Arnav's voice was tight with worry as he stood at Khushi's door. "Khushi!" he called, knocking urgently. "What's wrong? Are you all right?"
He heard her terrified cry for her brother and rushed to her room, his heart pounding with each passing second she didn't answer. He hesitated, torn between his concern and respecting her privacy, but the growing fear and the silence emanating from Khushi's room were starting to terrify him. He couldn't stand it a moment longer as he shoved the door open, his heart a frantic drum against his ribs.
With his phone clutched in his hand, he swept the flashlight beam across the room until it settled on Khushi.
Khushi was curled on the floor, a small, broken figure. Her knees were hugged tight to her chest, her back pressed against the wall as if seeking some kind of support. Each shuddering sob that escaped her lips made his chest tighten in pain. He swallowed, the lump in his throat almost choking him, and sank to his knees before her, his phone tumbling carelessly to the floor, the light now illuminating her tear-streaked face.
He reached out, his hands gently cradling her face, his thumbs sweeping across her wet cheeks in a soothing motion. His voice was low, yet filled with concern, "Shh.. stop crying.. it's okay.. I'm right here with you.. kuch nahi hoga Khushi (nothing will happen).. stop crying please."
But Khushi wasn't staring at him; her gaze was vacant as if she wasn't in this moment with him. She was living a nightmare from the past, trapped in the devastating instant she'd first learned of her parents' accident. Her whole body was shaking as she mumbled with her thin and broken voice, "Amma... Babu ji... they left... they left me... Amma... Babu ji... bhaiya... they left me."
Just then, Buaji walked in, holding a flickering candle tray. She looked completely calm as she approached them, clearly used to Khushi's panic attacks.
Buaji gave him a look, her eyes filled with a familiar, weary sadness, intending to offer an explanation for Khushi's state. She spoke softly, "Voh bitwa... ever since she lost her parents in that accident..."
Arnav interrupted her, not with words, but with a subtle, understanding nod of his head. There was no need for Buaji to finish; he already knew the source of Khushi's panic attack. His focus remained entirely on Khushi. He gently and carefully gathered her shaking figure into his arms. He settled her head against his chest, holding her tight yet tenderly, and began to calmly and steadily pat her hair and back.
He then looked up at Buaji for a brief moment, his voice low, confirming his awareness: "I know, Buaji."
Buaji was relieved, "Please, just stay with her until I can get Shyam bitwa on the phone to come here. He's the only one who can handle her when she gets like this." Without waiting for a reply, she hurried out of the room, in search for her phone.
Arnav stayed with Khushi, one hand stroking her hair gently while his other free hand found hers, and he began to rub her thumb tenderly. He remembered the day he'd collapsed in his office, and she had done this exact thing, silently coaxing him back from the darkness. Now, he wanted to offer the same warmth back to her.
And it seemed to work. Khushi stirred, lifting her head with the disoriented fragility of someone waking from a nightmare. Her lashes fluttered, fighting to find him in the gloom.
A small, choked sound escaped her lips: "Arnav ji."
"Yes, it's me," he answered instantly. He looked down, meeting her gaze with an intensity that promised safety, "Your genie.. your Mr. Cold Light.. I'm here ok.. I'm here with you."
Khushi relaxed against him the moment she felt his presence. Yet, as she glanced at the corners of the room, she realized the power was still out. With a small shudder, she tucked her face into the crook of his neck, hiding herself within him, not wanting to face the darkness in her room.
