[ Listen ' Tera yaar hoon main ' for feel the pain, currently I am writing and crying on my own writing 😭]
The car hadn't even fully stopped before Jaanvi's hand was on the door handle. The moment the tires stilled, she shoved it open and stumbled out, her heels clicking violently against the pavement.
The hospital loomed ahead tall, cold, and indifferent its glass doors reflecting the pale grey sky above. It was a place that had always made her uneasy, but today it felt like it was swallowing her whole.
Yuvaan was still getting out when she started running. Her breath tore in and out of her chest, the cool air biting at her throat, but she didn't slow. The automatic doors slid open with a faint hiss, and a rush of sterile, chemical-scented air washed over her.
She almost gagged at the smell that sharp mix of antiseptic, metal, and something faintly bitter that hospitals always carried. It was the scent of waiting, of uncertainty, of endings.
Her heels slapped against the polished tile as she rushed toward the reception desk. The lobby was bright, but not warm white walls, pale lighting, the hum of overhead fixtures blending with the muted chatter of nurses and the occasional distant beep of a heart monitor.
A woman in a light blue uniform looked up from behind the desk, a polite smile already forming, but it faltered when she saw Jaanvi's face.
"My brother," Jaanvi gasped, leaning forward against the counter, her palms flat against the cold surface. "ICU. Aarav Arora. Someone called me " Her words tangled in her throat, and she had to swallow hard before they could escape again. "You said he's... that he..."
Her voice trailed off, trembling on the edge of breaking.
The receptionist's smile was gone completely now, replaced by a measured expression that soft, careful look people give when they're about to say something no one wants to hear.
"Ma'am " she began, but Jaanvi cut her off.
"No. Don't say it. Just... tell me where he is. I'll go to him myself." She tried to straighten, but her knees felt like they were barely holding her up. Her hand was shaking against the desk.
Yuvaan came in then, moving quickly to stand beside her. His presence was quiet but grounding she could feel the warmth of him at her side, the steadiness of his stance.
The receptionist glanced at him, then back at Jaanvi, and her tone dropped even lower. "Please... maybe you should sit down "
"I don't need to sit!" The words tore from Jaanvi's throat louder than she intended, making a few people in the lobby turn their heads. "I just need to see my brother. Please, I'm begging you just let me go to him."
Her voice cracked, desperation bleeding into every syllable.
The receptionist hesitated, then picked up the phone and murmured something quickly into it, her eyes flicking to Jaanvi with that same heavy sympathy that made Jaanvi's skin crawl.
"I'll have someone from the ICU come get you," she said finally.
Jaanvi's chest rose and fell sharply as she fought to control her breathing. Her fingers dug into the counter, and her eyes darted to the hallway that led to the elevators. Every second felt too long, every passing moment an extra weight pressing down on her chest.
"I'm coming, Aarav," she whispered under her breath, almost like a promise, her gaze fixed ahead as though she could will the seconds to move faster.
Yuvaan glanced at her, his jaw tight. He had never seen her like this so undone, so raw and it made something deep inside him twist uncomfortably.
The soft ding of an elevator arriving somewhere down the hall seemed impossibly loud in the stillness that had wrapped around them.
The long corridor to the ICU felt endless.
Each step Jaanvi took echoed faintly against the white-tiled floor, a hollow sound that seemed too loud for this place. The air was cooler here, unnaturally still, carrying that biting sterility only hospitals could hold sharp antiseptic, cold metal, and something beneath it, faint but present... the scent of finality.
She barely registered Yuvaan beside her, his long strides matching hers, his gaze flicking to her every few seconds as if trying to assess whether she'd collapse before they got there.
Her heart was pounding so hard it made her ears ring. Her palms were cold, clammy. She could hear the faint, rhythmic beeping of monitors from rooms they passed, each sound a cruel reminder of life still hanging on... but not his.
The glass doors to the ICU slid open with a sterile hiss. The brightness inside was blinding white walls, white ceiling, the faint blue of nurses' uniforms flitting between rooms. The hum of machines filled the air, low and constant, broken occasionally by the distant cough of a patient or the squeak of rubber soles against the floor.
