The field buzzed with energy.
Players sprinted, shouted, laughed—moving like flames beneath the early evening sun. The rhythm of the game pulsed with the kind of joy that made the world feel full.
But off to the side, beneath the shade of the benches, Abhi and Vihan sat still. Slumped. Silent.
Their faces weren't marked by sweat or effort—but by thoughts far heavier than the ball being kicked across the field. The laughter felt distant. Disconnected.
Vihan, head bowed, finally broke the silence.
"Brother… why do you think Papa still treats Mr. Singh differently? He respects him—even after everything."
Abhi didn't look up.
"How would I know?" he muttered, voice laced with bitterness. "They've been like this since before I was old enough to ask."
Vihan hesitated.
"Then... should we ask Papa? Or Maa?"
Before Abhi could reply, a sharp voice cut through the air—
"Are you guys deaf or what?"
Dino's shout shattered their cocoon.
He stood a few feet away, hands on his waist, frowning.
"I've been calling you both! Why aren't you practicing?"
Startled, the brothers blinked—dragged back to the present.
Then, just as quickly, their gazes dulled again.
Dino stood firm, waiting. But Abhi simply leaned back, indifferent.
Vihan didn't answer either. His gaze had drifted—to the entrance gate.
And then he saw him.
Arun.
He stood still like a storm dressed in silence. Eyes sharp and scanning. A predator in uniform.
Vihan's breath hitched. He nudged Abhi.
"Abhi…" he whispered, pointing.
Abhi followed his gaze—and froze.
The moment his eyes landed on Arun, a cold shiver slid down his spine. That familiar tension—the one that never truly left—wrapped around his chest like a rope.
Because if Arun was here... Aarav couldn't have his moment with Ayan.
Without a word, Abhi grabbed his bag and stood up, moving with sudden urgency, like pulled by something invisible.
Arun sensing it. Their eyes met—just briefly. He turned back.
And they walked out together. Silently.
Left behind, Dino threw up his hands. "What the hell is even going on anymore?"
Vihan chuckled—a small sound, but it lifted something heavy from his chest.
"Let's practice," he said, standing and stretching. A teasing smile crept in. "Don't be lazy."
And with that, he jogged back to the field—leaving the shadows where they belonged.
---
[ Later – The Café ]
In a quiet corner, Abhi and Arun sat in their own world—one untouched by the cheerfulness around them.
Cups clinked. Voices floated. Warm lights spilled gold across tabletops.
But between them, tension hung heavy—undisturbed and unmistakable.
Abhi hunched over his notes, pen clenched too tight, lines blurring beneath storm-cloud eyes. He wasn't writing. He was barely breathing.
Beside him, Arun sat still. Watching.
He didn't speak. He didn't push. He just observed—like he always did. Reading Abhi's storms.
Finally, his voice cut through gently— Not demanding. Just… inviting.
"You don't have something to say today?"
Abhi's head snapped up.
"That father of yours…" His voice cracked, fury flooding out.
"What's his problem? We're not snatching your damn shares—so what right does he have to talk like that? If Brother Aarav hadn't stopped me, I swear, I would've knocked him down."
His fist landed on the table. Quiet, but final.
Arun didn't flinch.
He took in every word, every jagged edge, in silence.
"And you—" Abhi's voice caught again. Not just in anger. But frustration. "You just stood there. You let him say all that—like it meant nothing to you. Like I don't—"
He stopped. Too raw. Too real.
The silence that followed wasn't empty. It was full—of every word left unsaid.
Arun inched forward. Not to touch. Just close. Close enough to anchor.
"Don't forget…" His voice was low. Steady.
"I'm his son. If it ever comes down to it… you'll have to go through me first."
Their eyes locked.
Then—Abhi leaned in. Close. Closer than necessary. With his as usual smrink.
"I'm not afraid, young master…" His voice dropped to a whisper. Eyes smoldering.
"I'll aim straight for your heart."
For a moment, Arun didn't move.
Then—just faintly—the corner of his mouth curved. Almost a smile. He looked away to breathe.
Then tapped gently on Abhi's notebook.
"Focus on your next paper first." A pause. "We'll fight later."
Abhi hesitated. His eyes lingered on Arun's profile a moment longer… Then dropped to the notes.
Then, he finally leaned back in his seat.
Beside him, Arun allowed himself a quiet breath of relief.
The anger had passed. The hurt had aired. For now… this was enough for him.
---
[ Meanwhile, In the Library ]
Ayan sat at his usual desk, surrounded by shelves that whispered stories far less complicated than the one inside his heart.
His soft cheeks were slightly flushed in focus, brows furrowed, lashes trembling like they held unspoken words.
Then—soft footsteps approached.
Ayan looked up.
Aarav.
He walked into the light, warm and golden.
With a gentle thud, his bag landed on the table. He slid into the seat beside Ayan, that familiar quiet smile tugging at his lips.
He leaned in slightly. His voice dropped into something tender.
"Ayan... do you want to say something?"
