Chapter: Aarush's Outburst

The hall of the Jaisingh mansion felt unusually heavy, the silence pressing down on Maan like a tightening rope. His thoughts were spiraling, memories he never wanted to revisit clawing their way back...until a soft, hesitant tug pulled him out of the fog.

He looked down.

Aarush stood there, tiny fingers curled into the fabric of Maan’s sleeve, eyes wide, watery, and too innocent for the kind of worry trembling in his voice.

“Bhaiya... aap ro rahe ho?”

The question struck harder than Maan expected.
He raised a hand to his cheek, surprised to find it wet. He quickly wiped the tears away, trying to pull himself together, even though the cracking inside him didn’t stop.

“Mai... bhaiya nahi hoon... tumhara...”

He didn’t get to finish.

Because the moment those words slipped out, Avyuktha jolted upright from the sofa, as if someone had pulled a trigger inside her mind. Her movements were sharp, too sharp for a twelve-year-old. She grabbed Aarush and pulled him behind her in a single panicked swoop.

“Sorry…”

Her voice trembled. Her hands did too.
She wasn’t being disrespectful.
She was being defensive.
Instinctively. Terrifyingly.

Maan’s heart dropped.

He stood up immediately, worry flooding him, and reached out to bring Aarush forward.

But the moment he touched Aarush’s arm

Both siblings reacted like cornered animals.

Aarush’s breath hitched, panic twisting his face, and before Maan could even process it

The little boy bit him.

A sharp, instinctive, terrified bite.

“Aah”

Maan hissed, more startled than hurt, pulling his hand back.

Avyuktha instantly pushed him away, small palms, trembling force, then spun to face Aarush, dropping to her knees like she’d done this a hundred times.

“Aaru tu room mai jaa…”

Aarush shook his head fiercely, tears brimming.

“Aarush room mai ja baccha please… jaldi.”

Still no movement.

Her voice snapped...not loud, just firm in a way no twelve-year-old should ever have learned to sound.

“Aarush jaa…”

Aarush froze for half a second, then ran, his small form disappearing down the hallway, the sound of his tiny feet echoing through the mansion.

The moment he vanished, the hall went still.

Arnav’s head jerked up at the sound of Maan’s pained hiss. He pushed Abhimanyu’s hands away mid massage and hurried toward them.

Abhimanyu followed instantly, tension swirling in the air around him.

Avyuktha stood alone now, a tiny island in the middle of the silent hallway. Her small hands were clenched so tightly that her knuckles had gone pale, the tension in her shoulders giving away how hard she was fighting not to fall apart. Her wide, frightened eyes shimmered with tears that trembled stubbornly at the edge, refusing to fall, as if she still hoped someone, anyone, would tell her she wasn’t in trouble, that she wasn’t alone. Her lips pressed into a thin quivering line, chest rising and falling too fast, the heaviness of the moment sitting on her little frame like a weight far too big for someone her age.
Her entire body screamed one thing
She was waiting to be hit.

Arnav immediately reached out and caught Maan by the arm, steadying him when he stumbled backward from the unexpected push. None of them had imagined Avyuktha’s tiny hands could make him lose balance like that. Confusion clouded Arnav’s face as he scanned the room, his gaze landing on the little girl standing all alone in the middle of the hallway, her shoulders drawn tight and her eyes wide with a fear that didn’t belong on a child’s face.

“Kya hua yaha…” Arnav asked, his voice soft but edged with concern.

Avyuktha didn’t answer.

She looked frozen in place....hands pressed together, spine stiff, standing as if she were a little soldier bracing herself for punishment. And that image alone made Maan’s brows knit together in a deep frown.

He took a step toward her. “Aarush kaha hai?”

The question broke something in her.

The panic hit instantly...sharp, unfiltered, overwhelming. Her breath stuttered, and the words tumbled out of her mouth so quickly that they tripped over each other.

“Sir… please… baccha hai… galti ho gyi… usse jaane dijiye… aap mujhe maar lijiye… please usse jaane dijiye…”

Her voice cracked, and the fear spilled over...real tears running in messy trails down her cheeks. Her whole body shook, trembling so hard it felt like something inside her was collapsing. Arnav felt something twist painfully in his chest, and Abhimanyu’s posture stiffened with a disturbance he couldn’t hide.

This wasn’t the fear of getting scolded.
This wasn’t guilt. This was something learned… something lived.

