His Journey, My Eyes

5.

Kavish pov. 

At night I was laying on bed, when a call came, it was anik. I picked it up. 

“Hi, bhaiyu,” Anik's cheerful voice greeted me.

“Hi,” I muttered, my voice sounding distant even to myself.

“So gaye the? (Were you asleep?)” he asked.

“Nahi (No),” I replied, though sleep would’ve been easier than facing this conversation.

“To kitni der kardi call pick karne mein? Seriously, aap bahut bhav khate ho.” he teased.

I forced a small smile. “Main bhav nahi khata” I said. 

“Jhoothe! Aap se jyada bhav koi nahi khata” he laughed. His tone was light, as if everything between us was fine. But deep down, I knew better.

“Chalo yaar, sorry. Kis kaam se call kiya tha? (Alright, sorry. Why did you call?)” I shifted the conversation, not wanting to linger on myself any longer.

“Bas aise hi, haal-chaal puchhne ke liye… (Just wanted to check on you),” he said, his voice softening.

“Haal-chaal kaha puchhna tum ne?” I said.

“Baat karne se lag raha hai achhe ho.” Anik replied.

A few moments of silence hung between us before I spoke again. “Hospital. You told me not to move in this house, why?” I asked, trying to steer the conversation in a safer direction.

“Wo…” he hesitated.

“Bolna (Say it),” I pushed, perhaps a little too harshly.

“Wo bas aapke aur unke beech mein… (It’s just… between you and them…),” he trailed off.

“There’s no good relationship between them,” I cut in, knowing exactly what he meant. My tone was flat, but the weight of those words settled over me like a shadow.

“Haan (Yes),” Anik admitted quietly.

“Kyun? (Why?)” I asked, not really wanting to know, but needing to hear it.

“Nahi the… ache.” he replied, his voice small, like he didn’t want to be the one to say it.

“Nahi the ache kya hota? Thik se jawaab do na (What does that even mean, 'weren’t good'? Answer properly),” I snapped, more out of frustration with myself than with him.

There was a pause. Then, with a heavy breath, Anik spoke. “In the past, you said to me one day that you were an unwanted child.”

The words hit me like a punch to the gut. I’d said that once, years ago, in a moment of bitterness. I hadn’t thought much of it then, but hearing it now, from him, made me realize how deep those words had cut.

“Uncle had a one-night stand in a drunken state, and the result was you,” Anik continued, his voice steady but soft. “When his wife decided to divorce him, she passed away in an accident. Bhaiyu… you think it’s the child’s fault? People don’t hate the ones who make mistakes, they hate the ones who get caught in them. It’s not fair.”

“It wasn’t his fault, but it wasn’t anyone else’s either—not really. And yet, we all suffered for it, tangled in something none of us could control.” I replied.