The glass shards had been swept into a corner, and the broken table was pushed aside, the sound of scraping, crunching, and screeching still echoing faintly in the air. But the room still felt wrecked, the air smelled with tension and the metallic tang of blood.

Rudraksh lay limp on the floor, half-propped in Siddharth's arms, his head lolling against the crook of his shoulder. Sweat and blood streaked Rudraksh's forehead, the smell of iron and salt hanging heavy around them. The pink sling across his chest was soaked in spots, the fabric clinging damply to his skin. The bandage over his temple was torn and red, a crimson stain spreading slowly.

Antara sat cross-legged beside them, her hands shaking as she gently wiped Rudraksh's brow with a cold cloth. The cloth dripped with water, sending tiny rivulets down Rudraksh's face, and her eyes welled up with tears as she gazed at him. Her lips parted, but no sound came out.

Karan sat at a distance, his body rigid and unmoving, as if he had just been jolted back to life after a heavy electric shock. His eyes were fixed on Rudraksh's unconscious form, his gaze frozen on the slow, rhythmic rise and fall of his friend's chest.

Anusuiya stood frozen, her face streaked with tears, her eyes fixed on Rudraksh. Kshay approached her with silent footsteps, his eyes locked on hers. He wrapped his fingers around her arms, holding her gently as she trembled. Her face crumpled, and she buried it in his shoulder, her sobs muffled.

"Is he...?" Anusuiya's voice was barely audible, her words muffled against Kshay's shoulder.

Siddharth's gaze flicked up, his eyes meeting Kshay's before darting to Anusuiya. "He's going to be okay." His voice was low and rough. "The doctor is coming. I've briefed him everything."

As Siddharth spoke, Rudraksh's body stirred slightly, his head rolling against Siddharth's shoulder. Siddharth's grip tightened, holding him closer. "Easy, Rudraksh," he whispered in a calm yet desperate tone. "I've got you."

The soft knocks against the main door pierced the suffocating silence, and Chanchal approached the gate with a low head, her footsteps quiet on the floor. She opened the door, revealing a male doctor in his mid-fifties, who entered with his worn black leather. His expression was calm, the kind of calm that came from seeing everything, from accidents to trauma to death, his eyes carrying a deep-seated understanding.

Siddharth's gaze averted from his unconscious friend to the doctor approaching them, his eyes widening slightly. "Thanks for coming, Doctor. Sorry-emergency," Siddharth's voice tinged with urgency.

The doctor nodded curtly, his graying hair slicked back, revealing a prominent forehead. "Where is the patient?" His voice was firm but gentle.

Antara shifted aside, clearing the view, her hands fluttering in the air. The doctor dropped to his knees beside Rudraksh without a word, the soft thud of his knees hitting the floor broke the lingering silence.

He opened his bag with a practiced motion, the sound of the zipper echoing through the room. Gloves, torch, stethoscope, and cotton swabs emerged from the bag, each item handled with a quiet efficiency. His hands moved with a precision that came from years of experience, his eyes scanning Rudraksh's injuries with a detached intensity.

As the doctor began his examination, the room fell silent once more, the only sounds were of their contributed breathings. Siddharth's eyes were fixed on Rudraksh's face, his expression tense with anticipation, while Antara's hands clenched into fists, turning her knuckles white.

The doctor gently peeled back one eyelid, his fingers moving with precision, as he shone the torch into Rudraksh's eyes, the bright light making his pupils constrict. "When did he lose consciousness?" His voice was low and detached.

Siddharth's narrowed eyes met the doctor's, his voice remained calm despite the worry etched on his face. "About ten minutes ago. He was agitated. His old injuries reopened. There was blood loss - and emotional breakdown."

The doctor's gaze didn't waver, his eyes fixed on Rudraksh's face as his fingers moved quickly to check his pulse, wrist angle, and feeling for swelling beneath the bandages. The process of his fingers pressing against Rudraksh's skin was soft and methodical.

