Nila barely slept that night.
The hospital papers remained burned into her mind long after she returned to her room.
Eight months.
Arjun had known for eight months.
And somehow, he had carried the weight of it alone while the rest of the family slowly blamed him for falling apart.
The thought hurt.
But what hurt more was remembering every moment they misunderstood him.
Every dinner he skipped.
Every exhausted expression.
Every late night.
Every locked door.
None of it had been selfishness.
It had been fear.
Sacrifice.
Responsibility.
Outside, rain struck softly against the windows as dawn slowly approached.
For the first time in weeks, Nila understood why her brother looked tired all the time.
He wasn’t escaping the family.
He was trying desperately to hold it together before it collapsed.
The next morning felt painfully normal.
Raghavan sat reading the newspaper without reading it.
Meera served breakfast while pretending not to notice the silence between father and son.
And Arjun—
Arjun looked as though he hadn’t slept at all.
Dark circles rested beneath his eyes while he quietly searched the kitchen shelves for coffee.
Nila watched him carefully now.
Really watched him.
And suddenly she noticed things she had ignored before.
His trembling hands.
The cough he kept suppressing.
The way he leaned slightly against the counter when he thought nobody was looking.
He looked exhausted beyond his age.
Meera placed breakfast near him softly.
“At least eat something before leaving.”
“I’m not hungry.”
“You’re never hungry anymore.”
Arjun forced a small smile.
“I’ll eat later.”
He picked up his bag and turned toward the door.
Then suddenly—
“Anna.”
He stopped immediately.
Nila rarely called him that softly anymore.
Arjun turned around slowly.
For a second, neither spoke.
Then Nila walked toward him quietly and held out a small lunch box.
“You forgot this.”
Arjun looked confused.
“I didn’t pack lunch.”
“I know.”
The realization in his eyes came slowly.
Nila was helping him.
Without questions.
Without exposing the truth.
Something fragile moved across his exhausted face then.
Gratitude.
He accepted the lunch box silently.
And for the first time in months—
The distance between brother and sister felt smaller.
After Arjun left, Raghavan finally spoke.
“You shouldn’t encourage this behavior.”
Nila looked at her father carefully.
“What behavior?”
“Disappearing every day without explanation.”
The frustration inside her rose instantly.
Because now she knew.
Knew how unfair every accusation had been.
But Arjun’s voice from the night before echoed inside her mind:
“Don’t tell them yet.”
So instead, she swallowed the truth painfully.
“He’s trying,” she whispered.
Raghavan shook his head bitterly.
“You don’t understand your brother anymore.”
No.
Nila thought quietly.
You don’t.
That evening, rain returned harder than before.
Thunder echoed across the city while electricity flickered repeatedly inside the house.
Meera stood near the window anxiously checking the road outside.
“Why isn’t he answering?” she whispered.
Nila looked at the clock.
11:38 PM.
Still no Arjun.
Raghavan remained silent in the living room, pretending not to worry.
But his untouched tea had gone cold long ago.
Then suddenly—
Lightning flashed violently outside.
And at the exact same moment—
The entire house went dark.