Chapter: Shattered Souls, United Hearts

The air inside the Jaisingh mansion didn't just feel heavy, it felt as if the walls themselves were bruised from everything they had witnessed. The silence wasn't calm; it was the kind that lingers after a storm, when the wind has torn through everything and left behind a strange, aching stillness. Every object in the room felt displaced, as though even the furniture had recoiled from the cruelty it had seen.

Arnav's face held a kind of rage that didn't roar outward but burned inward, dark and dense, the kind that forms when someone you love has been hurt so deeply that you feel the pain in your own bones. Anvi stood beside him, her shoulders locked, guilt twisting inside her until it settled like a stone in her chest. She blamed herself, for not being enough to protect Avyuktha, for not stopping Viren, for letting Arnav walk into a disaster she felt she should have controlled. Beneath that guilt simmered a quieter anger, thin and sharp, at the way Viren had lifted his hand with such casual cruelty, as if Avyuktha's pain held no value at all.

Maan's fury was different, raw and jagged. His fists had been clenched for so long that his knuckles were white, his breaths coming too fast as if rage and helplessness were fighting each other inside him. He couldn't understand how the man who claimed to be their father could become this, someone capable of hitting a child without hesitation. The helplessness of knowing he couldn't undo what had been done carved through him more painfully than any slap ever could.

Avyuktha was the only one who stood perfectly still, but her stillness was the most disturbing thing in the room. She didn't cry, didn't speak, her body carried the eerie quiet of children who have learned from experience that showing pain only invites more of it. The red mark on her cheek stood out sharply against her pale skin, her breath uneven, her eyes unfocused in that distant way that meant she had retreated somewhere deep inside herself just to survive the moment. Her tiny shoulders trembled with the memory of fear even though she was trying to pretend she felt none.

When Arnav finally turned toward his sisters, something inside him twisted so violently he felt breathless. Avyuktha's face looked drained, her eyes emptied by shock. Anvi's cheeks were streaked with the remnants of fear and shame, her ears still burning where Viren's fingers had gripped her too tightly. Arnav didn't ask if they were okay; he didn't trust his voice. He simply gathered them both into his arms, pulling them close with a strength that came from desperation rather than anger. Avyuktha clung to his shirt like it was the only stable thing left around her, her fingers trembling as if she feared he might disappear too. Anvi leaned into him with a shaky breath, her body slowly releasing all the tension she had been holding since the moment Viren's voice had turned harsh.

Arnav pressed his cheek to the top of Avyuktha's head, his eyes searching automatically for the smallest presence among them but Aarush wasn't there. The absence hit him with a force that made his heart stumble. A thin thread of panic slipped into his voice as he whispered, "Aaru kahan hai?" even though he already felt the wrongness of the room tightening around him. The words made both girls stiffen instantly. Anvi's breath caught. Avyuktha's eyes widened, and then she broke away so quickly it was as if fear itself had pushed her forward.

They searched with frantic, uneven movements, calling his name with rising panic that made every corner of the room feel hostile. Avyuktha's voice cracked each time she said his name, her steps growing faster, her chest tightening with a kind of terror she didn't know how to hide. She checked every corner, her fear growing louder in her throat with each empty space she found. Arnav's heartbeat pounded in his ears; every second without finding Aarush stretched unbearably, as though the house itself was swallowing their voices.

And then Avyuktha rushed behind the sofa and she stopped so abruptly her knees almost gave out.

Aarush was curled into a tight, trembling ball, wedged into the shadowed space between the sofa and the wall. His knees were pulled painfully against his chest, and his hands were pressed so hard against his ears that his fingertips had turned pale. His entire body shook with silent sobs, the kind that didn't escape as sound because fear had already stolen his voice. His eyes were squeezed shut, his face wet, and he looked so small, smaller than he had ever looked in his life, as if he was trying to make himself disappear from the world that had just hurt his family.

The sight didn't just break them; it hollowed something inside them, carving out a space no amount of comfort could immediately fill.

Avyuktha dropped to her knees so fast the impact stung up her legs, but she didn't feel it. All she saw was Aarush's tiny, shaking body. She reached for him with trembling hands, and the moment her arms wrapped around him, something inside the boy simply shattered. He clung to her as if he had been holding himself together by sheer force and her touch was the final thread giving him permission to break.

His sobs weren't normal cries, they were frantic, choking, tearing sounds that didn't even come out right because he couldn't breathe properly. He buried his face into Avyuktha's neck, holding on with a desperate strength no six-year-old should ever have. The tremors running through him were violent, his back jerking with every gasping sob, as if fear itself was trying to claw its way out of him. His nails dug into her skin through her clothes, and she held him tighter, tighter still, even though her own cheek burned, even though her heart felt like it was cracking every second he cried.

She whispered to him through her tears that she refused to let fall, her voice breaking in a way she couldn't control but softening every time she said his name. She kept kissing his temple, rubbing circles on his back with her small, unsteady hand, rocking him like she was trying to shield him from a world that had already been too cruel. But nothing worked. His cries only grew more frantic, his little body seizing with each breath he fought for, as if the fear had drowned him and he didn't know how to come up for air.

