Abhi sat in the shade, lost in the memory of unforgettable night. No matter how hard he tried, the unfamiliar weight in his chest wouldn't leave.
Arun's face under the moonlight—calm, serene, smiling without effort—kept replaying in his mind like a loop he couldn't escape.
His fingers idly traced the dirt beside him. Why does this keep coming back?
And suddenly—a firm hand landed on his shoulder.
Without thinking, Abhi slapped his hands over his face and blurted, louder than intended,
"I'm not looking at you!"
Several players turned to stare.
Even Vihan froze mid-practice, sweat sliding down his temples.
He strode over, frowning. "What was that?"
Abhi stayed frozen—until the voice sank in.
The person behind him wasn't Arun.
It was Dino.
Reality hit. Embarrassment flared.
He lowered his hands slowly, jaw tightening, and turned to meet Dino's sharp, amused eyes.
"What are you doing here?" Abhi muttered, brushing off his reaction.
"I should be the one asking. You've been here since morning. Even this lazy one practiced."
Vihan's lips curved into a grin—until the word lazy registered. "Who's lazy?!"
"You. Who else?" Dino replied flatly.
Before it could escalate, Abhi cut in, voice like a sudden blade, "Let's play."
He didn't wait for a response—just strode to the field, movements all edges, restless and quick.
Dino and Vihan exchanged a look.
"Is he… okay?" Dino muttered. "He wasn't fighting back these days."
Vihan chuckled weakly. "You complain more than our parents."
"I'm the captain," Dino shot back, jabbing toward the field. "Go practice."
With a sigh, Vihan jogged off—still wondering about the strange shift in his brother.
---
[In the classroom]
Abhi sat in his usual seat—not to learn, but to wait for his results.
Ayan was absent again, but Aarav had already reassured him of his well-being, so worry didn't weigh him down this time.
As the period crawled toward its end, the air grew restless. Students stared at the clock, shifting in their seats.
Finally, report cards were handed out. Chairs scraped. Bags zipped. Voices filled the room as everyone surged toward the door.
Abhi rose too, surprisingly proud of his result—until his phone buzzed.
"Who's calling?" a voice whispered.
It was Vihan, peeking at the screen.
Caller: Young Master.
"Oh, it's Senior Arun," Vihan said. "Maybe he's calling about your results… Why aren't you answering?"
Abhi's thumb hovered over the button. But he didn't move. Hesitated. Uncertain.
He let it ring, sliding the phone back into his pocket.
"He might be at the ground or gate. Tell him I'm busy today."
"But Senior doesn't—"
And Before Vihan could finish, Abhi was gone.
"…he doesn't even respond to any of us," Vihan muttered at the empty doorway.
---
[That night – Rawat rooftop]
The full moon cast silver light over the quiet night. The breeze was crisp, crickets singing in the distance.
Abhi stood still, gaze locked on the sky. It was peaceful—but his mind wasn't.
His fingers curled loosely against his chest, as if searching for something. Just the same steady beat as always. No strange pull.
His brows furrowed. "Why is it not working like that?"
"What's not working like what?"
He turned too fast, stumbling slightly.
Aarav stood nearby, half in shadow, half in moonlight.
"Can't sleep?" Aarav asked, stepping closer.
Abhi hesitated. His fingers twitched against his shirt.
Finally—"Brother… I saw someone and… I felt dizzy. My heart was about to burst. I couldn't breathe, and it made me restless. Have you ever felt that?"
Aarav studied him quietly, then smiled faintly. "Yes. When I'm around the person I love."
The words hit something deep. Abhi's breath caught. His whole body tingled. "Love...?"
Aarav looked at him, like analyzing everything.
"Some feelings are instant," Aarav added gently. "Some take time—to be felt… to be understood."
Abhi's brow knitted. "But… what if it doesn't feel right?"
"Right or not… let the future decide." A brief pause. "If it's not real, the feelings will fade on their own."
Abhi still looked uncertain, caught between denial and realization.
Aarav didn't push further. He knew how overwhelming new emotions could be.
So, he changed the subject, his tone lighter now.
"Actually, I'm here to call you down. Papa's asking for our results. And yours might shock him this time."
It was deliberate—a lifeline back to reality.
A chance for Abhi to breathe before diving back into the storm inside him.
---
[Later – Abhi's room]
Warm light glowed against the walls. The faint sweetness of fabric softener clung to the sheets. Calm. Quiet.
But Abhi lay awake, Aarav's words echoing relentlessly. "The feelings will fade..."
With a sharp exhale, he pushed himself upright, the phone landing with a thud beside him. He stared at the wall, as if it were his opponent.
"Okay, It will fade away. Fine. I can handle that much."
For a moment, he almost believed himself.
Then his phone rang.
"Who's calling this late?" he muttered, reaching for it—only for the name on the screen to freeze him in place.
It was Arun again.
A chill ran down his spine. Heat flared in his face. His pulse spiked, uneven.
Before he knew it, he was on his feet—on the bed—shoulders tensed, voice shaky. "Why is he calling this late?"
His mind spun in fragments. Answer? Ignore? What—? Why? How?
He forced in a deep breath, trying to gather himself. And before he could talk himself out of it, he swiped to answer.
"What's wrong, Young Master?" he asked, keeping his tone careful, measured.
Arun's voice came through—calm, soft, yet deep and probing. "Did you pass with good marks? Your voice sounds different."
The question cracked something inside Abhi.
His resolve collapsed instantly. Panic rushed in to fill the gap.
"Yes, I did—uh—coming, Papa!" Abhi blurted, loud and unconvincing.
He clung to the excuse like a lifeline. "My father's calling me… bye!"
Before Arun could reply, Abhi hung up.
Silence.
He stood still there, frozen, until the weight of what he'd just done hit him like a blow.
He collapsed on the bed.
"That's so stupid," he groaned, face burning. Burying himself in a blanket.
"I'm never answering his calls again." But deep down, he knew he would. He'd have to.
---
[Singh mansion– Arun's POV]
Arun stood by the dining table, phone still in hand, the abrupt cut-off echoing in his ears.
His gaze dropped to the white bag beside him. The scent of cream and sugar lingered in the air. The box inside sat neatly packed, untouched.
"What should I do with this now?" he murmured.
Footsteps approached.
Ayan descended the stairs, moving slowly but looking healthier, warmth beginning to return to his expression.
Relief softened Arun's shoulders.
"Feeling better now?" he asked.
Ayan nodded, and his gaze skipped past him to the white bag. "Another cake? Who's this for, Brother?"
Arun followed his gaze, a faint smile masking the weight in his chest.
"In case we want more to celebrate our results." Arun replied.
Ayan nodded and left it at that.
But Arun kept staring at the box, wondering if the sweetness would survive until it reached the person he'd bought it for.