Maan took slow, measured steps toward her, as if approaching a frightened animal that might shrink away or break altogether. He lifted his hand with the gentlest intention, trying to cup her face.

But the moment his fingers neared her cheek...she flinched.

Not lightly.
Not out of surprise.

It was a violent, instinctive recoil, the kind a child develops only when they’ve been trained to expect a blow.

The air left everyone’s lungs at once.

Maan’s heart dropped. Arnav’s jaw hardened. Abhimanyu’s expression darkened with a silent fury at whatever ghost had done this to her. The hallway fell into a heavy silence, thick with a kind of pain none of them had anticipated.

But Maan didn’t move away.

Instead, he slowly lowered himself to his knees in front of her, making himself smaller, softer, less frightening. His hands hovered before settling lightly on her trembling shoulders, grounding her just enough to let her feel warmth instead of danger.

“Avu…” he whispered, his voice unsteady with emotion, “aise kyun bol rhi hai baccha? Mai tum dono ko kyun maarunga?”

She kept her gaze fixed on the floor, her lashes wet, her lips trembling as she braced for a hit that wasn’t coming. And that broke Maan in a way he couldn’t conceal.

He leaned forward and wrapped his arms around her carefully...one arm circling her back with a firm, protective warmth, the other sliding up to cradle the back of her head. His fingers threaded through her hair slowly, soothingly, while the palm on her back rubbed gentle circles, as if trying to erase every memory that had taught her to fear a raised hand.

At first, her body turned rigid...muscles locked, breath held. But Maan held her with patience, with steady warmth, with silent reassurance.

Gradually, her small frame softened.
Her arms lifted weakly and rested against his chest. Her breathing steadied.
Her shaking dulled to tiny tremors.

Only when she had calmed did Maan pull back, lifting her tear streaked face in his palms. He wiped her cheeks with his thumbs, every touch careful, as if she might shatter if handled too roughly.

“Tu darr kyun rhi hai baccha… Mai kuch nahi karunga,” he murmured, voice thick with worry. “Bata, kya hua?”

Avyuktha sniffled, and her voice came out so small it barely carried.

“Mujhe laga… aap gussa ho gaye… Aaru ne aapko bhaiya bulaya…”

Suddenly, it all made sense.

The push.
The bite.
The desperate pleading.
The flinch.

Maan’s words earlier, shaken and broken by emotion, must have sounded harsh. To children already carrying old scars, it must have felt like anger. Like rejection.

Maan exhaled shakily, a soft, emotional smile pulling at his lips as he brushed a strand of hair behind her ear.

“Are nahi baccha… main toh keh raha tha tum dono mujhe bhaiya mat bulao… mai bhaiya nahi hoon tumhara.”

Her face fell instantly.

Her eyes welled again, overflowing with a heartbreak so raw it almost hurt to witness. She lowered her head, believing, truly, that Maan didn’t want her. That he didn’t accept her the way Arnav and Anvi did.

Before the ache could deepen, Maan quickly lifted her chin again and wiped her tears with urgent gentleness.

“Are, oye, Avu… meri bacchi… tu ro kyun rhi?” he whispered. “Main ye keh raha tha… tu mujhe bhaiyu bula.”

She blinked...confused, overwhelmed.

Maan pointed at Arnav. “Bhaiya toh vo hai.”

Then at Abhimanyu. “Aur bhai vo hai.”

He tapped her forehead affectionately. “Toh main hua bhaiyu. Anvi bhi yahi bulati hai. Tum dono bhi bulana.”

Understanding flickered in Avyuktha’s eyes, and her breathing eased.

“Vo… vo mujhe laga...”

“Ki main gussa hoon?” he finished.

She nodded weakly.

He flicked her forehead gently.
“Meri dono behne gadhi ki gadhi hain.”

Avyuktha pouted instantly, rubbing her forehead with a tiny glare that looked more adorable than angry. The sight tugged a soft laugh out of Maan, one that ended abruptly when Arnav smacked the back of his head.

Maan snapped his gaze up, still kneeling, wearing the most betrayed expression imaginable. Arnav only rolled his eyes and muttered, “Seedhe seedhe nahi bol sakta tha? Baccho ko dara diya. Mere toh chaaro hi bacche gadhe hain.”

That earned a small, watery giggle from Avyuktha, which only made Maan’s mock glare deepen while Arnav’s smirk grew. And just like that, the cold tension in the air finally began to melt.