Watching them hurt in a way that was almost unbearable. A little girl whose own pain was still fresh on her face, determined not to crumble. A little boy drowning in terror, looking for air he couldn't find.

Arnav couldn't stand away any longer. He stepped closer slowly and placed a gentle hand on Aarush's back, barely touching him but the reaction was immediate and devastating. Aarush jerked violently, a sharp, terrified flinch that felt like watching a child recoil from fire. His eyes flew open in blind panic, his breath snapping in his throat, and before he could even cry again, his body simply gave out.

He lost control.

Warm liquid soaked through Avyuktha's clothes, and Aarush froze for a second as if he didn't understand what had happened and then his broken sobs collapsed into a different kind of crying. The kind that comes from humiliation, terror, helplessness all tangled together until a child can't tell one from the other. He pressed his face harder into her neck, shaking so violently she had to tighten her hold just to keep him from slipping. His small hands clutched her shirt with painful desperation, trying to vanish into her.

The room went painfully silent around them. No one breathed. The kind of fear that makes a child wet himself wasn't simple fear, it left a scar deeper than any slap.

Avyuktha froze only for a heartbeat. Her throat tightened so sharply she couldn't swallow, her eyes stinging as though the tears were burning their way up but she didn't cry. She couldn't. Aarush needed her to be the solid ground he had lost. She wrapped both arms around him even tighter, ignoring the soaked fabric, ignoring the shaking in her own chest. Her voice trembled so hard she had to force the words out, but she kept whispering to him again and again, "Aaru... kuch nahi hua baccha... main hoon na... please baccha, darr mat... koi kuch nahi karega... main hoon na..."

Her whispers came faster when his sobs rose again, as if she was trying to hold back a tide with her bare hands. She rocked him slowly at first, then more firmly when she felt how badly he trembled. She pressed kisses to his forehead, wiped his tears even though they kept coming, kept rubbing his back in circles even when her hand started to ache. She could feel her own breath breaking, the panic of almost losing him, the pain of seeing him like this but she forced herself to stay steady because he had wrapped himself around her like she was the last safe thing left.

It took forever. Long, devastating minutes where his cries kept rising and falling like waves too strong for his tiny body. She kept walking small circles around the hall, murmuring soft, broken reassurances that barely held her own voice together. His sobs eventually weakened, turning into exhausted hiccups, then quiet gasps, until finally his body sagged against her, every ounce of energy drained. He cried himself to sleep, still trembling even in unconsciousness, his small fists twisted tightly into her shirt as if letting go would wake him into another nightmare.

Anvi approached slowly, her voice barely there, afraid to disturb him. "So gaya...?"

Avyuktha only nodded, her cheek brushing the top of Aarush's head. Her clothes were wet, her eyes heavy, her arms aching but she held him with a protectiveness that didn't falter for even a second.

"Main room mein le jaa rahi hoon," she whispered, and walked away carefully, guarding every step, holding him as though the slightest movement might break him all over again.

Maan didn't waste a second, he rushed to the kitchen the moment he saw how badly the girls were trembling, grabbing ice packs with a kind of urgency that came from fear and helplessness tangled together. Abhimanyu stepped aside, pressing his fingers into the bridge of his nose before calling Pari. His voice stayed low but the frustration bled through it, mixed with a guilt he couldn't hide and an anger he was barely holding back. He didn't tell her everything, just enough for her to understand the severity and asked her to come and check on them.

Arnav and Anvi walked behind Avyuktha as she carried Aarush to the room. They didn't speak; they didn't need to. After what had just happened, no child should be left alone, not even for a minute.

Inside the room, Avyuktha placed Aarush on the bed with such slow, careful movements that even her breathing felt controlled. The moment the mattress dipped under him, he stirred, his eyebrows knitting as though he could feel the fear even in sleep. Avyuktha immediately sat beside him and slipped her fingers into his hair, stroking gently. Her touch had the same rhythm as a lullaby...soft, repetitive, almost instinctive. His breathing settled little by little, and only then did she let out a shaky exhale before moving to clean him.

She brought a wet towel and began wiping him with small, gentle motions. The cold water touched his skin, and Aarush flinched, a tremor passing through him. Avyuktha froze for a second as if someone had squeezed her heart too tightly. Her hand flew to his head, cupping him softly, tapping his chest with her other hand in that comforting pattern he always responded to. "So jaa, Aaru... main yahin hoon," she whispered, her voice unsteady but firm enough to hold him together. "So jaa baccha... koi nahi aa raha."

Her words cracked at the edges, but the softness in them never broke.

Anvi was already at the closet, searching quietly. Aarush's clothes were neatly stacked, tiny shirts and shorts arranged exactly how Avyuktha liked. But when Anvi checked for Avyuktha's things, she found only emptiness. Just one narrow shelf with nothing on it. She remembered then, Avyuktha only had two sets of clothes. The one she was wearing... and the one drying on the balcony from yesterday's wash. No spares. No choices. Nothing.

The realization hit her like a sting.

