CHAPTER 38（ARYAN）
Something felt off.
Not loud.
Not obvious.
Just... wrong.
I sat in the study longer than I intended, but my focus kept breaking.
Again.
And again.
Mahi hadn't come back in.
Hadn't called.
Hadn't even checked on me once like she usually would.
That wasn't like her.
I closed the file in front of me and stood up.
Quietly.
The house felt unusually still as I walked upstairs.
No sound.
No movement.
Only my footsteps against the floor.
When I reached the bedroom, I stopped.
Her bag was still on the couch.
That alone made something tighten in my chest.
"Mahi?" I called softly.
No response.
I stepped further inside.
The bathroom door was closed.
No light under it.
No sound from inside.
Just silence.
I stared at it for a second longer than I should have.
Then I knocked gently.
"Mahi," I said again, voice lower now. "Are you okay?"
Still nothing.
My jaw tightened slightly.
Not anger.
Concern.
Pure concern now.
I waited a moment.
Then spoke again, more carefully this time.
"Mahi... answer me."
A pause.
And then—
Her voice finally came from inside.
Small.
A little distant.
"I'm here."
That alone didn't relax me.
Because it didn't sound like her.
I exhaled slowly.
"You've been in there a while," I said gently.
Another pause.
"I called you earlier."
"I didn't hear," she replied quickly.
Too quickly.
I stayed still for a moment.
Watching the door.
Trying to understand what I was feeling.
Something wasn't right.
Not physically.
Not visibly.
But emotionally...
She was somewhere else.
I leaned slightly closer to the door, but didn't touch it again.
Not pushing.
Just present.
"Mahi," I said softly.
Silence from inside.
I lowered my voice even more.
"If something is wrong... you can tell me."
That time, she didn't answer immediately.
And that pause...
Told me everything she wasn't saying.
I closed my eyes briefly.
Then rested my forehead lightly against the door.
Not in frustration.
In quiet worry.
Because for the first time that night...
I realized she wasn't hiding from me.
She was hiding inside herself.
The silence stretched for a few seconds longer than it should have.
Then finally, I heard movement from inside.
Water stopped.
Soft footsteps.
And then the lock clicked.
The door opened slowly.
Mahi stepped out.
Wrapped in a her night dress.
Hair slightly damp.
Her face calm... but not fully.
Something about her still felt distant.
I looked at her carefully.
"Better?" I asked softly.
She nodded.
"Yes."
Too simple.
Too controlled.
She walked past me toward the dresser, avoiding eye contact.
That alone made my concern deepen.
I stepped aside to give her space, but my eyes stayed on her.
She was rubbing her wrist absentmindedly.
A habit.
One I had noticed before, but never thought much about.
Until now.
My gaze shifted briefly.
And that's when I noticed it.
Faint marks on her arm.
Not fresh.
Not obvious.
But there.
My expression didn't change immediately.
But something inside me tightened.
She had turned slightly away, searching through her clothes.
Still unaware I had seen it.
I didn't speak right away.
Because whatever those marks were...
They didn't belong in this moment.
Or maybe they belonged too much.
"Mahi," I said finally.
She paused.
"Yes?"
I kept my voice steady.
"What happened there?"
A silence.
Short.
But heavy.
She didn't turn around.
"Where?" she asked lightly.
But her voice had changed.
Just slightly.
Enough for me to notice.
I stepped a little closer—not enough to crowd her, just enough for her to hear me properly.
"On your arm," I said quietly.
That time, she froze.
Completely.
And that silence...
Answered more than words ever could.
I watched her shoulders stiffen slightly.
Then she quickly pulled her sleeve down.
Too fast.
Too intentional.
My jaw tightened—but I didn't push further.
Not yet.
Instead, I softened my tone.
"Mahi," I said gently.
"I'm not asking to accuse you."
A pause.
"I'm asking because I saw it."
She didn't turn around.
But her breathing changed.
Just a little.
And for the first time that night...
I realized this wasn't something small she was hiding.
It was something she had learned how to live with.
And I had just started noticing.
Her grip tightened around her sleeve.
Not voluntarily.
It just... happened.
I looked at her properly now.
"Mahi..." I said softly.
"I am listening."
She took a shaky breath.
And then slowly turned toward me.
But her eyes stayed closed.
My brows pulled together immediately.
"Mahi... what's wrong?"
Silence.
Too heavy.
Too stretched.
Then—
Her fingers slowly lifted the sleeve of her arm.
My breath stopped.
Completely.
For a second, I didn't understand what I was seeing.
And then I did.
My eyes widened.
Shock hit my chest like a wave.
Not a small mark.
Not a faint scar.
But her entire arm...
Burnt.
Irregular marks.
Old and new layered together.
