Unconditional Love

100. Letting Go, At Last

Before Virat could even realise it, the exhaustion caught up with him.

His breath began to slow, his grip on Rohit's shirt loosened, and his eyes fluttered shut mid-tear, body sinking softly into Rohit's arms.

Rohit noticed immediately.

He gently shifted, careful not to wake him, and leaned Virat back against the pillows.

His fingers brushed away a few damp strands of hair from Virat's forehead, and he pressed a soft kiss there— silent and tender.

Virat stirred only slightly at the touch, then let out a quiet breath... and drifted into sleep.

Rohit stayed beside him, still holding his hand, thumb lightly running over his knuckles.

He didn't move.

He didn't speak.

His eyes, though heavy, stayed fixed on Virat's face, watching the soft rise and fall of his chest like it was the only thing keeping him grounded.

Then, he felt a warm hand on his shoulder.

He looked up to find Rahul bhai standing there, his eyes equally tired, equally full.

Without a word, Rohit leaned forward and rested his head against Rahul bhai's torso, arms wrapping around his stomach.

And for the first time that night... Rohit let himself break.

Tears he had held back through Virat's confessions, through the doctor's words, through every terrifying second... spilled freely now.

Rahul bhai said nothing.

He simply stood there, one hand cradling the back of Rohit's head, fingers gently threading through his hair, grounding him just the way he had done so many times before with Virat.

The room was quiet.

One finally sleeping.

One finally crying.

And the rest—just holding on to each other, breathing through the ache.

After a few minutes, once Rohit's breathing had steadied and the storm of emotions had passed, Rahul bhai gently broke the silence.

"We spoke to the doctor again," he said quietly. "He said Virat can be discharged by evening. It's better he rests at home."

Rohit gave a small nod, his fingers still loosely holding Virat's.

He didn't trust himself to say much, but the weight of those words brought a subtle sense of relief.

Aman and Jassi had already left earlier in the afternoon—heading home to prep the house.

They cleaned up the space, stocked up the groceries, and made sure everything was fresh and welcoming.

Jassi had started on a simple, warm home-cooked dinner, while Aman fluffed up the cushions on the couch and laid out a comforter with the kind of care only he had for his brother.

By evening, Virat was finally home.

Rohit had his arm firmly around him, guiding him in slowly.

Virat leaned into the support, a little unsteady on his feet, still weak but clearly calmer than before.

Rohit helped him to the couch and eased him down gently, tucking the comforter around him.

Aman quietly placed a glass of water nearby, while Jassi adjusted the cushions behind him and set a bowl of hot soup on the table.

They didn't crowd him, didn't bombard him with questions.