She placed Aarush's clean clothes on the bed and slipped out quickly, her movements sharper than usual as she went to gather something from her own wardrobe.

Inside the room, Arnav moved closer to help. He took the small shirt and buttoned it slowly, his fingers strangely gentle for someone who had spent the last hour shaking with rage. Every button he fastened felt like a tiny promise, that he would protect this child, that he would never let this happen again. Avyuktha kept brushing her fingers through Aarush's hair while Arnav dressed him, and the quiet between them wasn't silence; it was shared pain.

A minute later Anvi returned with a small pile of clothes, five or six soft crop tops and a few shorts, all adjustable, all comfortable. The kind she knew would fit Avyuktha. She placed them carefully in front of her sister and spoke softly, as though the room itself needed gentleness. "Avu... tu ye sab rakh le. Hum sab saath chalke teri liye kapde le aayenge... theek hai?"

Arnav rubbed his forehead with the back of his hand, exhaustion and guilt weighing down his features. "Mujhe yaad hi nahi raha," he muttered, voice thick with self blame. Then more firmly, "Kal hi chalenge. Sab."

Anvi nodded, already deciding that they wouldn't let Avyuktha go another day with so little.

Avyuktha looked at the clothes for just a moment. She didn't argue, she didn't refuse, she didn't even thank them the way she normally would. She was too drained for all that. She simply took the pile, her eyes soft with exhaustion, and walked into the bathroom.

She showered quickly, almost frantically, barely giving herself time to breathe. The cold water stung her slapped cheek, but she didn't flinch, she didn't have the energy. All she could think about was Aarush lying alone even for a minute. By the time she stepped out she was still damp, hair dripping down her back, wearing Anvi's clothes that hung loosely on her.

She went straight to the bed without even drying her face, settling next to Aarush like her place had always been there.

Arnav reached for the towel she had set aside and moved behind her. Without asking, without saying anything at first, he began drying her hair in slow, steady motions. Her hair dripped onto her neck, cold enough to make her shiver, and he worked carefully through each section, as if he were afraid to hurt her. His eyes flicked to Aarush sleeping beside her, then back to her hair, then to the bruised cheek she was pretending didn't hurt.

Avyuktha tried to take the towel from him, her voice low and exhausted. "Main kar lungi...."

Arnav didn't move his hand. "Mujhe karne de, baccha," he murmured, a quiet tenderness in his tone that softened everything. He continued drying her hair with uttmost care, slowly, softly like he loved her to much to rush even a bit and afraid to hurt her even by breaking a strand of her hair.

That was when Maan entered, carrying the ointment tube and two ice packs. He paused for a heartbeat, taking in the sight, Avyuktha slumped with exhaustion, Arnav tending to her silently, Anvi sitting with swollen eyes beside them. Something heavy lodged in his chest.

Without saying anything, he walked to Anvi first and gently applied the ointment to her ears. She hissed softly at the first touch, her breath catching. Maan immediately leaned in and blew cool air over the sensitive skin, trying to ease the sting.

Anvi looked up at him, eyes glassy, surprised by how gentle he was. That gentleness almost brought the tears back.

Maan's own eyes shone as he handed the ice packs...one to Anvi, one to Avyuktha, pointing wordlessly to their cheeks.

"Isse... yahan laga lo," he said quietly. His voice wasn't steady anymore.

Both girls' cheeks were still red and swollen, a reminder of the hands that had hurt them, and of the love now trying so hard to heal what could not be erased.

Arnav paused mid-motion, the towel still halfway through Avyuktha's damp hair, and looked at both the girls properly for the first time since they'd come upstairs. Their cheeks were swollen, their eyes rimmed red, their breaths uneven in that fragile way that meant they were holding themselves together by will alone. Something inside him, something he had been holding tight, forcing himself to stay calm for their sake, finally cracked.

His eyes filled instantly. He blinked quickly, tried to breathe through it, but guilt flooded him too fast to stop.

He reached forward and pulled both girls into a desperate hug, still kneeling on the bed. His arms wrapped around them like someone trying to hold together pieces of something that had broken too violently. His voice fell into their shoulders, barely a whisper, thick with pain. "I'm so sorry... I'm so, so sorry," he murmured, his throat tightening until the words weren't even words but pure guilt spilling out. He held them closer, his fingers gripping their backs, shutting his eyes as if the darkness there was easier than facing what had happened.

He opened them only to kiss both their foreheads gently, slow, soft presses of lips meant to erase the remnants of Viren's violence, to replace those memories with warmth.

"I'm... sorry," he whispered again, but his voice broke halfway, cracking under the weight of everything he hadn't been able to stop. His guilt sat heavy in his chest, guilt for not being the barrier between them and Viren, guilt for not reaching sooner, guilt for every second they had been scared and he hadn't been there.

Both girls shook their heads immediately, clinging to him.

"Bhaiya... aapki galti nahi hai," Anvi whispered.

"Aapne toh hame protect kiya," Avyuktha added, her voice barely more than breath.

They sounded drained, but certain.

