering, eyes fixed on the floor. "Aur aap..."

The rest of the sentence hung unfinished, too heavy to say aloud, but Arnav understood every unsaid.

Arnav's chest constricted. A shaky sigh escaped him as he reached out again, wrapping his arm around Maan's shoulders and pulling him closer. His voice softened, thick with regret and love.

"Sorry na, baccha..." he murmured, his hand rubbing Maan's shoulder, where he whacked him, in small, soothing circles. "Pakka dobara nahi karunga, pakka promise."

He kissed the side of Maan's head, his voice breaking as he continued, "Lekin please... ye sab mat bol. Tu jaanta hai na, meri jaan basti hai tum logon mein. Main soch bhi nahi sakta ye sab..."

His grip tightened around Maan as if sheer force could protect him from the darkness those words carried. "Ye sab dobara mat bolna, baccha... kabhi bhi nahi."

For a long moment they sat together like that and then the silence was broken when,

Maan's voice came out low, almost a whisper, but the fury in it was unmistakable. "Aapne use do lagaya kyu nahi, Bhaiya..."

Arnav froze, the question hitting him unexpectedly. He slowly broke the hug, pulling back enough to look at Maan's face. There was no trace of the trembling, tearful boy from moments ago...only raw, burning anger swimming in his eyes.

"Aur usse kya ho jaata?" Arnav asked quietly, his tone calm but firm, searching his brother's face.

Maan's jaw clenched, his fists curling on his knees. "Vo bakwaas kare ja rahi thi... aur aap bas sun rahe the, khade hoke!" His voice trembled, laced with the kind of protectiveness that came from love too deep to control. "Aapne pehli baar mein hi do lagaya hota na, Bhaiya... toh himmat nahi hoti usse dobara aise bolne ki."

Each word came out sharper, angrier, the fury in him no longer toward Arnav but toward the one who had hurt him through Arnav... Anvi.

Arnav watched him silently, his heart heavy. He understood that anger, that protective rage. Anvi's words had cut him too, deep enough to still sting but he also knew what Maan didn't, that pain could twist love into something cruel if left unchecked.

Arnav's voice softened again, quiet but steady. "Aur usse kya ho jaata..."

Maan frowned, opening his mouth to argue, but Arnav continued before he could speak. His tone wasn't defensive, just tired, laced with something achingly sad.

"Vo darr ke mujhse apne dil ki baat bhi bolna band kar deti," he said, his gaze dropping to the floor, fingers loosely interlocked. "At least... at least I know she finds me overbearing."

Maan's eyes widened, disbelief flashing across his face. He turned sharply toward Arnav. "Bhaiya, aap ye sab kya bol rahe ho?" he said, voice breaking with a mix of hurt and frustration. "She didn't mean it, Bhaiya... aap jaante ho vo kaisi hai. Zabaan pehle chalti hai, dimaag baad mein."

His words came out fast, desperate, as if he needed to protect them both from the weight of what had been said, from the distance that had begun to creep in between the people he loved most.

Arnav didn't say anything, then looked at him for a long moment, eyes tired, voice low but steady. "Maan... do you also find me overbearing baccha?"

He quickly said, before Maan could even open his mouth, "Please tell me baccha...I'll try to be better."

His words trembled...too fast, too anxious, as if he was scared silence would mean confirmation.

"Shyd mai apna darr kam karne ke liye tumlogo pe jyada hi rok tok karta hoon... I feel scared baccha... We have a lot of enemies. Though my identity is not revealed in front of media but people in the business industties know I am AJ and my family too... and they can take advantage of you all. I just fear Maan, that's why I always..."

His voice faltered....a crack slipping through. He was explaining too fast, tripping over his own words, desperate that Maan didn't start seeing him the same way Anvi did. He couldn't bear that thought. The idea of Maan or Anvi ever feeling suffocated because of him....it twisted something sharp in his chest.

As he continued to explain, Maan stopped him. Without saying anything first, he reached forward and squeezed Arnav's hand tight....grounding him.

"Bhaiya..." Maan's voice broke softly. "Aap overbearing ho hi nahi, yaar... na mere liye na Chutki ke liye..."