Like pain that had stayed longer than it should have.
My hand dropped slightly without me realizing.
"Mahi..." I whispered again.
But my voice didn't come out the same.
It was tighter.
Broken in places I didn't expect.
She finally opened one eye.
Slowly.
Carefully.
Like she was afraid of what she would see on my face.
And for a second...
I couldn't even move.
My mind was trying to process it.
Trying to understand how something like this...
How she had been carrying this...
Without me knowing.
Without anyone knowing.
I took a small step forward.
Not fast.
Not aggressive.
Just... closer.
"Mahi," I said again, softer this time.
"What... happened?"
Her lips parted slightly.
But no words came out.
Her fingers still held the sleeve tightly.
Like letting go would make it real.
Like it wasn't already.
My chest felt heavy.
Too heavy.
And suddenly...
All the pieces I had ignored started coming together.
The silence.
The hesitation.
The way she pulled away from touch sometimes.
The way she never spoke about her past fully.
I swallowed hard.
My voice dropped lower.
"Who did this to you?"
And for the first time...
She didn't look away from me.
But she didn't answer either.
I took a slow step forward.
"Mahi..." I said softly.
This time, she didn't move away.
Her shoulders stayed tense.
But she didn't run.
After a long pause, she finally spoke.
"It was an accident."
My brows pulled together immediately.
"An accident?"
She nodded slightly.
"When I was young."
My chest tightened a little.
"How young?"
She hesitated.
Just for a second.
Then whispered,
"Three years old."
I blinked.
Once.
Then again.
As if my mind refused to process what I had just heard.
Three.
Years.
Old.
My gaze dropped instinctively, like I was trying to picture it.
A child.
A three-year-old child carrying something like this on her skin.
My throat tightened.
I took a small breath, trying to steady myself.
"Mahi..." I said again, but my voice had softened completely now.
She finally looked at me properly.
Her eyes weren't scared.
Not of me.
But of something else.
Something deeper.
"I thought..." she said quietly, "you would stop seeing me as Mahi."
A pause.
"As a person."
My chest clenched harder.
"I thought you would start seeing me as just..." her voice broke slightly, "a woman with scars."
Silence filled the space between us.
Heavy.
Painful.
Honest.
She swallowed and continued,
"And I don't want that."
For a moment, I couldn't speak.
Because everything inside me shifted.
Not anger.
Not shock anymore.
Just something painfully clear.
I stepped forward.
Slowly.
Carefully.
And before she could pull away, I wrapped her into my arms.
Firm.
Steady.
Not hesitant.
Not careful in a way that kept distance.
Just... certain.
She stiffened for a second.
Then slowly... her grip loosened.
I exhaled quietly.
"This..." I said softly, "is what you wanted to tell me?"
She nodded against my chest.
Small.
Afraid.
I tightened my hold slightly.
"Listen to me," I said, voice low.
"You didn't tell me something that makes you less."
A pause.
"You told me something that shows how strong you are."
She didn't respond.
But I felt her breathing shift slightly.
I lowered my head a little.
"And if you think for even a second..." my voice softened further, "that I would look at you differently because of something that happened when you were three..."
I stopped.
Then added quietly,
"You don't know me at all, Snowflake."
A shaky breath escaped her.
And slowly... she held onto me properly.
Like she finally believed she was allowed to.
I rested my chin lightly over her head.
My arms stayed wrapped around her, steady and unmoving.
"I love you," I said softly.
A pause.
Not rushed.
Not dramatic.
Just certain.
"I love you as Mahi."
I exhaled slowly.
"And this..." I added, my voice gentler now, "is not something that will ever make me see you as anything less."
For a moment, she didn't move.
Didn't speak.
Didn't even breathe loudly enough for me to notice.
Then, slowly...
I felt it.
The tension in her shoulders loosened.
Just a little at first.
Then more.
Until finally, she rested fully against my chest.
As if something inside her had finally stopped resisting.
My grip tightened slightly around her—not in control, but in reassurance.
I closed my eyes for a second.
And simply held her there.
No questions.
No pressure.
Just presence.
After a long silence, I heard her exhale.
Small.
Shaky.
But real.
And for the first time that night...
It didn't feel like she was carrying it alone anymore.
I stayed quiet for a long moment.
Just holding her.
Letting the silence settle instead of rushing to fill it.
My hand moved slowly through her hair, careful and steady.
After a while, I spoke softly.
"Mahi..."
She didn't move away.
Only hummed slightly, still resting against me.
I took a slow breath.
"You don't have to tell me everything today."
A pause.
"But..."
My voice lowered a little.
"If there are things that still hurt you..."
"I want to understand them."
Not because I'm curious.
But because I care."
I felt her fingers tighten slightly against my shirt.