Arnav swallowed hard. His hand lingered in Avyuktha's hair, still damp, still cold, still trembling slightly under his touch. He finally pulled away, not because he wanted to, but because they needed tending.

He moved beside Anvi, who was rubbing her ear in small, automatic motions, trying to ease the sting left by Viren's fingers. Without speaking, Arnav took the ointment again, his hands trembling just slightly, and guided her to lie down next to Aarush.

"Bas... relax," he murmured softly.

He applied the ointment in slow, controlled strokes, rubbing her ear gently, the way you soothe a child who has been hurt too deeply. When she flinched, he hushed her instantly, brushing her hair back with tender, protective fingers. His thumb stroked the side of her head in slow motions, the same way she had stroked Aarush earlier when his world had fallen apart.

On the other side, Maan coaxed Avyuktha to lie down too. She resisted, her eyes still fixed protectively on Aarush, afraid he'd wake and panic again. Maan touched her hair, guiding her head down to the pillow with the same gentleness he would use with a much smaller child. He began stroke after stroke, slow and steady, his fingers threading through her hair as if reminding her she wasn't alone. She exhaled slowly, exhaustion finally overpowering the terror that had been gripping her since downstairs.

Within minutes, both girls drifted to sleep. Their faces softened, muscles relaxing as the fear loosened its hold. Aarush lay between them, his tiny hand curled tightly around Avyuktha's sleeve even in unconsciousness, as if he feared losing her again.

Arnav watched them, his heart clenching at the sight, three children who had endured a storm no child should ever endure, sleeping in a fragile cluster of safety.

He leaned down and kissed Anvi's forehead. Then Avyuktha's. Then Aarush's small head. Each kiss was quiet, reverent, packed with everything he couldn't speak aloud...love, guilt, apology, promise. Maan's lips twitched into a small, broken smile watching him, because this was Arnav. Fierce, protective, soft where it mattered most.

They drew a soft comforter over the three sleeping children, dimmed the light until only a warm glow remained, and stepped out of the room, leaving the door open just enough so none of them would feel trapped.

The moment the door clicked softly, Maan's restraint finally tore. He turned and threw his arms around Arnav in a sudden, tight hug, not out of affection, but out of breaking. Arnav hugged him back immediately, strong and steady, smoothing Maan's hair with one hand and rubbing circles on his back with the other, grounding him the way he had grounded the girls.

They stayed like that, letting the silence carry their pain.

When they pulled apart, Maan's eyes were glassy, his face flushed with rage he could no longer swallow.

"Bhaiya..." His voice splintered. "Aap unhe aise nahi jaane de sakte. Aapko kuch karna hoga."

His breath hitched, anger and grief choking him.

"He said horrible things... about Avu... about Chutki."

His voice trembled harder.

"He said they were a mistake... ki unhe toh maa ke pet mein hi..." the words caught painfully.

The tears finally escaped, falling in silent streaks, not from weakness, but because the fury inside him had nowhere else to go.

"Bhaiya... you have to make him pay."

Arnav's jaw tightened, something cold and deadly replacing his earlier guilt. He reached up, wiped Maan's tears with his thumbs, then pulled him back into a firm hug, cupping the back of his head like he was anchoring him to the ground.

"I will," Arnav said, voice low, steady, dangerous.

"He hurt my children. He touched them. He scared them."

His eyes darkened.

"He will lose everything that is precious to him."

He stepped back, gripping Maan's shoulders firmly, making him meet his gaze.

"For every sin he has committed... he will pay."

His voice was a vow.

"I swear to you, Maan... I will make him regret."

Maan nodded, wiping his face, a small fierce spark returning to his expression. He knew Arnav wasn't bluffing. Once someone hurt family. Arnav became merciless. Viren had crossed a line he should've feared.

Arnav then guided Maan gently toward the bed. The boy was trembling with exhaustion, his body sagging from everything the day had taken from him. Arnav made him lie beside the three sleeping children, tucking him close so he wasn't alone.

He kissed Maan's forehead softly, brushing his hair back, running soothing circles along his scalp until Maan's eyes fluttered shut. Within moments, Maan too slipped into sleep, his breathing evening out as safety finally wrapped around him.

Arnav stood for a long moment, watching all four of them, his four children, sleeping together on the bed, huddled in innocent peace after surviving a storm. A small, aching smile pulled at his lips.



He adjusted the comforter gently over them, dimmed the lights even further, and stepped out quietly, closing the door just enough to keep the darkness inside from feeling lonely.

He walked away with one thought burning in his chest:

This wasn't over. Viren Jaisingh had sparked a war he could never win.

He opened the door to Abhimmayu's room, he didn't hear anything, just the uncomfortable quiet of someone breaking quietly. Abhimanyu was sitting at the edge of the bed, shoulders slumped, head buried in his hands as if trying to block out everything he'd been replaying in his mind. His breathing was uneven, the guilt weighing on him so heavily that the whole room felt dim around him.

The moment Abhimanyu sensed movement, he looked up. His eyes were tired, rimmed red, not from anger but from the kind of helplessness that eats a person from the inside. He immediately stood up, like he'd been caught doing something wrong, even though all he had been doing was drowning in regret.

