Chapter: The Day He Called Himself A Curse

Arnav finally sank into the sofa, the weight of the last hour settling in his bones as Abhimanyu quietly worked the tension out of his shoulders and legs. It should've hurt, but under Abhimanyu's firm, familiar touch, it felt almost like being stitched back together. Every now and then, Arnav would poke him, just lightly earning a sharp glare, a muttered "shant baitho," and another wave of pampering that made warmth bloom in his chest.

His gaze slipped past Abhimanyu to where Maan sat curled into himself, eyes distant, lost somewhere Arnav couldn't reach.

Beside him, Aarush lay sprawled on Avyuktha's lap, his tiny hands moving animatedly as he narrated something only he understood. Avyuktha listened with a soft, broken smile, her fingers threading gently through his hair, soothing him... maybe soothing herself too.

The sight tugged at Arnav, reminding him of the quiet confession she'd made, the guilt she carried like a shadow. And as he looked back at Abhimanyu, at the man who had held him together too many times to count, a memory stirred, one he rarely touched, one that changed everything for him. Painful. Beautiful. The moment his life quietly shifted forever.

FLASHBACK

The house hadn't laughed in weeks.

Since their mother's death, the Jaisingh mansion had turned into a museum of memories, every wall echoing with silence, every room smelling faintly of loss.

Arnav tried to keep it together. He had to. With their father gone most nights in meetings and parties, someone had to make sure Anvi's hair was tied before school, that Maan's uniform wasn't wrinkled, that the house didn't crumble under its own grief.

So he became the pillar, the one who couldn't break.

He thought if he kept moving, maybe the ache in his chest would dull.

But the truth is, grief doesn't leave quietly. It hides, waits, and then strikes when you're too tired to fight back.

It began with whispers.

At first, people said it to comfort him, "You were her favourite, Arnav."
But someone, somewhere, had once muttered, "Strange how misfortune follows him... first his father never really cared and now his mother....."

And the words rooted themselves in him like poison.

A bad omen.

He began to see it everywhere...in his father's cold eyes, in the empty chair at breakfast, in the way Anvi and Maan cried for her mother at night.

Still, he didn't stop trying.

Then came the day everything inside him quietly cracked.

It was a Thursday. His first week of college. A fresher's event had run late, and by the time he came home, the sun had already set.

Maan and Anvi were in their room watching some indian tv serial drama.

Arnav asked if they'd eaten.
Maan had shrugged. "yeah."

He didn't think much of it. The maids didn't question either. The house moved on like always.

But the next morning, Maan didn't wake up. His little body was burning with fever, face pale, lips dry.

Arnav panicked. His fingers trembled as he called the doctor. Abhimanyu was in college, their father was out of town. For a few long minutes, it was just him, kneeling beside his brother, whispering "wake up, Maan, please wake up."

When the doctor arrived, his words sliced through him like a knife.

"He hasn't eaten properly in at least two days. His body's exhausted."

Two days.
Maan hadn't eaten breakfast. Nor lunch. Nor dinner.

And he hadn't noticed.

I should've seen it. I should've asked again. I should've been there.
The same thought repeated till it felt like truth.

That was the moment it rooted itself in him, the belief that everyone who stayed with him got hurt. That maybe, just maybe, he really was a bad omen.

The days passed in heaviness, Weeks later, it all came undone.

He was walking past Maan and Anvi's room, carrying a tray of fruits because he'd started obsessively checking if they'd eaten. The house was dim, the air heavy with rain.

Inside, he heard them laughing at something on TV. He heard Anvi's and Maan's voice

"Acha hota agar vo bhi chale jaate... I hate him! Gazab manhoos aadmi hai yaar vo!"

"Haa tu shi keh rhi hai Chutki, i hate him too"

He froze at the door.

His heart stuttered. His mind, already primed for self blame, twisted the words instantly. He didn't hear the television. He only heard his siblings. And that was enough.

His chest went tight, breath shallow. The tray slipped from his hands, fruits rolling across the floor as he turned and ran.

Outside, the rain had just begun to fall, thin and cold. He didn't know where he was running to. He only knew he had to get away. From the house. From those words. From himself.

At the gate, he collided with someone. Strong hands steadied him.

"Arni?"

Abhimanyu.

He came to meet Arnav, helmet in one hand, bike keys in the other.

