Chapter 38

Abhimanyu

I didn’t know how long I had been sitting there. The world around me had faded into a blur—distant chatter, the rustling of leaves, the occasional sound of a cycle passing by. None of it mattered. Nothing mattered.

I had thought disappearing would make things easier. That if I stayed away, things would go back to normal—for her, for me. But the moment I saw her standing there, looking at me with those eyes filled with something I couldn’t name, I knew I had been wrong.

Shubhi was here.

And she wasn’t leaving.

I swallowed hard, gripping the bench beneath me. I wanted to look away, pretend I hadn’t noticed her, pretend I was still lost in my own world. But my body betrayed me. My eyes locked onto hers, and for a moment, neither of us spoke.

She took a hesitant step forward, as if testing the ground beneath her feet. “Where have you been?” Her voice was softer than I expected, lacking the sharpness I was bracing for.

I exhaled sharply, forcing a smirk that felt hollow. “Nowhere special.”

She didn’t look convinced. “You stopped coming to school.”

I shrugged, shifting my gaze to the ground. “Didn’t feel like it.”

A long silence stretched between us. I could feel her watching me, trying to understand, trying to piece together everything I wasn’t saying. And damn it, a part of me wanted to let her. But the weight of everything—the past, the memories, the truth—felt like chains pulling me down.

Then, she moved. Slowly, cautiously, she sat down next to me. Close enough for me to feel her presence, but not close enough to touch. “I know, Abhimanyu,” she said quietly.

My whole body stiffened.

I turned to her sharply. “Know what?” My voice was barely above a whisper, but it carried a warning.

Her eyes didn’t waver. “About your sister.”

The breath I had been holding escaped in a shaky exhale. My hands clenched into fists, my chest tightening as if an invisible force was squeezing the air out of me.

She knew.

I had spent years burying it, locking it away where no one could reach. And yet, here she was, sitting beside me, holding the very thing I had been running from.

I wanted to be angry. I wanted to push her away, tell her she had no right to dig into my past. But all I felt was exhaustion.

I leaned forward, resting my elbows on my knees, rubbing a hand over my face. “And what now?” I muttered. “You pity me?”

“No.” Her voice was steady, firm. “I just… I understand now.”

I let out a bitter laugh. “Understand what? That I’m a mess? That I’m not some perfect guy you can figure out?”

She sighed. “That you’ve been carrying this alone. That you push people away because you don’t know how to let them stay.”

Her words struck something deep inside me, a place I had long abandoned. I shook my head, looking away. “It doesn’t change anything.”

“Maybe not,” she admitted. “But it changes how I see you.”

I met her gaze then, and for the first time in forever, I saw something I hadn’t seen in anyone’s eyes for a long time.

She didn’t look at me with pity. She looked at me like someone who saw all my broken pieces… and didn’t run away.

And for the first time, I didn’t know whether to push her away or hold onto her like she was the only thing keeping me afloat.

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