Before either of them spoke, Arnav walked straight to him and wrapped his arms around him in a fierce, desperate hug. Abhimanyu didn't hesitate for a second, his arms came around Arnav just as tightly, holding him with the raw need of someone who had been holding himself together only until Arnav arrived.

When Abhimanyu spoke, his voice trembled more than it cracked.
"Arni... I am really sorry."

Arnav pulled back only enough to see his face, his eyebrows knitting together immediately. There was something wounded in his eyes, not at Abhimanyu, but at the fact that Abhimanyu thought he needed to apologize.

Abhimanyu lowered his gaze, the guilt pouring out in his words before Arnav could stop him. "Maine Anvi ko unke saath nahi bheja hota toh yeh sab nahi hota..."

His voice dipped even lower, full of self blame, and then he slowly raised his hands and held his ears. "I am really sorry, Arni."

The gesture hit Arnav harder than anything else could have. He immediately caught Abhimanyu's hands and pulled them down, his own voice firm but gentle, "Dada, kya kar rahe ho aap?"

The word slipped out before he could think, but it carried the entire weight of what Abhimanyu meant to him. Arnav could joke with him, tease him, irritate him endlessly, Mannu was the one he played with, fought with, threw harmless challenges at. But Abhimanyu as Dada... that was something entirely different. That was the man whose respect he would never allow to bend, not even for a moment. That was the man he looked up to in silence, the man whose shadow had guarded him for years, the man he could never watch blame himself like this.

He guided Abhimanyu's hands down slowly, not letting him turn away, and the concern in his eyes softened into something almost protective. Arnav stepped closer again, placing a reassuring hand on Abhimanyu's shoulder and pulling him gently into another hug, not as desperately as before, but with a steady, grounding warmth that held more meaning than words.

It wasn't dramatic.

It wasn't loud.

Just a quiet, firm way of saying that Abhimanyu didn't get to carry this guilt alone; that Arnav refused to let him shrink under a mistake he hadn't made; that the bond between them didn't allow this kind of distance or apology.

Abhimanyu exhaled shakily into Arnav's shoulder, realizing Arnav wasn't going to let him fall apart over this, and Arnav held him just a little tighter, as if reminding him that no matter how shaken the day had been, this bond wasn't shifting.

After a long silence, both of them finally shifted and sat side by side on the bed. Abhimanyu glanced at him, his voice softer than the room's dim light. "Bacche... thik hai?"

Arnav didn't answer immediately. His shoulders lifted slightly in a helpless gesture, the kind that comes when someone truly doesn't know how to feel.
"Abhi toh sb so rhe hai..." his voice dropped lower.

There was a sadness there that hadn't even fully formed yet, just a weight sitting on his chest that he couldn't name.

Abhimanyu turned his head and really looked at Arnav, the hollow eyes, the strained face, the stiffness in his shoulders like he'd been carrying too much for too long. Something in Abhimanyu softened painfully. He lifted his hands slowly, the way you touch someone who's already hurting, and cupped Arnav's face gently.

His voice barely rose above a whisper.

"Tu thik hai?"

Arnav blinked once... and the tears that had been clinging to his lashes finally spilled over. He sniffed, shook his head...small, helpless and in that moment he didn't try to lock anything down, didn't force himself to be strong.

Not in front of his Dada.

Not in front of the only man he couldn't hide from.

His chest trembled and he let out a shaky breath. "Koi aisa kaise keh skta hai dada..."

His voice cracked as Viren's words replayed in his mind. "Apni hi beti ke baare mai..."

The tears came harder, rawer, and he wiped them weakly only for more to fall. "Koi kaise itna kamina ho skta hai..."

Once the first truth broke out, the rest rushed through him like a flood. His voice shook, but he couldn't stop.

"My entire life he was absent... he was never there... even after Maa died he never ever came..." His throat closed and the words tumbled out with a breaking sound. "Chutki... meri Chutki, Dada..."

His voice splintered completely.

He dragged a hand across his face, breath hitching.

"Bacchi thi vo... tbse papa papa krti thi... aur vo aadmi hamesha usko ignore kr de... hamesha..." His voice thinned, remembering Chutki's tiny hands, tiny hopes. "Meri bacchi itni si thi... tbse uss aadmi ne usse manhoos bolna shuru kr diya... kyu... why... kya galti hai meri bacchi ki..."

He didn't even realize he was trembling until his breath sagged and he hiccupped, wiping tears that kept replacing themselves. "Aur aaj... usne vo sab..."

His hands curled into fists, jaw shaking with rage he couldn't swallow.
"Mann toh kr raha tha jaan le lu mai unki vahi pe..."

He tried to steady himself, tried to anchor his breath, but the memories kept clawing up his throat, tearing through whatever composure he was pretending to hold."Itni choti si toh vo hai... aur uss... uss aadmi ki wajah se uska pura bachpan jal gaya..."

His voice cracked, trembling harder as the truth slammed into him again.
"6 saal ki umar se ek bacche ka khyal rakh rhi hai... jiss umar mein bacchon ko pencil pakadne mein difficult hoti hai... vo bacchi ek puri duniya sambhal rhi hai..."