Arnav looked up, eyes wild, face pale.
"Arni, kya hua? Aise kaha bhaage jaa raha hai?"

But Arnav's gaze had already fallen on the keys. His hands moved before his mind did.

He snatched them.

"Arnav!" Abhimanyu called out, startled, but the roar of the engine swallowed his voice. The bike sped off, disappearing into the misty road ahead.

For a second, Abhimanyu just stood frozen, rain soaking through his shirt. And then instinct kicked in.

He threw the helmet aside, jumped into the next car he got at the mansion, and tore down the road.

The cliff road twisted upward through the forest, the night wind howling like it carried secrets. Abhimanyu's heart pounded louder than the thunder.

He could see the faint beam of the bike's headlight flickering near the top, dangerously close to the edge.

And then he saw him.

Arnav stood there, drenched, trembling, the bike lying behind him, half in mud. His shirt clung to his skin, his hair plastered to his forehead. The rain hit hard, but he didn't move, just stared out into the endless darkness ahead, the ocean roaring below.

Abhimanyu slammed the car door shut, voice cutting through the wind.

"Arnav!"

The name echoed against the cliffs...sharp, desperate, terrified.

And for a long, awful second, Arnav didn't even turn around lost in his own thoughts.

Then again,

A sharp, fear laced voice cut through the roar of the wind.

"Arnav!"

He turned slightly, eyes wide and hollow, to see Abhimanyu standing a few meters away. The cliff was slippery, unsafe, every inch of ground beneath Arnav seemed ready to crumble.

"Mannu... tu yaha kya kar raha hai?" Arnav's voice trembled, his throat raw. "Jaa yaha se... tujhe chot lag jaayegi... jaa yaha se..."

Abhimanyu's heart clenched at the sight...his Arni, his steady, responsible Arni, standing on the edge of death. His voice hardened instantly, anger fuelled by fear.

"Pagal ho gaya hai? Tu waha kya kar raha hai?" he shouted, taking a cautious step forward. "Arnav, come here right now!"

But Arnav's voice dropped into a broken whisper. "Mai nahi aayunga, Mannu... tu please jaa yaha se... please leave me alone..."

That plea, so quiet, so full of despair, punched through Abhimanyu's chest. He softened immediately, his voice trembling now.

"Arni... please idhar aa jaa... please Arni... kya hua hai mujhe bata na... kyu aise kar raha hai... please Arni, aaja..."
He moved forward bit by bit, voice low, coaxing him like one would a frightened child.

Arnav shook his head violently. "Mannu jaa yaha se... yaha safe nahi hai, Mannu, please jaa! Tujhe bhi meri wajah se lag jaayegi... Mannu please jaa..."
His voice cracked at the end, desperation bleeding into every word. His fear wasn't of falling but of causing harm again. The belief that he was a curse, a bad omen, had consumed him whole.

Abhimanyu's chest tightened, but he kept moving slowly, step by step. "Arni, kya bol raha hai baccha... kya hua hai? Tu please aa idhar, Arni... barish ho rahi hai, phisal jayega... please baccha, idhar aa..."

Abhimanyu's voice grew gentler, even as the rain fell heavier. But Arnav only shook his head harder, tears streaming down his face, his chest heaving.
"Mannu please... jaa yaha se, Mannu please..." he sobbed, over and over, unable to say why, unable to confess the dark belief gnawing his soul.

And then Abhimanyu moved one step closer. Arnav saw his hand stretch toward him instinctively, and panic shot through him. He stepped back, one wrong step.

The earth gave way beneath him.

Arnav's scream tore through the rain, but before he could vanish into the darkness below, a pair of strong arms caught him...Abhimanyu's hands grabbing his wrist, yanking him up with all his strength. Both of them crashed onto the muddy ground, rolling away from the edge.

For a moment, neither spoke. Only the sound of their ragged breaths and the pounding rain filled the air.

Then Abhimanyu pulled Arnav into a crushing embrace, his whole body trembling.

He hugged him as if anchoring both their souls back into reality because for a moment, he had truly thought he'd lost him.

But Arnav shoved him away violently, his chest rising and falling in rage and heartbreak. "Kyu bachaya mujhe! Girne deta mujhe! Kyu bachaya!" he screamed, voice hoarse, raw with anguish.

Abhimanyu froze. The world around him blurred for a second....Had Arnav really wanted to fall? To die?

