AUTHOR'S POV

Y E A R — 2 0 1 5

"So, you're not joining NVC."

The music spills through the walls, a bass-heavy rhythm vibrating the air as bodies move to it, laughter, shouting, drinks clinking. The club alive with youth.

Rudra holds his drink close, both hands wrapped around the glass as if it gives him something to hold onto. His eyes lift toward Avyaan standing beside him.

"Dad mentioned it," he says quietly, "but I don't think I'm built for that world." His lips curve into a small, almost apologetic smile. "It's not for me."

Avyaan gives a slow nod. "Yeah. You're too soft hearted to put a bullet in someone's skull."

Rudra sets the empty glass down gently, lining it perfectly with the edge of the bar. "I heard Xadrian's taking that position. Honestly, he's built for it."

Avyaan's icy blue eyes met his. "He's also a psychopath."

Rudra laughs under his breath. "Still your brother."

"When do you leave for training?" he adds,

"In a few months."

Rudra nods, eyes drifting to the crowd. "You're all leaving. Abhimaan's already gone. Kabir's going soon. You too." He exhales. "I know it's the right path for all of you. But yeah, I'll miss it. Miss you guys."

"You can still come," Avyaan says, glancing at him. "We're not asking you to give anything up. You could study there, be with us."

"I want to," Rudra murmurs, "but I can't leave Anvika." He looks at him, sincerity written across his face. "She's chasing something big, something important. And I know she's strong but... I can't leave her alone. I'm not wired for long-distance, Avyaan. I need to be near her."

Avyaan watches him, his silence holding weight. Then his eyes shift, just past Rudra's shoulder.

Anvika on the dance floor, lost in the rhythm, her body swaying with practiced ease. The lights sweep across her figure in pulses of violet and blue, catching the shimmer in her dress. Mahir is behind her, too close. His hands rest on her waist, he leans in, murmuring something near her ear, his grip subtly tightening as he pulls her a shade closer.

"You don't ever... get uncomfortable with how close she is to Mahir?" Avyaan asks without turning away.

Rudra's smile falters for just a second.

"I'm not saying anything against her," Avyaan adds immediately not wanting to make him upset. "But you're with her. And the way you carry yourself how careful you are, how respectful you are...you deserve that too. It just... doesn't sit right sometimes."

"I've thought about it." He admits softly. "It does bother me sometimes. But I talked to her. She told me Mahir's just a friend, that I have nothing to worry about. And I believe her." He exhales slowly, then lifts his eyes to Avyaan. "I don't want to become someone who questions every little thing, I don't want to hurt her by making her feel like I don't trust her. That's not love. I trust her, more than anyone. She wouldn't break that." He folds his hands in front of him on the bar. "I don't want to become the kind of person who treats love like a possession. I want to love her and still let her be who she is."

Avyaan gives a small nod, he didn't want to interfere any further.

"Rudra!"

Arms suddenly wrap around his waist, pulling him up to standing. Rudra stiffens for a second before easing into the hug, smiling gently as Anvika holds him. Mahir trails behind, raking his fingers through his hair.

Rudra lets go of the edge of the bar and hugs her softly, pressing a light kiss to her head. "Tired?"

"Not at all. Mahir and I planned to get you drunk tonight." she says brightly.

Rudra blinks, eyes widening slightly. "Anvika... you know I don't—"

"Don't be boring," Mahir cuts in, already pouring a drink. "You're nineteen. Don't act like a monk."

Anvika grabs the glass and turns toward him. "Just this once."

Rudra steps back a little, both hands raised gently, his voice still soft. "I really don't like drinking. Please..." his voice trails off almost apologetic.

She frowns, rolling her eyes. "You're being dramatic."

"Stop."

They all turn. Avyaan stands just behind, his expression colder now. "He said no. That should be enough."

Mahir rolls his eyes. "You're always acting like Rudra can't make his own decisions."

"Maybe because every time he tries, someone pushes him into ignoring them." Avyaan shot back.

Rudra shifts uncomfortably between them, head slightly down. "It's okay," he says quickly, eyes flicking to Anvika. "It's just one glass."