His eyes flashed...wounded, furious, helpless, everything burning together in one unbearable mixture.

"Aur vo aadmi uske baare mai vo sab bakwass kr raha tha..."

His jaw clenched, but the pain inside him only grew.

Then something inside Arnav cracked even deeper. His breath stuttered as a memory stabbed through him.

"Uss din yaad hai... jab Avu AAS Groups ke baare mai baat kr rhi thi..." he whispered, a faint broken smile tugging at his lips only to collapse midway. "Uski khushi ka thikana nhi tha... she was so happy..."

He blinked rapidly as the image returned, Avyuktha's eyes sparkling like she carried galaxies when she spoke about her goals, her idols, her ambitions.
"Her eyes... dada... they were shining so bright."

His voice dissolved.

"Aur aaj usse dekha..." He swallowed hard, but the tears spilled anyway. "Vo bacchi bahot toot gyi hai, dada... She didn't even cry... she just went quiet."

A heart splitting sob tore out of him, raw and strangled "Aur phir bhi... she kept Aarush above herself..."

His voice broke again, almost collapsing mid sentence. "Even when she was falling apart... she kept Aarush above herself."

He tried wiping his tears, tried holding himself together, but he couldn't. He just couldn't. "Aur Aaru..."

He looked up at his dada with shattered eyes. "Dada... dekha na aapne usko... vo baccha itna sa hai... uska darr dekha aapne?"

His words shook violently.
"Ki jiji ko marenge sab... kitna darr hai uske mann mai..."

His breath hitched...pain, guilt, rage, helplessness all choking him at once. "And that... that man...Mr. Jaisingh...slapped Avu in front of him today. Again." His entire body trembled. "Again, dada..."

And that was it.

The dam inside him broke.

He collapsed into a whisper that sounded like his soul was being pulled out through his chest.

"I promised him, dada... ki Avu ko koi nhi maarega... that I'll protect her... His voice shattered completely. "I promised her."

His hands fisted helplessly as he sobbed into them. "And I failed... I failed, dada... I failed to protect my child..."

He broke down, fully, violently, silently screaming into Abbimnayu's shoulder as if grief itself was trying to tear him apart.

And Abhimanyu just held him, held him like someone trying to hold together a breaking universe.

He looked at Abhimanyu then, eyes pleading, seeking, breaking.

"Mere baccho ki kya galti hai, Dada..."

That was the last thing he managed before the dam gave way. Arnav folded into himself, sobs tearing out of him...ugly, raw, years-worth of anger and grief that he had swallowed for his siblings.

Abhimanyu moved without hesitation, pulling him into his arms, holding him tight, anchoring him when nothing else could.

Arnav kept talking through the tears, voice shaking as he poured out everything... how unfair the world had been to Aarush, to Maan, to Anvi, to Avyuktha, how much they had endured, how much he couldn't fix, how much he hated seeing them suffer.

He cried until his voice broke, until his breaths came in uneven shudders

And Abhimanyu didn't let him fall.
The moment Arnav broke, truly broke, Abhimanyu's arms wrapped around him...firm, protective, pulling him into his chest as if shielding him from the very world that had hurt him.

He held him close, rocking him gently, rubbing slow soothing circles on his back, grounding him with every breath.

"Arni... you didn't fail, baccha..." Abhimanyu whispered against his hair, his own voice thick with emotion. He tightened his hold just a little, just enough to make Arnav feel anchored. "You stood between Mr. Jaisingh and them... you took a stand for them, Arni..."

He cupped the back of Arnav's head, pulling him in even closer, like shelter.

"I'm so proud of you, baccha... so, so proud." He pressed a soft kiss on Arnav's crown, his thumb caressing behind his ear to steady his breathing. "You didn't fail... not even for a second."

He gently nudged Arnav's forehead to his chest, holding him like one cradles a trembling child, like he could absorb his pain by sheer touch.

"For the first time... you made that man realise his worth, Arni..." Abhimanyu murmured, rocking him again, gentle, patient, unwavering. "You stood up so well, baccha... you did so good..."

Arnav sobbed again...quiet, broken and Abhimanyu immediately rubbed his back, whispering every few seconds, soft soothing words slipping from his lips like a lullaby meant for a wounded soul.

"It's okay, Arni... breathe, baccha... I'm here." His hand moved to Arnav's hair, combing through the strands, calming him with every stroke. "You protected them. You stood like a wall between him and the children. You shielded them, Arni. You kept them safe."

Another kiss, gentler now landed on Arnav's forehead, Abhimanyu cradling his cheeks, wiping his tears with the softest touch.

"You didn't fail YOUR children, Arni," he whispered, resting his forehead against Arnav's. "You fought for them today. And they saw it. I saw it."

And with that, he wrapped both arms around Arnav again, holding him as if he could hold together every piece that life had broken...rocking him, humming comfort into his shaking shoulders, whispering over and over that he was enough, he was strong, he was their protector...

And he had not failed.