Ayan nodded, hesitant but sure.
His heart thudded a little too fast.
"Senior," he whispered, "I want you to tell me more about yourself… Things I don't know. Things that matter to you."
Aarav's eyes softened instantly. And without needing any explanation or reason, he smiled—slow, warm, real.
"I was nine when I first met Abhi… in a park." He began.
"I didn't have clothes. No roof. No food. I was just a street kid… surviving somehow. And that day, he came up to me. Held my hand. I still don't know why. But it felt warm. Like I belonged somewhere. And that terrified me."
Ayan's eyes never left him. He drank in every word like it was sacred, his own heart tightening with emotion.
"But then he took me to his house… to Papa. They didn't treat me like a stranger or someone to pity. They welcomed me as family... I don't even know when, but... that fear, that loneliness—it just vanished."
Aarav smiled, softer now.
"I wanted you to know about Vihan and Maa, too. They completed my family picture." He smiled.
Ayan listened his every word quietly.
"Maa… gave me love I didn't know I needed. And Vihan… he's the youngest. Brightest. We don't live together, but the bond's still ours. Only those closest to us know this."
A gentle silence followed—one not empty, but full of meaning.
Ayan's cheeks bloomed with a faint warmth. His voice trembled, fragile with hope.
"Senior… will you make me a part of your family too?"
It dropped like a stone into still water.
Aarav blinked. A swirl of surprise, tenderness, and something more—something unspoken that had always lingered between them appread.
"Are you sure?" he asked, almost hesitant, as if he needed to steady himself.
"Are you really willing to be? Because… I won't let you step back later."
Ayan nodded. This time, without hesitation.
His hand slid forward across the table—brushing against Aarav's.
A quiet promise—Yes. I want this. I want you.
Aarav stared at their joined hands, his fingers curling gently around Ayan's. His grip was warm, tender—like the promise it carried.
Two hearts quietly learning the shape of each other.
[ Time skip, In cafe ]
The cozy café buzzed with quiet conversation and the aroma of fresh pastries.
Abhi stood at the counter, one hand resting on the display glass as he picked out a cake, his smile bright and craving.
Just as he reached for his wallet, the barista—a warm, gentle, beautiful women—smiled.
"No need, Abhi. Someone already paid for your whole week's quota."
He blinked, surprised. Then his smile deepened, gentler now, as he remembered something.
"Thank you, Aunty," he said, with a fondness that made her beam.
Then, almost to himself, Abhi murmured: "He's a true gem..."
Beside him, Arun's jaw tensed. There was something about the way Abhi smiled at that box—it unsettled him.
His posture straightened just a little. Eyes sharper. A faint crease formed between his brows.
"It's not that big of a deal," he said, clipped. "I can buy you as much as you want."
The lady behind the counter smiled, clearly amused by the tension blooming between them. Her eyes twinkled like she'd seen this play out before, and knew what it meant.
However, Abhi, oblivious—or perhaps pretending to be—turned with a teasing grin.
"Then buy me one right now." he challenged Arun.
For a moment, nothing moved.
Then, quietly, another box was packed. The rustling of wrapping paper filled the silence left behind by covered emotions.
---
[Later, University gate]
The setting sun lit the university gate in gold, casting everything around them in quiet nostalgia.
Arun stood beside the car, tall and composed. Abhi stood next to him, cake boxes in hand, his grin practically glowing with mischief.
"Could you hold one? It's kind of heavy." Abhi asked, as he offered one box to Arun.
Arun blinked, his gaze clouded with confusion and uncertainty. But he didn't argue—he simply took the box.
Their hands didn't touch—but the moment did.
He cast a sideways glance, trying to decipher the mischief in Abhi's expression, but found only confidence... and something warm beneath it. Something real, but covered.
And then—
Ayan appeared from beyond the gate, walking into the light like a page from a dream.
His eyes sparkled the moment they landed on the box in Arun's hands.
"What's this, brother?"
Arun parted his lips, uncertain.
But—Abhi answered first.
"Your brother brought you cake," he said with a grin. "It's tasty. I can bet on it."
Arun turned, brows drawn in confusion.
But Ayan's eyes were already glowing. "Thank you… Brother."
The word wrapped around Arun's heart like a sudden, unseen hand—soft, but startling.
He stood still for a breath, taking in the moment—Ayan's soft smile, the warmth, the lightness blooming in his chest.
And then—Abhi intrupted, again. This time quieter.
"Buy me one some other time." Not a tease. Just... something genuine.
Arun didn't reply right away. But the corners of his lips almost curved into a smile—rare. Real. Meant just for him.
But he stopped himself.
Then—He turned to Ayan and murmured,
"Let's go home."
Ayan clutched the box like it was a treasure, walking beside Arun, light and happy.
And as they reached the car, Arun turned—just once.
Abhi still stood near the gate, watching. Smiling faintly. Eyes soft.
And Arun… held that gaze for a second too long.
He didn't speak. But somewhere beneath all the silence, his heart whispered a thank you.