Daag-e-dil gar nazar nahin aata

Boo bhi aye chaaraagar, nahin aati

Hum wahan hain jahaan se humko bhi

Kuch humari khabar nahin aati

- Mirza Ghalib

[Though nobody can see the wound of my heart,

the wound is festering and yet the healer does not come.

I am in such a situation right now, from where even I am unable to get any news of myself.]

* * * *

Standing before the entrance of the park, he let out a tiring sigh before walking in with his head bend down. The icy breeze that was making its way into the park should have made him shiver like the rest of the people around him but he felt nothing. As he walked inside, the last rays of sunlight flashed across the sky before dying as it was written in their fate. As he walked on the grass he knew he should feel the softness of the grass beneath his feet like he used to before but now he didn't.

He sat down at their favorite spot and closed his eyes before taking in a long, deep breath. He knew from experience that the fresh air he was breathing in was filled with the sweet smell of the roses growing around the park but as it went into his nose and filled his lungs, the sweet taste he loved so much was missing...

Something was wrong with him, he knew that, but after a month and a half, he was getting used to the absence of everything inside him. But during times like these when he was far away from everything related to his life, his inability to feel disturbed him. Ironically, he had always wished to not feel anything and his wish has been granted, even if in an unwanted way...

He asked himself; if he was missing those feelings that had come to define him for such a long time, enough to become the very core of his existence? Was he missing the feeling of being wronged, wounded, hurt, abandoned? Did he want to change the absolute numbness he had been feeling from the day he had walked out of his room, leaving behind the three people who had, on different points in his life, he thought were indispensable to him? Was he missing the previously always present pain, fear, and rage that had consumed him until there was nothing left of him? Did he? Did he miss any of those feelings and the fears that had dominated his life ever since he remembered?

Did he?

He didn't remember how old he was when the yelling outside of his parents' room started to become words that made sense to him, but ever since they had, he had stopped trembling in fear, hiding under his blanket and actually listened to everything that was being said. He had cried in guilt and helplessness because no matter how the fights started, they only had one reason; him...

He had been the reason why his mother went about overworking herself and became a workaholic and had stopped being a wife to his father. It was for him that his father had fought with his mother because he had guessed how neglected he had felt, how how much he had craved for his mother's attention who had been absent from his life for work-related issues. He didn't know when was that his mother had started to work overtime and had ceased to be the mother that he had grown up loving but at some point, she had started to miss out on the most important moments of his life. From Sports days to parents' days, slowly her absence had started to increase and before he had realized, she had become a full functioning workaholic and somehow had thought that the branded clothes and toys she kept gifting him could make up for her presence.

He remembered that there were days when his younger self had stayed up late to catch a glimpse of his mother. Fooling his father who used to work in his study after tucking him into his bed, he would escape from his warm blanket in cold nights to sit on the dinner table, just to see his mother who used to come late from work, but rarely he had succeeded in his attempts because, in the mornings he used to find himself in bed, his father's big and warm arms wrapped around him in a very protective manner, his mother would still be missing...

After a certain point, he had stopped all of it and had started to accept what little attention he used to get from his mother, hoping that one day she herself would realize, assuring himself that such day will come, telling himself that until then he should be happy with what he got. And he had been, never once he had complained about it until the day she left, making him realize that he was a fool to think his silence and patience would affect her or change her neglecting attitude towards him because it didn't. She had walked out, had abandoned him without even saying goodbye, let alone explaining her reasons...

And now after more than a decade to that day, and a month and a half to the day when he got to know the truth as to why his mother had left him behind he asked himself why numbness has replaced his pain? Shouldn't he, at least now, feel something else? Why were the wounds still open yet didn't hurt anymore? Why the missing rage he felt was not replaced by the feeling of peace? Why all he did feel was a tiring numbness? A tiring numbness that was too heavy to bear for his already broken soul...

