Chapter 5 Nightmares
The words settled heavily in the quiet room.
"Because if I sleep, you might disappear."
For the first time since meeting him, Aarohi Mehra didn't immediately know what to say.
Not because it was romantic.
It wasn't.
It was worse.
It was the kind of sentence spoken by someone who had lost too many people already.
Someone who believed peace never stayed.
The dim lamp beside the bed cast soft shadows across Ekansh Rathore's face.
Without the rage in his eyes, he looked younger somehow.
Still dangerous.
Still sharp enough to terrify most people.
But tired.
So incredibly tired.
Aarohi leaned back slightly in the chair.
"I'm not disappearing."
His gaze remained fixed on her.
"People say that before they leave."
That answer told her everything.
Abandonment issues.
Deep-rooted.
Probably beginning after his mother's death.
Maybe it worsened repeatedly afterward.
Aarohi's voice softened unconsciously.
"Sleep, Ekansh."
A long silence passed.
Then slowly-
His eyes finally closed.
But even asleep, his body stayed tense.
Like he expected danger any second.
Aarohi woke instantly to the sound of uneven breathing.
Years of hospital work had trained her to wake at the slightest change.
The room was dark except for the corner lamp.
At first everything seemed normal.
Then she saw him.
Ekansh's hands clenched violently against the bedsheets.
Sweat covered his forehead.
His breathing grew harsher by the second.
"No..."
The whisper barely reached her.
Aarohi immediately stood.
Not too fast.
Not suddenly.
His head moved sharply side to side.
"No- stop-"
Panic attack inside a nightmare.
Then suddenly-
"DON'T TOUCH ME!"
Ekansh jerked awake violently.
His arm swung instinctively.
The glass of water beside the bed shattered across the floor.
For one terrifying second, pure survival instinct filled his eyes.
Not recognition.
Not awareness.
Just fear.
Aarohi stopped herself from moving closer immediately.
Important.
Cornering him right now would worsen it.
"Ekansh."
Her voice stayed calm.
Steady.
Grounding.
His breathing remained dangerously uneven.
The nightmare still clung to him.
His gaze darted around the room wildly before finally locking onto her.
Aarohi noticed the exact second recognition returned.
His shoulders loosened slightly.
Only slightly.
"You're here," he muttered.
Not a question.
Almost disbelief.
Aarohi nodded slowly.
"I told you I would stay."
Silence.
Then he looked away sharply, jaw tightening.
Humiliation.
He hated being seen vulnerable.
Especially like this.
Aarohi quietly grabbed tissues and crouched near the broken glass.
"You don't have to clean that," he said coldly.
"I know."
"Then leave it."
"You're bleeding again."
His knuckles were cut from the shattered glass.
He looked down at them blankly.
Like pain barely registered anymore.
Aarohi carefully reached for the first aid kit nearby.
Instant tension returned to his body.
Not fear this time.
Expectation.
Waiting for force.
For control to be taken.
Instead, Aarohi simply placed the antiseptic beside him.
"You can do it yourself."
His eyes flickered toward her.
Again that strange look.
Confusion mixed with something quieter.
Trust trying to exist.
Slowly, he took the cotton from her hand.
The room stayed silent while he cleaned the blood himself.
Aarohi pretended not to notice how his fingers trembled slightly.
Not from pain.
Residual panic.
After a minute, she spoke softly.
"What do you see in the nightmares?"
"No."
"I'm not forcing you to answer."
"Good."
Defensive again.
But weaker now.
Exhausted.
Aarohi sat back in the chair beside him quietly.
"You were shouting."
His jaw tightened.
"What did I say?"
"Mostly telling someone not to touch you."
His expression darkened instantly.
Like even hearing it angered him.
For a moment Aarohi thought he would shut down again.
Instead he leaned back against the bed slowly and stared at the ceiling.
Then finally-
"They tied me down."
Her breath stilled slightly.
His voice sounded emotionless now.
Too emotionless.
The kind people used when discussing things that broke them.
"I thought it was a checkup." He laughed once bitterly. "My father signed papers and walked out."
Aarohi stayed silent.
Letting him speak.
"They restrained me for hours because I fought back." His eyes remained fixed upward. "Injections. Couldn't move properly after that."
The room suddenly felt colder.
"And the shocks?" he said with a humorless chuckle.
His gaze finally shifted toward her.
Dark.
Empty.
"They said it would calm me down."
A long silence followed.
Rain tapped softly against the windows again.
Aarohi understood now why hospitals triggered pure survival responses in him.
This wasn't irrational fear.
This was trauma memory.
His body believed every hospital meant torture.
"You know the funny part?" Ekansh said quietly.
A dangerous calm entered his voice.
"It didn't make me better."
No.
It made him worse.
More violent.
More unreachable.
More feral.
Because pain without trust only creates monsters.
Aarohi looked at him carefully.
Not with pity.
Never pity.
And maybe that's why he kept talking.
"They were scared of my anger," he murmured. "So they created something worse."
For the first time since waking from the nightmare...
His voice cracked slightly at the edges.
Tiny.
Almost invisible.
But Aarohi heard it.
And something inside her chest hurt unexpectedly.
Because beneath all the violence...
He had once simply been an eighteen-year-old boy begging people not to hurt him.