Chapter 51

Subhi

Abhimanyu didn’t let go of my hand.

It wasn’t just a touch—it was something deeper. A silent plea. A desperate grasp on something he was terrified to lose. His fingers trembled slightly, but his grip remained firm, as if letting go would shatter everything holding him together.

And in that moment, I understood. He wasn’t just afraid of being hurt. He was afraid of being happy—because happiness had always come at a price for him.

I shifted slightly, adjusting so I could see his face. The moonlight cast shadows over his features, highlighting the exhaustion in his eyes, the unspoken words lingering on his lips. He looked lost.

“Abhimanyu,” I said softly, giving his hand a reassuring squeeze. “You don’t have to figure everything out at once.”

His lips parted, but no words came out at first. Then, with a bitter chuckle, he whispered, “That’s the problem, Subhi. I don’t know if I’ll ever figure it out.”

The vulnerability in his voice made my heart ache. How many times had he felt like this? How many times had he drowned in his own thoughts, unable to reach out for help?

I held his hand tighter. “You don’t have to.” My voice was firm, unwavering. “You just have to stop running.”

He flinched slightly, as if my words struck a nerve. His jaw tightened, and for a moment, I thought he might pull away.

“What if I don’t know how to stop?” he finally asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

A soft smile tugged at my lips. “Then I’ll make you stop.”

His eyes locked onto mine, searching—testing—wondering if I really meant it. He had spent so long keeping everyone at a distance, convincing himself that he was better off alone. But I wasn’t leaving. Not now. Not ever.

Slowly, I leaned closer, resting my head against his shoulder. He stiffened at first, like he wasn’t used to this kind of comfort, but after a few seconds, I felt him exhale. His body relaxed, his grip on my hand loosening just enough to be gentle instead of desperate.

For the first time, it felt like he wasn’t carrying everything alone.

For the first time, it felt like he was letting himself believe in us.

The night stretched on in silence, but it wasn’t empty. It was filled with unsaid words, unspoken promises, and the quiet comfort of knowing neither of us was alone.