But what he could do more than just tolerate it? Wasn't that what he had always done? Would something normal ever happen to him? Was he not destined to have a normal life and live it like a normal being? Shouldn't he at least be able to feel 'normal' now? Freed of everything and each person who had made him feel trapped, shouldn't he feel free now?

He had never desired a lot in life, or at least, that's what he had always thought, he had always tried to be content with what little he got. He had always worked hard and harder to make people in his life happy with him.

When his mother had been with him, he had never dreamed more than making his mother proud of him so she would give him the attention he had craved and after she had walked away, his complete devotion had shifted to his father, he never had once questioned his father when he had sent him away to study law even though he hadn't known himself if he actually wanted to become a lawyer, nor he had ever felt the need to find out because that what his father had wanted for him and that's what he had become...

And then there was Suman Tiwari, the only person apart from his parents he felt he had to please. Only now he could tell that, despite all his taunts and accusations, it was him who was at fault...

It was him who was always at fault...

With each of them...

It was him who had kept quiet, tolerated the pain and the hurt never once had mentioned how wronged he felt or how he wished they would behave differently until it had gotten too much for him until he had reached his breaking point. It was him who should have had yelled enough when he had felt he was wronged the first time instead of keeping quiet to let them treat him as they pleased.

He should have known that there was no way they would realize anything about him on their own. He just had not been important enough to them or simply he had given them too much power over him and had made them too used to it by never complaining, that's why they had taken him for granted so easily...

There had been so much he hadn't understood and so much he hadn't wanted to understand...

But now he knew better...

Despite being lost in his dilemma and introspection, the moment someone came to sit down beside him, without turning around to verify, he knew it was her. He didn't exactly know how she always was there whenever he walked in the park they had spent countless evenings during their teenage, but she somehow knew. He suspected it was Pushkar who lets her know...

Pushkar, his young cousin, along with the rest of the residents of the Malhotra house, was greatly affected by the silence that he had been displaying from the past month and a half. All of them thought of it as the silence before the storm, overlooking the fact that they had missed it entirely, so unaware they were of him, and now when the precautions weren't needed because the storm has already passed leaving behind his broken and numbed self, they were waiting for it, walking around him on eggshell, fearing to trigger it...

"Tired?" She asked the same question she had been asking for the past three weeks when they had met for the first time after the day of the storm.

He nodded silently as he had been ever since he couldn't ignore the same question anymore.

As she saw him nod, she let out a sigh, a sigh of frustration because he still refused to give her his words. He was stubborn, held grudges, and no matter what she would do now, how many times she would try, he won't let her in. Not even once, would never, she feared...

As she looked at him, who was busy observing the sight of the sunset slowly turning into the darkness of night, she wondered if the silence between them would ever break? Was he going to keep on with his silence despite knowing how worried the absence of his words was making everyone around him feel?

Three weeks ago, Pushkar had come to find her to seak her help. He had told her how Shravan had been working like a maniac day after day, tiring himself to the point where he had no energy left, spending his nights in his office or dragging himself up to his room late in the night. He had told her how Shravan had been overlooking his father's calls and ignoring the rest of the family. How he hadn't been talking to any of them nor he had been listening to them. He had told her how Shravan walked around as if he was mute and deaf, turning blind eye to their attempts to communicate with him. How he had only communicated with them about what he had wanted and when he had wanted. He had told her how with Ramnaath he would discuss the cases they were handling as one of the best lawyers of the Malhotra firm and how he helped out Pushkar whenever he was asked but that was all he had talked to them about and whenever they had attempted to talk to him about anything else, he had calmly walked out as he had heard nothing, leaving them behind confused, frustrated and helpless...

It was only then she had mustered enough courage to face him after that day when he had stormed past her. Dropping her habit of stalking him every evening he came to the park, she quietly had sat next to him for an entire week before he had knowledged her presence, just bearly...

In her presence, he would sit for hours never once looking at her way and observe the sky as if it was the most fascinating sight as if he could never get bored of it despite how many hours or days he had been observing the same scenario. At first, she had attempted to talk to him, but he had acted deaf to her words until she had stopped only at the question he would answer.

