You're Mine, I'm Yours II

Part 23

The house was eerily silent, a sharp contrast to the chaos raging just beyond its fortified gates. Inside, the air felt stagnant, as though it had absorbed the weight of unspoken words and suppressed emotions. Khaotung wandered into the dimly lit kitchen, his movements slow and mechanical. The room, once a place of warmth and laughter, now felt cold and hollow, a reflection of the turmoil within him.

He pressed his fingertips to his temples, trying to ease the relentless pounding in his head. Each throb felt like a hammer striking against his skull, a painful reminder of the sleepless nights he had endured. He opened one cabinet after another, his frustration mounting with every empty shelf. The painkillers were nowhere to be found. Defeated, he leaned heavily against the counter, his body slumping as though the weight of his own exhaustion might pull him to the floor. A deep, weary sigh escaped his lips, filling the oppressive silence.

The faint sound of footsteps echoed in the hallway, breaking the stillness. Khaotung looked up, his eyes dull and tired, to see Khanna standing in the doorway. Her figure was framed by the dim light spilling in from the hall, her expression unreadable but her stance rigid. Her fists were clenched tightly at her sides, and her eyes burned with an intensity that sent a jolt of unease through Khaotung.

She stepped into the kitchen, her movements deliberate and controlled. She didn't speak immediately, instead walking to the bar in the corner. Her fingers trembled slightly as she poured herself a drink, the liquid splashing against the sides of the glass. She took a slow sip, the ice clinking softly, before finally breaking the silence.

"What happened to you?" she asked, her voice sharp and cold, cutting through the air like a blade.

Khaotung closed his eyes briefly, rubbing his temples. "Bad headache," he muttered. "I can't find any painkillers."

Khanna raised an eyebrow, her lips pressing into a thin line. Without a word, she set down her drink and walked to a drawer near the sink. She retrieved a small bottle of pills, shook one into her palm, and filled a glass with water. Returning to the counter, she stood in front of her brother, holding out the pill.

"Open your mouth," she said curtly, her tone leaving no room for argument.

Khaotung frowned, confused. "What?"

"Painkiller," she repeated, her voice firm. "Open your mouth."

Something about her demeanor felt off, but Khaotung was too exhausted to argue. He complied, opening his mouth as she placed the pill on his tongue and handed him the glass of water. He swallowed it quickly, handing the glass back with a muttered, "Thanks."

Khanna didn't respond. She returned to the bar, her back to him as she poured herself another drink. She downed it in one quick motion, her silence heavier than the tension in the room.

Khaotung's gaze lingered on her, his frown deepening. "You're awfully quiet tonight," he said, his voice laced with tired sarcasm. "That's not like you."

She shrugged, pouring a third glass. Her lips twitched as though she wanted to respond, but no words came.

Then it hit him. The dull throb in his head sharpened into a piercing pain, so intense that he staggered backward, gripping the edge of the counter for support. His vision blurred, the edges darkening as his heart pounded erratically. Panic set in as he tried to steady himself.

"What the hell..." he muttered, his voice barely a whisper. "What did you give me?"

Khanna turned to face him, her expression unreadable, her glass still in hand but didn't say anything as she watches her brother.

Khaotung's eyes widened in shock, his mind racing even as his body betrayed him. His legs buckled beneath him, and he crumpled to the cold tile floor. His breaths came in shallow, ragged gasps as his consciousness began to slip away. The last thing he saw was his sister's silhouette, standing still as a statue, her glass catching the dim light like a shard of ice.