Arnav's eyes burned red, his jaw trembling. "Kyu bachaya mujhe..." he whispered again, like a curse.

Something in Abhimanyu snapped. His shock twisted into fury he lunged forward and slapped Arnav, hard, across the face. The sound echoed against the mountains.

"Kya bakwaas kar raha hai tu! Main girne deta tujhe, haan?"

Another slap, harder this time.

"Kya bakwaas kar raha hai!"

Arnav stumbled from the force but still glared back, voice shaking. "Haan! Chhod deta mujhe! Kisne bola tujhe yaha aane ko? Marne deta mujhe!"

Abhimanyu's eyes flashed with disbelief and anger. He grabbed Arnav by the collar, shouting back "Pagal ho gaya hai tu, haan!" He slapped him again, the crack of it cutting through the storm.

Arnav fell to the ground from the impact, mud splashing around him. Abhimanyu grabbed his collar again, pulling him up roughly. "Ghar chal!" he growled.

He took a step to drag him back, but when he turned, Arnav stood frozen, refusing to move. His face was pale, his eyes dull.

Abhimanyu turned back, jaw tight, breathing hard. "Arni..." his voice lowered now, trembling between fury and fear, "Kya hua hai, bata na baccha... hum log milke solve kar lenge... tu aise kyu bol raha hai? Chal na baccha... ghar pe aaram se baat karenge..."

But Arnav snapped again, screaming through his tears "Tu jaa na! Tu kyu aaya hai yaha pe! Mai nahi aaunga! Bas, baat khatam! Tu jaa yaha se!"

The rain pounded down in relentless sheets, washing over the cliff, over them, over the chaos that had erupted between them. Abhimanyu's steps were heavy, deliberate, dangerous, and every motion screamed of his fury.

Arnav's heart hammered in his chest so hard he thought it would burst. He looked at Abhimanyu, and fear tore through him like fire. The fury in those dark, sharp eyes was something he had never truly seen before and in that instant, he knew he had crossed the thin line of patience that Abhimanyu had been holding. Now... now he was doomed.

Yet, the harsh, taunting voices from before returned to his mind, whispering venomous truths that strengthened his resolve. He had to stand his ground. He couldn't go back. Not now. Not ever.

Abhimanyu stepped closer, each movement predatory, and in a voice low and dangerous, he said, "Arnav Jaisingh, you are in a lot of trouble right now... so don't add more to your list. Come with me. Right now."

He grabbed Arnav's wrist, firm, commanding but Arnav jerked it away, shaking his head frantically, unable to utter a single word. Fear made his chest tighten, made his limbs tremble. He couldn't move, couldn't speak... but the shaking of his head said it all.

Abhimanyu's fury surged, raw and untamed. His eyes blazed, sharp as a lion about to strike. The air around him seemed to crackle. His voice, low and dangerous, rasped through the rain, "Arnav... chalo."

Arnav stumbled back a step, words choked and trembling: "Mai... nahi chalunga."

That was it. That was the last thread of patience holding Abhimanyu together. He lashed out in a motion that was equal parts desperation, fear, and anger. His hand connected with Arnav, sending him sprawling to the wet ground. The cold mud soaked through his clothes, but he didn't care, the shock of the action rooted him in terror.

Abhimanyu yanked him up immediately, gripping him fiercely, dragging him forward. But Arnav resisted, twisting free, stumbling back, screaming:
"Mai nahi jaunga! Why can't you fucking understand that!?"

His voice cracked, rage mixing with panic. "And who the fuck are you to tell me what to do and what not to do? You are no one to me! So just mind your fucking business and LEAVE ME ALONE!"

He took a step back, shaking, chest heaving. Abhimanyu's jaw clenched; the fury that had been simmering boiled over. He stepped forward again, low and dangerous: "Nahi chalega."

Arnav shook his head violently. "N... Nhi..."

Abhimanyu's hand closed around a thin, worn cane lying nearby...a brittle, tried twig of a thing and raised it. The first snap of it through the air sent a shiver down Arnav's spine. The cane came down near his legs, close enough that he flinched violently, hopping back, crying out in shock.

"Nhi chalega!" Abhimanyu barked, voice trembling with rage. Another swing, another snap of cane in the storm's chorus. Arnav jumped back again, rubbing at his legs, the tension and fear making him feel every sound as a sting.

He whimpered, small and broken: "Mannu... lag rahi hai, Mannu..."