"Shravan," she called him and sighed when it went unheard.

"Nanu wanted to talk to you, come home with me?" She asked once again and finally, he turned around to look at with a frown, for once giving away the evidence of his excellent hearing.

"I don't know, he just told me to tell you that he wanted you to come to meet him," she answered the question his expressive eyes asked her.

When he once again turned around to keep on with his observation, she smiled in relief, of course, it would be Raghuveer Tiwari, her cute Nanu, to shatter the veil of indifference that clouded Shravan's eyes. Finally, his eyes have started to talk once again. It had been a horror, when she had found those expressive melted caramel eyes looking back to her coldly, blank, inexpressive as if everything had died within him. She hoped that from now on, even if slowly, he would go back to be the Shravan she knew.

"So, would you come home with me?" She asked once again, looking deep into his eyes, witnessing the struggle in them, his defiance versus his love for the old man that he loved and respected as his own grandfather. And love won, she should have known, with Shravan love always wins, he had always let his love for his loved ones win in the end, he was too much of a people pleaser to let his own defiance or pride to win.

Stubborn yet selfless Shravan...

She saw him close his eyes and when he reopened them, all she could see in his eyes was defeat, yet they shined with the love she knew he felt for the man, her grandfather, whom he called Nanaji. He didn't answer her out loud, but she knew, she knew the answer to the question she had asked him. She had always been sure of the fact that no matter what, his eyes always would give him away because no matter what he felt and how much he wanted to hold back, his eyes have always talked louder than him and his actions.

His beautiful melted caramel eyes, they still didn't have the fire in them that lighted them up, making them alive and shine like twin stars as the life in them give away everything that was going on within him; his thoughts, moods, fears, and happiness even though they have always carried the pain and the hurt of untold wounds...

The fire was still missing, but hopefully, not for long...

She only hoped that from now on they would start getting back their liveliness, maybe her Nanu would actually be the one who would be able to break the invisible bubble wherein he was living for time being, blind and deaf to others calls and attempts to get him out of it and would force him to return to the real world...

All she could do was hope...

* * * *

"Forgive them, Shravan,"

Those were the first words told to him by the man he has loved like his own grandfather. He smiled bitterly, but unable to keep on with his silence as he has done around others.

"Why should I?" He asked with defiance that never had been present before.

Raghuveer Tiwari, laying on his bed observed the most obedient of his children rebelling against his wishes for the first time ever since he had gotten to meet the child that was his favorite student's pride...

Between him and Suman, Shravan had been the most obedient one of the two, even when they had been just teens - the era where everyone went through a phase of rebellion. And at times when even his own granddaughter, Suman, had refused to listen to him, Shravan never had once displayed any act of rebellion. In fact, he had been the one to tame down the wild Sumo most of the time. But now sitting beside him on the bed, facing the wall with an unexpressive face, he was refusing to him, questioning him, not meeting his eyes in an attempt to hide away the complaints Raghuveer knew were directed to him.

Raghuveer Tiwari smiled tenderly at the child, realizing that despite all, his nature wouldn't change. He came to him the day he called him and despite getting hurt by his concerns for others and not for him, he wasn't complaining because that's how much he respected and love his Nana Ji.

'Did he realize that?' Raghuveer Tiwari asked himself before putting his hand on the hand that was gripping the edge of the bed, maybe to suppress the urge to talk back or to walk away.

"Shravan, I want you to forgive them not because they deserve to be forgiven but because you can't afford to keep going on like this," he explained to the child, hoping to help him to end the dilemma and conflicted feelings he saw in his eyes.

"Because you finally can have your family, together. No matter how much you and Suman deny, you both crave a family - she can't have it because her parents aren't alive but yours are. Don't misunderstand her, whatever she said and did, it for you and me," he tried, in vain, to justify something he clearly didn't know but knew in the heart of his heart.