A nurse her expression already softened with that pity Jaanvi couldn't stand met them halfway. She said something, her lips moving slowly, but Jaanvi didn't hear a word. Her legs moved on their own, her eyes fixed on a single doorway at the far end.
The world around her dulled, sounds dimming, colors fading. Only that doorway remained sharp.
And then she was there.
She pushed the door open, and the sight before her tore the breath from her lungs.
Aarav lay on the bed, still and small beneath the crisp white sheet. The oxygen mask that had been his lifeline for three years was gone. The faint hiss of the ventilator, the quiet beeps of monitors all absent. Only silence, oppressive and unyielding, remained.
His skin was pale, his lips slightly parted. His dark hair, once messy and boyish, was neatly combed now, as if someone had prepared him for her arrival. But there was no warmth in his face, no restless twitch of eyelids, no faint rise and fall of his chest.
He wasn't sleeping.
He wasn't coming back.
Her knees buckled beneath her before her mind could even form the thought. The cold tile bit into her legs as she fell, her palms slapping against the floor, her whole body folding forward in a broken motion.
"No..." The word was barely a whisper at first, trembling in her throat. Then louder sharp, jagged. "No!"
Her voice cracked into a scream, raw and guttural, ripped from the deepest part of her being. It bounced off the sterile walls, filling the room with a sound that didn't belong here, a sound too human, too desperate for such a clinical space.
Yuvaan froze in the doorway for a heartbeat, his chest tightening. He had never seen her cry not like this. He had never even known she had a brother. And now, seeing the lifeless young man on the bed, the truth hit him like a cold wave.
Aarav.
This was her brother.
Jaanvi crawled forward on shaking hands, reaching for the bed. Her fingers brushed his hand cold. Too cold. She recoiled slightly as if burned, but then gripped his hand tight, pressing it to her face.
"You can't leave me, Aarav," she sobbed, her voice breaking into fragments. "You promised... you promised you'd come back. You're my little brother you don't get to leave me like this! Please, wake up. Please..."
Her words dissolved into incoherent cries. Her shoulders shook violently as she leaned over the bed, forehead pressed to his unmoving hand.
Yuvaan's fists clenched at his sides. His instinct was always to keep a distance from her, to hold on to the coldness between them. But now, watching her crumble, he couldn't.
He crossed the room in two strides, crouched beside her, and without thinking, pulled her into his arms. She resisted at first, twisting, still reaching for her brother, but he held firm one arm around her shoulders, the other cradling the back of her head.
"Let it out," he murmured, his voice low, steady, almost foreign in its gentleness. "Just... let it out."
And she did.
Her cries were unrestrained now, her body shaking violently against him. She screamed into his chest, pounding her fists weakly against him before clutching at his shirt like a drowning person grasping for anything solid.
Yuvaan felt every tremor, every shallow, shuddering breath. He kept his hand on the back of her head, his thumb brushing her hair in slow, steady strokes, as if his touch could shield her from this moment, even though he knew it couldn't.
Her tears soaked into his shirt, hot and unrelenting. She gasped between sobs, her voice cracking as she whispered fragments of memories "he liked mango ice cream... he hated hospitals... he used to wait for me after school..."
Each broken sentence hit Yuvaan like a weight.
He glanced at Aarav's still form the young man's face peaceful now in a way that was cruelly deceptive. He looked like he could open his eyes at any second. But the truth was a solid wall neither of them could move through.
Jaanvi's voice grew hoarse, her sobs quieter but no less desperate. "Tell me it's not true," she whispered against him. "Please... tell me they're wrong. Tell me he's going to open his eyes."
Yuvaan swallowed hard, his throat tight. "Jaanvi..." His voice faltered for the first time. "I'm so sorry."
Her whole body sagged against him, her strength gone. She clung to him not because she wanted to, but because she had nothing else left to hold on to.
For the first time since he'd met her, Yuvaan didn't see thejaanvi he loved . He saw someone utterly broken, stripped of every defense, someone whose world had just been split in two.
And in that moment, he made no promises, offered no false hope. He just stayed holding her through the silence, through the shaking, through the unbearable truth.
The cold hum of the hospital wrapped around them, but inside his arms, she kept screaming quietly the kind of scream that came from a place too deep for sound.
And Yuvaan, for reasons he couldn't explain, tightened his hold..