He looked straight into Arnav's eyes....his own glistening, his jaw trembling with held back emotion. "Usne gusse mai bakwass bol di bhaiya... I know you protect us, I know you care for us, that's why you stop us from doing recklessness... She really didn't mean that, bhaiya..."

His words came gentle but fierce...like he was defending both of them, Anvi and Arnav, trying to stitch back what anger had torn.

He tried to make Arnav believe him, even though he himself was still angry with Anvi. But Maan knew she loved Arnav too much to ever mean something like that. It was her reckless, stupid teenage rebellion that got the better of her, nothing more.

Whereas Arnav, deep down knew that too. But right now, the hurt overpowered everything else. It sat in his chest like a bruise that kept throbbing even when touched gently.

Maan kneeled in front of Arnav, the movement almost desperate, and gently took Arnav's hands in his own...firm, pleading, grounding. "Bhaiya... she really didn't mean that."

His voice trembled. It wasn't just a reassurance, it was a plea. Because watching Arnav look so broken, so convinced that Anvi actually found him overbearing... it clawed at something inside Maan. Anvi could be stupid, very stupid but she loved Arnav too fiercely to ever mean something like that. And the fact that Arnav believed her over Maan was making his chest painfully tight.

Maan leaned closer, trying to catch even a flicker of emotion on Arnav's face, "Bhaiya... she is stupid. Very stupid... you know that."

But Arnav's face remained blank, too blank. A kind of blankness that comes only from hurt so deep it numbs everything else.

So Maan tried again, voice going all tiny pleading and ridiculously earnest,

"Bhaiya... woh aapko kuch bhi bol sakti hai, sachchi. Hitler, Mogambo, khadoos panda, kabhi pookie bhaiya, kabhi my overdramatic main character, kabhi NPC with trust issues... kuch bhi. Literally kuch bhi."

He squeezed Arnav's hand tighter.

"Lekin overbearing? Nahi bhaiya. Woh aapko cent percent kuch bhi maan skti hai, par yeh ek word... yeh uske dil mein kabhi aapke liye tha hi nahi."

Still nothing. Arnav's eyes stayed lowered, dim, exhausted.

Maan swallowed hard and kept going, because giving up was not an option.
"Bhaiya she is impulsive, you know that... zaban pehle chalati hai, dimaag baad mai. Aur aap uski baat ko dil se mat lagaiye na... please."

The "please" cracked at the end. He hadn't even realised when tears had gathered in his own lashes.

And then, desperate to make Arnav believe him, Maan added quickly, "Bhaiya, just last week she told me I'm the worst brother anyone could have... kyunki maine uski chocolate kha li."

He huffed, waving his hands a little dramatically, trying to get Arnav to react, "Aur phir jab..." he stopped, but the words slipped out anyway, "Jab maine usko bunk karte pakad liya tha aur aapko nahi bataya... tab I suddenly became the best brother ever."

He gave Arnav a small, hopeful smile, almost like he was saying, see? she talks nonsense all the time

But of course, Arnav caught the one thing he shouldn't.

Arnav's head snapped up.

"She bunked her classes?"

His voice went sharp, controlled, but clearly annoyed.

Maan froze.

Shit.

He could practically hear the dramatic "dhum tanaaa" in the background.

He bit his tongue, mentally slapping himself, then sighed loudly and launched into pure dramatic mode,

"Maine itna lamba chaura bhashan diya... aur aapko bas woh bunk wali baat hi sunai di?"

He pouted, eyes wide with betrayed innocence, like Arnav had personally ruined his Oscar worthy monologue.

Arnav couldn't help it.

A short laugh escaped him as he leaned in and whacked Maan lightly on the head.

Maan gasped, clutching his head as if struck with divine thunder.

"Jaao, main nahi baat karta. Hamesha marte rehte ho..."

His pout grew bigger....dramatic, offended, ridiculously adorable.

Arnav's expression melted instantly.

He reached out and rubbed Maan's head gently, voice dipping into the softness only Abhimaan ever got from him.