He saw the young man sitting on the edge of his bed smirk bitterly, before turning to him with his eyes colder, darker.

"I would have forgiven them if there was a rational reason for all of the suffering and everything I went through. Before I could overlook everything that went wrong because somehow I had found a somewhat valid reason. I had told myself that his habit of ruling my life, making decisions without considering or giving me a choice was because of his love and overprotectiveness, but now I know better, it was his fear of losing to the woman he hated, a woman that he has wronged and a woman that had wronged him, and I had been only a weapon to use in the fights," he said with a sardonic smile, his voice quivering.

"I had thought that her abandonment was caused by the fact that fell had fallen in love with another man, had left me because she no longer wanted me - I had somehow managed to live with all that self-hatred and resentment, of being unwanted by my own mother. There had been countless times when I had wanted her beside me but thought that she had forgotten about me and had left me behind for the love of a man who wasn't my father, I was convinced that she had a life, a family on her own and was happy without me, so I had tried to be happy without her too, but never managed to," he admitted quietly, his shoulders dropping down as his looked down at the floor, acknowledging his defeat.

"I had been haunted by the broken marriage of my parents all my life, " he confessed with sad eyes, "when they were together, I had been consumed by guilt for being the reason why they fought, of being the sole reason of their misery and after she had left, I had felt so lost. From that day, I had seen my existence as nothing but a burden, a reminder of their broken marriage, she had gotten rid of me while my father had sent me away to somewhere far from him,"

He took a deep breath before he went on to confess a secret he had not permitted himself to confess it to even his soul; that the blind devotion he felt for his father was caused by his immense gratitude towards his father for not abandoning him as his mother had.

"I had thought that it was because maybe my presence was unbearable for him; a living breathing reminder of my mother's betrayal. And I had felt so grateful to him for each and every gesture of affection because, despite everything I represented, he still loved me, and my devotion for him had increased, while the grief of being left behind by her had broken something within me, had given me a wound that would never heal...Never," he whispered, the last word said by him an echo of the helplessness he had felt and an acceptance of it, a certainty caused by the numbness he was feeling.

He accepted it, all of it; the numbness, the defeat, the loss of hope and everything good that could have ever happened to him. For so long he had fought a lost battle that now he was tired enough to give up, let his fight end, and pride crush.

He was defeated, and each and every effort of his had been nothing but a waste, and only when the fight had come to an end, he had found out that he has survived it, despite losing his all, and it was okay because maybe everything and everyone he had had wasn't worth the fight he had been putting up anyway...

Not anymore...

That was the truth, that his fight against his demons was never meant to be won by him. He was never meant to conquer his demons; they were his to accept. The truth was that everything he had fought for was a lie to begin with. He had been living in and with lies for more than a decade, lies that were told to him and the lies that he had told to himself, lies that had dominated his life, changing and molding him, causing within him destruction that had no end and many deep wounds and scars that he now has to live with, all his life...

"And now that I know the whole truth I feel as if I wasn't even important enough to be seen as a reminder of their broken marriage, I simply didn't matter. I was left behind because I didn't matter. Because I didn't mean anything to her. Nothing. She had left me and for what? Not for the love of another man, not to create another family but for the hatred she felt her husband, for her ego and personal vendetta," he whispered, his voice hoarse as if he had been holding back his screams.

And he had, he had held back his screams and cries, for decades, in his fruitless attempts to appear stronger, hideaway his weak and petty self, licking his wounds like a wounded animal when no one was watching, trying to build walls so no one would hurt him even though he ended up being hurt anyway...

"Every day that I had to struggle to simply breathe because of the guilt, the helplessness, the fears, and the insecurities, the burden I had to carry, but it meant nothing because I simply never made any difference to any of them - because the damage caused to me after what had happened was never a thought that crossed their minds," he sighed bitterly, his eyes watering, to his surprise, he still had tears to waste.

"How am I supposed to forget that? How am I supposed to forgive them?" He asked helplessly, his eyes begging the wiser man for guidance.

