Silent Downfall

Chapter Thirty-Five

Mayank grudgingly occupied the pristine surface of the bed, struggling to accept the detour on his way to termination. His fingers dug into the pillow on his lap. The object did not seem to mind the pain he inflicted on it; the only screeches he could hear came from within himself. He let go of the pillow and grabbed a handful of his hair instead, and following it, he caught hold of his sleeve, but nothing he did helped to abate the typhoon inside. Suppressing a desire to yell, he threw an acrid look at Shranav, who was observing his plight from the other end of the bed. The sorry expression that Shranav wore continued to stick as he nimbly dodged the pillow flung at him.

"You don't get this!" cried Mayank. "None of you get this!"

"You have to give yourself a chance, Mayank."

"There is no chance! You two have destroyed the only chance I had."

The batsman sighed. "He doesn't hate you."

Mayank directed a hefty punch toward his thigh. "Yes, he does! That's what you two refuse to see. I am a disgrace, even to the image he has formed in his mind."

"And you refuse to see what an utterly preposterous idea you came up with. Really, Mayank?"

"Why won't you let me die?"

"People are killing us for answers, but we cannot tell anyone the truth yet. Roy knows Aanvik is not in the country, and he is murdering him for it. We are not going through all this for you to die."

"There's no point in dragging this any further. Waseef has won. I have admitted my defeat, and so should you two."

"This is not a war." The stern voice made the two shift their gazes toward the door. It was Mrs. Kumar, standing with her arms crossed. "Waseef is not your enemy," added the lady as she walked in. "That's the first thing you boys need to understand."

"In spite of the game he played with us, Auntie?" asked Shranav.

"We all play games at some point in our lives, sometimes with divine intentions, sometimes with wicked ones, and sometimes it is not about intentions at all. Rather, we are pulled into the game and forced to play."

"All I see in Waseef is a heart of pure gold," she continued. "He didn't have to take the child in, but he did. For one simple reason. Love. He is not unlike my Aanvik."

"But—"

"No buts. Come on, Shranav. You are the least dumb of the three. Don't you see it? Waseef is not an outsider. He is family!"

"Fam-family?" Mayank muttered under his breath; the taste of the word was queer on his tongue.

"In terms of blood, Aanvik, Mayank, and Fayzan are the same to him. If Fayzan is his cousin, so are Aanvik and Mayank."

Shranav sighed. He could not deny that.

"You punished Janessa for a long time, Mayank. For something she was not responsible in the first place. You denied her the love she deserved so well. The past cannot be changed, so at least make up for it by holding on to her only child, apart from Aanvik and you." 

The lady could speak no more; she turned around and walked out of the room. Mayank kept his eyes glued to the doorway for a moment before finding his friend again.

"Seems like the poor woman has sort of forgotten that Aanvik and I are not related by blood," said the all-rounder, expecting a faint smirk on Shranav's face. The expression he discovered instead was far away from being a smirk.

**********

Fayzan twisted and turned in his bed, unable to discover a position comfortable enough for him. He let out a light groan and lied on his stomach, his face buried in the pillow. A moment later, he got up and shot it toward the door, summoning all the hostility he could find in his blood.

"That's what you deserve. To be pushed, pulled, and thrown," said the boy through gritted teeth. "Like... like me."

He got down and headed toward the door. He bent and gently picked up the pillow before walking back to the bed. Softly cuddling the object, he rubbed his nose against it.

"Sorry. It's not your fault," he murmured. "I am mad, and I don't have anyone else to take it out on."

His stomach grumbled, but he was too upset to eat, especially with his enemies out there. Nayif, too, had joined the list by setting his prisoners free. He would neither open the door nor respond to them. He was not a plaything.

Fayzan discarded the pillow and lied down. He closed his eyes, letting the brazen thoughts wrap their tentacles around his mind once again. What was he mad at? Who was he mad at? The boy shook his head vigorously. No, he was mad. That was enough.

He slowly rolled over to the other side. Waseef had lied to him. Mayank had kept the truth from him. His parents had done the same. Fayzan jumped down like a wild thing and rushed to the door. Kicking the surface hard, he ran back to the bed and flung himself on it.

There was a knock. He threw a curious glance toward the door. Another knock.

"Fayzan?" It was Nayif.

No response.

"Open the door."

No response.

"Fayzan?"

It was starting to get on the boy's nerve. "What do you want?"

"Open the door."

"Go away."

For a while, there was no sound from the other side. The child wondered if he had really left.

"Fayzan?" Nayif spoke again, in a voice marked by unusual tenderness. "Please."

Fayzan slowly got up to sit. Please? They never said please to each other.

Following a period of reconsideration, the boy unlocked the door to find a troubled Nayif. A minute later, they walked to the balcony, hand in hand. For a while, no one talked, and Nayif took it upon himself to break the uncomfortable silence. 

"I know it's hard for you," he said in a low voice, his fingers entangled with those of the child. "But I need you to listen to me, alright?"

Fayzan did not reply.

Nayif sighed. "I know the agony of losing a sibling. You nearly lost yours."

The boy's lips trembled, but he did not speak.

"And so did Waseef Bhaiya, when Aanvik and Mayank were desperately searching for you. I know he lied to you, but he did so in fear of losing you, Fayzan, especially to someone who could not be trusted."

"Mum's previous husband? See, he lied to me about my dad too. Everyone did. Papa is not my real father."

"Does it matter?"

"I don't know."

"Did he love you any less for that? Waseef Bhaiya is going to be married soon, and his wife is coming with a son she had with her previous partner. Do you think he is going to love the boy any less?"

Fayzan maintained silence for a moment, following which he gently shook his head.

Nayif smiled. "Now look at the bright side," he said. "Mayank is okay now. You have always longed for one, but it turned out you have two brothers."

"Mayank doesn't want me."

"Wrong. He wants you so badly that he is ready to die for it. Dumb move, yes, but that's not the point."

Fayzan looked into his eyes. He had not thought of it that way. "If Aanvik Bhaiya and his friend had let Papa bring Mayank home when he was younger, nothing would have gone wrong."

"That too was the result of the same thing—the fear of losing. I would admit there was a bit of selfishness involved on both sides, but it was mostly the product of love."

"They will sort it out—the three of them," he added. "Everything will be alright, Fayzan. I would not have resisted if I were you."

The boy looked away for a moment before burying his face in Nayif's torso. "But I want to stay mad at them for a little longer."

Nayif chuckled as he wrapped his arms around Fayzan. "Sure. Let's eat out today."