Loved
1959 Words
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A soft knock came after what felt like hours.
Not warm.
Not hesitant.
Just… formal.
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Abhay didn’t move immediately.
He was sitting on the edge of the bed, the phone still resting in his lap, his gaze distant.
The knock came again.
This time, a little louder.
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The door opened before he could react.
A servant stepped in, holding a tray.
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“Your food,” he said, placing it on the small table.
His tone wasn’t unkind—just careful. Like he’d been given instructions.
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Abhay’s eyes shifted to the tray.
Simple food.
Neatly arranged.
Untouched.
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The servant hesitated for a second before speaking again.
“Sir said… you’re not to come downstairs for meals.”
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A pause.
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“They don’t want you in the dining area.”
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Silence.
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Abhay didn’t react.
Didn’t look surprised.
Didn’t look hurt.
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Because somewhere deep inside—
He had already expected this too.
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“You’ll be given food here,” the servant added, glancing at him briefly. “Every time.”
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Abhay’s fingers curled slightly against the bedsheet.
That was the only sign.
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The servant shifted uncomfortably before continuing, “And… there’s something else.”
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Abhay slowly looked up.
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“Tomorrow, the rituals will begin,” he said. “For your grandfather.”
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The word grandfather didn’t change anything on Abhay’s face.
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“You’ve been told to attend.”
A pause.
Then, more carefully—
“But…”
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The servant looked down for a second before finishing the sentence.
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“You are not to create any problems.”
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The words echoed in the small room.
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“As it is… you already—”
He stopped himself.
But the sentence didn’t need to be completed.
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Abhay understood.
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He always did.
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The servant cleared his throat. “Just… be there quietly. That’s all.”
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Silence filled the space again.
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Abhay didn’t nod this time.
Didn’t write.
Didn’t respond.
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He just looked at the tray again.
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After a moment, the servant sighed softly and stepped back.
“I’ll come later to take it,” he said before leaving.
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The door closed.
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Click.
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Alone again.
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The room felt smaller somehow.
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Abhay stared at the food for a long time.
Minutes passed.
Maybe more.
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Then slowly…
He stood up and walked toward the table.
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He sat down.
Picked up the spoon.
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But his hand stopped midway.
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Because suddenly—
A memory hit him.
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Sitting at a large table.
Laughing.
Someone feeding him the first bite.
Fighting over food.
Being called the youngest, the most loved.
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The spoon trembled slightly in his hand.
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And just like that—
The memory shattered.
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Abhay quietly put the spoon back down.
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He didn’t eat.
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Instead, he picked up the phone again.
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His thumb hovered.
Shaking, just a little.
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Rudra.
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For a moment…
It felt like he might actually press it.
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But then—
Slowly—
He locked the screen.
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And placed it beside the untouched food.
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Because even now…
Even when everything hurt—
Abhay didn’t want to be a burden.
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Not to the only person who had ever stayed.
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So he went back to the bed.
Curled into himself again.
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Hungry.
Silent.
Alone.
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And downstairs—
Preparations for mourning began.
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While upstairs—
A child learned once again
How to disappear without making a sound.
The room was quiet.
Too quiet.
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Abhay lay curled on the bed, his back facing everything—
the door, the table, the world.
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And then—
The phone lit up.
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A soft vibration broke the silence.
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Abhay stilled.
For a second… he didn’t move.
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Then slowly—
He turned.
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His eyes fell on the screen.
And for the first time since entering the mansion—
Something shifted.
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Rudra calling…
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Abhay sat up instantly.
His fingers trembled slightly as he grabbed the phone—
And answered.
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The screen flickered.
And there he was.
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Rudra.
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His face appeared—calm, steady… but his eyes—
They searched.
Immediately.
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“Abhay.”
His voice was low. Controlled.
But there was something underneath it.
Something sharp.
Something worried.
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Abhay just stared at him.
Like he was making sure he was real.
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Rudra’s gaze moved quickly—taking in everything.
The dim room.
The plain walls.
The silence.
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And then—
His eyes narrowed slightly.
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“Did you eat?”
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The question came direct.
No softness.
No distraction.
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Abhay’s fingers tightened around the phone.
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He didn’t answer.
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Rudra leaned forward slightly. His voice dropped.
“Show me.”
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A pause.
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Abhay hesitated.
But he couldn’t say no to him.
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Slowly… he turned the phone.
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The tray came into view.
Untouched.
Exactly as it was placed.
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Silence.
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Rudra’s jaw tightened.
Just slightly.
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“Why?”
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Abhay looked back at the screen.
His lips parted—
But no sound came out.
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His hand moved instead.
He reached for the notebook beside him, opened it quickly, and wrote—
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“Not hungry.”
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He held it up.
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Rudra stared at the words.
For a long second.
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Then he exhaled slowly.
Not in anger.
In restraint.
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“Don’t lie to me, Abhay.”
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Abhay’s eyes dropped.
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Rudra’s voice softened—but only slightly.
“Did they say something?”
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No response.
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That was answer enough.
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Rudra leaned back, running a hand over his face before looking at him again.
This time—firm.
Unmoving.
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“Eat.”
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Abhay shook his head.
A small, stubborn movement.