Jaanvi's legs felt like they were moving through quicksand as she pulled away from Yuvaan's chest. Her face was blotched red, eyes swollen from the endless stream of tears that refused to stop. Her breathing was uneven, coming in jagged gulps that tore at her lungs, yet something in her heart told her she had to do this she had to walk to him.
The ICU room was too still. The faint beeping from another patient's monitor somewhere far away only made the silence heavier around Aarav's bed. Sterile white walls seemed to close in, suffocating her. The smell of disinfectant clawed at her senses, but all she could see all she could focus on was the still figure lying before her.
Aarav.
Her Aarav.
The boy who would run barefoot across the street just to bring her an ice cream before it melted.
Her little brother who used to barge into her room without knocking, who would sneak her chocolate on the days she was too sad to eat, who could read her mood from the way she blinked. Now... lying there. Not sleeping. Not resting. Just gone.
The boy who used to slip silly notes into her lunchbox saying, "Smile today, Di. You're too pretty to be sad."
The boy who would fight anyone bigger, stronger if they made her cry.
And now... he lay there, his chest no longer rising, no warmth left in his skin.
Jaanvi's trembling hand rose, fingers hesitating inches from his forehead as if afraid her touch might shatter him. Slowly, she lowered her palm, brushing aside the strands of hair that had fallen messily over his forehead. Her touch was feather-light, almost reverent, as if she were smoothing the hair of a sleeping child who might wake if she wasn't gentle enough.
Her fingers lingered there, moving slowly through his hair the way she used to when he came home tired from school, pretending to hate it but secretly melting into her touch. Now, there was no playful groan of "Di, stop, you'll mess my hairstyle." No warmth beneath her fingertips. Just... cold.
The kind of cold that didn't go away.
A sob burst from her throat, so raw it made Yuvaan flinch behind her. Her tears spilled over again, hot against her cheeks, dripping onto her hand as she leaned closer. She didn't even realize she was whispering his name over and over like if she said it enough times, he'd answer.
"Aarav... Aarav... please..."
Her voice cracked, words breaking like fragile glass.
Her knees gave way and she half-knelt, half-fell beside the bed. She rested her forehead gently against his, closing her eyes, willing herself to remember the heat of his skin, the way his hair tickled when she hugged him.
And then she kissed him.
It wasn't a quick kiss.
It wasn't rushed.
It was the slowest, most desperate kiss she had ever given her lips pressing softly into his cold skin, trying to memorize the shape of his forehead, the faint scent of his shampoo still lingering. It was a kiss filled with everything she hadn't said every "I love you," every "be safe," every "you're my whole world" that she thought she'd have years to tell him.
Her tears wet his skin, mingling with that kiss, as if she could give him warmth through them. Her hand cradled the side of his head, thumb brushing across his temple as she stayed there, refusing to pull away, because pulling away would mean accepting he was gone.
And she wasn't ready.
She would never be ready.
Behind her, Yuvaan stood still, his jaw tight, his own eyes burning as he watched the scene. He had never met Aarav before this not in life. Only through the stories Jaanvi told in passing, small smiles hidden in her voice when she spoke of her "chhota baccha." Now he was meeting him for the first time... and the last.
Jaanvi finally pulled back just enough to look at Aarav's face. Her hand cupped his cheek as she whispered through trembling lips,
"Tu hamesha kehta tha na... ki main roti hu toh tu hamesha hansa dega? Ab kaun hasayega mujhe, Aarav? Kaun...?"
(...You always used to say… if I cry, you’ll always make me laugh? Now who will make me laugh, Aarav? Who…?)
Her voice dissolved into another sob. Her shoulders shook as she leaned forward again, resting her face against his chest no heartbeat beneath her ear. She clung to him like she could anchor him back to her world.
Her tears dripped into his hair as she smoothed it back, just like she used to before school when he'd oversleep. Every touch was a memory stabbing her each one louder than the silence in this room.
"Aarav..." she whispered, her voice breaking so sharply it almost hurt her throat. "Tu... kyun... kyun mujhe chhod ke chala gaya..."
(...Why… why did you leave me...?)
The white sheet covering him rustled faintly from her movements, the finality of its touch cutting through her heart like glass. Every second that passed was another knife another reminder that the boy who made her life brighter was now just... stillness.