"What are you doing?" Avyaan snaps, stepping toward him. "You don't have to drink for anyone."

Rudra swallows hard, his throat dry. He doesn't look at either of them, just at the glass in her hand. His fingers tremble slightly as he reaches out.

"I knew you couldn't say no to me," Anvika says, smiling sweetly.

She tilts the glass. He shuts his eyes and drinks it all in one go. The taste hits him. He turns his head immediately, pressing the back of his hand to his mouth and leans against the bar, trying to settle the nausea rising up. His eyes flutter slightly behind his glasses.

"Finally!" Anvika laughs, clapping. "He drank!"

Rudra sits down again slowly, his legs slightly weak, his breathing shallow. He wipes his lips, cheeks a little flushed.

"You okay?" Avyaan asks, bending closer.

Rudra nods faintly. "Just a little dizzy."

"Let's go. You need rest."

"I'll take him," Anvika says, wrapping a hand around his arm.

"Don't," Avyaan says quickly, stepping in again. "He's not in a state to go anywhere with you."

She raises an eyebrow. "Wait—what are you trying to say? That he's drunk and might take advantage of me?" She laughs, "Come on, Avyaan. He's Rudra. He can't even meet a girl's eyes properly. He flinches every time I touch him. Do you really think he has it in him to suddenly lose contr—?"

"Exactly," he cuts her off. "He flinches when you touch him, and now he's had his first drink, thanks to you. Do the math."

Anvika frowns, caught off guard. Mahir steps forward. "You're reading too much into this."

"Am I?" Avyaan turns to him slowly. "Funny coming from the guy who's had his hands all over someone else's girlfriend all night."

Mahir goes silent.

Anvika glances at Rudra, his head lowered on the bar, his delicate frame folded into himself, cheeks flushed from the alcohol, glasses slightly askew. She walks past him, whispering low, "I know what you think of me. But I'm not that girl."

Avyaan doesn't respond. His phone rings. He answers. "Dad, I'm in the middle of something—"

"Come home. Now."

Avyaan sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose. "I'll be there."

He walks over to Rudra again, crouches a little. "You want to come with me? I'll drop you home."

Rudra blinks slowly, lips parting to speak.

"You're coming with me," Anvika says, already reaching for him. He nods without looking up.

"Rudra, but—" Avyaan starts, stepping forward.

Rudra mumbles, voice barely audible, eyes half-lidded. "It's... fine, Avyaan. You go home. I'll be okay."

Avyaan stares at him for a long second and sighs, brushing a hand over his own face.

"You have your phone. If anything feels off, call me. Don't think twice."

Rudra nods again, his head falling slightly back on the bar.

Avyaan steps back, gives him one last look, then turns and walks away.

✿✿✿✿✿

Anvika helps him onto the bed. His head pounds too loud, too persistent and he buries his fingers into his temples.

She kneels in front of him and gently removes his glasses.

"You're still so hot, even like this," she says, brushing back his damp hair. Rudra doesn't reply. He's too dazed, too dizzy.

"Wait, I'll get you water." She vanishes briefly.

When she returns, something's different. She's changed, now wearing a white tank top and shorts that ride up high. She bends forward and offers the glass. He drinks without looking, but when he lowers the cup, his eyes flicker to her.

She sits beside him. "Feeling better?"

He gives a small nod.

"How do I look?"

He musters a small smile. "You always look beautiful."

Her hand slips into his. She leans close and he stiffens.

"Anvika..."

She hushes him, placing her finger over his lips. "I want you tonight."

His breath catches. He blinks slowly, fog still clouding his vision. "Please... Anvika... I don't feel well... I don't think we should..."

She pulls away abruptly, "Every time. Every single time, Rudra. Why do you always have an excuse? Why do you always push me away?"

He flinches. "It's not that. I just—"

"Just what?" she snaps. "You're nineteen. You're not a kid. And I'm not asking for something out of line I'm your girlfriend."

