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The car ride was silent.
Not the comfortable kind he was getting Comfortable with.
This silence was heavy. Pressing. Suffocating.
Abhay sat by the window, his small fingers wrapped tightly around the phone Rudra had given him. His gaze stayed fixed outside, watching the world blur past—trees, roads, people… all distant.
Just like everything else.
---
Shivam finally broke the silence with a sharp exhale.
“You’re seriously not going to say anything?”
No response.
Abhay didn’t even turn his head.
---
Shivansh clicked his tongue, irritation clear. “This act is getting old, Abhay.”
Still nothing.
---
A few seconds passed before Shivam spoke again, this time his tone a little different. Not softer—just… less sharp.
“Dadu passed away.”
---
The words hung in the air.
Heavy. Final.
---
For the first time since getting into the car, Abhay blinked.
That was it.
No widened eyes.
No tears.
No shock.
Nothing.
---
Because the word Dadu didn’t feel like anything anymore.
Not warmth.
Not safety.
Not love.
Just… a memory that had already died long before the man did.
(Dadu - Grandfather)
---
Abhay’s gaze remained on the window.
Unmoved.
---
Shivam frowned. “…Did you hear me?”
Silence.
---
Shivansh let out a humorless laugh. “Wow. Not even a reaction? That’s low, even for you.”
Abhay’s fingers tightened slightly around the phone.
That was the only sign.
---
Because he remembered.
He remembered standing in front of that same man—small, scared, crying—after his parents died.
And instead of being held…
He was blamed.
Called unlucky.
A curse.
Left behind without a second thought.
---
So no—
There was nothing left to mourn.
---
“Unbelievable,” Shivam muttered under his breath. “He was still our grandfather.”
Still no reaction.
---
Shivansh leaned forward slightly, his voice turning colder. “Or is this your new way of getting attention?”
---
That made Abhay move.
Slowly.
Quietly.
---
He reached into the small bag beside him and pulled out a notebook and a pen.
Shivam and Shivansh both paused, confusion flickering across their faces.
---
Abhay lowered his gaze and began to write.
The only way he could speak now.
---
A few seconds later, he tore the page out and held it forward.
---
Shivam took it, brows furrowed.
Shivansh leaned over his shoulder.
---
The paper read:
“He never came to see me.”
A pause.
Then another line.
“He said I was the reason everything ended.”
---
The air shifted.
Just slightly.
---
Shivam’s grip on the paper tightened. “What… is this?”
---
Abhay didn’t respond.
He just looked at them—calm, distant, unreadable.
---
Shivansh scoffed, shaking his head. “You’re writing now? Seriously?”
---
Abhay didn’t react to that either.
---
Shivam handed the paper back, irritation creeping in again. “If you have something to say, say it properly.”
---
Abhay looked at the paper in his hands.
Then at them.
---
Slowly…
He shook his head.
---
A small movement.
But firm.
---
Shivansh’s patience snapped. “Oh, come on! What is this drama now?”
---
Abhay didn’t flinch.
Didn’t argue.
Didn’t try to explain.
---
Because he couldn’t.
---
Not like this.
Not anymore.
---
“First the silence, now this?” Shivansh continued, voice edged with frustration. “What, you think this makes you look pitiful?”
---
Abhay’s fingers curled slightly into the notebook.
But his face remained the same.
Still. Quiet. Untouched.
---
Shivam leaned back, running a hand through his hair. “I don’t get him.”
---
Shivansh exhaled sharply. “He’ll stop once we reach home. He always does this for attention.”
---
Abhay looked down at the phone in his hand.
His thumb hovered over the screen.
---
Rudra.
---
For a second…
Just a second…
Something fragile flickered in his eyes.
---
But he didn’t call.
Didn’t type.
---
He just held it tighter.
Like it was the only thing keeping him steady.
---
Outside, the road stretched endlessly ahead.
---
And inside the car—
Abhay sat between two people who once meant everything…
Now feeling like strangers.
---
And the worst part?
They didn’t even realize
They had already lost him.
________________________________
After 3 hours of long ride.