The doctor reached for his scissors, the metallic click echoed through the room. He began cutting the gauze away from Rudraksh's temple, the sound of the scissors slicing through the fabric making Antara's eyes snap shut. She inhaled sharply, her teeth gritted in a mixture of anxiety and revulsion. Her clenched fists hid in her lap, as she turned her head to the side, avoiding the sight.

The scent of antiseptic and blood wafted through the air, mingling with the faint smell of sweat. The doctor's hands moved with a practiced ease, his focus solely on Rudraksh's injuries. Siddharth watched, his jaw set, his eyes fixed on the doctor's hands as they worked.

The cut beneath Rudraksh's skin had opened wide like a blooming fresh red rose bud, the stitches pulled and strained, one half-loose and dark with a mix of fresh and dried blood that had crusted around the edges. The skin around the wound was inflamed, red and swollen, radiating heat.

The doctor's eyes narrowed as he examined the wound, his face a mask of professional concern. "He has a fever," he muttered, his voice low and serious. "Likely from infection setting in. These bandages should've been changed this morning."

Siddharth's eyes locked onto Rudraksh's wound, his gaze frozen in worry. The crack in his voice betrayed the calm tone as he spoke in, "He insisted he was fine." The words hung in the air, heavy with unspoken regret and concern.

The doctor didn't respond, his focus solely on treating the wound. He worked swiftly, his hands moving with precision as he cleaned the wound with antiseptic solution. The sharp and medicinal smell of iodine wafted through the air. Rudraksh stirred weakly at the sting, his lips parting in a faint, inaudible groan. His eyes fluttered, but didn't open.

Antara leaned forward, her hands reaching out for her brother. "Rudraksh..." she whispered in a trembling voice.

The doctor raised a hand, his palm facing Antara in a gentle yet authoritative gesture. "Let him come slowly. Do not talk to him just yet." His voice was calm, but firm.

Antara's hands paused in mid-air, her eyes locked on Rudraksh's face before pulling her hands back to her chest. The faint jingling sounds of her bangles followed her actions.

The doctor continued the examination, his fingers moving with precision as he opened the sling and inspected the cast. He gently probed the swollen wrist area, his touch light and careful, along the clavicle and shoulder. A deep purple bruise was spreading under the skin, like a dark cloud seeping into the surrounding tissue.

The doctor's brow furrowed as he fingers hoovered over Rudraksh's skin. "He should have been resting." His voice was low and stern. "No emotional stress, no shouting. His condition is more serious than you realize."

Anusuiya, standing silently in the corner, shifted her weight, her eyes fixed on the doctor's face. Her voice was barely above a whisper as she asked, "Is...is it l-life-threatening?"

The doctor didn't look up, his focus still on Rudraksh's injuries. "Not immediately," he replied in a measured tone. "But another ten minutes and he would've collapsed from sheer cardiovascular exhaustion. His blood pressure is dangerously low." He paused, his fingers tracing the edge of the cast. "The concussion isn't healing well. This cast-" He tapped it gently, the sound echoing softly. "Is pressing into the wrong muscle group. Poor placement. Needs adjustment."

The room fell into a pin-droping silence. Siddharth's eyes were fixed on the doctor's face with a tense expression. Antara's hands were clenched into fists, her eyes welling up with tears. Anusuiya's face was pale, her eyes wide with fear. Kshay and Chanchal stood beside Anusuiya like caged birds looking for an escape. Karan still remained frozen like a stone embedded in a wall for years, only flickering his eyeballs and motion of his chest were signs that gave him an alive look.

The doctor opened a pouch, the sound of the zipper echoing softly, and drew out a small injection, the syringe glinting in the light. He prepped it with swift, practiced movements, his eyes focused on the task. "I'm giving him a mild sedative," he explained, his voice calm and reassuring. "It'll let the nervous system decompress. If he wakes too fast, he may vomit or seize."

Siddharth's eyebrows furrowed. "Seize?" he repeated, his voice slightly rose alarm.

