9
I sat there in the soft glow of the night light, Utsav fast asleep on my chest, his face still blotched from the tears he had cried earlier.
My heart ached just remembering his words-how he thought he was the reason our mother died.
My fingers absentmindedly stroked his hair, my other hand gently pulling the blanket over his small frame.
Sheraa was curled up protectively on his back, his tail swaying now and then as if trying to guard him even in dreams.
Papa had gone to his room, quiet and withdrawn. The weight of the past still hung in the air, thick and heavy.
Just then, Bhairava bhaiya sat down beside me on the couch, his expression unreadable. Without a second thought, I leaned into him, resting my head on his chest like I used to when I was younger-when the world got too loud, and his heartbeats would calm my storm.
His arms wrapped around me instantly, a silent promise that I wasn't alone.
"Bhairava bhaiya..." I whispered.
He looked down at me, brushing my hair softly, "What happened, little star?"
I was silent for a beat, unsure where to begin.
"I went to Lake Pichola today..." I said quietly.
He gave a slow nod. "You always go there when your heart feels heavy."
"Yeah... I just needed a breath. After the contract work, Utsav's birthday approaching, and... today, hearing him say all that. I couldn't breathe in this house for a moment. So I went there."
"And?" he asked gently.
I took a breath. "He was there. Dattatriya. Sitting alone near the edge of the lake. I thought it was someone else at first... but it was him."
His brows furrowed instantly. "What the hell was he doing there? Did he say anything? Did he bother you?"
"No. He didn't know I was coming. I don't think he even knew I saw him until I touched his shoulder. He was just... there. Alone. Looking like he had the weight of the entire world on him."
Bhaiya was quiet, but I could feel his protectiveness rising. He didn't like it. Not one bit.
"And then what?"
I looked up at him slowly, my voice softer now. "He broke down."
"What?" His tone was sharper now.
"He cried, bhaiya. In my arms. Like a child who hadn't cried in years. He told me about his mother. How she used to bring him there before she got sick. How he lost her."
Bhairava bhaiya's eyes narrowed, but he didn't speak. He just listened, carefully, as I continued.
"It was like he dropped all the masks... for those few minutes, he wasn't a politician or a mafia boss. He was just a boy... a broken boy who lost the only woman who ever loved him."
Silence.
"I didn't pull away, bhaiya. I held him. I knew that pain. You know I do. Because I watched our mother die giving birth to Utsav. I saw her body. I saw papa break. I know what that pain looks like."
Bhaiya sighed, his fingers rubbing his temples. "Katha... you're too kind sometimes. These men, they're not like us. They live in a world of blood and betrayal."
"And we don't?" I asked softly, my voice tinged with a sad smile. "You, Gyan bhaiya, Dyan bhaiya... papa-you've all done things too. But you're still my family. We're all scarred. Dattatriya... maybe he's just another scarred soul."
He stayed quiet for a long while, then finally spoke, "Did he touch you?"
I blinked, "What?"
"Did he touch you when he cried?"
I looked away. "Yes. He held me. I didn't push him away. And... he didn't let go either."
Bhaiya's jaw clenched slightly. I knew it wasn't jealousy or control-it was fear. Fear that someone would dare hurt me emotionally.
"He better know what the hell he's doing. If he so much as breathes wrong around you, little star, I swear on Ma's soul, I will end him."
I smiled weakly, "I know you will. But for now... I think he just needed someone to be kind to him. Just once."
He looked down at me again, his voice quieter this time. "And did you need someone to be kind to you, Katha? Is that why you stayed?"
I didn't answer.
Because maybe... just maybe... yes.
And Bhairava bhaiya didn't push. He just held me tighter. Like the big brother he had always been-my anchor in every storm.
And around us, the night deepened-but inside the mansion, warmth lingered. Despite the pain. Despite the past.
It was nearly 3 AM, the house eerily quiet, the air heavy with the weight of what Utsav had said earlier. No one had eaten dinner. Not even Papa. Not even Bhairava bhaiya, who usually made sure I at least had a bite no matter how tired I was.
I sat curled up on the sofa in the main hall, still in my day clothes, a blanket wrapped around me loosely, Sheraa lying at my feet, his head on my slipper like a silent guard. The clock ticked loudly, reminding me that Gyan bhaiya and Dyan bhaiya still hadn't come home.
I stared at the door. Every car horn from far away, every creak of the old house made me flinch a little. I wasn't scared. I was... anxious.
They were never this late.
Especially not together.
Utsav was still sleeping peacefully in my room. I had checked on him an hour ago, tucked him in again and kissed his forehead.
I glanced toward Papa's room. The lights were off, but I knew he wasn't asleep. None of us were.
Suddenly, I heard a car pulling up in the driveway. I jolted up, blanket falling to the floor. Sheraa immediately stood and followed me to the main door, tail swaying in concern.
