Rudraksh's eyes fluttered open, only to squeeze shut again as a sharp, splintering pain sliced through his skull like a thousand tiny knives stabbing at once. He groaned, lifting his head an inch before letting it fall back onto the pillow with a soft thud. The ceiling spun above him, and his mouth felt dry-parched like the Sahara.

Blinking against the harsh light filtering through the half-drawn curtains, he squinted at the room, unfamiliar yet oddly known. The muted green walls, the mess of thick law books on the study table...

"Siddharth's room?" he rasped, eyes widening. "What on earth am I doing here?"

He forced himself upright, clutching his pounding head in both palms, fingers pressing tightly into his temples. "Ugh, damn it! My head's gonna explode." A low groan escaped him as he scanned the room, searching for any clues about the previous night's events.

The creaking sound of the door opening made his head turn toward the source.

Siddharth stepped in, carrying a tray with a bowl of steaming hangover soup and a glass of water. "Good afternoon, sunshine," he greeted, lips stretching into a bright smile before pressing together tightly.

Rudraksh, still clutching his head, winced; his eyes narrowed as he looked at his friend. "Sid... what... what happened last night?" he stammered, voice hoarse and brittle.

Siddharth set the tray down on the side table with a soft clink. Folding his arms sternly against his white kurta-clad chest, he raised his eyebrows at Rudraksh. "Well, let's just say... you tried to drink the entire bar dry, my friend." He clapped his hands together with a soft smack, his voice neutral. "Very heroic."

Sighing, he walked over to the wardrobe and pulled out a clean white shirt and a pair of grey joggers. "Go freshen up first," he said, handing the attire to the confused man. "We need to talk."

Rudraksh nodded wordlessly, grabbed the clothes, and dragged himself to the bathroom. The door shut behind him with a quiet click. A moment later, the sound of running water filled the silence, broken occasionally by muffled groans. The fog in his head hadn't cleared yet, but one thing was certain-something had cracked wide open last night.

About thirty minutes later, Rudraksh emerged from the bathroom, looking marginally more human. The collar of his shirt was slightly damp from the towel slung around his neck. Strands of his black hair fell over his almond-shaped eyes and straight nose, partly covering his diamond-shaped face. He ran a hand through his hair, pushing it back. The redness in his eyes lent a touch of menace to his already sharp features.

With the unkempt beard and mustache creeping toward ascetic lengths, Siddharth couldn't help but see him less like a broken man and more like a meditative sage, one who had seen too much. Shaking his head with a little smile across his face, he asked, "Okay?"

Rudraksh gave a slow nod, his lips pressing into a tight smile.

Siddharth nodded in return and gestured toward the tray on the table. "First, drink this soup; it'll help with the headache. Then we'll talk."

Rudraksh gingerly moved, as if each limb had to be negotiated with, and dropped onto the couch beside him. He picked up the bowl and took a cautious sip. His eyebrows lifted. "Wow, Siddharth!" His eyes sparkled as he turned to face Siddharth. "I didn't know you could cook this well. This is really good."

Siddharth let out a soft laugh. "Thanks. Maa made sure I know how to survive without starving or depending on anyone." He shook his head, half-grinning.

They sat in comfortable silence for a few minutes, broken only by the clink of the spoon against the bowl. Rudraksh's chest loosened with every sip, the flavors dancing on his taste buds. He felt a sense of gratitude toward Siddharth. His friend had been taking care of him, nursing him back to health, and was now offering a lifeline to confront the events of the previous night.

Minutes passed like that before Siddharth slid an arm gently around Rudraksh's shoulder. "Rudraksh..." His voice was steady, but not cold. "We've been best friends since we were what-four? Six?"

Rudraksh didn't look at him. He simply nodded, eyes glued to the floor.

Siddharth's hand gave his shoulder a gentle squeeze. "We've shared everything: joy, pain, secrets, fears, fights, dreams-everything. We've been each other's rock, through thick and thin." He paused, collecting his thoughts, his tone taking a firm note now. "So tell me honestly-why are you doing this to yourself?"

Rudraksh blinked, his clasped hands resting together on his thighs, fingers twitching slightly. "You wouldn't understand, Sid," he murmured. "I-I loved her, truly." His throat bobbed as he swallowed. "Sanam was my everything. And she... she just left." His voice cracked on the last word, followed by a dry, bitter laugh.

