Night of 25TH

CHAP 24: Midnight Bonds

Past:

Shubman

As we continued walking, the energy of the confrontation still lingered in the air, but it was slowly being replaced by a sense of relief that the situation had been defused. Anya's steps were measured, her gaze focused on the path ahead. I could see the mixture of emotions playing across her features – the lingering anger, the triumph of standing up for herself, and perhaps a touch of vulnerability now that the adrenaline rush was subsiding.

As we reached the hallway leading to our rooms, I couldn't help but notice that Anya was cradling her hand slightly. It was then that I caught a glimpse of her knuckles – they were red and grazed, a clear sign of the impact her punch had made on the stranger's jaw. Concerned, I slowed my pace to match hers.

"Anya," I said gently, "your hand looks hurt. Let me take a look at it."

Anya glanced at me, her expression softening as she realized I was genuinely concerned. "It's fine, Shubman, really. It's just a scratch."

I shook my head, scepticism evident in my response. "Anya, I'm not buying that lie. Let me clean it for you. We don't want it to get infected."

Anya hesitated for a moment, then finally nodded, giving in to my persistence. "Okay, fine. But just a quick cleaning, alright?"

I smiled reassuringly and nodded. "Deal."

As we stood there, Anya reluctantly extended her hand towards me. I gently took it, turning it slightly to get a better view of the grazes on her knuckles. She winced slightly, and I shot her an apologetic look.

"Sorry if this stings a bit," I said, reaching for a first aid kit from my room.

Anya just shrugged, a half-smile playing on her lips. "I've had worse."

I began cleaning her knuckles with antiseptic wipes, my touch as delicate as possible. Her skin was warm under my fingertips, and I focused on the task at hand, determined to ensure her hand wouldn't get infected. I stole a glance at Anya, noticing her watching me intently. Our eyes met for a brief moment, and I could see a mixture of gratitude and something else, something harder to decipher, in her gaze.

As I finished cleaning and started to wrap a bandage around her hand, I couldn't help but roll my eyes playfully. "You know," I said, my tone light, "you really should consider taking up boxing professionally with punches like that."

Anya chuckled softly, her eyes crinkling at the corners. "Oh, please. I think I'll stick to my day job."

I glanced over at Ishan, who had an amused smirk on his face, his shoulder slumping exaggeratedly. It was as if he was silently commenting on my caring nature, making me realize how much I was overthinking the situation. I scrunched my nose at him, silently telling him to drop it, and turned my attention back to Anya's hand.

"Done," I declared, securing the bandage in place. "Good as new."

Anya flexed her fingers, testing the newly bandaged hand. "Thanks, Shubman. You didn't have to do this, you know."

I shrugged, trying to appear nonchalant. "Just looking out for a friend."

Anya's gaze softened again, and I could tell she appreciated the sentiment behind my words. "Well, thanks for being there, friend.

I watched as she flexed her fingers, testing the mobility and comfort of the newly dressed wound. Her smile of gratitude warmed my heart, and I couldn't help but return it with one of my own. It felt good to know that I had been able to help her, even if it was in a small way.