Pushing himself up, Maan brushed off his jeans and asked, “Aaru kaha hai?”

Avyuktha’s worry returned immediately. “Maine usse room mein bhej diya tha…”

Arnav, Maan, and Abhimanyu exchanged a sharp, silent look, an unspoken urgency passing between them.

Without wasting another second, they started walking toward Aarush’s room, their footsteps echoing with concern and a fierce, protective determination.

The moment they reached Aarush’s room, the sight waiting inside hit them like a blow straight to the heart. Aarush sat curled on the floor beside the bed, knees pulled tightly to his chest, tiny arms wrapped around them as if he were trying to fold himself out of existence. His small body trembled with every sob, each breath breaking midway as though he was splintering apart faster than he could hold himself together.

The sound of his crying...raw, terrified, so heartbreakingly helpless, seemed to still the air itself.

Avyuktha’s breath caught, her heart clenched, her eyes filled instantly. She didn’t think, didn’t wait, didn’t ask. She just ran.

“Aaru… Aaru baccha…” The words left her in a trembling rush as she dropped to her knees beside him.

Aarush’s head jerked up at the sound of her voice. His eyes were swollen and red, tears streaming without pause, and the moment he recognized her, something inside him broke completely. He threw himself forward with all the force his little body could muster, arms locking around her waist as he buried his face in her stomach, as if she were the only place in the world where he was still allowed to breathe.

The sob that tore out of him felt like the room itself cracked.

“Aapko maara unhone… Jiji… sab bahot gande hai… aapko maara…”

His voice splintered with every word, shattering under the weight of pure, innocent agony.

At the doorway, Arnav, Maan, and Abhimanyu stood frozen. None of them moved. None of them breathed right. It wasn’t just painful, it was annihilating.

Avyuktha gathered him up immediately, pulling him wholly into her lap, her arms wrapping around him in a desperate attempt to shield him from memories that didn’t belong inside a six year old’s head. She rocked him gently, her chin trembling where it rested against his hair, her own tears falling silently into the soft strands.

“Aaru… unhone nahi maara baccha… sacchi nahi maara…” she whispered, trying to keep her voice steady, trying to soothe him back into safety.

But Aarush only cried harder, his fists twisting into her shirt so tightly the fabric strained at the seams, his knuckles going pale from the force of his fear.

“Nahi… aap jhooth bol rahi ho…” he sobbed, words stretching into broken gasps. “Aap hamesha jhooth bol deti ho… unhone maara aapko…”

The sentence drifted into the room like a blade, soft but lethal.

Maan felt something in his chest twist sharply, as if someone had reached in and turned his heart with bare hands. Arnav’s jaw locked so hard the muscle jumped. Abhimanyu’s fingers curled into a fist at his side, knuckles trembling with the effort to stay composed.

Because none of them missed what lay beneath that fear.

It wasn’t anger. It wasn’t defiance. It was memory...small, bruised, unspoken… and absolutely devastating.

Avyuktha shook her head quickly, swallowing her own rising panic as she brushed Aarush’s hair back with trembling fingers. “Nahi, Aaru… sacchi nahi maara unhone,” she whispered urgently, her voice breaking as she tried to steady it. “Vo bahot ache hain, baccha… unhone nahi maara. Please… please shant ho jaa, Aaru… meri jaan, shant ho jaa…”

But her reassurance only seemed to unravel him further. Aarush clung to her as if he were drowning, his sobs turning sharper, breath hitching between gasps so desperate it felt like his lungs were fighting his memories. His small frame shook violently in her arms, each tremor pulling her deeper into a helplessness she was far too young to carry.

She held him tighter, rocking him gently, cupping his head, pressing soft kisses into his hair as though love alone could erase whatever darkness his little mind was fighting against. Her own tears slipped down unchecked, falling into his curls as she murmured soothing words that felt too fragile against a fear carved so painfully deep.

Behind them, three grown men, men who carried the world on their shoulders without blinking, stood rooted to the spot, utterly powerless.

Arnav’s eyes softened in a way that would have startled anyone who knew him; the hard edges of his expression melting into something raw and aching.
Maan looked like the air had been punched out of him, chest rising unevenly as he watched the boy he adored crumble in front of them.
And Abhimanyu… Abhimanyu’s breath faltered for a single second, a rare crack in the armor he wore so flawlessly, before he quietly stepped forward, drawn by an instinct older than logic yet restrained by the fear of making things worse.