So I continued, even softer now.
"And you're allowed to take your time."
A beat.
"You're allowed to stop whenever you want."
I gently tilted my head to look at her.
"No pressure."
Just... me.
Waiting.
With you."
She nodded slowly and sat down on the chair.
I crouched down in front of her so I was at her level.
Carefully, I placed my hand over hers.
Not holding tightly.
Just... there.
So she could feel I wasn't going anywhere.
She took a deep breath.
Then finally spoke.
"So when I was a child..." she began quietly.
I stayed still.
Listening.
"We used to live in India," she said. "In a rented house."
Her fingers tightened slightly under mine.
I didn't interrupt.
Didn't rush her.
"On one day..." she paused, swallowing hard, "I went to find my mother in the kitchen."
Another pause.
"But she wasn't there."
Silence stretched between us.
Only her voice continued.
"But there was water."
She looked up at me for a second.
Her eyes unsure.
Fragile.
I tightened my grip on her hand slightly.
A silent reassurance.
"I went near it..." she whispered, "and it fell on me."
My breath stopped for a second.
Not because I didn't understand the words.
But because I understood what she wasn't saying.
I didn't move.
Didn't speak immediately.
Just stayed there beside her.
Letting her breathe.
Letting her stay in the moment without being alone in it.
Slowly, I squeezed her hand a little.
Not pity.
Not shock.
Just presence.
"Mahi..." I said softly.
She didn't look away.
And for the first time...
I realized this wasn't just a memory for her.
It was something she had been carrying all her life.
So after that... my parents took me to the hospital.
She paused for a moment, fingers still loosely wrapped around mine.
Then she continued, her voice quieter now.
"My mother went into depression."
I didn't move.
Didn't interrupt.
She swallowed hard.
"Everyone blamed her for what happened to me."
A sudden tightness hit my chest.
Mahi's grip on my hand shifted slightly, not pulling away, just grounding herself.
Something inside me snapped at her next words.
"I couldn't understand it," she said, voice trembling just a little. "A mother can never hurt her own child. How can people even think like that?"
She looked at me for a brief second, like she needed me to agree with her.
I didn't speak.
I just held her hand a little tighter.
She exhaled slowly and continued.
"After a few months... maybe in February..."
Her voice broke slightly on the words.
"She died."
Silence fell instantly.
Heavy.
Thick.
Like even the air had stopped moving.
My hand tightened around hers without me realizing.
"Mahi..." I said softly.
But she didn't stop.
She just stared ahead, eyes unfocused, like she was somewhere far away now.
And I could see it clearly.
This wasn't just a memory she was telling me.
It was a wound she had been forced to live with alone for far too long.
She didn't speak for a while.
Not immediately.
Not even after I held her closer.
Her head was resting against my chest, but I could feel it—
Something inside her had shifted again.
Heavier.
I didn't rush her.
I just stayed still.
Letting her take her time.
Then finally, her voice broke the silence.
"...I miss her so much."
My grip around her tightened slightly.
Not out of control.
Just instinct.
She swallowed.
"I love snow..."
I looked down at her gently.
She continued, voice quieter now.
"Because I spent the last days with her playing in it."
Something sharp twisted in my chest.
But I didn't interrupt.
I let her speak.
Even if it hurt to hear.
Her fingers clenched slightly against my shirt.
"And then..." her voice wavered, "there was Aarushi."
I felt my jaw tighten at the name.
Not jealousy.
Never that.
Just awareness.
Something important was being carried inside her.
She took a shaky breath.
"She told me..." Mahi paused.
My hand moved slowly across her back, grounding her.
"'You are the reason my mother is dead.'"
My entire body went still.
For a second, I couldn't even process it.
A child.
Told that.
I felt something inside me shift violently.
Not anger at her.
At the world.
At whoever let her carry that weight.
My hand tightened slightly around her.
Not letting her go.
She kept speaking.
"And then... my stepmother..."
A pause.
"She loved me like her own child."
Her voice softened just a little.
"But I still missed my mother."
Silence fell again.
But this time it wasn't empty.
It was heavy with everything she had carried alone.
My throat felt tight.
I exhaled slowly, trying to steady my voice.
"Mahi..."
She didn't move.
Didn't look up yet.
So I lowered my head slightly, closer to her.
"That was never your fault."
A pause.
My hand gently moved through her hair.
"You were a child."
My voice softened further.
"A child doesn't cause anything like that."
She finally went quiet.
Completely.
And then I felt it—
Her grip on me tightening slightly.
Like she was holding on because if she didn't... she might fall apart.
And I stayed there.
Holding her through it.
Because for the first time since she started speaking...
I realized something very clearly.
She hadn't just been hiding scars.
She had been carrying blame that was never hers to carry.