The doctor glanced at him, his expression calm but unflinching. "You people saw a boy lose blood, scream until his throat went dry, break furniture, hurt himself, almost punched his best friend, and then faint," he said in a matter-of-fact tone. "That is what we call neurological and emotional trauma meeting physical damage. This is not just exhaustion. It's system overload."

He injected the sedative into Rudraksh's arm, the needle slipping smoothly into the vein. Rudraksh's skin seemed to relax, his breathing slowing slightly. The room fell silent, the only sounds were the soft rustle of fabrics and their synchronized breathings.

The doctor withdrew the needle, his movements precise, and disposed of it in a small container. "When was his last proper meal?" he asked, his eyes scanning the room.

The silence that followed was oppressive, each person avoiding eye contact. Siddharth whispered in a hesitant voice, "The day before yesterday."

The doctor's face remained impassive, and he pulled out a glucose pouch and an IV drip, the packaging rustling softly. "We do this here," he said in a firm tone. "He's too unstable to move right now. I'll stay an hour." His hands moved efficiently as he hooked the IV to a stand Kshay brought from another room, the metal stand's legs scraping softly against the floor.

Rudraksh's arm was prepped, his skin dull and pale under the light. The doctor's fingers moved with precision as he connected the IV, the tube taped securely to Rudraksh's skin. The glucose solution flowed into the tube, a clear liquid that seemed to pulse with life.

The doctor wiped his hands with a disinfectant wipe, the scent of antiseptic wafting through the air. He finally exhaled, a small sigh that spoke of his concern. "He needs a full-body scan tomorrow," he announced in a serious tone. "Blood panel. A neurologist to re-evaluate the head injury. And rest. Nothing else. No confrontations, no tension."

His gaze swept the room, his eyes locking onto each of their faces. "Whatever happened here - fix it after he's healed," he concluded in a stern voice. "Right now, you nearly broke him completely." His words hung in the air, heavy with unspoken meaning, bringing soft sobs into the tense air.

The doctor sat back in his chair, his movements economical, and began to write notes on a pad of paper, the scratch of the pen and rustle of paper echoing softly.

No one spoke. Not Antara, her eyes fixed on Rudraksh's face. Not Siddharth, his jaw clenched in worry. Not Karan, his eyes downcast. Not Kshay or Chanchal, their faces somber. Not even Anusuiya, her eyes welling up with tears. The silence was oppressive, a physical presence that seemed to weigh on them all.

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Siddharth emerged from one of the bedrooms on the ground floor, his footsteps heavy on the sleek floor. His hands hung limply by his sides, his fingers slightly curled. As he entered the empty living room, his eyes roamed over the space, taking in the eerie silence that had fallen over the surroundings. But the corners still seemed to echo with the screams of Rudraksh, a suffocating reminder of what had happened.

He inhaled a deep breath, his chest expanding towards his chin, before exhaling sharply. The sound was almost a hiss, a release of pent-up tension. His eyes narrowed, his gaze drifting towards the floor as he raised his foot to move forward. But it hovered mid-air, his eyebrows furrowing in during the process.

"Karan?" he whispered, the name barely audible, even to his own ears. "Did he leave?" The lines on his forehead deepened as he blinked multiple times, as if trying to see across a thick veil of fog.

His eyes widened, and he sprinted towards the main door, his footsteps urgent and decisive. The jingling of car keys echoed faintly in the air as he slipped a hand inside his black pants pocket, his fingers closing around the cool metal.

The doubt and uncertainty of his footsteps hushed in the air behind him, replaced by the sound of his rapid breathing and the soft thud of his shoes on the floor. The silence of the house seemed to swallow him whole as he disappeared from view, leaving behind only the faint echo of his footsteps and the lingering sense of unease.

