Abhimanyu pushed open the creaky apartment door, ushering Chand inside. The stale scent of takeout and forgotten laundry hit her nose even before she stepped over the threshold. His place was a monument to bachelorhood – clothes piled high on a rickety chair, empty pizza boxes stacked precariously on the coffee table, and a general air of disarray. Chand scrunched her nose, but a mischievous glint sparked in her eyes.

"Do you ever clean this place?" she asked, a playful smile tugging at her lips.

Abhimanyu stared at her, surprised by her lack of disgust. He expected a shriek or a wrinkled nose, not amusement.  A flicker of something unreadable crossed his face before he settled back into his usual gruff demeanor. "Look, kid, do you want to stay here or not?" he started, but Chand cut him off.

"Yeah yeah," she chirped, letting go of his arm and darting past him. He watched as Chand, with the boundless energy of a child, embarked on a whirlwind tour of his tiny apartment.  The cramped space held just a single room that served as a living area and bedroom, a miniscule kitchen, and a bathroom that looked like it hadn't seen a cleaning rag in weeks.

She darted straight for the kitchen, her stomach growling in protest.  Disappointment clouded her face as she peered into the near-empty refrigerator.  A stale loaf of bread and a few eggs were its only inhabitants. Chand sighed, the sound oddly mature coming from such a small person. The kitchen itself mirrored the rest of the apartment – cramped, cluttered, and lacking the warmth of a home-cooked meal.

"Do you even eat?" she asked, a hint of concern lacing her pout.

Abhimanyu leaned against the doorway, his arms crossed. "I don't cook," he replied, his voice gruff but not unkind.  There was a weariness in his eyes that belied his casual stance.

"You live alone and you don't even cook?" Chand pressed, her big eyes wide with curiosity. Something about the near-empty kitchen and Abhimanyu's weary demeanor sparked a new wave of questions in her mind.

Abhimanyu sighed, a hint of exasperation in his voice. "You ask too many questions, kid," he drawled in a lazy tone.

He shifted his weight against the doorway, a shadow momentarily eclipsing the meager light filtering into the kitchen. Suddenly, he seemed to remember something. "What's your name again, brat?"

Chand puffed out her chest, a touch of pride evident in her voice. "Chand Kashyap," she declared, her brown eyes sparkling. "What's yours?"

Abhimanyu hesitated for a beat, a flicker of something unreadable crossing his features. "Abhimanyu," he finally replied, but there was a clipped quality to his voice, as if the full name was something he rarely used.

Chand, ever perceptive, picked up on the subtle cue.  She stopped bouncing on the bed, tilting her head to the side and giving him a long, considering stare.

"Just Abhimanyu? What's your surname?" Chand pressed, her brow furrowed in confusion. The concept of someone not having a last name was alien to her six-year-old mind. It was like a tree without roots, something she couldn't quite grasp.

Abhimanyu stared at her, his jaw clenching for a brief moment. He didn't have a surname, not anymore. It was a painful reminder of a past he desperately tried to outrun. "Don't have one," he finally muttered, his voice gruff.

Chand's eyes widened in surprise, then a giggle escaped her lips. "You are really weird, tall handsome man," she teased, the weight of his words lost on her innocent mind. She bounced off the bed with her usual boundless energy and darted towards the cluttered storeroom door, leaving Abhimanyu alone with his ghosts.

"Stop running around my house, brat!" Abhimanyu barked, his voice laced with a hint of exasperation that went far beyond the usual annoyance of a babysitter. He stalked after her, his steps heavy, but Chand was already inside the storeroom, the rickety door slamming shut behind her with a bang.

Abhimanyu ran a hand through his hair, his tired sigh echoing in the cramped apartment. Dealing with a kid was proving to be far more exhausting than spending a night with a demanding women. At least with those women, the game was clear. Here, with Chand's boundless energy and insatiable curiosity, he felt like he was constantly walking a tightrope.

Meanwhile, Chand felt like she'd stumbled upon a treasure trove. The storeroom, unlike the rest of the apartment, held a certain mystique.  Dust motes danced in the slivers of light filtering through the lone window, illuminating an eclectic collection of forgotten items – chipped teacups, a dented board game, and a stack of dusty books with faded covers. It was a child's paradise of useless things, and Chand, with the enthusiasm of a six-year-old explorer, investigated every corner.

