He was oppressed by everyone around him, 'Love and care' were the terms used, for he inherits billions.
His voice was never heard outside the walls of his mind.
It was all until he realised what was happening around him. He started his game so quiet...
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Arjun's POV
"Arjun, wake up!" Adhi's voice pierced through the fog of my restless sleep, jolting me awake. I groaned, trying to orient myself, rubbing the exhaustion from my eyes. Sleep had been elusive for weeks now. Hearing Adhi's voice after so long was like waking from one nightmare only to be shoved into another. I glanced at the clock, groggy and disoriented. Had it really been this long?
It had been over a month since Adhi and I had last spoken properly, and I could tell he had been worried. He kept his distance, probably because he thought I was spiraling. Losing it. I mean, who could blame him? Everything had gone sideways, and I wasn't exactly acting like myself lately. Yet now, seeing him standing here in my room, that concern was written all over his face, and for some reason, it stirred something inside me—guilt, maybe, or just plain exhaustion.
I bolted upright, more out of instinct than anything else. "Adhi! What are you doing here?"
Adhi raised his hands in mock surrender, trying to ease the tension. "Relax. I just came to check on you."
I blinked, still trying to shake off the haze that clouded my mind. "How did you even get in?"
"The door wasn't locked," Adhi said, raising an eyebrow like that was the craziest thing ever. "So, I let myself in."
I sighed deeply, rubbing my temples. Great. I'd forgotten to lock the door again. For the second time this week. It was a wonder no one had broken in and stolen what little I had left. But maybe nobody cared enough to bother. That's the thing with life—it keeps going, even when you feel stuck in a loop of sleepless nights and unanswered questions.
"Give me ten minutes," I muttered, stumbling toward the washroom, desperate for a moment alone to gather myself, to make sense of whatever the hell was happening in my head.
True to my word, half an hour later, Adhi and I sat across from each other at a small restaurant down the street. The kind of place we used to hang out in before all this chaos started. It felt familiar, even safe, but I wasn't fooled. Nothing felt safe anymore, not even my own mind. The weight of everything that had happened hung between us like a suffocating blanket, too thick to ignore.
"Arjun, what are you doing to yourself?" Adhi's voice was sharp, slicing through the dull noise of clattering plates and murmuring customers around us.
I shrugged, pushing food around on my plate without much thought. I hadn't had a proper appetite in days, maybe weeks. "Well... feeding myself," I said, trying to play it off, forcing a smile that I knew didn't reach my eyes.
"Don't play dumb with me," Adhi shot back, his tone hardening, the worry in his voice giving way to frustration. I could see it in his eyes—he was angry now, tired of watching me self-destruct. "You think I don't know something's wrong? This isn't you."