Arnav leaned forward, his body slowly folding in on itself until his head touched Abhimanyu's lap, like the last bit of strength inside him caved in and surrendered to the only place that had ever felt like safety.

Abhimanyu's hand slipped instinctively into his hair, fingers moving in slow, steady strokes, the kind of touch born from years of knowing exactly how to soothe him, how to anchor him, how to hold him when he couldn't hold himself.

They stayed like that in the quiet...no words, just breath and trembling and a desperation to stay whole after a day that had cracked them open from the inside. Two people who had held back the world all day... finally letting themselves lean on each other.

After a long silence, Arnav's voice slipped out, small, trembling, scared in a way he rarely let himself be.

"Sab thik ho jayega na, Dada...?"

The last word fractured, breaking mid breath, and a single tear escaped from the corner of his eye, sliding down before he could wipe it.

Abhimanyu's thumb caught it gently.
He bent down and pressed a soft, grounding kiss on Arnav's forehead...slow, steady, the kind of touch that tells you the world isn't ending even when it feels like it is.

Arnav closed his eyes at the warmth, letting it seep into the cracks a day like this had carved into him.

"Sab thik ho jayega, baccha," Abhimanyu murmured, fingers still threading through his hair with a gentleness that softened all the tension knotted in Arnav's shoulders.

His hand kept moving...slow, rhythmic strokes that calmed him the same way they had since childhood. And then, after a quiet moment, Abhimanyu spoke again, voice low and steady, like truth wrapped in comfort.

"Tu jaanta hai na, Arni... samay ki sabse achhi aur buri baat ye hoti hai ki vo beet jaata hai."

The words settled over Arnav...soft, patient, familiar. A reminder that storms eventually pass, that nights don't last forever, that even the worst moments still have to bow before time.

Arnav stayed in Abhimanyu's lap, tucked close, the world outside the room fading into the background until all that existed was the quiet rhythm of their breathing. Abhimanyu's fingers kept moving through his hair, steady and protective...like he was shielding him from the chaos he had endured all day.

Then Arnav's voice came again, fragile, hesitant.

"I'm really sorry, Dada... I won't ever do it again... chahe kuch bhi ho jaye... I'm really sorry for scaring you."

His forehead pressed lightly against Abhimanyu's chest, as if he was trying to push the guilt out of both their hearts. The vulnerability in his voice made the air in the room feel almost sacred.

Abhimanyu didn't need an explanation, he knew his boy.

He knew Arnav was apologizing for worrying him, for letting himself break in a way that had terrified Abhimanyu, for carrying burdens alone until they crushed him.

Abhimanyu sighed softly and brushed his fingers through Arnav's hair.

"I won't say it's okay..." he whispered, honest and raw. "Because it's not."

He paused, leaning close, his voice dipping into a softness that felt like a cradle built only for Arnav.

"Do you trust me, baccha?"

Arnav didn't even blink.
His response came instantly, instinctively, because it had always been true.

"Khud se bhi jyada."

A small smile warmed Abhimanyu's face...gentle, heartfelt, proud. His fingers resumed their soothing circles in Arnav's hair.

"Then always come to me, baccha... we are a team. We have always been a team. You don't have to carry everything alone, Arni."

Arnav pressed closer, letting the reassurance settle deep inside him.

"I won't... I'm sorry."

Abhimanyu didn't correct him, didn't lecture him. Instead, he leaned down and pressed a slow, soft kiss to Arnav's head...accepting, forgiving, loving. A kiss that said everything words couldn't.
A kiss that said: I'm here. I'm not going anywhere.

In a whisper meant only for him, he murmured:

"Arni... mai vo kasam wapas leta hoon... Your children need you right now and I can't hold you back."

Arnav's breath trembled, his eyes closing fully this time as the weight on his chest eased just a little. That sentence, from the man he trusted more than himself, felt like someone had finally lifted a boulder off his ribs.

Arnav lay in Abhimanyu’s lap, eyes half-open, mind still spiralling with the weight of everything he had heard. For a long moment he didn’t speak...just breathed, steadying himself. Then the silence cracked. “Dada…” his voice was soft, controlled, frighteningly calm, “humare paas Jaisingh Enterprises ke sixty percent shares hain. We don’t need to fight… we just need to pull back.”

His fingers tightened slightly on Abhimanyu’s sleeve. “Kal se, every supply agreement, every joint venture, every renewal...terminate. Freeze the credit lines we control. Pull out our board support. Cancel their export facilitation we sign off on.”

He exhaled slowly, eyes darkening with something sharper than anger. “He never cared for us. He never cared for his daughter… nor for his sons. For him, daughters were burdens… and sons were profitable mules.” His jaw tightened. “And now he'll face the consequences of his actions.”

Abhimanyu stilled, the faintest breath catching in his throat. A low, almost inaudible “hm” escaped him...more recognition than reply. He didn’t need more. He could hear it in Arnav’s tone… the softness was gone. Something cold, clean, and merciless had settled in its place. Viren hadn’t just crossed a line, he had cracked the last good piece Arnav had kept safe.