A small, pained smile pulled at his lips as he turned toward Siddharth. "Was I not enough?" The words fell from his mouth like a silent plea. "Was my love not enough? Was I too much?"

Siddharth's hand tightened around his shoulders. "I know you loved her. I saw it. But Rudraksh-" he paused, taking a deep breath, "-love is not a one-way path. It's not devotion on one side and emptiness on the other. It only works when both people keep choosing each other."

Rudraksh strained to keep a straight face, his eyes staring into the depth of Siddharth's, trying to reason, to understand.

Siddharth held his gaze and smiled. "Love is a beautiful thing, yes. But it's also a choice. And sometimes, despite our best efforts, people walk away, and we have to accept that. And that's not your fault, Rudraksh." He let his words breathe before continuing, "People come and go, Rudraksh. And as brutal as it is, we can't force anyone to stay if they've made up their mind to walk away."

Rudraksh's eyes dropped again. His mind fogged with memories: six years of laughter, fights, kisses, long silences that used to feel like comfort. And now... all gone.

Siddharth's expression remained empathetic, but his words took a practical approach. "I'm not asking you to pretend it never happened, or that it doesn't matter. But you deserve to heal and move forward, not be held back by someone who chose to leave."

"It's not that easy, Sid," Rudraksh said after a long silence, his voice still a mere whisper. "It was six years long. I know we were not always physically present by each other's side, but I was loyal to her." His throat ached as he forced the next words out, voice trembling slightly. "Maybe she lied. Maybe she cheated. Maybe she manipulated me, but I never did. I was all in. And she... she just walked away?"

A lump formed in his throat, making it hard to speak further. "Why wait so long to leave?" he whispered. "Did she enjoy watching me fall apart? Was it fun for her to see me break down like this?" His hand instinctively raised, rubbing the area near his heart, as though trying to ease the strange pain that had settled there. "What did I do wrong? Loved her too much?" His eyes turned glassy, irrespective of the effort he made not to break apart.

Siddharth watched his childhood best friend in silence, and his own jaw tightened. But he knew-Rudraksh needed this breakdown, needed to face the wreckage in order to begin crawling out of it.

"I thought our love was real!" Rudraksh's voice rose, a mixture of pain, anger, and desperation. "Why did she wait till now to show me it was all a lie!" His fingers dug deeper into his scalp, gripping his hair. His eyes squeezed shut as if closing them might shut out the lingering memories as well.

Unable to find the right words, Siddharth felt a growing frustration watching his friend unravel. "Rudraksh," he said softly, "you can't blame a flower for blooming, even if the garden it grew in was neglected. The flower's beauty isn't defined by the gardener's absence. You bloomed. You loved. That's something to be proud of, not something to regret."

Rudraksh didn't respond. His body remained rigid, eyes hollow, jaw locked. It was like speaking to a statue carved from grief.

With a gentle smile, and without saying a word, he ran his hand slowly through Rudraksh's tangled hair, smoothing it back from his face. His touch was brotherly, full of the affection of an older brother. "She was a mirage," he continued, his voice quieter now. "She promised an oasis, but gave you nothing but dust."

Just as the moment started to deepen, the sudden shrill ring of the doorbell sliced through the stillness, jarring them both. Rudraksh flinched, and Siddharth sighed, briefly squeezing his friend's shoulder before rising to answer it.

A few minutes passed, and Siddharth returned with Karan following closely behind.

Karan's eyes swept the room, quickly finding Rudraksh slumped on the couch, and his expression softened. "Rudraksh... buddy, you okay?" he asked, his voice careful, touched with concern.

Rudraksh didn't even blink.

Without a word, he stood up, eyes dark and unreadable. His face was a storm-full of rage, heartbreak, and something dangerously close to hopelessness. Then, before either of them could react, he turned and stormed out of the room.

"Rudraksh!" Siddharth called out, alarm surging through him.

The sound of the front door slamming echoed down the hallway.

Siddharth's face paled. "Karan-go after him! Now! We can't leave him alone like this."

"I'm on it!" Karan replied, already sprinting down the hall.

But they were seconds too late.

Outside, the roar of the car engine ignited like a warning. The tires screeched as Rudraksh peeled out of the driveway, the car vanishing into the street before they even reached the gate.

Siddharth and Karan stood frozen in the doorway, wind brushing past them like an aftershock.

"He's not okay," Siddharth whispered, more to himself than to Karan. "He's not okay at all."

A/N: Dear Readers,

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