The brother who had been her shadow, her protector, her loudest cheerleader now just... gone.
Her lips trembled, and before she knew it, the words tumbled out, cracked and broken, "Aarav... please... wake up."
She clutched the bedsheet as if holding it tightly would somehow shake him back into this world. Tears blurred her vision until the whole room became a watery haze. She leaned closer, her voice shaking harder with each syllable.
"No, you can't do this... You promised me!" she choked out, her fingers trembling as they brushed against his cold hand. "You promised you'd tie every Rakhi I ever gave you, remember? You said you'd make up for all the ones you missed when you were too busy... You said this year you'd be there. Aarav... Raksha Bandhan is in a few days. You can't " her voice cracked so violently she had to pause to breathe.
She bent forward, pressing her forehead against his arm. The fabric of the hospital gown was cool against her skin, and the absence of warmth from his body made her feel like she was falling into a bottomless pit.
"Who's going to yell at me now for working too late?" she whispered, the words dripping with grief. "Who's going to steal my phone and force me to eat dinner before answering another stupid email? Who's going to... who's going to make me laugh when I feel like crying?"
Her sobs grew louder, breaking the fragile silence of the room. Yuvaan, who had been standing behind her, looked away, his jaw clenched and his eyes shining with a pain he didn't know how to express. He had only met Aarav for the first time today lifeless, breathless, cold and that alone had twisted something deep in his chest. But watching Jaanvi like this, shattered and begging, was unbearable.
Jaanvi's hands cupped Aarav's face now, her thumbs brushing his hairline like she always did when she used to scold him playfully. "Aaru... please... it's me, your Jaanu di... You can't leave me like this. I don't know how to be okay without you. You promised to take care of me. You promised!"
Her voice climbed higher, desperate, almost childlike in its pleading. The rawness of her cry made the nurse at the door glance away, her own eyes glistening.
"I'll let you steal all my chocolates, I'll never fight with you over the TV remote again, I'll let you play your stupid songs on full volume when I'm working just wake up, Aarav, please! Please! I'll do anything, just " she broke off into another scream, one that clawed its way out of her throat and shattered into sobs.
Her tears fell freely now, dotting his hair, his cheeks, the pillow. It almost looked like she was trying to give back the life that had left him, drop by drop. She pressed her face into the crook of his neck, inhaling deeply, desperately, as if trying to memorize his scent before the sterile hospital air could wash it away.
"One more smile... one more fight... one more hug... please..." Her voice cracked so much she could barely form the words.
Her body shook, every sob rattling through her like an earthquake. She clung to him as if by sheer force of will she could pull him back from wherever he had gone. But no matter how tightly she held on, he didn't hold back. No teasing remark. No warm laugh. Nothing but silence.
Aarav wasn't coming back.
But still, she kissed him once more, softer this time, a promise pressed into skin that could no longer feel it.
Her last kiss.
The one she would carry in her soul until her last breath.
Yuvaan finally stepped forward. His hand hesitated above her shoulder for a long moment, as if unsure whether she would break completely if he touched her. But when her sobs turned into breathless gasps, he knelt beside her, wrapping his arms around her shaking frame from behind.
She didn't even resist. She collapsed back into him, her fingers still gripping Aarav's hand like a lifeline. Yuvaan pulled her closer to his chest, letting her cry, letting her scream into the darkness of his suit, his own eyes fixed on the still body before him.
And in that suffocating silence, with her tears soaking his shirt and her desperate pleas hanging in the air, the cruel truth settled like lead
The door to the hospital room creaked open with a low, reluctant sound, as if even it knew the weight of what lay inside.
Jaanvi didn't turn. Her knees were still pressed against the cold, white-tiled floor beside Aarav's bed, her trembling hands clutching his lifeless fingers as if she could warm them back to life.
In the doorway stood Rajveer, Lavanya, Avyansh, and Tara. Their faces were frozen in a mix of shock and disbelief. None of them had known. None of them had even imagined that Jaanvi had a younger brother. Yuvaan had called them his voice low, heavy and when he told them, the world seemed to tilt for all of them.