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The sun had dipped below the horizon, and the faint darkness had swollen the surroundings into its cold, dark embrace. A gust of cold wind swept across his blue-hooded face, ruffling the fabric and sending a shiver down his spine. Yet, his eyes remained frozen, fixed on a spot in the distance with a gaze that pierced the darkness like a beacon. The wooden bench creaked softly under his weight, the slats dipping slightly, and his fingers curled tightly around the edges.

The porch light cast a warm glow over the scene, illuminating Karan's fair-toned face and highlighting the flush on his features from the chill of the night. His skin looked almost translucent in the soft light, his eyes seeming to hold a depth of emotion that was hard to read.

"Karan?!" Karan's fingers moved slightly at the sound of the familiar voice, but he remained seated, his body language closed off, as if he wanted to shut out the world.

The sounds of urgent footsteps and ragged breathing came to a halt, the person's arrival marked by a sudden stillness. His breathing slowed, and he stood there, his chest rising and falling in a shallow rhythm.

"I knew you'd be here!" A bright smile spread across his face, his eyes crinkling at the corners. He rested his hands firmly on either side of his waist, his fingers splayed wide. With a gentle touch, he planted a soft hand on Karan's shoulder, squeezing it gently. "Now c'mon, let's go home-"

"He raised hands on me, Siddharth." Karan's eyes rose from the ground, his gaze meeting Siddharth's somber face. His voice was heavy, barely above a whisper. "For the second time. With so much hate." His throat constricted, a lump forming that he struggled to swallow. A sharp pain pierced his chest, like a sword had been thrust across his heart. "F-for a bitch who doesn't even think once before changing arms like people change clothes."

As he spoke, his eyes began to well up with tears, his vision blurring. He quickly averted his gaze, his eyes dropping back to the ground. A single tear silently fell from his left eye, tracing a path down his flushed, clean-shaved cheek. His knuckles turned white as he gripped the edge of the bench like it's the last ray of hope he was clinging to. His jaw clenched tightly in a bid to hold back the emotions that threatened to overwhelm him.

Siddharth's lips parted, his throat parched, and his hands fell loosely by his sides. His feet seemed to freeze in place, as if rooted to the spot. He stared at Karan, his eyes wide with surprise and concern. Karan is crying? Karan is crying. Karan? H-how? When? Why? Karan doesn't cry. He shouts, he screams, he punches. But he's human. What rubbish are you thinking, Siddharth?! Help. The thought echoed in his mind, a jarring realization that left him feeling helpless.

"Karan?" Siddharth's voice was soft, barely above a whisper. He took a step forward sitting on the bench beside him, and extended an arm around Karan's shoulder in a cautious movement, as if not wanting to startle him further. "Karan... Rudraksh was not in his right mind at that time. There was... so much going inside his head, and... and... it just happened." The sound of his own voice seemed to break the spell, as his eyes locked onto Karan's face, searching for a glimmer of hope.

The silence between them was like a heavy blanket that wrapped around their shoulders. Siddharth's lips pressed into a faint smile, and he squeezed Karan's shoulder, his fingers wrapping around the fabric of Karan's hoodie. "You saw, he even lashed out at me." His tone was somber, and voice low.

A humorous chuckle escaped his lips, a soft, raspy sound that seemed to jar against the seriousness of the moment. He shook his head in a gentle motion, his eyes crinkling at the corners. "He was looking dangerous, wasn't he? Totally doing justice with his name - Rudraksh."

Karan didn't laugh. His face remained impassive, his gaze cast downwards, his eyes boring into the ground like he was trying to drill a hole through it. His shoulders slumped, his body language closed off, as if he was trying to shrink away from the world.

Siddharth let his head dip, his chin tucking into his neck. He closed his eyes, his eyelids fluttering shut like he was trying to block out the sight of Karan's pain. He exhaled deeply, the sound of his breath a soft whoosh in the silence. When he opened his eyes again, he refocused as his gaze roamed over the sharp lines of Karan's face.

"For how long have you known Rudraksh?" Siddharth asked, his tone soft, but his voice firm. His eyes locked onto Karan's profile, searching for any sign of emotion, any crack in the mask of indifference that Karan wore.