But none of them spoke.
None of them moved closer.
None of them dared to interrupt.

Because the truth was settling inside their chests with a cold, heavy certainty, creeping in like a storm they’d all ignored for too long.

This wasn’t a child crying because he was scared.
This wasn’t a moment of simple fear or confusion.

This was trauma...layered, old, suffocating. A memory clawing its way out through a six-year-old’s tears..

Arnav moved closer, lowering himself onto his knees beside the trembling siblings, his voice held carefully soft as he called out to the little boy. “Aaru baccha…” The sound of his name should have comforted the child, but Aarush’s head snapped up with an eruption of emotion so sudden and fierce that even Arnav jerked back slightly.

The boy’s face was wet, blotchy, twisted with a rage too big for a body so small. His hands balled into fists, his breathing jagged, and with every ounce of strength in him he pushed at Arnav’s chest, the shove filled with a despair that made the act sharper than the actual impact. “DOOR RAHO AAP....DOOR RAHO!”

Avyuktha immediately hissed, “Aarush! Ye kya battameezi hai?” but her scolding barely reached him.

The boy’s fury was too thick, too layered with fear and memory. He kept crying as he glared at Arnav, his tiny chest rising and falling too quickly, voice cracking as he shouted, “AAPNE PROMISE KIYA THA...AAP JIJI KO NHI MAAROGE!” His words were drenched in betrayal, trembling but sharp, and when he pushed Arnav again, even though Arnav didn’t move, his voice broke into a sobbing accusation, “AAP JHOOTHE HO!....AAPNE MAARA JIJI KO!.....AAP JHOOTHE HO!”

Before his fists could land again, Avyuktha pulled him away, wrapping her arms tightly around him as he struggled wildly, his body fighting with desperation rather than intention. She held him firmly, her voice trying to sound stern even as it wavered from worry. “AARUSH!”

But the boy’s trembling did not stop. There was something raw behind his anger, a deep instinctive terror that wouldn’t let him breathe normally, let alone think. Avyuktha tightened her hold and tried again, this time gentler, steadier, “Aaru baccha… please meri baat sunn…”

But Aarush wouldn’t look at her. His entire being seemed to be trembling with confusion, anger, and a fear he couldn’t unlearn.

His eyes stayed fixed on Arnav with a kind of distress that made Arnav’s own breath falter. That emotion wasn’t just anger, it was the kind of panic a child carried when the world had taught him that safety was always temporary.

Avyuktha cupped his chin with soft but firm fingers, forcing him to meet her eyes, even as her own lashes were wet. “Aaru… mujhe kisi ne nhi maara baccha… sacchi mai. I promise. Kisi ne nhi maara. Tu khud dekh.”

She shifted slightly, moving him in her lap so she could show him her hands clearly...her palms, her wrists, her arms, turning them as if presenting proof in a case he desperately needed to believe. Then she showed her feet, her elbows, all the places he had seen injured before. “Dekh… kisi ne nhi maara mujhe. Please shant ho jaa… please.”

Aarush’s breathing faltered at the sight, his fury stumbling into confusion. His fists loosened, but the tremors stayed. He stared at her arm for a moment too long, as though waiting for a bruise to appear out of thin air, the memory of past injuries blurring with the fear of new ones. His chest heaved as a stab of realization hit him, she wasn’t lying. Not this time. Not today.

Behind them, Arnav watched with his heart pinned painfully between helplessness and guilt. His eyes were wet, not from the accusations, but from the simple heartbreaking truth that a six year old shouldn’t know so much fear. Shouldn’t tremble like that. Shouldn’t assume violence as a reflex.

Maan and Abhimanyu stood close, their faces mirroring the same devastation. Both understood the weight of Aarush’s reaction, it wasn’t a tantrum, not a momentary panic, it was the echo of shadows he hadn't yet grown old enough to escape.

Aarush, overwhelmed and exhausted, sagged against his sister, his body surrendering as though it could no longer hold the weight of his emotions.

Tears still slipped from his eyes, but now they came slower, drained by the outburst. His shoulders shook less violently, the tremors fading into hiccups that made him cling tighter to Avyuktha.