His voice trembles. "I know. But I'm not ready. I love you, but—"

"Love?" she scoffs. "Keep that love, Rudra. Because clearly, that's all you can offer. What about needs? Wants? Do mine not matter to you?"

The pressure in his head shifts into his chest. His throat closed. His hands trembled on his lap. "I'm sorry..."

"That's always what you say," she snaps, her voice rising. "But you never do anything to prove it. You won't drink, you won't let loose, you won't even touch me unless I ask you to. I wait and I wait and all I get is this version of you that hides behind reasons. God, sometimes I really wonder what I even see in you."

Her words stung like acid.

He looks down, barely whispering. "I didn't mean to hurt you."

She stands, pacing. "Mahir would never make me feel this way. He knows how to have fun. He isn't scared of touch. He doesn't flinch when I hold his hand or act like I'm crossing some sacred line by wanting intimacy."

Rudra's face fell. "Please don't compare me to him..."

"Why not?" she snapped. "Because it's true? You always act like I'm wrong for wanting something normal from you. Mahir makes me laugh, Rudra. He understands me without shutting down like a scared little boy. Why can't you be like Mahir? He's fun, exciting. I enjoy myself with him. And when I do, you sulk, get jealous, act like I've betrayed you. God forbid I want to feel something!"

"Anvika..." he tries to stand, but his knees wobble, giving out. He sinks back down. "Please don't be angry. I trust you, baby. I swear I do. I didn't mean to hurt you—"

"Then why is sex so hard for you?" Her voice is gentler now. "Don't bring up the legal age again, now you're nineteen. Why are you acting like it's a sin? It took you five months just to be okay with kissing."

"Legal age doesn't mean I'm ready. He breathes. "You're beautiful. More than you'll ever know. I just... I'm not ready for this. Not like this. A physical relationship needs maturity, planning, respect for boundaries. And we aren't there yet. At least, I'm not. I... I need time." He says it like a confession. Like needing time is a flaw.

"You do love me, right?"

"I do," he says quietly.

"Then prove it."

"Anvika, love isn't something you prove with sex. It's something you show with respect."

Her voice softens now, deliberate. She steps closer, crouching to meet his eyes.

"Rudra, I know you're scared. But this... this is what couples do. We've been together for many years. I've waited. I didn't push before, even when you made me feel unwanted. You say you love me, but I need to feel it. I need to know you're mine."

He looks up, hesitant. "You already have me."

"No," she whispers, brushing his cheek. "Not fully. Not until you give yourself to me completely. Don't you trust me?"

His lips part, but he's frozen in place. He feels her hand slide over his chest. "I trust you more than anyone,"

She leans in. "Then don't reject me again. I'm not the enemy here. I'm the one loving you."

Something in him folds like a wing bent backward. He wants to scream, but there's no space in his throat for that sound.

"Okay..." he murmurs. "If it matters to you that much... okay."

Her eyes light up. "I knew you'd come around." She hugs him tightly. He doesn't hug back right away, but when he does, it's gentle. Fragile. Like he's hugging a decision he'll regret.

"This... this kind of affection is enough for me," he whispers. "I could stay like this forever."

But she wasn't listening. She's already pulling away, guiding him toward the bed.

She pushes him down gently and climbs over him, his body stiffens. His heartbeat pounds from quiet dread. A dread that curls in his chest and whispers run, even though he stays still.

She starts undoing his shirt, her breath catching as she reveals his bare chest. He swallows, blinking slowly. She doesn't notice. Her fingers roam over his skin.

"Look at you," she murmurs. "Where were you hiding this body all this time?" She lets out a soft, throaty laugh. "God, Rudra... no one would ever guess the quiet boy in glasses has this under his clothes. You got abs?" she says, her voice bright with excitement, fingers tracing the line down his stomach. "When did this happen?"

He tries to smile, unsure. "You said you liked abs. So I thought..."

"Like is an understatement," she cuts in, eyes dark with lust. "Do you have any idea what women would do for a night with you?" She slides her palm lower, over his waist, lingering. "I'd kill to have you like this. And now I do."