The fluorescent light above buzzed faintly, casting harsh shadows on the pale blue walls. The smell of antiseptic lingered in the air, sharp and cold. The rhythmic beeping of nearby machines was a cruel reminder that this was a place of battles some won, some lost. Aarav's bed, however, was surrounded by silence.
Lavanya's heart clenched at the sight before her. Jaanvi's thin shoulders were hunched forward, trembling, her hair falling loose from the messy bun as if grief had pulled it apart. The way her fingers stroked Aarav's hand slow, gentle, but desperate was the kind of tenderness only someone who had spent a lifetime loving him could give.
Tara's breath caught. She knew the loss. She knew the pain. But there was something about the rawness in Jaanvi's posture that went beyond words it was as if the girl wasn't just breaking; she was shattering into pieces she'd never be able to gather again.
Lavanya was the first to move. Her soft footsteps barely made a sound as she crossed the room. She knelt beside Jaanvi, not saying anything at first, because she knew sometimes words only cut deeper when the wound is still bleeding. Instead, she reached out and wrapped an arm around her, slowly pulling her into a half-embrace.
Jaanvi flinched at the touch, as if her mind was still trapped in that desperate space where she was begging Aarav to open his eyes. But when she realized it was Lavanya, she didn't pull away. Instead, she leaned into her sister-in-law, burying her face against her shoulder, sobbing in broken gasps that shook her whole body.
"Jaanvi..." Lavanya whispered, her voice trembling. "I'm here... we're all here."
But Jaanvi didn't answer. Her cries were too jagged, too raw, her breaths catching like she was drowning in the weight of her own grief.
Tara stepped forward next, her own eyes brimming. She crouched down on Jaanvi's other side, her hand finding the girl's knee in a soft, grounding touch. "Janvi... please... you're not alone." Her voice cracked, betraying her own emotions. She didn't know Aarav, but in this moment, it didn't matter she knew what it was to lose someone who was a piece of you.
Jaanvi finally lifted her face, her eyes swollen and red, her lips trembling. She looked at both of them as if they were the only solid ground left in a collapsing world.
"He promised..." she whispered, her voice so faint they had to lean in to hear her. "He promised me... he'd be there this Raksha Bandhan. He said he'd tie all the rakhis I'd kept for him for years... He promised..." Her voice broke into a sob so deep it sounded like it was pulled from the very bottom of her soul.
Lavanya closed her eyes, her own tears falling. Tara's throat burned, her fingers tightening on Jaanvi's knee as if silently telling her to let it all out.
Rajveer, who had been standing silently in the corner, clenched his jaw. He had seen death before. He had seen mothers weep for their sons, wives for their husbands... but this watching Jaanvi speak to her dead brother with a childlike desperation this twisted something in his chest he didn't want to name.
Avyansh's usual composed expression was gone. His gaze shifted between Aarav's peaceful face and Jaanvi's broken one, something unreadable flickering in his eyes.
Jaanvi suddenly turned back to Aarav, pulling away from Lavanya just enough to cradle his face in her palms. Her thumbs brushed over his cheeks, her tears falling onto his skin. "Aaru... please..." her voice cracked, trembling with disbelief. "It's almost Raksha Bandhan... you said you'd yell at me again for working too late, you said you'd make me laugh... you said you'd never let me cry alone again... so why are you doing this now?"
Her words sliced through the air, heavy and sharp.
Lavanya and Tara both wrapped their arms around her from either side now, holding her as if they could somehow keep her from falling apart completely.
Outside the room, the corridor was silent except for the faint footsteps of nurses passing by. Inside, it was a small island of grief one girl, her lifeless brother, and the two women who could only try to catch the pieces of her breaking heart.
And still, Jaanvi stayed there, her forehead pressed against Aarav's, whispering his name like a prayer that refused to die, even though the person it was meant for already had.
The air inside the hospital room was already heavy with grief, each breath laced with the scent of antiseptic and sorrow. The dull yellow light above flickered slightly, as if the room itself could not bear to witness what was unfolding.
Jaanvi's face was wet and raw from tears, her hair loose and messy, sticking to her cheeks. Yuvaan still knelt beside her, one hand on her shoulder, his own face clouded in an emotion he could not name.
