•| NINETEEN |•
Next Day ||
“Dad… Dad… Dad wake up, it’s already noon!
” Kiaan’s tiny hands kept patting Krish’s cheek insistently, his voice echoing in the quiet bedroom that was still wrapped in heavy curtains and last night’s exhaustion.
Krish let out a low groan, his brows knitting together as the sunlight filtering through the edges of the curtains stabbed at his hungover eyes.
He shifted slightly, trying to bury his face deeper into the pillow, but Kiaan was relentless.
“Daddd… wake up!” he whined again, this time climbing halfway onto the bed and tugging at Krish’s arm.
Finally, Krish’s eyes fluttered open, red and heavy, his head pounding like someone was hammering metal inside his skull.
He rubbed his eyes slowly with his palm, blinking a few times until Kiaan’s bright, smiling face came into focus.
Despite the headache, a soft smile tugged at his lips instantly.
“Good morning, baby…” he cooed hoarsely, his voice thick with sleep as he pulled Kiaan closer and kissed his hair.
Kiaan giggled loudly, shaking his head. “It’s afternoon, Dad! ” he corrected proudly.
That sentence hit Krish like cold water.
He froze for a second before abruptly sitting up straight, his hand flying to his forehead as dizziness hit him.
“What? Afternoon?” he rasped, dragging his palm down his face in frustration.
He shut his eyes tightly before muttering, “What about office… shit…” Panic laced his voice as he tried to get up, but before he could even swing his legs off the bed, a calm voice interrupted him.
“Don’t worry about that… I’ll manage it.”
Krish turned his head toward the door to see Aarav casually walking inside his room, holding two cups of coffee like he owned the place.
He looked completely fresh — unlike Krish who looked like he had been hit by a truck.
Aarav smirked lightly at the sight of his miserable best friend before handing him a cup.
“Here… drink this. You look like you fought ten demons and lost.” Krish rolled his eyes weakly but still took the coffee, the warmth of the cup soothing his throbbing hands.
Aarav then looked at Kiaan and softened instantly.
“Kiaan, champ… go play with your toys for some time. Dad needs to recharge his batteries.” Kiaan nodded obediently.
“Okay!” he chirped before jumping off the bed and running out of the room, his laughter echoing down the hallway.
As soon as the door closed, silence filled the room — thick, knowing silence.
Krish brought the cup to his lips and took a slow sip, the caffeine beginning to settle his nerves slightly.
Aarav leaned against the wall, arms crossed, watching him carefully — like he was waiting…
observing… piecing things together. Krish avoided his gaze, staring into his coffee instead, but his mind wasn’t on work… or hangover…
“Aarav… I remembered I was with Samira… she came to pick me up from the bar… then how come I ended up here?” Krish’s voice was still heavy with sleep and confusion as he stared into his coffee cup like the answers were floating somewhere inside it.
His brows were furrowed deeply, trying to piece together last night’s blurred memories — flashes of you holding him, your worried eyes, your trembling hands — but everything after that felt like a haze swallowed by alcohol.
Aarav, who had been standing near the window, turned to look at him slowly before letting out a quiet breath.
“I brought you here… from her house,” he said calmly, watching Krish’s reaction carefully. Krish’s fingers froze around the cup for a split second before tightening unconsciously. “From… her house?” he repeated under his breath, more to himself than to Aarav.
Something twisted faintly in his chest — guilt? unease? he didn’t know.
Aarav pushed himself off the wall and walked a little closer, his expression now more serious than teasing.
“Can I ask you something, Krish?” he said, his tone softer but layered.
Krish finally looked up at him and nodded slowly, sensing where this was going.
Aarav studied his face for a moment before asking, “Did you say something harsh to her?” The question lingered in the air heavily.
Krish blinked, caught off guard, then sighed deeply, dragging his palm down his face in frustration.
“I don’t remember anything, Aarav… I just know that I saved her from that creepy man…
that’s it,” he whispered, his voice quieter now — almost defensive, almost unsure.
But the way Aarav’s eyes didn’t soften told him there was more he wasn’t recalling.
Aarav exhaled slowly, rubbing the back of his neck.
“Fine… maybe you don’t remember,” he muttered, though his voice held doubt.
He paused for a second before adding, “It’s just…
she looked like she had cried. Her eyes were swollen…
voice shaky… that’s why I asked.” That sentence landed heavier than any accusation.
Krish’s jaw tightened subtly, his grip on the coffee cup stiffening.
Aarav noticed but didn’t push further. Instead, he gave Krish a light pat on the shoulder.
“Anyways… tomorrow is your wedding. Try to make it up with her, hmm? She’s naive…
sensitive too. Don’t hurt her unknowingly.
” His tone wasn’t scolding — just advising, like a brother would.
Without waiting for a reply, Aarav turned and walked toward the door, leaving Krish alone with his thoughts — and the noise inside his head that was louder than any hangover. The door clicked shut softly, but the silence it left behind felt deafening.
Krish leaned back slowly against the headboard, staring blankly ahead.
His chest tightened.
“Did I… say something that made you cry?” he murmured to himself, guilt slowly creeping into his veins like poison he couldn’t stop.