He turns his face slightly, uncomfortable. His body burned but not from desire. It's the alcohol. The confusion. The sense that everything is slipping out of his hands.

"You have no idea how hot you are, do you?" she continues, "You're the kind of guy who could ruin someone with just one night. I swear if I weren't already dating you, I'd still want to take you to bed just once. Just to know what it feels like."

His chest tightens. The words aren't praise. They're branding irons.

"Do you... get jealous?" he asks softly, barely audible, "When other girls look at me?"

She grins. "Of course I would. You're mine, Rudra. I want to be the only one who gets to use this body."

Use?

Still, a flicker of hope claws inside him maybe this is still about love. Maybe she just doesn't know how to express it. But her hands keep moving territorial, not tender. She kisses him hard, her weight pressing down. His arms lay still. She grabs his wrists, places them on her waist, directing him like he's part of the setting.

Her touch drifts lower, igniting panic inside him.

He freezes.

"Anvika..." he mumbles, eyes half-lidded, "Can we please stop... please..."

She groans and sits back, frustrated. "For God's sake, Rudra," she snaps, "Stop acting like a damn virgin schoolboy. Grow up." She runs a hand through her hair. "Do you know how frustrating it is? You're the full package and you won't even use it."

He blinks. His vision spins. The words in his throat don't make it out.

When she starts to move away, he panics. Desperation claws at his chest. He catches her wrist, guilt overtaking his voice. He kisses her softly, shakily, unsure. Trying to make it okay. Trying to be enough.

She kisses him back, hungrily now. Her hands roam like they're taking inventory, not offering affection.

And he lets her. Not because he wants it. Because surrender is easier than disappointing her again.

He closes his eyes. His hands clutch the sheets. His lips tremble. His heart races like it wants out of his chest.

-----------

"You're really a good fuck," she breathes, collapsing beside him with a satisfied laugh.

Rudra lies still, his eyes closed, chest filled with marks and hickeys rising slowly. The words land like knives, twisting into something raw inside him. He clutches the blanket tighter against his waist, like armor, like shame.

"Please," he whispers, voice barely holding together, "just... don't say that...I feel sexualized."

"Why?" she chuckles, turning on her side to face him. "It's a compliment, Rudra. Relax. It's sexy when couples call each other names. Slut. Whor—"

He turns to her, eyes dull with something far beyond fatigue. "No. It's not. Not for me." His voice cracks slightly. "I'm not comfortable being called that. I hope you can understand. I won't call you those names either... because I respect you. And I thought we loved each other. How can you talk like this and call that love?"

She rolls her eyes, clearly bored. "You're too innocent. You'll get it when you grow up. Everyone does."

He looks away, fingers curling tighter around the sheets. His voice lowers, ashamed. "If growing up means learning to be okay with being disrespected, then maybe I don't want to."

"God, Rudra," she mutters, sitting up. "You're such a killjoy. Why do you always make everything dramatic? Do you want a gold medal for being pure?"

He says nothing. A single tear slips from the corner of his eye. He wipes it quickly, like even sadness is something he's ashamed of now.

"I don't feel okay, Anvika," he whispers. "I... I feel like we shouldn't have done that. I wasn't ready. I still feel like... I lost something I didn't even know I was holding onto."

Anvika sighs, irritated, and turns to him, gripping his jaw with sudden intimacy.

"You know what your problem is?" she says quietly, almost kindly, brushing her fingers down his cheek. "You look like a fantasy tall, toned, brooding face, the kind of man girls dream about... but the truth? You're just a coward dressed in glass. One touch and you shatter."

Tears prick at his eyes. He stares up, eyes blinking against the blur. "No... I'm not scared of love. I'm scared of losing myself in it."

She drags a finger slowly down his chest, over the hickeys she left like bruised trophies. "That's the whole point, Rudra. To lose yourself. Men don't get to curl up with their fear. You think society worships sweet, scared boys who flinch at a kiss? No. Women want fire. Dominance. Hunger. Not some poet praying for permission to touch."