Abhimanyu’s thumb brushed Arnav’s temple once, steady, accepting.
He understood.
This time, Arnav wasn’t going to hold back.

For a moment, everything was calm again. Abhimanyu kept caressing his hair, steadying him.

Then Arnav whispered into the quiet,
"I need to adopt Avu and Aaru as soon as possible."

Abhimanyu's hand paused..not out of shock, but out of absorbing the intensity of Arnav's resolve. Then it resumed, gentle again.

A soft hum left Abhimanyu's chest...acknowledging, encouraging.

Arnav continued, voice steadying as his conviction filled it. "I know that man... he will get to me through my kids. And I can't afford to let them get hurt anymore."

Abhimanyu hummed again, deeper now.
"I know... Maan is already above 18, and Anvi will turn eighteen soon. He will play his cheap shots through Avu and Aaru."

He considered, then asked softly, "Arni, are you really sure you want to take this step, baccha? It's a huge responsibility...I know you have always taken care of Maan and anvi like that....Still....."

Arnav lifted his head from Abhimanyu's lap and sat cross legged in front of him, eyes clear, steady, burning with love.

"I am very sure."

He looked straight into Abhimanyu's eyes, every word honest, every emotion real.

"I love them, Dada. I really love them. I want to protect them... I want to take care of them... I want to pamper them... I want them to live their life peacefully, joyfully...like kids their age are supposed to... they are carrying the burden of a mistake they didn't even make... and I can't let them suffer for that..."

Abhimanyu stared, stunned and moved.
Slowly, a warm smile spread across his face...pride, relief, affection all blending together. "Then let's contact Yash. He'll make sure we get the adoption done."

Arnav sighed, thinking ahead. "Yash ko rehne dete hain... uski family mein already bahot chaos chal raha hai. Aur iss time apni family problems se pareshan karna thik nahi rahega."

"We'll contact another good lawyer," he added.

Abhimanyu let out a small, irritated breath. "Lekin usse pata chalega toh bahot tantrums karega vo."

Arnav didn't laugh, but something softened in his eyes....a tired warmth, a quiet trust that slipped to the surface before he could hide it.

"Aap ho na."

It wasn't said with teasing.
It wasn't said with expectation.
It was just... honest.
The kind of honesty that comes when someone has held you through every version of yourself, when you don't have to pretend you're strong to be loved.

And the moment the words left his mouth, a faint sense of ease settled inside him, so gentle that it almost hurt. Because he knew, in a way that didn't need thinking that if Abhimanyu was with him, he wasn't carrying anything alone.

Every hard year, every lonely night, every fear that gnawed at him... all of it had always quieted when his Dada stood beside him. That thought didn't come with drama. It came with a quiet warmth, like a small light flickering in a tired heart.

He shifted slowly, almost unconsciously, and lay down again in Abhimanyu's lap. It didn't feel like taking support. It felt like going back to a place where his body remembered how to breathe.

Abhimanyu's hand slid into his hair immediately, as if guided by habit rather than thought. His fingers moved in slow, steady strokes...gentle, familiar, the kind of touch you don't have to grow into because it's been there since the beginning.

Arnav's breath left him in a long, shaky exhale. Not dramatic, just real. A release he didn't even realize he'd been holding in his chest.

His shoulders dipped.
His jaw unclenched.
His body settled into Abhimanyu's legs as though it had been waiting all day for this place to exist again.

Abhimanyu's touch stayed warm, unhurried. With his other hand, he rested his palm lightly on Arnav's arm, a quiet reassurance that he was there, not hovering, not crowding, just present in the soft, grounding way Arnav needed the most.

Arnav reached out blindly, searching, and found Abhimanyu's free hand. His fingers curled around it gently, almost shyly, like someone reaching for something familiar after being overwhelmed for too long.

Abhimanyu's thumb brushed across his knuckles...slow, soothing, the kind of touch that asked for nothing but offered everything.

And that was all it took.

Arnav's breathing softened.
The stiffness in his spine melted.
Each inhale grew calmer, each exhale heavier...the kind that carries exhaustion and finds warmth instead of fear.

Abhimanyu didn't stop stroking his hair, didn't shift or readjust, didn't break the steady rhythm of comfort he was giving. His presence wrapped around Arnav as simply as breath...no pressure, no questions, just warmth, just safety.

Little by little, Arnav's fingers loosened around his hand.
His breaths deepened.
His body grew still in that quiet, trusting way only a loved one's lap can create.

And then, gently...without any fight, without any unease

Arnav drifted into sleep.

A peaceful, heavy sleep.

The kind that comes only when someone feels safe enough to let the world go for a while.

Abhimanyu kept caressing his hair with the same steady tenderness, holding him close, letting him rest exactly where he always seemed to find his way back to.

___________________________________________

Thanks for reading!!

I honestly don’t even know what to say after writing this chapter… it was emotional, messy, and full of feelings.

And yes, this is a big update, almost 7,500 words!

So please, drop all your thoughts in the comments… anything and everything you felt while reading it.

At least honour my finger cramps and midnight emotional breakdowns while writing this.