Abhimanyu's fury was fully unleashed now. Every motion sharper, heavier, unrestrained. He swung the cane again and again, the sounds echoing like punishment across the wet earth. Arnav tried to escape, crying, jumping, clutching his legs, sobbing bitterly but Abhimanyu did not stop. The storm outside was nothing compared to the storm between them.

The cane finally cracked, splintering under the pressure of his fury. Arnav fell to the wet ground, trembling, rubbing at his legs, tears mingling with the rain, gasping and sobbing.

Abhimanyu stood over him for a heartbeat, chest heaving, eyes wild...fury, fear, desperation all tangled together. His gaze didn't soften, his body trembled with every heartbeat, not with relent, but with raw, dangerous energy.

Then, without a word, he grabbed Arnav by the collar, yanked him up, and held him firmly by the back of the neck. Arnav struggled weakly, but the strength and weight of Abhimanyu's determination overpowered him.

He dragged him across the slick ground, every step soaked in rain and tension, until the car came into view. He yanked the door open and shoved Arnav inside, pushing him down onto the passenger seat. The door slammed shut, rain dripping off its edges, echoing in the tense silence.

Abhimanyu moved around the car, got into the driver's seat, hands still shaking, breath ragged. The engine roared to life, and as the tires gripped the wet asphalt, he drove off.

Both of them were soaked, shivering, hearts hammering...one with rage barely restrained, the other with terror barely contained. The storm outside was nothing compared to the storm inside that car.

The car cut through the rain-soaked roads in tense silence, but the silence was shattered by the sound of Arnav's sobbing...low, broken, relentless. Each hiccup, each sniff, each quivering gasp filled the small space between them. He rubbed at his legs constantly, trying to calm the sting that seemed to linger long after the cane had splintered, shivering with cold, fear, and shame all at once.

Abhimanyu's hands gripped the steering wheel so tightly that his knuckles whitened, veins standing out along his forearms. His jaw was clenched, teeth grinding, eyes dark and stormy, but he didn't speak. Every instinct screamed at him...protect, calm, console, yet the raw fury that had overtaken him moments ago refused to let him release it.

A pang of sadness stabbed at his chest every time he glanced at Arnav, the boy's small, trembling frame, the tears streaking down his face, the shaking hands desperately trying to soothe himself. But the anger, the fear, the frustration of the moment, still roared louder than reason.

Arnav's sobs grew louder with every passing mile, each one a painful reminder of everything that had happened on the cliff. His shoulders shook violently, his body trembling from more than just the cold from guilt, from fear, from the lingering echo of the cane, from the weight of being "a bad omen" he so desperately believed he was.

Abhimanyu didn't say a word. The storm outside the car mirrored the storm inside him both raging, relentless, impossible to calm. And all the while, the small, fragile sound of Arnav's crying filled the car, each sob a sharp note that made the drive from the cliff to the Jaisingh mansion feel like an eternity.

Neither moved. Neither spoke. The rain streaked past the windows, the wipers scraping in slow rhythm, and in that small, tense space, all that existed was the boy trembling beside him and the man burning with a fury he couldn't yet release.

The car came to a halt outside the Jaisingh mansion. Rain still streaked the windows, but inside, the world had gone eerily quiet. Abhimanyu and Arnav sat there for a moment, letting the silence settle over them like a fragile truce. Then Abhimanyu got out, opened Arnav's door, and gently grabbed his wrist, giving him the small support he needed to step out into the dimly lit hallway.

Inside, the house was calm. Maan and Anvi were asleep in their rooms, and Viren was not home. Abhimanyu guided Arnav to his room, the weight of unspoken words pressing heavily on both of them. He knew they needed to talk, he had to know what was going on in Arnav's mind, though the storm of anger and guilt still raged inside him. Anger at Arnav for putting himself in danger, fury at himself for losing control, and shame at having punished his younger brother so harshly.

Arnav sat on the side of his bed, freshly changed, hands rubbing his legs in a futile attempt to soothe the lingering sting. Silent sobs escaped his lips, trembling, broken. The dim light cast long shadows over his small, hunched form, and Abhimanyu felt a sharp pang of guilt pierce through him.

He approached quietly, each step measured. When he reached Arnav, he didn't speak. He simply reached out and pulled him close, holding him in a hug that was as intense as the storm that had raged both outside and inside their hearts. The hug was desperate, raw...a collision of fear, pain, relief, and love. For a long moment, the world shrank down to nothing but the two of them, clinging to each other as if that could hold back the darkness.

