Shadows Of The Stumps

Hell Break

The dining table looked like the aftermath of a storm—half-eaten parathas gone cold, tea cups abandoned, crumbs scattered in the silence. Chairs still sat askew from when everyone had pushed back in agitation.Meera's footsteps had faded up the stairs a few minutes ago, her plate untouched beyond two distracted bites. 

The echo of her words—a broken soldier is a liability—still clung to the air like smoke.

 Rahul sat slumped forward, elbows on the table, rubbing his face with both hands. "Yeh... yeh wapas wahi kar rahi hai," he murmured, voice heavy. "Pulling away. Shutting the door on all of us."

 Athiya stroked Eva's hair absently as the baby dozed in her arms. Her eyes glistened, but her voice was steady. "I've seen that look before. The night she came home from the hospital. The way she would smile, but her eyes..." She trailed off, shaking her head. 

 Hardik leaned back in his chair, arms folded tight across his chest, as if holding himself together. He wanted to storm upstairs, hold Meera until the walls she was building cracked. But he also knew that forcing her would only make her slip further away."She laughed yesterday," he said finally, his voice raw. "At the studio. Like she hadn't laughed in months. And then today—" His words faltered. "It's like all of that just... vanished." 

 Rahul dropped his hands, looking at both of them, his face drawn but not angry. Just scared. "We can't let her retreat again. Not this time. She needs to know she's not—" He stopped, throat working, unable to repeat her word. Liability. 

Athiya reached across the mess of the table and covered Rahul's hand with her own, her touch grounding him. His fingers tightened around hers like a man clinging to the last solid thing in a river's pull. For a moment, the room was nothing but the hush of their breathing, the faint creak of the ceiling fan.

Then the sound of footsteps on the stairs cut through. Light, measured, steady.

Meera appeared at the doorway, hair hastily tied back, her face composed into that soldier's calm that fooled no one. In her hand, the car keys jingled softly. "Anna," she said, her voice steady, almost casual. "Maithili's in town. I'm going to meet her."

Rahul straightened instantly, concern flashing in his eyes. Hardik's muscles coiled like springs. The word was halfway out of his mouth before he even realized it—"Nope, you're not driving alone today—"

Meera's head lifted, her gaze snapping to him. For a split second it was just the usual banter, the tug-of-war of their protectiveness. But then something shifted in her eyes. A hardness, a challenge, layered with hurt.

"You think I'm not fit enough to drive?" she asked, quiet but cutting.

The room went still.

Hardik froze, the rest of his sentence lodged in his throat. He wanted to say it's not that, wanted to tell her it wasn't about capability but about fear, about the thought of losing her again clawing at him. But her gaze—steady, unblinking—stripped all excuses bare.

The silence felt like it would split the room in two, until Athiya slowly pushed her chair back and stood. She crossed the distance between them with Eva still nestled in her arms, her steps quiet but certain. Reaching Meera, she touched her lightly on the shoulder, her voice gentler than the morning sunlight.

"Come home soon, okay?" she said, her eyes searching Meera's face. "I'll be waiting."

For the first time that morning, a flicker of warmth broke through Meera's calm. She nodded, brushing her fingers briefly across Eva's soft hair before stepping past.

Rahul rose as she approached him, his mouth already half open with a hundred unsaid protests. Meera halted in front of him, meeting his eyes directly. "Anna," she said quietly, a hint of that old sisterly mischief softening the steel in her tone. "Nothing stupid. I promise."