"Because you want to, " the elder man claimed as he looked into his eyes.

"No, I don't. I don't want to," he denied with a tiring sigh and looked down at his hands, bending his head to the demands of his rational mind and irrational heart, too wounded to not feel wronged, therefore he saw no escape from the state he had been ever since the night that had brought out too many truths.

He was tried, broken, and fallen...

"What about Ramnaath? Don't you want to forgive him? Do you know what he is going through?" He was suddenly demanded.

"What about him?" He asked with a sigh.

"Ramnaath is worried and scared that he has lost you... I have never seen him this helpless," the elder said as if that could somehow make him feel better or change what happened.

"I see no reason why. He has always been sure that he will never lose me. That's why he could do with he had a decade ago and that's the reason why he could do what he did now. I have always been too easy to manipulate, he had molded the truth into whichever shape he wanted and blinded me to the sight of it whenever he wanted. He knows his hold on me is too powerful to break, so he has nothing to worry about," Shravan said with a careless shrug, his nonchalant attitude only made his broken spirit more evident.

His father has always been his weakness. He had read it somewhere that in everyone's life there is at least one person who doesn't matter what did or does, that person could be forgiven, would be always wanted and loved and even though then he had never thought his father would ever wrong him, but he had admitted that in his life that person would be his father...

And he was right. Despite everything that his father has done, he could not find it in him to cut his father out of his life or stop caring about him. He wasn't ready for it now, but he knew one day he will give in to his father's attempts to talk to him. He already could feel the wall of the numbness and indifference he was trapped in giving in whenever he saw the devastation and helplessness on his father's face. One day, he would forgive his father, but would never be able to forget what his father had done, would never be able to trust his own father. And that pained him, the man he had worshiped for as long as he remembered never deserved his blind devotion. It was a truth that was hard to accept, but he already has, in the same way, he had accepted that any day from now he would give in and let his father sweet talk him into forgiving him.

It was just a matter of time; he had realized with bitterness, his rational side disgusted by his doormat behavior, appalled by the lack of his self-respect, pride, and self-preservation when it comes to his father.

"And what about Suman?" The elder man suddenly asked, snapping the young man out of his personal dilemma.

"What? What about Suman?" He asked, shuttering, shocked at her being mentioned along with his parents.

Raghuveer Tiwari sighed in regret, before noticing the way the younger man was looking away.

"The biggest regret of my long life is going to be that I failed in being the friend I thought I was for you both. I should have known it before than you two even realize it, after all, no one else has spent as much time as I have in observing you both in an attempt to understand you two. But it seems like you both are more complex than I had thought, more self-neglecting than I wanted you both to be," the elder man said, sighing in regret and disappointment.

"I don't know what you are talking about," Shravan muttered, his gaze fixed on the floor, unable to meet the eyes of the elder.

"How long you both plan to hide your truth from me, and from each other, Shravan?"

And as he was asked that, the slight anger in the elder's voice left him with a sense of guilt.

"There is no truth, Nana ji, nothing to tell, nothing to talk about, " he finally whispered looking down at his hands, by now, he knew that her name just wasn't written in the curved lines of his palms, no matter how much he wanted to. No matter how much he had been held bend into curving a line with her name into his palm, she was never meant to be his. Never...

And now he knew better than fight the fate...

"How long can things go on like this, Shravan?" The elder asked the exact thing he had been wondering from past months, watching his granddaughter come back every evening with a defeated expression on her face before deciding to intervene.

"I don't know, " Shravan whispered the truth, too tired to hide anymore.

He had wondered the same thing, countless dark nights had been spent trying to find light in the endless tunnel he felt trapped in, but now he knew better. Nothing was in his hands. Nothing ever had been, he was just a puppet, a petty being who had to depend on others for his own happiness. And therefore, happiness was never meant to be something he could ever achieve. Every fight he had put in his life had been meaningless...