Avyuktha held him close, rocking him gently as she rubbed slow circles on his back, her touch instinctive and practiced, the kind of soothing only someone who had done this countless times before could give. She looked up at Maan, her voice tired but steady. “Bhaiyu… paani de dijiye… please.”

Maan moved immediately, pouring water with hands that trembled just slightly, handing her the glass like he was afraid it might slip. She brought it to Aarush’s lips, whispering, “Paani pi… baccha…” The boy’s hiccups made it difficult, but he took a few sips, then a few more, until his breathing softened into something less erratic.

Finally, his tiny body gave up entirely. He leaned into her, resting his head on her shoulder, arms falling limp at his sides, his weight completely surrendered to her hold. The emotional storm had wrung him dry, leaving him drained, vulnerable, and barely conscious, not asleep, not awake, just too tired to exist beyond the safety of her arms.

In that quiet, heavy room, his uneven breathing was the only sound.

And around him, three grown men stood motionless, each of them feeling the same cold truth sink deep inside
This wasn’t a moment that would be forgotten.This was a scar they were only now recognizing.

After what felt like an endless storm of sobs, Aarush’s tiny body finally began to sag in exhaustion. His hiccups came softer now, each one pulling his small chest up and down.

Avyuktha held him like he was made of something breakable, her palm moving up and down his trembling back in slow, grounding circles. She kept whispering against his hair...little assurances, little promises...pressing soft, shaky kisses to his forehead every few seconds, as if trying to wipe away every tear he had shed.

Gradually, his crying faded into small shivers. And then even those quieted.

Aarush loosened his hold on her, his fingers slipping from the back of her kurta. He blinked, long and slow, as though each blink took effort. When he finally lifted his head from her lap, his face was blotchy, eyes swollen, lashes stuck together with tears. He looked so painfully small.

And yet… he looked straight at Arnav.

Arnav, who had been kneeling beside them completely still, hands clenched at his sides, eyes burning. Aarush studied him with those huge doe eyes, still wet, still full of fear and confusion and slowly stood up on wobbly legs.

He swallowed once. Twice.

Then, in the tiniest, most fragile voice…
“Aapne sacchi mai jiji ko nhi maara…?”

Arnav’s throat closed instantly. He felt the question like a punch. His lips parted, but no sound came out. He could only shake his head...once, firmly even as his eyes stung and he blinked rapidly, desperate to keep the tears from spilling. His breath trembled.

Aarush’s gaze shifted.

First to Maan.

“Aapne bhi nhi…?”

Maan’s knees buckled on their own. He dropped down in front of Aarush, tears already pooling in his eyes as he shook his head. “Nhi baccha…” he whispered, voice thick.

Then Aarush turned to Abhimanyu.

Eyes wide. Voice barely a breath.
“Aapne bhi nhi na…?”

Abhimanyu swallowed hard, Adam’s apple bobbing. He shook his head, clearing his throat and looking away for a second as he blinked furiously, trying to keep himself together for the child looking at him with so much blind trust.

Aarush stood silent for a moment.

His little chest rose… fell… rose… fell…

And then, without warning, he walked straight to Arnav...tiny feet making the softest sounds on the floor and wrapped his small arms around Arnav’s neck.

The hug wasn’t just a hug. It was a collapse. A surrender. A need.

Arnav’s arms came around him instantly, instinctively, pulling him close, closer, one hand cupping the back of Aarush’s head, the other holding his back as if anchoring him. He rested his cheek on the little boy’s hair, eyes shutting tight, his entire body melting into the embrace he’d been craving.

Behind them, Avyuktha let out a shaky exhale, like a weight had been lifted from her ribs and a small teary smile formed on her face.

Maan saw that smile, saw her relief, and without thinking he reached out. He tugged her gently toward him until she slipped into his lap. His arms wrapped around her waist from behind, holding her securely as if he was afraid she’d break apart if he didn’t.

The four of them… broken, scared, exhausted… breathed the same air for a moment. A soft, fragile, healing moment.

After a while, Aarush pulled back from Arnav. Just a little. His fingers rubbed at his eyes. His lower lip trembled.

Then, in a tiny voice…
“…sorry.”

He held his ears with both hands.

Arnav’s breath hitched. He smiled, barely but his throat was too tight to speak. He only shook his head gently, brushing a thumb against Aarush’s cheek.

Aarush then turned to Maan.

He paused, seeing Avyuktha sitting in Maan’s lap, his arms snug around her waist, Maan’s eyes still glassy from earlier.