I rushed to open it.
There they were-Gyan bhaiya and Dyan bhaiya.
Both of them drenched in sweat, shirts clinging to their bodies, hands bruised, and knuckles bleeding slightly. Their faces were flushed from what was clearly intense sparring. Dyan's eyes were a little too red, and Gyan's jaw was clenched tightly, like he'd screamed his throat sore.
I froze at the sight of them.
"Where the hell have you both been?!" I snapped, voice trembling-not in anger but relief.
They looked at me, and without saying a word, Dyan walked straight toward me and pulled me into a crushing hug. He didn't even say anything-he just held me tightly.
A second later, Gyan joined, wrapping his arms around both of us, his forehead resting on top of mine.
We stayed like that in silence.
Three broken hearts in the night, holding onto each other.
Finally, Gyan bhaiya whispered, "He really thinks he killed her..."
Dyan's voice cracked, "He's just a kid, Katha... how do we make him believe it's not his fault?"
I blinked back the tears. "We'll find a way. We're the Choudhurys. We protect each other. We'll fix this. For Ma. For Utsav. For all of us."
They nodded wordlessly.
And in that quiet, bruised embrace under the moonlight, we didn't feel like the mafia family the world feared.
We just felt like orphans trying to hold the pieces of their mother's love together.
I sat them both down on the sofa, pulling the first aid box from under the coffee table silently. Gyan bhaiya sat on my right, his arm resting on the backrest, while Dyan bhaiya was slouched forward, head hung low like a scolded child. Neither of them said a word.
Sheraa curled up near my feet, sensing the emotional weight in the room and keeping quiet for once.
I took Gyan bhaiya's hand first.
His knuckles were raw-splits in the skin and bruises blooming across his fingers like dark blossoms. I dipped a cotton ball in antiseptic, and without a word, began dabbing gently.
He hissed.
"You're lucky I love you," I muttered, trying to sound annoyed, but my voice cracked at the end.
He looked at me and gave a half-hearted smile. "You do?"
I glanced up, narrowing my eyes. "Don't push it."
He chuckled under his breath, the sound tired, but it was something. I gently wrapped his hand in bandage, taping it up carefully.
Then I turned to Dyan bhaiya, whose hand was worse. His knuckles were split deeper. It looked like he hadn't even bothered to protect his hands during the fight. Just punched through the pain.
I held his hand with both of mine and looked up at him. "Why do you do this to yourself, bhaiya?"
He didn't meet my gaze. "I needed to let it out," he mumbled. "I needed to hit something, break something. I couldn't stop hearing him say he shouldn't have been born."
My fingers froze for a second, and I swallowed hard. "You think breaking your own bones will take that guilt away from him?"
Finally, he looked at me. And his eyes-they were swimming with unshed tears he would never let fall.
"I'm the eldest. After Bhairava. I should've been able to give him the love Ma would've. I failed him."
I finished dressing his hand in silence.
And then I leaned forward and hugged both of them tightly, one arm around each brother. "We all lost her," I whispered. "But we're not losing each other. Not now. Not ever."
Both of them nodded, holding me close. It wasn't often we let ourselves fall apart, but tonight... we needed this.
Sheraa, sensing the shift, jumped up beside us and laid his big fluffy head on Dyan's thigh with a low purr.
Gyan bhaiya chuckled. "Even Sheraa's in emo mode tonight."
I smiled softly. "We're all mourning the same moon, bhaiya."
And for once... none of us felt alone.
I quietly pushed open the door to my room, the soft creak of the hinges barely audible in the silence of the house.
Sheraa was fast asleep in my arms, his warm weight pressed against my chest. The room was dimly lit by the moonlight spilling in through the window, casting silver shadows on the walls.
Utsav lay curled up on the bed, the blankets kicked halfway down, his face peaceful but still stained with the remains of dried tears. My heart tugged painfully at the sight.
I walked over gently and laid Sheraa beside him, his little bow slightly askew now. Sheraa yawned once, stretching his paw over Utsav protectively before curling back into a ball.
I pulled the blanket over both of them and then slid into bed on the other side, careful not to wake either of them. But as soon as I settled in, Utsav stirred.
"Hmm... Katha di..." he mumbled, eyes still closed, voice thick with sleep as he instinctively shifted closer, wrapping his small arms around my waist and tucking his head under my chin.
I held him close, rubbing slow circles on his back.
"I'm right here, laddu..." I whispered.
He sighed, the tension in his little body finally ebbing away as he sank into my warmth. Sheraa let out a soft grumble, pressing into Utsav's back like a furry heater.
As I lay there, cocooned between my little brother and our beloved snow leopard, a strange sense of peace settled over me. The pain was still there, but so was the love-so fierce, so unshakable.
And in that moment, I made a silent promise to myself:
No matter what happens, I'll protect this boy. From the world... and from himself.
Always.
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