The earlier knock had already brought Rajveer, Lavanya, Avyansh, and Tara inside their expressions frozen somewhere between shock and sympathy. Lavanya's gaze had softened instantly upon seeing Jaanvi's crumbling figure; Tara had moved closer, her own hand brushing Jaanvi's arm in silent comfort. None of them had imagined Jaanvi had a younger brother... and certainly not that he would be lying lifeless before them.
But before anyone could speak again, the door creaked open for the second time.
This time, the sound was different slower, heavier almost like the door was being pushed by a weight that wasn't just physical. Every head in the room turned.
Standing in the doorway was a group of strangers.
Three men, all in their mid-fifties, broad-shouldered but with the stiffness of age. Their faces were worn and lined, but their eyes... their eyes were sharp, scanning the room like they were measuring every breath. Beside them stood two women of a similar age, both draped in expensive sarees not gaudy, but rich in a way that quietly declared power. Their jewelry was subtle, but each piece looked like it carried a story, or perhaps a warning.
And behind them...
Two young men, late twenties, their build athletic, eyes sharp and restless. One stood with his arms crossed over his chest, the other with his hands in his pockets but both carried the same air: alert, calculating.
The last figure was a girl. No older than twenty. She stood slightly behind the rest, her posture straighter than you'd expect from someone so young. Her eyes darted first to Aarav's body and something flashed in them, too quick to name before settling on Jaanvi.
For a few seconds, no one moved. The faint hum of the hospital AC and the distant beeping from other rooms were the only sounds.
Lavanya frowned, glancing at Rajveer. He shook his head he didn't know them. Avyansh's eyes narrowed. Even Tara, who usually kept her expressions polite and unreadable, tilted her head with curiosity.
Only Jaanvi's reaction broke the stillness.
Her body went rigid. Her tear-swollen eyes widened, not in surprise, but in recognition. Her lips trembled not with grief this time, but with something far more dangerous.
Hatred.
It wasn't subtle. The way her fingers dug into the fabric of her saree, the sudden tension in her shoulders, the way her breathing changed it was like every cell in her body recoiled at the sight of them.
Yuvaan's brows knit together as he looked between her and the strangers. "Jaanvi...?" he murmured, but she didn't seem to hear him.
The eldest of the men took a step forward, his shoes making a dull tap against the tiled floor. His voice was deep, carrying the weight of someone used to being obeyed.
"Jaanvi," he said. Just her name. But the way he spoke it like it was both a claim and an accusation made the air colder.
She flinched.
The younger girl moved as if to approach, but one of the older women placed a hand on her arm, holding her back.
Lavanya instinctively stepped closer to Jaanvi, her hand brushing her back. Tara's eyes shifted between Jaanvi and the strangers, her own muscles tensing as though preparing for something.
"Who... are you people?" Rajveer finally asked, his voice carrying a quiet warning.
None of them answered immediately. The older man who had spoken to Jaanvi only smiled but it wasn't a warm smile. It was the kind of smile that hid more than it revealed.
"We," he said slowly, "are the ones who should have been here long ago."
Jaanvi's jaw clenched. "You shouldn't be here at all," she spat, her voice breaking under the strain of anger and tears.
That single sentence cracked the atmosphere even further. Everyone in the room could feel it this wasn't just about strangers walking into a hospital. This was history, buried deep and rotting, finally crawling back into the light.
Rajveer glanced at Yuvaan, who looked equally baffled. Avyansh's eyes never left the group, his hand twitching slightly, as though debating whether to reach for something inside his coat.
The younger man with his arms crossed finally spoke, his tone cold but oddly restrained. "We came for Aarav."
The moment his name left the man's lips, Jaanvi's breathing turned ragged. She pushed herself up to stand, Lavanya's hand slipping from her back as she moved forward a single step.
"You don't have the right," she said through gritted teeth. "Not after what you did. Not after all these years."
The older woman in the green saree's lips curved into something between pity and disdain. "Years don't erase blood, Jaanvi."
The younger girl behind them shifted uncomfortably, her eyes darting to the floor.
Tara's frown deepened. Lavanya could feel Jaanvi trembling beside her, and she reached again for her hand, but Jaanvi didn't take it. Her whole focus was locked on the people in the doorway.
There was something here. Something no one else in this room understood.
But one thing was clear: whatever this was, it wasn't over. And it had just stepped through that door.
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