Page 102 of Cherish my Heart
And for the first time since I entered this house, I feel it. Not just acceptance.
Belonging.
I get up and follow Rudraksh to the dining hall. I still don’t know what love really looks like. But this? This feels damn close. I’ve never had a family, not in the way people talk about it over dinner tables or in old stories. I don’t know what it’s like to be someone’s first call, to be missed when I’m not around, to be part of traditions or loud living rooms or unspoken understandings passed through looks across a room. I take a seat next to Aditi and Rudrani on the other side.
But sitting here now, with her hand brushing against mine, her niece clinging to my arm like I’m some sort of hero, laughter echoing from the kitchen, and the warm smell of something homemade filling the air… I feel full.
Full in a way I didn’t think I was allowed to be.
This feels like the kind of dream I might’ve had as a kid—on nights I couldn’t sleep, in the orphanage, supposedly my home that never felt like mine. A blurry, impossible dream of being seen. Of being wanted. Of belonging.
And for the first time, I’m not on the outside looking in.
I’m here.
And I think maybe—just maybe—this is what love looks like after all.
CHAPTER 50
ABHIMAAN
It’s dark.
I don’t know how long it’s been. A few hours, maybe a day. Maybe two. Time stops making sense when all you can see is black. When even the outline of your fingers disappears in front of your eyes. When silence presses so loud into your ears, it feels like it’s screaming.
My back is cold against the wall. The cemented floor is harder than usual today, or maybe I’m just more tired. Hungry. My lips are dry. My tongue feels too big for my mouth.
But I’m not going to cry. I promised I wouldn’t.
It was Harsh’s turn.
But I couldn’t let him go in. Not after what happened the last time. His lip hadn’t stopped bleeding for hours. And he was wheezing, that dry cough of his echoing in the corners of the room. So I pushed him behind the cupboard when they came to get him. Told them he ran. That I locked him out.
Sister Diana was furious. She’d slapped me, hard, across the face. Told me I was a liar. That lying was a sin. That God was watching. I didn’t care.
I’d take his place every single time if I had to. Harsh is my best friend. My only friend. And I would never betray him.
My arms wrap around my knees as I shrink into the corner. It’s cold. So cold. I hate the dark. I hate the way it crawls under your skin and fills your lungs. The way your brain starts playing tricks on you—shadows moving, whispers that aren't real, the scritch-scratch of something crawling too close.
A spider brushes my ankle. I kick it away, biting down on a scream. My breathing is ragged and uneven.
I’m not going to cry.
But God, I feel so alone.
The sound of footsteps makes my body tense. The sharp click of heels. I squeeze my eyes shut.
No. Please. Not again.
The door creaks open, just a sliver of light filtering in, and even that burns. I flinch.
“Abhimaan.”
Her voice is calm. Too calm. That calm that comes right before the storm.
Sister Diana.
She steps in and closes the door behind her.
