CHAPTER 56
ARYAN
I never thought I’d willingly sit through Stranger Things. Not just sit through it—host a group viewing like some kind of emotionally invested participant.
If anyone had told me a few months ago that I’d be on my own couch, with my mother knitting in the corner, my sister aggressively policing screen silence, my brother grunting like a disapproving background character, and Ishika curled into my side while a monster from another dimension stalks teenagers on screen—I would’ve laughed out loud.
And then changed the topic. But here we are. Life is strange like that.
The living room is dim except for the television, the blue glow flickering across familiar faces.
The curtains are drawn, snacks scattered across the table—most of which Radhika has already claimed as her personal property—and there’s this quiet, underlying hum of comfort that I don’t think I’ve ever really noticed before.
Or maybe I have. Maybe I just didn’t know what to call it.
“Shh!” Radhika hisses, throwing a cushion in my direction without even looking at me. “This is an important scene.”
“I didn’t even say anything,” I protest.
“You are breathing too loudly.”
“That’s not a crime.”
“It is in this house when I’m watching my show.” I open my mouth to argue, but Ma cuts in before I can.
“Let her watch, Aryan,” she says mildly, not even glancing up from whatever she’s working on. “You always disturb.”
“I don’t disturb,” I mutter.
Vedant makes a noncommittal sound from the other end of the couch that somehow translates perfectly into you absolutely do.
Traitor.
I shift slightly, leaning back into the couch.
And, very naturally—completely unintentionally, of course—I let my shoulder fall against Ishika’s.
She stiffens for a second but then relaxes, not dramatically.
Not in a way that calls attention to itself.
Just enough for me to feel it. I let my arm rest along the back of the couch, close enough that it brushes against her shoulder every now and then, like it’s accidental.
It’s not. The screen flashes something ominous. The music builds. Something moves in the dark—I lean in closer to her.
“Did you see that?” I murmur, lowering my voice like I’m genuinely concerned.
She doesn’t even look at me. “Sit properly.”
“I am sitting properly.”
“You’re practically on top of me.”
“That’s because I value my life.”
“That is a fictional creature.”
“That is a very convincing fictional creature.”
She exhales sharply, somewhere between irritation and amusement.
I take that as encouragement and shift even closer, my arm sliding more securely around her shoulders.
Before she can say anything—Radhika pauses the show.
I freeze. “That’s it,” she says, turning toward me with narrowed eyes. “Get away from her.”
I blink. “Excuse me?”
“You’re ruining the experience.”
“I’m enhancing it.”
“You are clinging to her like a scared toddler.”
“I am emotionally invested.”
“You are emotionally dramatic.”
Ma chuckles softly under her breath. Vedant doesn’t even bother looking up. “He’s always like this.”
I look at Ishika for backup. She’s biting her lip, trying not to smile. Traitor number two.
“Ishika,” I say, offended. “Say something.” She finally looks at me. And there’s that look. That soft, amused, slightly disbelieving look she gets when she’s watching me behave like this.
“You are being a bit dramatic,” she says carefully.
“A bit?” Radhika scoffs. “He’s unbearable.”
“I am right here.”
“Unfortunately.”
I narrow my eyes at my sister. “You’re just jealous.”
“Of what? Your inability to sit through a scene without needing emotional support?”
“Of the fact that she likes me more than you.”
Radhika gasps dramatically. “Ishika, please reconsider your life choices.” Ishika laughs. And something in my chest shifts at the sound because it’s not forced or careful anymore, she has started smiling a bit more…carefree.
I lean back slightly, letting the moment settle, watching her as she tucks a strand of hair behind her ear, still smiling faintly.
There’s something different about her here.
In this space. With my people. She’s still herself—still sharp, still observant, still carrying that quiet awareness like she’s always measuring her place in the room.
But there’s less…tension.
Less bracing.
Like she’s not waiting for something to go wrong.
Like she’s letting herself exist without holding everything together. And it does something to me.
Radhika unpauses the show with a warning look in my direction. “If you speak again, you’re out.”
“Dictatorship,” I mutter.
“Silence.” I sigh dramatically.
Then lean back again. And, after a second—Ishika shifts a bit closer. Her shoulder pressing into mine. Her hand resting near my thigh, not quite touching, but close enough that I’m aware of it.
I glance at her. She doesn’t look at me. But there’s a small, almost secret smile at the corner of her mouth.
Letting the noise of my family fill the room. Letting Radhika’s occasional commentary break through the tension of the show. Letting Ma’s quiet presence anchor everything in place. Letting Vedant’s rare, perfectly timed reactions add to the rhythm of it all. And letting Ishika exist in it. With me.
There’s a scene on screen that makes Radhika gasp dramatically. “See! This is why you don’t go into creepy places alone!”
“That’s common sense,” I say.
“You don’t have common sense.”
“I have selective intelligence.”
“You have selective stupidity.” I grin, shrugging slightly, only to earn a silent glare from everyone except Ishika. Ishika lets out a soft huff beside me.
I glance at her again, her gaze flickers across the room—at Ma, at Radhika, at Vedant—and then back to me.
And for a second—Just a second—It looks like she’s…
full. Like she’s taking it in. Like she’s letting herself feel it.
The feeling of belonging. The thought hits me hard enough that I have to look away for a second.
Because my chest tightens in a way I’m not used to.
I’ve always had this. This chaos. This noise.
This…home. I’ve taken it for granted more times than I can count.
But her—She’s lived without it for so long.
Lived with walls so high no one could see over them.
Lived like every connection came with an expiry date.
Lived like needing someone was a risk she couldn’t afford.
And now she’s sitting here.
In the middle of my world.
Letting it touch her.
Even a little.
My hand moves before I think about it, settling more firmly around her shoulder, pulling her just a fraction closer.
She doesn’t resist. Doesn’t even hesitate and rests her head on my shoulder.
I look down at her for a second. At the way her lashes rest against her cheek.
At the way her expression has softened without her realizing it. At the way she’s not guarded right now.
I don’t know who’s behind what happened. I don’t know why her car failed. I don’t know who thought they could get close enough to her to scare her like that. But I know this—I will not let her live in fear. Not again. Not ever.
Whoever is behind it—They made a mistake.
A big one.
Because now—It’s personal. Radhika gasps again at something on screen. Vedant mutters, “Idiot,” at a character. Ma shakes her head, smiling faintly.
And Ishika—Ishika lets out a quiet breath against my shoulder. My grip on her tightens just slightly. A silent promise. She doesn’t hear it. Doesn’t need to.
I’ll keep her safe. No matter what it takes.