The car finally slowed.
Gravel crunched beneath the tires as the gates opened.
---
Abhay didn’t look up immediately.
He already knew where they were.
He could feel it.
---
The mansion stood tall and unchanged—just as grand, just as cold.
The same place that once held laughter.
The same place that had turned into a prison long before the orphanage ever did.
---
“Get down,” Shivansh said curtly as the car came to a stop.
---
Abhay moved without hesitation.
Quiet. Obedient. Detached.
His small bag hung loosely from his shoulder, the phone still clutched in his hand like a lifeline.
---
The moment his feet touched the ground, a strange stillness settled over him.
Memories tried to creep in—
Running through these halls.
Laughing.
Being chased.
---
He shut them out.
---
“Don’t just stand there,” Shivam snapped, already walking ahead.
---
Abhay followed.
Not because he wanted to.
But because there was nothing else to do.
---
The large doors opened, revealing the same polished floors, the same towering walls…
But none of the warmth.
Not anymore.
---
Abhay stepped inside.
And for a second—
Just a second—
His grip on the phone tightened.
---
Because this place didn’t feel like home.
It felt like a memory he wasn’t allowed to have anymore.
---
Shivansh stopped in the middle of the hall and turned around.
His eyes scanned Abhay briefly—calculating, distant.
---
“Before you start anything,” he said flatly, “let’s make one thing clear.”
---
Abhay stood still.
Watching. Waiting.
---
“You’re not here as family.”
---
The words landed.
Hard.
---
No reaction.
But his fingers curled slightly into his sleeve.
---
Shivam crossed his arms, avoiding Abhay’s eyes for a moment before speaking. “You’ll stay here. That’s it.”
---
Shivansh continued, his tone sharper now. “You don’t interfere in anything. You don’t go around the house like before. And you don’t expect things to be the same.”
---
Silence.
---
Abhay didn’t nod.
Didn’t question.
Didn’t protest.
---
Because somewhere deep down—
He had already expected this.
---
“Come,” Shivansh said, turning away.
---
They didn’t take him upstairs.
Not to the rooms he once knew.
Not to the spaces that still held fragments of him.
---
Instead, they walked down a long, quieter corridor.
Farther.
And farther.
---
The lights were dimmer here.
The air colder.
---
They stopped at the very end.
A door.
Plain.
Isolated.
---
Shivansh opened it.
“This is yours.”
---
The room was… minimal.
A bed.
A table.
A chair.
Nothing else.
No warmth.
No familiarity.
No trace of the life he once had.
---
Abhay stepped inside slowly.
His eyes scanned the space once—just once—before settling into that same quiet stillness.
---
“Stay here,” Shivam added, his voice firm. “Don’t wander around.”
---
Shivansh leaned against the doorframe, watching him closely.
“And don’t go into any other part of the house.”
A pause.
Then, colder—
“You’re not allowed.”
---
The words echoed in the small room.
---
Abhay didn’t look at them.
Didn’t react.
---
He simply walked to the bed and placed his bag down.
Carefully.
Like it didn’t matter where he was anymore.
---
Shivam frowned slightly at the lack of response. “Did you even hear what we said?”
---
Abhay paused.
Then, slowly…
He nodded once.
---
That was it.
---
Shivansh scoffed. “Good for you .”
---
Without another word, he stepped back and pulled the door shut.
---
Click.
---
The sound of the lock echoed louder than it should have.
---
Silence filled the room again.
But this time—
It was different.
---
He was alone.
---
Abhay stood there for a few seconds.
Still.
Unmoving.
---
Then slowly…
He sat down on the bed.
---
The phone was still in his hand.
---
His thumb hovered over the screen again.
Longer this time.
---
The contact.
Rudra.
---
His vision blurred slightly.
---
But still—
He didn’t call.
---
Instead, he curled into himself, lying down on the unfamiliar bed.
---
And for the first time since leaving—
The silence didn’t feel peaceful anymore.
---
It felt like something was missing.
---
Because in this big, suffocating mansion—
Abhay had been given a room.
---
But not a place.
- Writer
