Author's Note: This is my only unedited book; the style of writing is thus different from what you might have seen in my other books. Compared to them, this book also has much more grammatical mistakes. Hope you enjoy it nevertheless.
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"Chotte..Chotte..please listen to me..please.." Anjali pleaded as Arnav slowly led her out of his messy room.
"I want to stay alone.." He whispered in his raspy voice, his eyes dead as he glanced down at her for a second, his overgrown beard and messy hair overshadowing his face before he shut the door closed on her face.
The food tray fell from her hands with a thud and she stumbled back, sobbing before finally slumping on the cold marble floor.
The family standing at a distance could do nothing but cry along with her, at the condition that Arnav had reduced himself into.
NK swallowed hard, trying to dislodge the lump in his throat and blinked back the moisture before he walked to his crying sister.
"Di, get up!" He grunted in a low voice, helping her up by her forearm.
Stiffling a sob, Anjali slumped against him.
"Cho...cho..tte.." She wailed louder, yanking onto the floor again, this time taking NK along with her.
Closing his eyes for a second, NK inhaled sharply and slowly brought his arms up to comfort her. He slowly turned to the closed door behind which Arnav has shut himself since the last four months, hurting and punishing himself, and in the process, breaking everyone in the family. The back of his eyelids pricked involuntarily.
"Everything will be fine.." He consoled softly, caressing Anjali's head.
The earth shattering scream which they heard a few seconds reverberated in the whole house, shaking the foundation of Shantivan and NK stared at the door wide-eyed at the intensity of his scream, not realising when Anjali ran away, covering her mouth with her palm to control her sobs.
*
The broken glass pieces and furniture laid on the floor, along with the pillows and blankets. Picture frames were everywhere; on the bed, carefully kept on the floor, on the recliner and clothes were just laying around him. In short, the room was in shambles, much akin to his own physical and mental state, looming in pain.
Hair disheveled, clothes creased and messy and with the dried blood visible on his face, resulting from his attack on himself after every mental breakdown, he stared at his lap, at her smiling face.
His lips stretched and his anguished eyes watered as he caressed the frame lying on his lap, along with her dupatta.
Exhaling a shuddering breath, he wandered his gaze across the room, which was filled with her belongings. The same ones which he had kept in the store room and he was grateful to himself for not destroying them, as these were the only things that kept him alive since he returned back to Delhi.
Not seeing or talking to her suffocated him to no limits, almost choking the life out of his body. But having her belongings with him somehow soothed his pain and he refused to leave this abode of his, where his Khushi's memories resided.