For a few seconds after she stopped speaking...
There was only silence.
Heavy.
Unmoving.
Then I felt it.
Her breath hitched.
Once.
Twice.
And then her entire body trembled slightly against me.
"Mahi..." I said softly.
But she didn't respond.
Her fingers tightened on my shirt like she was trying to hold herself together.
And then—
She broke.
Completely.
A quiet, shattered sound left her lips as she buried her face into my chest.
"I was so small..." she whispered brokenly. "I didn't understand anything..."
Her shoulders shook.
And I immediately wrapped both arms around her.
Tighter than before.
Not letting her fall.
Not letting her drift away into that place alone.
"I didn't do anything wrong..." she said, voice cracking. "But I still felt like I did."
My jaw clenched.
Something inside me twisted painfully.
I closed my eyes for a second and held her closer.
"Hey..." I whispered gently.
"It wasn't your fault."
But she didn't hear me properly.
Or maybe she did.
But it didn't reach the part of her that needed it.
"I miss her..." she cried softly. "I miss her so much, Aryan..."
That broke something in me.
Not loudly.
Not dramatically.
Just quietly.
Because there was nothing I could say that would fix that kind of loss.
So I did the only thing I could.
I held her.
I let her cry.
I let her shake.
I let her fall apart without stepping away even for a second.
Her fingers gripped my shirt tighter.
Like she was afraid if she let go, she would disappear into that pain again.
"I hate it," she whispered. "I hate remembering it like this..."
"I know," I said softly.
My hand moved slowly through her hair.
Steady.
Grounding.
"You don't have to carry it alone anymore."
Her breathing was uneven.
Broken.
But slowly...
It started to soften.
Not stop.
Just soften.
Like her body was finally realizing she wasn't alone in it anymore.
"I'm here," I murmured again.
"Right here."
She didn't answer.
But she didn't let go either.
And for the first time that night...
I felt her weight settle properly against me.
Not as someone hiding pain.
But as someone finally letting it be seen.
And I held her like that.
Until her shaking slowly turned into silence.
Not empty silence.
Just... exhausted silence.
The kind that comes after surviving something you've carried for too long.
I pressed my lips lightly against her hair.
And stayed still.
Because leaving her alone after that...
Was never an option.
I didn't know how long we stayed like that.
Time didn't feel like something that mattered anymore.
At some point, her shaking slowed.
Then softened.
Then stopped completely.
But I didn't move.
Not even when her breathing changed.
Not even when her grip on my shirt loosened slightly.
I stayed still until I was sure she wasn't slipping back into that storm again.
Her face was still pressed against my chest.
Tired.
Exhausted in a way that went deeper than sleep.
Her fingers were still lightly curled against my shirt, like even in silence she needed something to hold on to.
"Mahi..." I called her name softly.
No response.
Just steady breathing.
Slow.
Even.
She had fallen asleep without realizing it.
Or maybe she had simply run out of strength to stay awake.
I exhaled quietly.
Carefully, I adjusted my hold so she was more comfortable.
Her body shifted slightly closer instinctively.
Like her mind trusted me even when she wasn't fully conscious of it.
A strange feeling settled in my chest.
Heavy.
Warm.
Unsettling in the way emotions become when you can't name them properly.
I looked down at her.
Even asleep, her face still carried traces of everything she had just let go of.
Pain didn't disappear that easily.
It just... paused.
I gently brushed a few strands of hair away from her face.
Careful not to wake her.
"You should've told me sooner," I whispered.
Not in anger.
Never in anger.
Just in something quieter.
Something like regret.
A long silence followed.
The room felt calmer now.
The storm had passed, but its echo still lingered in the air.
I slowly shifted my stance, adjusting her in my arms properly.
She stirred slightly, making a small sound before settling again.
I tightened my hold instinctively.
"I've got you," I murmured.
More to myself than to her.
A few moments passed like that.
Stillness returning slowly.
Peace, not forced—but earned.
I carried her carefully toward the bed.
Each step slow.
Deliberate.
Like if I rushed, I might break the fragile calm she had finally found.
I placed her down gently on the bed.
Her fingers briefly caught mine even in sleep.
I paused.
Then carefully eased my hand away, but only after making sure she wasn't waking up.
She turned slightly on her side, pulling the blanket closer.
Safe.
Finally safe.
I sat down beside the bed for a moment, watching her breathe.
In and out.
Steady now.
I exhaled slowly.
And for the first time that night...
I allowed myself to feel what I had been holding back.
Not just her pain.
But mine too.
Because loving someone who carries scars like that...
changes you.
Even when you're just trying to hold them together.
I leaned back slightly against the bed frame, eyes still on her.
And stayed there.
Quiet.
Until the room finally felt like it belonged to silence again.