The midnight silence hung heavy over the narrow passageway of the Junior Wing at the university's prestigious campus—an institution known for breeding the elite. By day, these halls buzzed with chatter and the clatter of hurried footsteps. But tonight, only a suffocating stillness lingered…
Until the sound of footsteps shattered it.
Deliberate. Heavy. Menacing.
A group of senior boys strode down the dimly lit corridor, their smirks sharp in the flickering light. Their eyes gleamed with predatory dominance as they locked onto a lone figure ahead.
And there he was.
The boy stood frozen, his small frame pressed against the cold concrete wall. His innocence radiated like a fragile flame in a storm, too delicate for this shadowed world.
The leader of the group—taller, more imposing than the rest—stepped forward. His smirk held no warmth. Without warning, he shoved the boy hard, slamming him against the wall.
The impact knocked the air from the younger boy's lungs. He trembled, his delicate features etched with fear, his wide eyes shimmering with unshed tears. The corridor seemed to close in around him, wrapping him in suffocating dread.
"Let me go, Senior Shaan! What have I done to you?" he pleaded, his voice cracking as the laughter of the boys echoed through the empty hallway like a cruel hymn.
Shaan stepped closer, his shadow falling over the boy like a storm cloud.
"It's not about you, kid…" he sneered, his voice low and venomous. "It's your damn brother."
The boy's breath hitched.
Shaan's grin widened. "And now, you get to pay the price."
He stormed toward the trembling boy, gripping his collar with rage-fueled intensity. His fist drew back, trembling with force, ready to strike.
Then—
"Don't you dare."
The voice boomed through the desolate passageway, slicing through the tension like a blade. It echoed off the walls, sharp and commanding, halting every movement.
The seniors froze.
From the shadows, two boys emerged—hands tucked into the pockets of their ocean-hued pants, their steps slow and deliberate. Their presence was electric. They didn't just arrive—they claimed the scene, their otherworldly aura turning the air thick with anticipation.
Shaan's face paled. "Aarav? Abhi?"
The taller boy stepped forward—Aarav—his eyes sharp, slicing through Shaan like twin blades of ice. His voice rolled out like distant thunder.
"If you've got the guts to raise your hand... why not try it on Arun instead of bullying a junior?"
Shaan stammered, trying to hide his fear. "A-Aarav... we were just playing—"
Before he could finish, Abhi stepped in. His presence was radiant, almost divine—soft features kissed by warmth, but his eyes... his eyes held a storm.
He arched an eyebrow, his tone smooth yet steely.
"Oh? Just playing, Senior?" He tilted his head slightly. "What if I want to join in ?"
The air turned cold.
Shaan faltered, voice trembling, "I-I'm sorry…"
The apology barely escaped his lips before the group began retreating, fear etched into their features, their earlier bravado crumbling like dust. Their plan dissolved in silence, unfinished and abandoned.
Aarav exhaled sharply, his fury ebbing away. He turned to the boy still pressed against the wall, his head bowed low.
His gaze lingered—intense, unwavering. And yet, within those stormy eyes, a strange softness flickered.
Abhi watched silently, a subtle smile playing on his lips, a knowing glint in his eyes. He leaned closer to his brother and whispered playfully, "You got your chance, Brother. I'll just close my eyes."
The teasing laced his words with both encouragement and mischief.
Aarav's heart raced. A warm flush bloomed across his face as he gulped down a breath.
"Ayan... are you okay?" he asked, his voice gentle now, lined with quiet concern.
The younger boy slowly lifted his gaze. There was a soft vulnerability in his eyes, as if he were emerging from a cave and looking up at the first light of dawn.
Aarav hesitated, then reached out with a trembling hand. His fingers hovered near Ayan's cheek, drawn to the gentle curve of his face. When they finally brushed against his soft skin, Aarav froze—his breath catching, time stuttering.
But the moment shattered.
Bzzzt. Bzzzt.
Ayan's phone buzzed. Startled, Aarav withdrew his hand as if burned. Ayan answered the call, his tone suddenly light.
"Hello, Brother?"
A calm, measured voice echoed through the speaker. "I'm waiting in front of the Junior Wing."
"Okay. At the gate... I'm coming." Ayan hung up.
He turned back toward Aarav, offering him a small smile—gentle, grateful, and unreadably tender. Then, without another word, he walked away, stealing one last glance back before disappearing around the corner.
Aarav stood rooted in place, watching him go.
Beside him, Abhi sighed dramatically and placed a hand on his brother's shoulder.
"Wow…" he muttered, amusement coloring his tone. "Young master… again?"
Aarav rolled his eyes, his voice barely a whisper of frustration. "We need to do something about this Arun…"
Abhi smirked. "Brother, don't stress. I have my ways for him."
Aarav narrowed his eyes. "What's going on in that foxy brain of yours now?"
Abhi merely winked. "God knows…" he said with a mysterious smile. "Let's go home."
---
[ At the Rawat Estate ]
A sleek luxury car glided through the front gates of the grand Rawat bungalow. Guards stood poised as the engine hushed and the doors swung open.
Aarav and Abhi stepped out, the moonlight catching their glowing faces, casting them like celestial twins descended from the stars.
Inside, the air was warm and inviting. Mr. Aaditya Rawat, a man of quiet power and dignified charm, sat relaxed on the living room sofa, watching television in casual comfort.
From the dining area, the aroma of home-cooked dinner beckoned.
He looked up as they entered, and though his demeanor remained calm, a soft warmth passed through his expression.
"Oh, both of you..." he greeted, voice gentle. "Go wash up and come down quickly to eat."
Abhi groaned playfully. "Papa... you start giving us orders the second we walk in."
Mr. Rawat raised an eyebrow, a sly smile tugging at his lips. "You don't want to eat cake, then?"
Abhi's dramatic pout vanished instantly. "Ah. I'll just take a bath then!"
Mr. Rawat chuckled, shaking his head as the boys made their way to their rooms, laughter echoing behind them.
[ The Dining Table ]
The medium-sized table was set for six, each dish a masterpiece of aroma and presentation.
Mr. Rawat sat at the head, calm and composed, while Aarav and Abhi took their places beside him, the unspoken unity between them evident.
As he served food onto their plates, Mr. Rawat's expression turned solemn.
"Aarav," he began, his tone shifting. "Do you remember that land near the bridge on the town side?"
Aarav paused, nodding slowly. "Yes, Papa. What about it?"
Mr. Rawat leaned forward, his voice heavy.
"There's a hindrance. I heard Mr. Mekham was offered a better deal by someone else." He paused. "I want that land. At any cost."
Aarav and Abhi exchanged a look. Determined. Silent understanding passed between them.
Abhi leaned back with a devilish grin, voice low and smoldering. "It's time to play now…"