Bruised Knuckles, Soft Hands

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Dhruvin stormed into the dimly lit alley behind the basketball court, his entire body vibrating with fury. His knuckles curled into fists so tight that his nails dug into his palms. His jaw was locked, his breath coming in sharp, shallow bursts. He had spent months holding back this rage, swallowing his anger for Aashna’s sake. But now? Now he wasn’t going to stop.

Nishant was there, leaning against his bike like he had no care in the world, a cigarette dangling from his fingers, his eyes gleaming with amusement as he took in Dhruvin’s storming figure.

The sight of him, so relaxed, so unaffected, made Dhruvin’s blood boil hotter."Ah, Deshmukh," he drawled, flicking the cigarette to the ground and crushing it under his heel. "Didn’t think you had it in you to actually show up."

Dhruvin stopped a few feet away, his fists clenched so tightly that his knuckles ached. "Cut the crap," he growled, his voice low and venomous. "You know why I’m here."

Nishant feigned confusion, tilting his head. "Do I? Because as far as I know, this little drama you and Aashna have cooked up—" he paused, exhaling like he was already bored, "—is based on a lot of misunderstanding. She’s always been… emotional."

The way he said it—the sheer dismissal in his tone—sent Dhruvin’s restraint snapping like a thread stretched too thin. His fist shot forward, colliding with Nishant’s jaw with a sickening crack.

The force of the punch sent Nishant staggering back, his back slamming against the wall. He coughed, wiping the corner of his mouth, his fingers coming away red with blood.

Instead of looking afraid, he laughed. "Well, that was unnecessary," he muttered, rolling his jaw. "You always this violent, Deshmukh? Or is she making you crazy too?"

Dhruvin was on him before he could move, grabbing him by the collar and slamming him against the cold brick. "She isn’t making me anything. You, on the other hand, have exactly three seconds before I beat the living shit out of you."

Nishant chuckled, even as Dhruvin’s grip tightened. "Wow. So protective. But tell me, did she even tell you the full story? Or just the version where she’s the victim?" His smirk widened. "Because from where I stand, she always wanted attention. And we both know how—"

Dhruvin’s knee drove into his gut before he could finish. Nishant let out a choked gasp, doubling over in pain. But Dhruvin wasn’t done. Not even close.

"Don’t you dare say another fucking word about her," Dhruvin spat. His fists came down again—one, two, three brutal punches landing on Nishant’s ribs, each one more punishing than the last.

Nishant groaned, his body slumping against the wall, but even now, he was grinning through the pain. "You… really think she needs you fighting her battles?" he rasped, coughing. "You think this makes her love you more?"

Dhruvin grabbed him by the shirt, yanking him forward. His vision blurred with rage. "This isn’t about winning points. This is about making sure scum like you never gets the chance to hurt her again."

He let go just long enough to send another fist crashing into Nishant’s face. This time, there was no cocky comeback, no smug retort—just a grunt of pain as he crumpled to the ground.

Dhruvin stepped back, chest heaving, hands shaking. He looked down at Nishant—bloodied, barely able to lift his head. "You stay the fuck away from Aashna," he said, voice like steel. "If I ever see you near her again, I won’t stop next time."

And with that, he turned and walked away, leaving Nishant in the dirt where he belonged.

By the time he reached college, the pain was finally catching up to him. His lip was split, his knuckles bruised and swelling. He walked through the campus, trying to stay out of sight, but the sting of his wounds made it hard to move naturally.

Inside a lecture hall, Aashna sat beside Nisha, her benchmate, half-listening to the professor when she noticed Isha suddenly stiffen beside her.

"Aashna..." Isha whispered, leaning in. "Dhruvin—he’s walking near the boy’s washroom. There’s blood on his shirt."

Aashna’s heart dropped. Without a second thought, she pushed back her chair and stood up abruptly. "Sir, it’s a family emergency," she muttered hastily before rushing out of the room.

She immediately dialed Dhruvin’s number. "Where are you? What the hell did you do?"

His voice came through, calm but weary. "I told you. I went to meet my coach."

"Don’t lie to me, Dhruvin! I know what you did!" She quickened her pace, heading toward the boys' washroom.

She found him inside, leaning over the sink, wiping blood off his lip with a damp tissue. His reflection in the mirror was all it took for her temper to explode.

"What the fuck, Dhruvin?!" she snapped, rushing to his side. "You got into a fight, didn’t you?"

He exhaled slowly. "Aashna—"

"No, don’t ‘Aashna’ me! You’re covered in blood!" She grabbed his wrist, her fingers brushing over his bruised knuckles. "This is why you made up that stupid excuse about the coach? To go and get yourself beaten up? Or worse, beat someone else up?"

He sighed, looking anywhere but at her. "He deserved it."

"That’s not the point!" Her eyes softened as she cupped his face gently, inspecting his wounds. "You could’ve been hurt worse. You are hurt."

He let out a small chuckle. "You should see the other guy."

Aashna huffed, shaking her head, but she couldn’t hide the worry in her eyes. She dug into her bag and pulled out a small first-aid kit. "Sit down."

He obeyed without protest, watching as she carefully cleaned his wounds. The silence between them was thick with emotions. As she dabbed his split lip with antiseptic, he winced slightly.

"Serves you right," she muttered. But her touch was delicate, her fingers tracing over his jaw with unconscious tenderness.

When she was done, she leaned in and pressed a soft kiss against his wounded lip. "Idiot," she whispered.

Dhruvin closed his eyes at the warmth of her touch, letting his forehead rest against hers. "I had to do it, Aashu. I couldn’t let him think he could walk away like nothing happened."

She sighed, threading her fingers through his hair. "I get it. But don’t shut me out next time, okay? You don’t have to fight alone."

His arms wrapped around her, pulling her close. "I love you."

Aashna exhaled against his neck, holding onto him a little tighter. "I love you too."

And for a moment, standing there in the quiet washroom, surrounded by the scent of antiseptic and the lingering warmth of their embrace, everything felt okay again.

❤️❤️❤️❤️

Author’s Note

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