Chapter 37

Subhi

I had searched for him everywhere.

Each day at school, my eyes would automatically scan the classroom, the corridors, the field—anywhere he could be. But he was nowhere.

It had been days since I last saw Abhimanyu. Since that night. Since he had broken down in front of me, revealing the truth he had buried for years.

And then, he disappeared.

At first, I thought he just needed space. But as the days passed, a sinking feeling settled in my chest. What if he was struggling alone again? What if he thought he had made a mistake by letting me in?

The thought made me restless.

I wanted to talk to him. I needed to.

And then, by pure chance, I saw him.

He was sitting on a bench in the park, the same one I had passed countless times before. His posture was slouched, his eyes distant, lost in a world far away from here.

My feet moved on their own.

I didn’t stop to think. I didn’t hesitate.

I walked straight to him, my heart pounding.

When I stood before him, he didn’t look up at first. But when he did, something twisted inside me.

His eyes—those same eyes that used to hold arrogance, mischief, or irritation—now looked so... empty.

I had expected him to say something, maybe crack a joke, maybe push me away. But he didn’t. He just stared at me, as if he wasn’t sure if I was real.

I should have yelled at him. Asked him why he had disappeared. Told him how worried I had been.

But I didn’t.

Instead, I sat down beside him.

Not too close. Not too far. Just enough for him to know that I was there.

For a while, neither of us spoke.

The air between us was filled with everything unsaid, everything too heavy to put into words.

And then, slowly, he exhaled.

Not just a normal breath—but one that seemed to carry the weight of the world.

I turned my head to look at him. “You disappeared,” I finally whispered.

He clenched his jaw. “I know.”

“Why?”

His fingers curled into fists, resting on his knees. “Because I don’t know how to do this, Subhi.” His voice was strained, like he was holding back too much. “I don’t know how to let someone see all of this... mess.”

I felt my heart squeeze.

I reached out—hesitated for a second—then placed my hand over his.

He flinched but didn’t pull away.

“You don’t have to do this alone,” I said softly.

His eyes flickered to me, something breaking, something raw.

For the first time since that night, I saw a flicker of something else in his expression.

Not pain.

Not guilt.

But maybe, just maybe... relief.

---