HeartStrings Entwined:A Tale of BrotherHood✅

Chapter Seventeen: A New Battle

The sterile scent of antiseptic filled the room as Vivaan sat beside Aarav’s hospital bed, his eyes fixed on the rise and fall of his twin’s chest. The steady beeping of machines was the only thing keeping Vivaan tethered to reality. Aarav had survived the gunshot, but the bullet had caused severe nerve damage. The doctor’s words echoed in Vivaan’s mind: *"He’s temporarily paralyzed from the waist down."*

Vivaan clenched his fists, the guilt weighing heavier with each passing second. Aarav had taken the bullet meant for him. The weight of that truth pressed down on Vivaan’s chest like a physical burden, one he wasn’t sure he could carry.

Aarav shifted slightly in the bed, stirring from the haze of pain medication. His hazel eyes fluttered open, and for a moment, he looked disoriented. Then, slowly, his gaze found Vivaan.

"Hey," Aarav croaked, his voice weak, but the familiar humor hadn’t left his eyes. "You look like hell."

Vivaan let out a breath he didn’t realize he’d been holding, forcing a smile. "You should see the other guy."

Aarav chuckled softly, but the laugh quickly faded into a grimace as pain flared through his body. He shifted again, his eyes darting down to his legs, and confusion clouded his expression. "Vivaan…" he started, his voice hesitant. "Why… why can’t I move?"

Vivaan’s throat tightened. He had dreaded this moment, the moment Aarav would realize what had happened. "Aarav, listen… the bullet…" He struggled to find the words. "It hit your spine. The doctors say it’s only temporary, but for now, you can’t… you can’t feel anything from the waist down."

Aarav’s eyes widened, and for the first time since the accident, a flicker of fear crossed his face. He tried moving his legs again, but nothing happened. "No," he whispered, his voice barely audible. "No, no, no…"

"Aarav, it’s temporary," Vivaan said quickly, reaching for his brother’s hand. "You’re going to recover. We’ll get you the best rehabilitation, the best doctors—"

"Vivaan," Aarav interrupted, his voice trembling, the panic rising in his chest. "I… I can’t feel my legs. I can’t move them." His breaths came faster, as if the reality of the situation was sinking in all at once.

Vivaan squeezed his brother’s hand, his heart aching at the sight of Aarav’s vulnerability. "You’ve always been the fighter between us, Aarav. You’ve survived worse than this. You’ll walk again, I swear it."

Aarav stared at the ceiling, his jaw tight, his mind reeling from the enormity of it all. He had always been the stronger one, the one who never backed down from a challenge, but this… this was different. His legs wouldn’t respond, and no amount of determination could change that right now.

After a long silence, Aarav spoke again, his voice quieter, more resigned. "What if I don’t, Vivaan? What if this is permanent?"

Vivaan’s chest tightened at the question, and for a moment, he didn’t know how to respond. But then, he steeled himself. "If it is," Vivaan said, his voice steady, "we’ll deal with it. We’ll face it together, just like we’ve always done. You’re not alone in this."

Aarav turned his head to look at his brother, the weight of Vivaan’s words sinking in. He could see the guilt etched into every line of Vivaan’s face, the same guilt that had been there since the moment he was shot. "It wasn’t your fault," Aarav said softly, his voice firm despite the exhaustion weighing him down. "Don’t carry that. Not for me."

Vivaan swallowed hard, but didn’t respond. How could he not feel responsible? Aarav had taken the bullet that was meant for him. If anyone deserved to suffer, it was him, not Aarav.

After a long pause, Aarav spoke again, his tone a little lighter despite the tension in the air. "Well, I guess this means you’re going to have to carry me around everywhere now," he said, trying to inject some humor into the situation.

Vivaan couldn’t help but let out a small laugh, despite the knot in his chest. "You’ve always been a pain in the ass, Aarav. Guess some things never change."

But beneath the banter, both of them knew that this was only the beginning of a long and uncertain battle. Aarav was paralyzed, at least for now, and nothing in their world would ever be the same.

---

Over the next few days, Vivaan stayed by Aarav’s side, helping him navigate the grueling rehabilitation process. Aarav, stubborn as ever, pushed himself to the limit, determined to regain what he had lost. But the frustration often boiled over, the reality of his limitations hitting him harder than the bullet ever had.

One evening, Aarav sat in a wheelchair by the hospital window, staring out at the city lights. His hands gripped the armrests tightly, and his jaw was clenched. Vivaan entered the room, sensing the dark cloud hanging over his brother.

"Aarav, you need to give yourself time," Vivaan said gently, sitting down beside him. "This is just a phase. You’ll get through it."

Aarav didn’t respond at first. His eyes remained fixed on the skyline, but after a long silence, he spoke. "You don’t get it, Vivaan. I’ve always been the one who pushes through, who fights back. But this…" He glanced down at his legs, his voice breaking. "I feel… powerless."

Vivaan placed a hand on his brother’s shoulder, squeezing it gently. "You’re not powerless. You’re the strongest person I know, Aarav. This doesn’t change that. It’s just another fight, and you’re going to win it."

Aarav looked at Vivaan, and for the first time since the accident, there were tears in his eyes. "What if I can’t?" he whispered.

Vivaan’s chest tightened at the sight of his brother’s vulnerability. He knelt in front of Aarav, looking him directly in the eye. "Then I’ll carry you," he said softly. "Every step of the way. But you’re going to fight, Aarav. You’re going to fight because that’s who you are. And I’ll be right here, fighting with you."

Aarav stared at Vivaan for a long moment, and slowly, he nodded. His heart still heavy, but his resolve slowly returning. He would fight. Not just for himself, but for Vivaan, for the bond they shared that nothing—not even a bullet—could break.