When they finally broke the embrace, Abhimanyu quietly retrieved a soothing cream from his pocket. He knelt beside Arnav, applying it gently to his legs, hands careful but firm. He felt every flinch, every quiet whimper as though the pain were his own. Arnav's burning, visible pain mirrored Abhimanyu's own invisible ache...the guilt, the shame, the heartbreak of having let anger rule him.

After tending to Arnav's legs, Abhimanyu sat beside him and drew him close again. Arnav, exhausted, let himself be pulled into Abhimanyu's warmth, resting his head against the his chest. One hand wrapped securely around Arnav, Abhimanyu caressed the top of his head, brushing his fingers through damp hair, pressing a soft kiss to his forehead.

"Sorry, baccha... really sorry," Abhimanyu whispered, his voice thick with guilt, heavy with remorse. Every syllable trembled with the weight of his regret...for punishing the boy who was not his brother by blood but by heart, for letting anger take control, for almost losing him.

Arnav went completely limp in his arms, drawn to the safety, warmth, and steady heartbeat that anchored him. Silence fell between them, broken only by the occasional quiet sigh or hiccup, but it was a silence that spoke louder than words ever could...of trust rebuilt, of pain shared, and of love that had survived the storm.

They sat like that, holding each other, letting the tremors of fear, fury, guilt, and relief settle into something fragile but real. In that small, dimly lit room, the world outside...the rain, the storm, the chaos...ceased to exist. All that remained was the quiet, desperate bond between them.

Arnav nestled closer against Abhimanyu's chest, shivering slightly, rain still dripping from his soaked hair. Abhimanyu's hand moved gently over his hair, drawing soft, grounding circles, trying to anchor him, trying to soothe the storm raging inside him.

His voice was low, almost a whisper, yet trembling with a desperate need to know: "Arni... kya hua hai, baccha... mujhe nahi batayega?"

The plea hung in the air, fragile and aching. Abhimanyu's heart clenched, each beat pounding with anxiety. After Sudha's death, Arnav had buried himself in work, hiding from grief, collapsing under it silently, and now... now this. This reckless cliff, this fear, this guilt...it made Abhimanyu's chest tighten with dread. He had promised Sudha, on her deathbed, that he would keep Arnav safe, that he would take care of him. But right now... he felt that promise shatter.

Arnav stiffened at Abhimanyu's voice, his chest tightening even more. The old, relentless thought spiraled inside him again: I am a bad omen. Everything bad happens around me. His small hands pushed against Abhimanyu's chest, and he broke free from the hug. Trembling, his voice barely more than a whisper, he said: "Mannu... tu jaa... yaha se."

Abhimanyu's frown deepened. He rose slowly, eyes searching, voice trembling with concern: "Arni... kyu aisa kr raha hai? Bata na... kya hua hai, baccha?"

Arnav stepped back, shaking his head violently, his voice breaking under the unbearable weight of his guilt. "Nhi, Mannu... please... door reh mujhse..." His sobs choked him, small and desperate. "Please... door reh, Mannu... I... I am a bad omen... tu mere pass aayega toh tujhe bhi dukh hi hoga... please, Mannu... door reh na."

The words landed like daggers in Abhimanyu's chest. He froze, eyes wide, heart constricting painfully at the confession. His mind couldn't process the sheer terror and pain spilling from Arnav. The boy he loved, the one he had promised to protect... calling himself a curse, pleading for Abhimanyu to stay away.

Instinct took over. Without thinking, he lunged forward, wrapping his arms around Arnav, holding him tight. Arnav struggled, small fists pressing against his chest, trembling violently, trying to push him away, to keep the "bad omen" from touching Mannu. But Abhimanyu didn't loosen. He held him closer, wrapping himself around the boy as if anchoring both of them to the world.

The weight of everything...fear, guilt, sorrow, and the fragile threads of Arnav's heart, pressed down on him. Arnav's sobs tore through the room, sharp, bitter, uncontrolled. Each word came out broken, each sob a fragment of a lifetime of bottled pain.

