The kitchen smelled like burnt rotis again.
Aryan stood at the doorway, silently watching his mother fumble with the gas stove, her hands moving automatically, eyes hollow. The fan above wobbled slightly, clicking every few seconds like a clock too tired to count time properly.
In the living room, his father sat glued to his phone, laughing occasionally—not at her, never with her, just somewhere else entirely.
Aryan's chest tightened. "Ma, you burned them again."
She looked up, startled, then gave him that worn-out smile (a habit more than a feeling). "It's okay. He won't notice."
"He never notices," Aryan muttered, turning away before she could silence him with her eyes. He didn't want to fight. Not now.
His mother loved his father blindly, painfully—the kind of love that made her stay, cry silently at night, and still serve him food with shaky hands. Aryan had offered everything: support, encouragement, even begged her to leave him. But she wouldn't. "I married him, beta. He's your father. We don't leave family."
So Aryan left instead—at least mentally. Every day, a little farther.
---
"ARYAN, WHAT THE HELL?!"
The dorm room door slammed open, ripping Aryan from the moment and back into now—a tangle of legs, heat, and unzipped regrets.
"DUDE! Close the door!" Aryan groaned as he scrambled off the girl beneath him.
Sameer leaned against the frame with a smirk. "Lock it next time, genius."
Aryan zipped his jeans, breathless and annoyed. "What is it now?"
"My dad's here," Sameer said. "He's waiting outside. Let's go!"
Aryan blinked. "Wait—Gaurav uncle is here?!"
The girl sat up, eyes wide. "You're LEAVING? Right now?!"
"I have to! I haven't seen him in weeks!"
She pulled her shirt over her head in frustration. "You fucking asshole. In the middle?"
Before Aryan could answer, Kabir appeared behind Sameer with a grin. "I can finish it if you want, baby girl."
"Fuck off, duckling," she snapped, flipping him off as she stormed out.
The boys exploded in laughter as the door slammed shut behind her.
Sameer chuckled. "You've got issues, man."
---
Outside the college gate, Gaurav uncle stood next to a sleek black car, arms crossed, sunglasses on, his face lit up with calm warmth. Sameer jogged up to him and hugged him tight, like it was the most normal thing in the world.
Aryan followed at a slower pace. His heart beat a little faster—not because of nerves, but longing. That kind of affection wasn't something he grew up with. But with Gaurav uncle, it felt... safe.
"Come here, kid," Gaurav said with a grin, opening his arms.
Aryan didn't hesitate. He walked straight into the hug, wrapped his arms around him tightly—tighter than usual.
"What's up, macho man?" Gaurav asked gently, noticing the shift. "Everything good?"
Aryan pulled back, smiling wider than he had in days. "No. I'm just happy you're here."
"Always am," Gaurav replied, patting his back.
Aryan looked at Sameer, who was already tossing his bag into the car, chatting away with his dad like they were best friends. That easy rhythm, the comfort in their bond—it wasn't flashy. But it was rare.
"I always wanted a dad like him," Aryan thought silently. Watching them, he always felt warmth... and ache. Not like me and Mr. My Father. There, even a conversation felt like negotiation.
"Come on," Gaurav said. "I brought biryani."
Sameer whooped. "Dad's biryani beats all restaurant stuff. Let's go!"
Kabir lit a cigarette. "You all are so dramatic. Who cries over biryani and hugs anyway?"
Aryan smiled faintly. "Someone who never had it," he said under his breath.
And just like that, they drove off—three boys and a man who, for Aryan, felt more like family than his own.
* To be continued *