I stood there, frozen. The corridor buzzed around me — students moving, laughing, oblivious — but I couldn't move.
The air still carried the weight of what just happened.
Two people. In the same body.
Veer... and whatever that was.
I had seen it with my own eyes — the shift, the way his tone deepened, the strange calm over his face, like he was acting out a role he couldn't control. One moment, he was pleading with me to stay away, like I was some light too fragile for his storm — and the next, he was grabbing me like he had every right to claim me.
And the worst part?
The crack in his voice when he said, "I can't protect you from me."
He wasn't lying.
I knew I should have turned around, walked away, stayed far from him. That's what anyone with half a brain would do.
But I didn't move.
Because in that moment... the pain in his voice didn't sound like a threat. It sounded like a boy who was terrified of becoming the villain in his own story.
"Aaradhya?" Anushka's voice jolted me back. She was suddenly by my side, her face taut with worry. "What happened? Did he do something again?"
Before I could answer, another girl walking by mumbled loud enough for us to hear, "Nothing new. Just the usual. Him claiming she's his and how the rest of the world doesn't matter."
Anushka's expression darkened instantly. "That's it. I'm telling someone. I'm calling Bhaiya. Or Papa. Right now."
"No—" I reacted instinctively, grabbing her wrist and snatching her phone. "You don't need to do that."
"Aaru, are you even hearing yourself?" she snapped. "You're shaking. You shouldn't be protecting him. You should be reporting him."
"I'll handle it," I said quietly, my fingers clenching around her phone. "I'll talk to him. Properly. And I'm sure he won't do anything again."
"There shouldn't be a next time!" Anushka practically shouted. "Not if we call them. Or at least tell them what he's doing to you!"
I turned my face away. "I don't want him to face any more problems."
There was a beat of silence. Then, flatly, she asked, "Who are you saying this for?"
I looked at her — at my best friend, whose anger was only love in disguise. I swallowed hard and gave her the only answer I could manage.
"Your brother or your father. Who else?"
But we both knew the truth.
In my heart... I wasn't protecting her family.
I was protecting him.
And I hated myself for it.
Before Anushka could say another word, I handed her phone back, turned around, and followed the path Veer had taken — not because I was stupid or weak.
But because the boy with two faces had shown me a side of himself that wasn't evil.
It was broken.
And somewhere in that mess, I needed to know if the part of him that trembled in pain... was real.
The terrace gate creaked open under my hand.
I had never been here before — not like this, not with my heart thudding in my chest and a storm spinning quietly inside me. The soft rustle of wind brushed against my face, but my eyes were fixed on the lone figure ahead.
Veer.
He was sitting on one of the metal chairs, bent over, his elbows on his knees, his face buried deep in his hands. His whole body looked... folded in on itself. Like it was the only way to keep from falling apart.
I stopped for a second. That image... it broke something in me.
How long had he been fighting like this? Alone. Quiet. Hidden behind that usual arrogance, the cold gaze, the unpredictable fury.
Was this what it looked like when no one was watching?
Was this the real him?
I stepped forward slowly. My hand trembled slightly as I reached out and touched his — "Veer..."
His muscles tensed under my touch. Rigid, sharp, like something ready to snap. But then... he heard my voice.
And I felt the change.
His shoulders dropped, his jaw unclenched. He rubbed his face slowly with both palms before lifting his head to look at me.
His eyes were red. Tired. Swollen.
He had been crying. Alone.
"I told you," he whispered hoarsely, "don't come near me."
But somehow, those words didn't push me away. Maybe it was the way his voice cracked, maybe it was the way he couldn't meet my eyes, maybe it was the way every part of him was begging me to stay, even as he said the opposite.
So I didn't move.
"I heard you," I said gently. "Talking to Aakarsh. About the sessions... about what you're going through. Veer, you don't have to carry this alone. Talk to me. Maybe it'll help."
"There's nothing to say," he snapped, a little too quickly. "Nothing I want you to know. Just... just stay away from me. Please."
His words stung, but I saw the fear behind them. Not anger. Not rejection.
Fear of himself.
I don't know what got into me — maybe it was instinct, maybe it was that damn pull I always felt around him — but I stepped closer and cupped his face in both my hands.
"You don't have to be scared of losing control with me," I whispered. "I'm not afraid of... that part of you. The one that comes and goes."
His breath hitched.
"I'll stay," I continued, my voice trembling. "But only if you want me to."
And something in him cracked open.
Veer leaned forward, slowly, as if still unsure if he was allowed to break in front of me. Then he wrapped his arms around my waist, buried his face into my stomach — and cried.
Not a tear or two. He sobbed.
Like a boy who had been told all his life not to cry.
I threaded my fingers through his hair, brushing it back again and again. I whispered nothing. No reassurances, no promises, just silence and presence. Because sometimes that's all someone needs.
He cried for a long time.
And when he was done, he looked up at me with those exhausted eyes. I sat down next to him and took his hands in mine — a gesture, simple but loud.
I'm here.
And then, in that quiet moment, he told me everything.
About the heaviness in his chest, the terrifying feeling of losing control, how it always seems to happen with me — like I'm the trigger and the cure. He told me how guilty he felt. How broken. How he hated the person who took over. How he'd never forgive himself for what he did today.
"I hurt you, Aaradhya... I said things, did things I can't take back."
I didn't look away. "Yes, you did hurt me. But... it wasn't you."
He flinched at that.
I leaned in slightly. "I saw the difference today, Veer. And I believe you. I know you don't want to hurt me. And we'll work through it — only if you let me in."
For the first time in a long time, I saw it.
Hope.
Flickering, faint... but there.
And for once, Veer didn't run.
He just... held my hand a little tighter.