Abhimanyu's shirt quickly soaked in tears, a dark patch blooming across his chest, but he didn't care. He didn't move. He just held him. Rocked him gently, despite the storm of his own heart, despite the anger and guilt that still burned inside him. He let the boy cry, cry for Sudha, cry for the fear that had haunted him since childhood, cry for the sick day when Maan hadn't eaten, cry for Viren's absence, cry for every shadow of guilt and despair he had held inside.

Arnav's body shook violently in his arms, sobs breaking into raw, primal cries, wracking him from the inside out. He clawed at Abhimanyu's shirt, pressing his face into the warmth that was safe, that was steady, that was real. "I'm... I'm... a bad... a bad... a bad omen..." he choked out, tears blinding him. "I... I... I hurt everyone... everyone... I... I...Soon everyone will leave me"

Abhimanyu held him tighter, pressing kisses into the top of his head, running his hands through wet hair, murmuring softly: "Shh... shh... it's not true... it's not real... it's not you... I'm here, Arni... I'm not going anywhere... you're not alone... you're not cursed... you're not... bad..."

And slowly, gradually, the sobs that had seemed endless began to weaken, falter, hiccuping into small, bitter tremors. Arnav clung desperately, drawing warmth, drawing breath, letting himself be held, letting someone else carry the weight for a moment.

The room was silent except for their breaths, the quiet rain outside, and the occasional soft whimper from Arnav. But within that silence lay a truth both painful and beautiful: Arnav was breaking, but not alone. And Abhimanyu, despite his fury, his guilt, his fear, would not let him fall apart.

They sat like that, pressed together, the storm inside them beginning to quiet...if only slightly...held in each other's arms, trembling, crying, yet surviving together in the small, fragile sanctuary of that dimly lit room.

Arnav's sobs had quieted now...the violent, wracking cries had ebbed into small hiccups, soft and uneven. His body still trembled, pressed close to Abhimanyu's chest, his fingers clutching the fabric of his shirt as if it were the only thing keeping him tethered to this world.

Abhimanyu's heart twisted painfully at the sight. Every shiver, every broken breath tore through him, but he didn't stop Arnav. He knew, Arni needed to cry. Needed to break open. To finally let go of all the poison he had kept buried inside since Sudha's death. So he just sat there, one hand stroking Arnav's hair in slow, grounding circles, the other holding him firmly in place, silently promising that he was there, no matter what.

After a while, the sobbing slowed to little hiccups. Arnav's breathing evened slightly, his eyes red and glassy, his lashes still wet. Abhimanyu, seeing the exhaustion take over him, loosened his hold and shifted.

He started to get up but before he could move an inch, he felt a weak tug at his sleeve.

Arnav's fingers clutched the fabric tightly, trembling. His voice, when it came, was fragile and broken, like a scared child's whisper. "Mat ja... Mannu..." he said, his lips quivering. "I'm... I'm sorry..."

The words fell heavy between them, soaked in guilt and fear. His eyes darted up, wide and glistening, the kind of look that begged silently not to be abandoned again. The fear that Abhimanyu might leave, like everyone else, flashed raw in his gaze. His heart was terrified, terrified that the same man who had held him so tightly a moment ago might now walk away.

Abhimanyu froze for a heartbeat, his throat constricting. Then he crouched back down in front of Arnav and cupped his tear-streaked face gently, wiping the remnants of tears away with his thumb. He leaned forward and pressed a soft, lingering kiss to Arnav's forehead, one that spoke of reassurance more than words ever could.

"Mai nahi ja raha, baccha," he murmured, his voice low and full of quiet emotion. "Mai kabhi nahi jaunga. Rukk thoda, paani pi le bas. Vahi lene jaa raha hoon."

He kissed Arnav's forehead once more, a feather light promise and finally reached for the jug on the nearby table. Pouring the water carefully, he sat back down beside him.

Arnav didn't move until Abhimanyu guided the glass to his lips. His hands trembled slightly as he drank, small sips, obediently, like a child trusting his caretaker's steady hand. When he was done, Abhimanyu set the glass aside and Arnav, without hesitation, leaned forward again, pressing his forehead to Abhimanyu's chest, clutching his shirt tightly in both fists.

Abhimanyu wrapped an arm around him instantly, holding him close once more, his chin resting lightly on Arnav's head. The boy's shivering had dulled now; the tears had dried, leaving behind exhaustion and somewhere deep within that exhaustion, the faintest spark of peace.

For the first time in what felt like forever, Arnav let himself simply breathe, held, safe, and no longer alone.