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Rudra’s gaze sharpened instantly.
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“Fine.”
A pause.
Then—
“I won’t eat either.”
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Abhay’s head snapped up.
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Rudra held his gaze. Completely serious.
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“You don’t eat—
I don’t eat.”
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Silence filled the space between them.
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Abhay’s eyes widened slightly.
He shook his head again—this time faster.
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He grabbed the notebook again, writing quickly—
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“No.”
“You eat.”
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He held it up, urgency clear in his movements.
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Rudra didn’t even look at the second line.
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“I said what I said.”
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His voice wasn’t loud.
But it left no space for argument.
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Abhay’s fingers tightened around the paper.
His breathing hitched slightly.
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Because he knew—
Rudra wasn’t joking.
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Seconds passed.
Heavy.
Silent.
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Rudra didn’t break eye contact.
Didn’t move.
Didn’t soften.
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“Eat, Abhay baby please.”
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This time—
It wasn’t just a command.
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It was something deeper.
Something protective.
Something that refused to let him disappear again.
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Abhay looked at the tray.
Then back at Rudra.
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Slowly…
He reached for the spoon.
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Rudra watched.
Every movement.
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Abhay took a small bite.
Barely anything.
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But it was enough.
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Rudra exhaled quietly.
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“Good baccha .”
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Abhay kept eating.
Slowly.
Silently.
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And for the first time since entering that house—
He wasn’t alone while doing it.
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Rudra stayed on the call.
Didn’t speak much.
Didn’t interrupt.
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Just watched.
Made sure.
--- Abhay’s movements slowed after a few bites.
The spoon rested in his hand, untouched again.
But this time—
it wasn’t because he didn’t want to eat.
It was because…
He was looking at Rudra.
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Really looking.
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Rudra hadn’t disconnected.
He was still there.
Still watching.
Still… staying.
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For a moment, neither of them spoke.
The silence between them felt different now.
Softer.
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Rudra leaned back slightly, his expression easing as he watched Abhay sit there, small and quiet, yet trying.
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“Good boy,” he murmured.
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Abhay’s fingers tightened slightly around the spoon.
His gaze dropped for a second.
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Rudra noticed.
Of course he did.
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His voice changed then.
It lost the firmness.
Lost the edge.
And became something deeper.
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“Abhay baby …”
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Abhay looked up again.
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Rudra’s eyes held his—steady, unwavering.
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“Do you know… how important you are to me?”
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Abhay stilled.
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The question wasn’t casual.
It wasn’t light.
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It meant something.
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Abhay’s grip on the phone tightened just a little.
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Rudra didn’t wait for an answer.
He already knew.
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“You’re not just… someone I take care of.”
A pause.
His voice softened further.
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“You’re mine, Abhay.”
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The words weren’t possessive in a harsh way.
They were… grounding.
Certain.
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“Do you understand that?”
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Abhay’s lips parted slightly.
But no sound came.
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Rudra continued, quieter now—almost like he was speaking something he didn’t say often.
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“You are the most important person in my life.”
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The room went completely still.
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Abhay’s eyes widened just a fraction.
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“I don’t care about anything else the way I care about you.”
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Something inside Abhay… shifted.
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“Not the work, not the world… nothing.”
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Rudra’s gaze softened, but his words didn’t lose their weight.
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“If you’re okay… I’m okay.”
A pause.
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“If you’re not…”
He exhaled quietly.
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“I’m not either.”
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That was it.
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No big speech.
No dramatic tone.
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Just truth.
Raw and simple.
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Abhay’s vision blurred.
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His fingers trembled slightly around the phone.
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Because no one had said that to him before.
Not like this.
Not and meant it.
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His brothers had once said he was their life.
His family had once promised forever.
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But they had left.
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Rudra didn’t sound like he would.
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And that…
That was what broke him.
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Abhay’s eyes filled with tears.
Slowly.
Quietly.
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One slipped down his cheek.
Then another.
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He didn’t hide it.
Didn’t turn away.
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He just looked at Rudra—
Like he was holding onto every word.
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Rudra saw it.
Of course he did.
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His expression softened completely now.
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“Hey…” he murmured gently.
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Abhay shook his head quickly, trying to wipe his tears with the back of his hand.
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But they didn’t stop.
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Because this time—
They weren’t from pain.
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They were from something he hadn’t felt in a long time.
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Being wanted.
Being chosen.
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Being loved.
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Rudra’s voice dropped, softer than ever.
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“No crying, baby…”
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But there was no scolding in it.
Only warmth.
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“I meant every word.”
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Abhay’s hand moved again—shaky, hurried.
He grabbed the notebook and wrote, his vision still blurred.
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“I can’t lose you…”
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He held it up.
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Rudra looked at it—
And something flickered in his eyes.
Not doubt.
Not hesitation.
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Promise.
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“You won’t.”
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Simple.
Certain.
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Abhay let out a shaky breath, more tears slipping down.
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And for the first time since being brought back to that house—
The emptiness inside him felt… a little less loud.
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Because somewhere—
On the other side of a screen—
Someone had chosen him.
And stayed.
Because if the world was going to take everything from Abhay again—
He wasn’t going to let it take this too.
- Writer
