Chapter 2
1056 Words
She paused mid-step and looked at her mother.
“Ma, where is Shivansh bhai?” she asked, scanning the faces around her.
Bhavya expression softened. “He’s in his room, beta. He just came back from physical therapy. Riya is taking care of him.”
“Riya bhabhi?” she repeated, my voice low, almost sceptical.
Before she could respond, she straightened her posture and forced a small smile. “Don’t worry, Ma. I’ll find them myself.”
She turned on her heels and walked out of the hallway, heels clicking in sharp rhythm against the marble floor.
In the Hallway
As Aarya disappeared up the grand staircase, her mother, Bhavya, turned to look at Dadu, eyes already glistening with tears.
“Why does she have to carry all this pain?” she whispered.
Her father, Aryan, stepped behind her and wrapped an arm around her shoulders. “Don’t be sad, Bhavya. We have to stay strong for her. If we fall apart, who’s going to comfort her broken heart, huh?”
Bhavya’s voice trembled. “I don’t understand, Aryan. What was her fault in all of this? Why is she the one suffering? Ten years… ten years, I didn’t know how my daughter was living—what she was eating, where she was sleeping, or whether she even smiled anymore. And now that she’s finally home, she doesn’t even get a breath of peace before worrying about her brother.”
Her voice cracked. “We failed her. Siddharth bhai and Anamika bhabhi… they died protecting their children, trusting us to take care of them. But look at her now—their only princess, broken because of those people.”
Aryan’s jaw clenched, his own eyes glimmering. “Bhavya, don’t cry. Our daughter is strong—stronger than anyone gives her credit for. They tried to break her, but she came back. Look at her—healthy, confident, fearless. They can’t defeat her.”
Bhavya shook her head, tears slipping free. “But did you see her eyes, Aryan? They’re dead. They’re not my baby’s eyes anymore.”
“That’s enough, Bhavya,” Dadu said, stepping forward with his cane. His tone was firm but heavy with emotion. “She just returned home. Let’s not drown her in our guilt. We can’t undo the past—but we can fix what we broke.”
Bhavya sniffled. “But—”
“No buts,” Dadu cut her off gently, placing a wrinkled hand against her cheek. “We will make her feel safe again. I don’t want her running away this time.”
He kissed her forehead, and she nodded silently, clutching his hand before turning away.
As the family dispersed, Bhavya lingered in the hallway, whispering softly under her breath,
“Why did you both leave us? Siddharth bhai… Anamika bhabhi… can’t you see your children are suffering from sins they never committed?”
Her heart bled with memories.
When Bhavya married Aryan and entered the Malhotra family, Anamika had treated her like both mother and sister, while Siddharth had guided her like a brother. They were her home within the Malhotras. Losing them in that horrifying accident shattered everything.
She missed them every day. And seeing Aarya—once so full of fire and laughter—return with eyes that no longer sparkled was a pain she couldn’t bear.
She whispered one last prayer under her breath before heading to the kitchen, forcing a smile for the servants.
“I promised I’d protect them,” she murmured to herself. “And I will. No matter what it takes.”
Third Floor — Shivansh’s Room
The long hallway leading to Shivansh’s room was quiet, too quiet for a house so full of people.
She pushed open the heavy wooden door.
The smell of antiseptic and jasmine filled the air—Riya bhabhi’s doing, no doubt. The curtains were drawn halfway, allowing streaks of golden sunlight to spill across the room.
Shivansh lay on the bed, propped up against a pile of pillows, his right leg wrapped in a cast. His face—once so alive and full of mischief—now carried exhaustion.
“Bhai…” Her voice came out as a whisper.
He turned his head slightly, and when our eyes met, his lips curved into the faintest smile.
“Ten years,” he said softly. “You really took your time.”
She tried to smile, but it faltered. “Some of us actually had to work for a living.”
Riya looked up from where she sat beside him, adjusting his blanket. Her eyes widened. “Aarya! Oh my God, you’re really here.” She stood and hugged her tightly.
“Good to see you too, Bhabhi,” she said politely, hugging her back before stepping closer to Shivansh.
He studied her carefully. “You look different.”
She crossed her arms. “You look older.”
He laughed weakly. “Still mean.”
“Still stupid.”
Their banter lasted only seconds before silence fell again—heavy, loaded with everything they weren’t saying.
“I heard your legs are getting better, you will soon walk again” she said softly, sitting beside him. “How are you holding up?”
He shrugged. “Better than Ma, I think. She cries every night, thinking I don't know,”
Her chest tightened. “That woman could win an award for worrying.”
“You missed a lot, Aarya.”
“I know,” she admitted, eyes lowering. “But I’m here now.”
There was a pause—long and wordless. Then he reached out and squeezed her hand. “You came back stronger, didn’t you?”
She met his gaze. “I had to.”
Riya quietly excused herself to bring tea, leaving the siblings alone.
The silence between them wasn’t awkward—it was thick with the kind of pain that binds siblings together more than words ever could.
“I wish Ma and Papa were here,” he murmured.
“Don’t,” Aarya said quickly, blinking away the sting in her eyes. “They wouldn’t want us crying. They’d want us to live. To fight.”
He nodded faintly. “And you? Are you still fighting?”
Her jaw tightened. “Always.”
"But, Ari, do you miss them?"
- Writer