She leans closer, her lips brushing his ear. "You're weak, Rudra. You talk about respect and ethics as if they make you noble. But they're just shields. You hide behind good manners because you're terrified of becoming a man."

He grips her hand in desperation, his voice trembling.

"Please... don't lose feelings for me. You love me, right? My mom say when someone really loves you, they don't leave because of your flaws. They stay. They grow with you. They help you heal what you don't even know is broken."

She stares at him for a moment. "So you admit it. This 'good boy' thing you keep clinging to it's your flaw."

He stops. His mouth opens, then shuts again. The silence between them becomes a sentence in itself.

She leans in. "You know it too, Rudra. You just don't want to say it. But your whole personality the politeness, the emotional depth, the refusal to 'go all the way' it's not virtue. It's dysfunction. You're a burden to date. You're not a man. You're... unfinished."

He turns his head away, eyes on the ceiling.

He suddenly hates his own skin. His gentleness. His restraint. He lies there, bare and trembling, not from the cold but from shame. The kind that seeps into your bones and tells you that even your goodness is something to be ashamed of.

Anvika exhales, stretching. "One day," she says lazily, "you'll thank me. For showing you how the world works. No one wants to love a man with poetry stitched to his spine. They want fire. They want men who take, not beg."

He closes his eyes.

✿✿✿✿✿

Y E A R — 2 0 1 6

"Rudra?"

Avyaan's voice came softly through the quiet as he steps inside, the door clicking shut behind him.

Rudra stands by the window, motionless, the phone still pressed to his ear though the call has clearly ended. His shoulders are hunched, back stiff.

Avyaan walks to him slowly, cautious. He gently places a hand on Rudra's shoulder and turns him.

The phone slips from Rudra's fingers and hits the floor with a soft thud.

His face was pale. Eyes red-rimmed. Lower lip trembling. His whole body is shaking.

"Rudra—hey, look at me," Avyaan says quietly, guiding him to the couch. "What happened? Who was on the phone?"

"...Anvika," Rudra whispers, almost inaudible. His voice cracks, like the word itself is poison on his tongue.

Avyaan's jaw tightens the moment he hears the name. "You two ended things. Why the hell is she calling you again?"

Rudra doesn't answer. He stares at the floor, his throat visibly tightening as he tries to swallow back the storm rising inside him.

"She said I was just... used." The words fall from his mouth like broken glass.

Rudra's lips quiver as he stares ahead, voice shaking like his hands. "She said it... so casually. That I was used. That I gave myself thinking it meant something, but I was never loved. She used me until I lost my worth and then discarded me like trash." Tears spill freely now. He doesn't try to hide them.

"I gave in because I thought she loved me, Avyaan. Even when it hurt, I stayed. I saw things but I still trusted her. I believed her when she said Mahir was just her friend. I told myself love meant trusting her even when it hurt." His body curls inwards as if he's trying to collapse into himself.

"People at university whisper when I walk past. Laugh. Call me blind. Weak. Naïve. The blind idiot and fool. They say I couldn't even see it couldn't tell she was cheating. They look at me like I'm pathetic. I trusted her. And she—" he pauses, swallowing back a sob, "—she told me today that no one will ever love me again. That my body's... tainted. That I was used up, ruined."

He grips his knees tightly, fingernails digging into his jeans. "She said I'll never be loved because I've already been... touched and used. Like I'm secondhand. Like I'm trash."

He chokes on a sob. "I hate that word. Fool. Like trusting someone with your whole heart is something to be ashamed of."

Avyaan pulls him into a hug, holding him tightly, fiercely like trying to anchor him to the world.

"You remember what you once told me?" Avyaan says. "That it's never the fault of the one who's touched with cruelty, it's the fault of the one who forgets they're holding a person. Not a body. Not a toy. A person."

"I said that," Rudra murmurs against his shoulder. "But I don't believe it anymore."

"You have to," Avyaan says, pulling back and looking him in the eyes. "Because if you stop believing it, then they win. Not just Anvika. All of them."

Rudra doesn't respond. His stare is distant. His body still trembling.