"Fifteen years," Karan replied dryly, his voice barely above a whisper. His eyes remained fixed on the ground with an unyielding intensity. "And, in those fifteen years... how many times have you both fought like this?" Siddharth's eyebrows shot up, and his lips compressed into a thin line.

Karan's gaze slowly lifted, and he turned his neck to the side, his eyes lingering on Siddharth's amused expression. A faint click sound echoed around as Karan parted his lips, his tongue darting out to moisten them before he spoke again. "We always used to patch up after a long conversation." His focus returned to the spot on the ground, his eyes boring into it as if searching for answers.
"But, this is different," he continued, his voice cracking slightly. "He looked at me with so much hate and loathe, as if I'm the sole reason for his whole suffering."

Siddharth opened his mouth to say further, but Karan cut him off, his words tumbling out in a rush. "And, it's not my fault this time. I'm ready to talk. But he only wants a fist conversation." His hands clenched into fists, and his face twisted in a scowl, like a child complaining to his mother about how his brother's wrong deeds were being burdened on his shoulder.

Siddharth's eyes locked onto Karan's furious face, his head tilting slightly to the side. "But, he didn't hit you, did he? Instead, he broke before you." Siddharth's voice was calm and measured. His eyes sparkled with amusement, and his lips curled into a faint smile.

Karan glared at Siddharth from the corner of his eyes, his gaze piercing and intense. "Are you advocating for your childhood best friend's not-so-welcoming-behavior, Advocate Siddharth Solanki?" Karan's voice dripped with sarcasm, his tone steady yet stern. "I could have died!" His nose scrunched up and eyes widened as he brought his face closer to Siddharth. "This close, this close that Volcano's stone-fist was to my nose."

Siddharth's lips twitched slightly, and his eyes crinkled at the corners as he struggled to maintain a neutral expression. He patted Karan's back with a stiffened chuckle, the sound awkward and forced, making Karan's head turn to the front. "Every cell of your mind knows Karan that Rudraksh will never hurt you... intentionally."

Karan's head tilted to the side, his lips pursed together firmly, and his eyes narrowed slightly. "And unintentionally?" he asked, his voice laced with a mix of worry and sarcasm. Siddharth's expression faltered for a moment before he continued, "He will kill anyone in rage just like that! He needs some serious help."

The silence that followed was oppressive, broken only by Karan's ragged breathing and the distant sounds of nature - the rustling of leaves, the chirping of grasshoppers, and the soft whisper of the wind through the trees. The air was thick with tension, and Siddharth's silent glare seemed to bore into Karan's very soul. The scent of damp earth and leaves filled the air, a stark contrast to the emotional turmoil that seemed to suffocate them.

Siddharth interlocked his fingers on his parted legs, and exhaled a deep breath, the sound of his exhalation soft and measured. His eyes wandered to the distant mango tree, its branches swaying gently in the breeze. "Tomorrow, Rudraksh will be going in for a full body check-up process. Will you come?" he asked calmly in a whispered tone over the rustling of leaves.

Karan's eyebrows furrowed as he replied, "No," his voice flat and devoid of emotion.

Siddharth nodded his head in a slow motion, his eyes never leaving the mango tree. "Okay," he said softly, his lips barely moving.

Karan got up from the bench with swift and decisive movements, his long strides eating up the distance between the bench and Siddharth's car. The sound of the door clicking echoed faintly in the night air as he got inside the passenger seat, the soft thud of the door closing behind him punctuating the silence.

Siddharth watched Karan's departure with a mixture of amusement and understanding, shaking his head as he followed suit. His hands folded against his chest as he walked over to the car with measured steps, his eyes fixed on Karan's profile through the windshield. "Both are worse than kids," he muttered under his breath, the words lost in the night air as he slid into the driver's seat, and the car drove away.

A/N: Not much.

1. Any comment about Karan's and Siddharth's attitude towards Rudraksh?