Abhimanyu kept tracing slow, soothing circles on Arnav's back, the kind that anchored him when words weren't enough. Every now and then, he'd press a gentle kiss to the crown of Arnav's head, murmuring quiet nothings, just the steady rhythm of comfort. His fingers brushed through Arnav's hair, calming the faint tremors still lingering in his shoulders.

Arnav, too, seemed to melt with every touch. His body, once tense and trembling, slowly loosened in Abhimanyu's arms. He buried his face against Abhimanyu's chest, the steady heartbeat beneath his ear grounding him in a way nothing else could. It was the one sound that never lied to him...solid, unwavering, alive. His Mannu was still here.

After a while, Abhimanyu glanced toward the clock. His jaw tightened slightly. Just a few days ago, Arnav had fallen sick because he'd skipped meals. He wasn't going to let that happen again, not when Arnav was already so drained.

Still holding him close, Abhimanyu called out softly for the maid to bring dinner. Arnav barely stirred, too spent to question, too lost in the quiet warmth of being held again.

When the tray arrived, Abhimanyu took it from her himself, careful not to disturb Arnav. The room was silent except for the faint clinking of dishes. Setting it down beside them, he whispered, "Bas thoda kha le, baccha. Please."

Arnav didn't protest. He only shifted slightly, his cheek still pressed to Abhimanyu's chest, eyes half-lidded. Abhimanyu picked up a morsel and gently brought it to Arnav's lips, feeding him patiently, bite by bite. Arnav obeyed like a child...quiet, trusting, each mouthful followed by a soft breath against Abhimanyu's shirt.

Through it all, Arnav never pulled away from him. Even while eating, his fingers stayed curled in the fabric of Abhimanyu's kurta, as if afraid that letting go would break the fragile peace he had found. Abhimanyu didn't move either, one arm still around Arnav, the other holding the plate steady, feeding him with unhurried tenderness.

When the plate was empty, he set it aside carefully and shifted just enough to draw Arnav back fully into his arms. The younger boy let out a small sigh, one of pure exhaustion and nestled back into the same spot, head tucked beneath Abhimanyu's chin.

Abhimanyu wrapped both arms around him again, resting his cheek atop Arnav's hair. His hand moved rhythmically up and down his back, the same slow, reassuring motion that had calmed him since childhood.

The silence stretched...soft, sacred. Soon, Arnav's breathing grew steady, his grip slackened just slightly as sleep took over. Even in slumber, his fingers remained caught in Abhimanyu's shirt, as if his body refused to risk being alone again.

Abhimanyu looked down at him, his chest heavy yet peaceful. He brushed one last kiss to Arnav's forehead, his whisper barely audible "Ab sab theek hai, baccha... mai yahi hoon."

He didn't move for a long time. The room dimmed, the world outside quieted, and in that cocoon of silence, both of them slowly drifted to sleep, one seeking safety, the other silently vowing to protect it.

Even in their dreams, their bodies mirrored the same truth, Arnav clinging softly to Abhimanyu's shirt, and Abhimanyu's arm wrapped protectively around him, firm and unyielding...
like a promise that no storm, no night, and no past could ever break again.

...
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Thank you for reading, lovelies! 💛

As always, your thoughts mean the world to me.
Answer these questions so I can know how the chapter felt to you..

1. What was the most heart breaking moment in this chapter for you?

2. Did Arnav's "I am a bad omen" line break you as much as it broke me? 😭

3. Whose pain hit you harder...Arnav's or Abhimanyu's? And why?

4. At which moment did you actually stop breathing for a second? Be honest.

5. What do you feel for Arnav after this flashback? Do you see him differently now?

6. Do you think Abhimanyu overreacted, or was his anger justified?

7. If you were in Mannu's place, how would you have reacted?

8. Do you think this flashback changed your understanding of their bond? How?

9. Choose one:
•Arnav was emotionally shattered
•Abhimanyu was terrified and desperate
• Both were breaking inside
Who do you think suffered more here?

10. What do you want to see next between Arnav and Abhimanyu after this storm?

11. Rate Abhimanyu's protectiveness from 1-10.

12. One word for Arnav in this chapter.

13. One word for Abhimanyu.

14. Did this flashback make you cry? Yes/No (be honest 😭)

Comment fast-fast and finish my target jaldi se, so I can drop the next update even quicker! Your comments = my superpower ✨