Of course he did. I open my mouth to argue again, because this is ridiculous and unnecessary and suffocating and—
“Nonsense.”
I freeze.
We both turn.
His mother stands at the door, arms crossed, expression firm in a way that immediately makes me feel like I’m about to be overruled in my own argument.
“Let him take care of you,” she says, walking in like this is her house and I am a mildly disobedient child. “You should be lying down, not wandering around proving points.” I glance at Aryan and he looks entirely too pleased. Traitor. “If it were up to the Khannas,” I mutter under my breath, “you would chain me to this bed.”
“That is not a bad idea,” Aryan says thoughtfully.
I glare at him.
His mother laughs softly, shaking her head as she walks closer. “Drama,” she says, but there’s warmth in her voice. “Both of you.” I huff and sit back against the pillows, because apparently I am outnumbered.
And…tired.
The kind of tiredness that isn’t just physical. The kind that settles somewhere deeper. I don’t remember the last time someone insisted on taking care of me like this.
Not out of obligation.
Not out of politeness.
But because they wanted to.
Because they couldn’t help it.
It’s unfamiliar and uncomfortable but dangerously nice. I shift slightly, pulling the blanket closer around me as Aryan adjusts the pillow behind my back without asking.
These past two days have been too much. I have been kidnapped by Aryan because he's not sure if I can manage my own self when I have been obviously doing that since I was fifteen but I can't complain because I feel...full.
I have had visitors. Radhika finds her way into my room occasionally forcing me to eat fruits and that makes me wonder if feeding people is the love language of all Khanna's. I have barely been alone, Aryan had refused to go to the office but I asked his mother to convince him that I am fine, which thankfully she did but still there's someone with me at all points I think. His mother, his sister, Shivani, even his friends have come to visit him. Vedant, who lives in the same house but I have rarely seen him speak except if there's some sibling rivalry going on, has also brought some dark chocolate because magnesium helps in head injuries.
I didn’t realize how quiet my life had been until now. How empty. How…used to it I had become. I’ve spent years takingcare of myself. Fixing everything myself. Handling things before they could spiral. Being enough for my own life.
And now—Now someone else is stepping into that space.
Not replacing me.
Just…standing beside me.
And I don’t know what to do with that.
It feels wrong. It feels right. It feels like something I’ve wanted for so long that I stopped admitting it even to myself. His mother's hand on my shoulder breaks me out of my thoughts. She places a container on the side table. I shoot her a grateful look.
She smiles back gently.
“Now,” she continues, opening the tiffin, “you will eat.”
I hesitate.
Not because I don’t want to.
Because I don’t remember the last time someone fed me. “I can—” I start.
“No,” she cuts me off, her tone soft but firm in a way that reminds me of something I can’t quite place. “Just sit.”