Rudra's phone buzzes on the bed. Avyaan glances at the screen—Abhimaan. He looks over at Rudra, still sitting motionless, eyes vacant.

"I'll be back in a minute," Avyaan says quietly, grabbing the phone and stepping out of the room before answering.

"Rudra?" Abhimaan's voice comes through.

"He won't talk," Avyaan replies,

Abhimaan exhales sharply on the other end. "Still like this?"

"I flew back from Italy and came straight here yesterday... I saw him, Abhimaan." Avyaan rubs his forehead, exhaling slowly. "He's hollow. No smile, no response. It's like all the light's gone. Like whatever spark he had just... died. And what's left feels nothing like Rudra anymore." His voice hardens. "I swear, if I ever see that fucking bitch again—" he breathes heavily, jaw clenched. "She wrecked him. I just want to tear her apart for what she's done."

"Just stay with him," Abhimaan says gently. "I'm on leave. I'll be there tomorrow. By the way I want to talk to him," Abhimaan says. "Can you give him the phone?"

"Okay," Avyaan nods and heads back into the apartment.

He unlocks the door, steps inside, and walks toward Rudra's room. But the moment he pushes it open, his breath catches in his throat. He freezes.

The phone slips slightly in his hand.

"...Avyaan?" Abhimaan's voice echoes. "What happened?"

Avyaan can't speak. His chest rises and falls with heavy, uneven breaths. He's staring at the bed at Rudra, unconscious, blood soaking the sheets, his wrist cut open.

His voice finally breaks, cracked and shaking. "Abhimaan..." his lips barely move, "Rudra—he... he cut his wrist. There's so much blood..."

His hands tremble staring at Rudra sprawled across the bed, blood soaking the sheets, his skin pale and still.

"Avyaan. Don't panic," Abhimaan says firmly. "Listen to me. You need to stop the bleeding—right now. Apply pressure, bandage. Then take him to the hospital. I'll call Abhiraj Uncle. But you have to move. Now."

Avyaan snaps out of his daze, heart pounding like a war drum. He tosses the phone aside and rushes to the first-aid kit, hands shaking uncontrollably as he fumbles with the gauze and wraps it around Rudra's wrist, pressing hard against the wound.

"Stay with me," he whispers, his voice cracking, tears sliding down his cheeks. "Rudra, please... just stay with me. Everything's going to be okay. I promise you. Just hold on."

He keeps pressure on the wound, even as his own breath stutters, doing everything he can to keep his best friend tethered to life.

✿✿✿✿✿

"The patient's stable now. He's awake. You can meet him," the doctor says before quietly exiting.

A collective breath escapes the group.

Abhiraj sinks into the nearby bench, closing his eyes in relief. Adrika clutches her chest, collapsing onto the chair as silent tears stream down her face.

Avyaan rests his hand briefly on Kabir's shoulder. Kabir and Abhimaan exhale sharply. They all rise.

Lorenzo stands with them. "Let's go."

They walk into the hospital room quietly, one by one, except Adrika who remains outside, too shaken to move.

Inside, Rudra is sitting up on the bed. He's upright but distant, shoulders slightly hunched, gaze fixed somewhere beyond the window. Eyes staring ahead, blank, unfocused, like there's nothing left behind them. His face is pale, expression hollow. His bandaged wrist rests limply on the blanket.

"Rudra?" Abhiraj steps forward, voice gentle. "Are you okay, beta?"

"I want to join NVC,"

Everyone stills, thrown by the suddenness of it.

"If the position's still open," he adds, eyes still trained on nothing.

Abhiraj frowns. "Rudra, you don't have to make any impulsive decisi—"

"It's still available," Lorenzo cuts in looking at him.

Abhimaan blinks. "But Xadrian's already in training—"

"He can be replaced," Lorenzo says simply, eyes on Rudra now. "If Rudra wants in, I'll train him myself."

Rudra finally lifts his gaze and nods.

The boy who once believed in soft love had died on a blood-soaked mattress.

Now... only the fighter remained.

______________________________________________________________________________