Aarush stepped forward hesitantly… and held his ears again.

“Sorry sir…”

The word sir hit Maan like a slap. His entire body went still. His heart twisted painfully.

He reached out immediately, voice cracking, “Baccha… sir mat bol mujhe…”

Aarush blinked slowly.
“Aapne bola aap bhaiya nhi ho mere…”
His voice was so small, so heartbreakingly unsure. He looked down

Maan’s chest caved in.

He cupped Aarush’s tiny face with both hands and gently lifted it so the boy had no choice but to look at him.

“Baccha… mera vo matlab nhi tha…”
His thumb brushed a tear off Aarush’s cheek. “Mai bolna chahta tha… tu mujhe bhaiyu bulaya kar… jaise didi bulati hai…”

He pointed toward Arnav. “Bhaiya toh vo hai.”

Then toward Abhimanyu. “Aur bhai… vo hai.”

He gave a soft, watery smile. “Toh mai… bhaiyu hua na?”

Aarush stared at him blankly for a second… processing… thinking hard in that innocent, literal mind of his.

Then his eyebrows scrunched up adorably.

“Ohoo… toh aise bolna chahiye tha na…”
He huffed a tiny offended breath. “Aapne dara diya mujhe…”

A small pout.
A complaint.
A heartbreak stitched into something soft.

Maan’s laugh came out choked, wet, absolutely undone because this tiny boy had just forgiven him without even realising it.

Maan exhaled shakily as Aarush’s little complaint faded into the air. Without wasting a second, he reached forward, scooped the tiny boy up, and gently pulled him onto his lap, right where Avyuktha already sat. He settled both of them against his chest, arms curling around them with a protectiveness so raw it nearly spilled into tears again.

He pressed his cheek briefly to the top of Aarush’s head, grounding himself, and whispered with all the warmth he had,
“Aaru… humlog aisa nhi karenge baccha. Tu aaj ke baad kabhi mat darna humlogo se, baccha.”

Then he cupped Aarush’s jaw tenderly, tilted his face up, and kissed his tear stained cheek… a soft, trembling kiss that held apology, guilt, and love all together.

He turned to Avyuktha, her face still blotchy from crying, eyes still glassy and placed another gentle kiss on her cheek. “Aur tu bhi.”

Both kids nodded, their small smiles shaky but genuine, as though the fear inside them had finally found a place to rest.

Avyuktha sniffled and whispered, voice barely a breath, “Bhaiyu… I’m sorry. Maine aapko dhakka mara. Sorry.”
Her lower lip quivered. She looked genuinely hurt by her own misunderstanding.

Maan shook his head immediately, brushing her hair back. “Are koi nhi… tera bhaiyu bahot strong hai.” He puffed his chest a little, playful, trying to lighten her guilt. “Mai toh hila bhi nhi.”

From the side, Arnav let out a soft chuckle, the sound hoarse from holding back emotions. “Isliye mujhe tujhe zameen se uthana pada… hai na?”

Avyuktha giggled...small and unsure, but real. Maan shot both her and Arnav a mock glare, eyes narrowing dramatically.

“Haa toh mai strong hoon… toh Avu strongest hai.” He tapped her nose gently, making her smile.

“Aur waise bhi… maine bacchi ka dil rakhne ke liye acting ki thi.”

Arnav raised a brow, smirking. “Acha ji?”

Maan gave him the widest, most shameless grin. “Haan ji.”

This time Arnav’s chuckle was full… warm… almost relieved.

He reached forward, scooped Aarush into his arms as if he weighed nothing, and shifted to sit on the bed. Maan followed with Avyuktha, settling beside them.

Meanwhile, Abhimanyu walked in quietly, holding an ointment tube. His eyes dropped to Maan’s hand, the faint reddish mark where Aarush’s teeth had sunk into his skin earlier. The skin was swollen, an angry outline of tiny teeth still visible.

Aarush noticed.

And his little face crumpled all over again.

He reached out with trembling fingers, brushing the injured spot lightly.
“Sorry bhaiyu…” he whispered, voice cracking with guilt.

Maan immediately shook his head, pulling Aarush close with his good arm.
“Areee… koi baat nhi…” His smile was soft, pained, forgiving every bit of the fear that had caused that bite.