"Are are, mera baccha..."

The moment Arnav's fingers brushed through Maan's hair, something shifted
a familiar warmth, a quiet reassurance, a bond stitched together long before either of them learned what heartbreak felt like.

A kind of love that didn't need words, didn't need explanations, just presence.

Abhimaan sniffed, leaning into the touch shamelessly before the seriousness returned to his eyes.

"Bhaiya sacchi... she didn't mean it."

He said it quietly, but the plea was unmistakable.

Arnav understood. Of course he did.

He wasn't stupid. Just... sore.

But rather than poke the wound that still stung like salt, Arnav shifted the topic abruptly, almost like someone dodging their own thoughts.

"Pehle ye bata... usse chot kaise lagi?
And Abhimaan....dare you lie for her again."

The tone wasn't loud, but it carried a danger Abhimaan recognised instantly.

He gulped.

"She got into a fight at college," he admitted.

Arnav's brow lifted, sharp.

"Why?"

"Vo mujhe nahi pata, bhaiya... maine pucha lekin usne bataya nahi."

Arnav let out a breath...long, heavy, like he was carrying not just stress but the weight entire world on his back.

"Chal, lunch kar lete hai... sab wait kar rahe honge."

Maan sprang up, almost trembling, and clung to him like he’d been holding his breath for years.

There was a raw desperation in that embrace, a silent plea, don’t let go, don’t let him slip back into that cold, unreachable shell.

"Aap… pakka aisa nahi karoge dobara?" His voice cracked against Arnav’s shoulder, trembling, fragile.

Arnav’s hand rose instinctively, rubbing slow, steady circles on Maan’s back. Soft. Grounding. Almost… fatherly.

"Kabhi nahi, baccha… I am really sorry."

The words hung heavy in the air.

Maan stiffened instantly, pulling back, brows furrowed into a storm. "Yaar… aap baar baar sorry mat bola karo!"

Because he hated it.

Hated it when Arnav apologized, hated the way it made him feel like forgiveness was something to be earned, like their bond was fragile and conditional. Hated how it twisted the inside of him, made the world tilt wrong, made him question where he stood in the person who had always been his anchor.

So he covered the weight with his own theatrics. Dramatic, over the top. Perfectly Maan.

"Jao… aap bhi kya yaad rakhoge, kitna bada dil hai mera… jao, maaf kiya."

Like a king pardoning a trembling subject. Ridiculous. Absurd. And yet… utterly Maan.

Arnav couldn’t help the soft chuckle that broke through the tension.

He thumped Maan lightly on the head. "Nautanki."

Maan gasped as if struck down, rubbing his head with the most offended pout, a child reborn in defiance, yet clinging to the warmth he refused to let go of.

Arnav shook his head, a faint smile softening the corners of his eyes, stress melting just slightly. He slipped an arm around Maan’s shoulders, pulling him close again, grounding, protecting.

Step by step, shoulder to shoulder, warmth pressing against warmth, they moved together toward the door.

And as they walked into the hall, the world outside the door remained messy, fractured but in that small, silent shared space, the house, for the first time after the storm, felt whole again.

___________________________________________

Thanks for reading, guys! 💛

I have a few questions for you all:

1. How was the chapter overall?

2. Which scene hit you the hardest or became your favourite?

3. What do you feel about Maan and Arnav’s bond right now?

4. Do you think Maan was right for playing “lawyer” for Anvi?

5. Honestly… do you believe Arnav will ever forgive Anvi?

6. And even if he forgives her, do you think he’ll ever forget this?

7. How did you like Aarush and Anvi’s bond, especially how he clung to her and refused to leave her side?

8. What did you think of the Arnav–Avyuktha scene, with her quietly staying beside him just like Aarush stayed with Anvi?

9. Any scene requests for the upcoming chapters?

10. And tell me… whose bond stole your heart this time?

Also…
please buy some tissue boxes 😂🤚
The next chapter is going to make you absolutely bawl your eyes out.
I cried while writing it, so brace yourselves for a full emotional rollercoaster.

Complete the targets quickly so I can drop the next chapter! 💛✨