"I will be honest with you, Shravan. Your father has asked Suman's hand in marriage for you," he announced, earning a gasp from the younger man as he looked up at him with a shocked expression.

"And I have accepted that proposal," he continued, "however, if you both think it's not something you both want, then you may choose someone else, actually, I would like you to help me find a groom for her as you had done last time because I want Suman to be married by the end of the month," he bombarded the younger with arrows he knew would hit the target and snap him out of the aloofness he had been displaying from the past month and a half.

"I am sorry, Nana Ji, but I won't be able to do that this time around, nor I have any intention to marry her. It's not possible, not anymore, I don't want to," he said with a firm voice, determined to not get involved with anything that had to do with her and her marriage.

He had been a masochist before, willingly to bare himself to get hurt and suffer in hope that maybe she would take pity on him and refuse to get married. But no longer he was delusional, nor was he letting his pride and rage to overwhelming him, to dominant him enough to be the delusional fool he had been to think he could get out of it alive. No longer he was masochist enough to torture him with any of the preparation for her marriage.

Not anymore.

"Fair enough, but then I hope you can live with the fact that you won't have any power over anything anymore." The elder man muttered as he looked at his confused expression.

"Aditya was a wrong choice, and I am grateful that we got to know his truth before he married Suman and I hope I won't make the same mistake this time around when I chose a groom for her." Raghuveer Tiwari said knowing very well how his words were hitting the target when he saw the younger man frown at first and then slowly his face morphed into an expression of pure horror as he realized the possibility of her to be married off to a man like Aditya.

Suddenly Shravan was reminded of the event that had set in motion everything that was happening; Aditya's disgusting act of inhumanity, her trembling body seeking shelter in his arms as soon as he had stepped into her room, the sleepless and cold night they both had spent outside the main door of Tiwari Killa and his promise to himself and her that he would never let anything like that happen to her. Never again...

As Raghveer Tiwari observed the expression of horror on the younger man, he knew he had successfully planted in the younger's mind the seed of something that would lead his thoughts to where he wanted them to be. He felt bad for using the overprotectiveness he knew Shravan felt towards Suman, especially after the event of that night, but that seemed to be the only way to snap him out of the state of numbness he was in and to lead him on the path of happiness that the young man and Suman could find in each other.

As he observed the changing expressions on Shravan's face, the elder knew he had hit the target. He, after all, clearly remembered how Shravan had hidden Suman behind his tall frame, fighting in her defense, he remembered the morning when he had found Shravan guarding her as she slept, the sight of them had reminded him of a dragon protecting his princess. He remembered how the following day, Shravan had acted like a furious beast, growling at everyone who looked at her way. In short, by mentioning the possibility of another man like Aditya anywhere near her, he had woken the sleeping dragon he knew would be spitting fire at everyone whom he would present as the potential proposal for Suman.

Raghuveer smiled to himself, pressing his lips in a thin line to stop the urge to laugh out loud when he could see the younger man emitting nervous energy; his hands formed into tight fists, eyes getting wild with each passing minute. Then suddenly, the fire that had started in his eyes faded away, and a silent acceptance settled on his face as it went back to the expressionless facade, the blank and distant look claiming his eyes once again, he looked as numb as he had appeared when he had walked into the room.

The older man frowned, that wasn't how he was supposed to act like. Shravan was supposed to react in the way he had that night; become a tall wall between Suman and the world, get all protective and possessive over the girl he was in love with and claim her as his...

But instead of all of that, he was calmly looking back at him before nodding at him.

"Do what you think is right for her," he said with an even voice before standing to walk away, leaving behind the elder man who was confused and bluffed at the contradiction displayed by him.

What was wrong with Shravan Malhotra...

* * * * *

A/N:- Here, I end the chapter in hope that you all liked it... I really hope it was worth the wait...

Please leave a comment or two or more to let me know your thoughts and feelings on the chapter and if you cried or not... Because I did... ;D

Thank you for the supportive and kind comments, and for reading, liking, voting for this story so far...*hugs*

Thank you! :)