Arnav tightened his hold around Aarush, pulling him close until the child was practically nestled into his chest. Aarush rested there, small hands fisting Arnav’s shirt, finally relaxed… finally safe.

After a long, quiet moment, Arnav’s voice came low...deep, protective, heavy with emotion held too long. “Aaru… tujhe yaha koi kuch nhi karega baccha...”

His hand slid up to cradle the back of Aarush’s head, fingers disappearing into his soft hair. He pressed a lingering kiss there...slow, firm, as if he could erase every wrong memory that had ever touched the child.

“Mere hote hue....Tum dono ko kabhi kuch nhi hoga.”

Another kiss to Aarush’s head.Softer.
More desperate.

“Bhaiya ne aaru ko promise kiya hai na…”

Aarush nodded...small, trusting, eyes closing slightly as he leaned further into Arnav’s chest.

Arnav continued, voice turning even gentler. “Toh phir darna kis baat ka…? Mai hoon na. Kuch nhi hoga tum dono ko.”

His gaze flicked briefly to Avyuktha, the warmth in his eyes wrapping around her like a blanket. She smiled back at him… shy, relieved, safe.

Aarush looked up at Arnav again...eyes wide, shining and without warning he hugged him fiercely. So tight. So full of gratitude that his small arms trembled around Arnav’s neck.

“I love you bhaiyaa…”He whispered, happiness and leftover tears mixing in his voice.

Arnav shut his eyes, holding the little boy closer, almost crushing him with the depth of his love. "I love too more baccha" He whispered, voice hoarse with emotions.

Aarush nestled closer into Arnav’s chest, refusing to part from him even for a second. His tiny legs were wrapped around Arnav’s torso, his cheek resting right over Arnav’s heart as if the steady thump alone could promise safety. Arnav kept one hand cupped at the back of his head, the other rubbing slow, protective strokes down his spine...a rhythm quiet enough to calm a storm.

Maan and Avyuktha lay sprawled on the bed beside them, lazily playing tic tac toe with a half broken pencil and the back of some old bill paper. Every few minutes, Avyuktha would pout dramatically when she lost, and Maan would tease her by poking her cheek, making her giggle in that tiny, tinkling sound he had grown to love.

Abhimanyu sat on the couch nearby, phone in hand, finally catching up on emails, though his eyes flicked up every few seconds to check on the three of them. The atmosphere was calm, warm, almost unreal for this house… a moment of peace stitched together carefully after an emotional storm.

Arnav shifted slightly and said softly, “Maan, hall mein mera phone reh gaya hai… lete aa zara.”

Maan was about to get up, brushing invisible dust from his track pants, when Avyuktha sat up straight and said quickly, “Mai le aau?”

Arnav shook his head immediately. “Avu, tere pair mein lagi hai baccha…”

Avyuktha huffed, shook her head fast, and insisted, “Bhaiya vo thik ho gaya hai… dekhiye.”

She stretched her small legs out in front of him like proof. “Aur ab dard bhi nahi hota,” she added, determined.

Arnav opened his mouth to argue again, but she was already sliding off the bed.
“Mai le aati hoon aapka phone,” she said with a proud little nod.

Arnav sighed but smiled. “Theek hai, dheere jaana.”

Avyuktha nodded enthusiastically, making Maan chuckle, and then hopped out of the room with light steps.

She reached the hallway humming under her breath, that childlike tune bouncing off the walls as she walked. The mansion was dimly lit in the evening glow, warm yellow lights slipping across the marble floor. She followed the familiar path toward the sofa where Arnav had been sitting earlier.

But the moment she stepped fully into the hall…

She froze.

Her breath caught....sharp, painful....her tiny body going rigid.

The phone slipped from her hand and clattered loudly against the floor.

Her eyes went impossibly wide.

For a single heartbeat, she stood there like a statue.

Then instinct took over.

Without thinking…
without looking back…
without breathing…

She ran.

___________________________________________

Thanks for reading, lovelies!

And because you all completed the last chapter’s target like absolute champs, here’s your well-deserved double update bonus for my dear readers

Sorry for another cliffhanger...but yaar, suspense mai hi toh asli mazza hota hai, right?

I know I usually ask you a bunch of questions, but today’s update was written in full “jaldi jaldi before someone interrupts me” mode, so bas… this time just comment whatever your heart feels.

And haan, do tell me, what do you think Avyuktha saw that made her heart skip a beat?

I’m dying to read your guesses 🥺💛