Her attention was finally snagged by a dusty backpack nestled in the far corner, its worn leather catching the light.  There was something about it, a subtle air of mystery, that called to her.  Pushing aside a stack of old magazines, Chand reached out and hesitantly unzipped the bag's aged clasp.

She turned the bag upside-down and the contents of the bag spilled out onto the dusty floor in a jumble – two leather-bound diaries, a worn notebook, a dented pencil case, a forgotten water bottle, and a solitary identity card.  Chand, her eyes wide with excitement, sifted through the items, discarding the pencil case with a huff and tossing the empty water bottle aside. Finally, she picked up the ID card, her breath catching in her throat.

There, printed in bold lettering, was a name that sent a jolt through her: Abhimanyu Raichand. It was his real full name, not the single moniker he presented to the world. A slow smile spread across Chand's face, a mix of triumph and something more… a flicker of apprehension. Knowing someone's true identity held power, and Chand wasn't sure what to do with this newfound leverage.

She bolted out of the storeroom, a mischievous glint in her eye. In her hand, clutched tight, was the ID card.  She skidded to a halt before Abhimanyu, who was lounging back in his chair, seemingly unconcerned. With a triumphant flourish, she flung the card at him.

It fluttered through the air, landing at his feet. Abhimanyu stared at it for a beat, his eyes widening in a flash of raw panic that vanished as quickly as it appeared. He schooled his features back into his usual mask of indifference, but a tremor ran through his hand as he bent down to pick up the card.

"I now know who you are, Abhimanyu Raichand!" Chand declared, puffing out her chest in pride. She had him, his secret exposed, and a thrill of power coursed through her.

Abhimanyu gave a curt nod, his voice devoid of emotion when he spoke.  "Yeah, sure. Whatever sails your boat, brat." But his gaze lingered on the card for a moment too long, a flicker of something dark and dangerous glinting in his eyes. "Come on," he finally said, his voice clipped. "Stop with your shenanigans and go to bed. It's late."

"No!" Chand protested.

"I'll give you two options," Abhimanyu threatened. "You can either be a good kid and sleep, or I'll drop you back with that evil woman who almost kidnapped you."

Chand glared at him for a long minute, trying to decide if he was bluffing about the threat. But Abhimanyu held his ground. Even though he was lying, he knew Chand didn't need to know that. So he maintained his facade.

Groaning, Chand stormed towards Abhimanyu's bed and flopped down on it. After tossing and turning for a while, pretending she couldn't fall asleep, she finally succumbed to her sleepiness and drifted into a deep slumber.

Seeing her drift off to sleep, Abhimanyu finally let out a ragged sigh. He picked up the ID card again, the worn leather cool against his fingertips. It felt like a relic from another life, a life he desperately tried to outrun.

A wave of bitterness washed over him as a harsh voice echoed in his mind, its words laced with venom. "You pathetic excuse for a Raichand! Why were you born as my heir?!" He flinched, his jaw clenching tight.  Years had passed, yet the memory retained its power to wound. He couldn't even recall the face that went with the voice, so determined was he to bury his past.

He had severed all ties, chosen a new life, a new name. Here, in this cramped apartment, he was just Abhimanyu, the gambler with a string of bad luck following him like a shadow. He crumpled the ID card in his fist, a surge of rebellion mixing with a flicker of regret. Maybe throwing away the past wasn't as easy as he thought. With a grimace, he tossed the crumpled card into the bin.

He settled back into the chair, his gaze fixed on Chand's peaceful slumber. His mind drifted to tomorrow, to the task of returning Chand home and facing Roop's volatile temper once more. A soft chuckle escaped his lips as he settled deeper into the chair, eyelids drooping until sleep finally claimed him.

~~~

The next day dawned, and Chand, true to form, was a whirlwind of questions from the moment Abhimanyu stumbled out of bed. What did he eat for breakfast? Did he sleep well on the uncomfortable chair? Abhimanyu, surprisingly patient for a man who thrived on solitude, answered her questions with a gruff tolerance. Finally, with a sigh of relief, they stepped out of the apartment and headed towards the elementary school.

As they approached the schoolyard, Chand spotted Krish waiting anxiously near the entrance. Relief flooded his face for a fleeting moment, then his expression hardened with anger. He stormed towards them, his steps purposeful. Before Abhimanyu could react, Krish reached them, his grip tightening around Chand's arm as he yanked her away.

"Where were you?!" Krish practically growled. "Roop Didi is beside herself with worry, and so is everyone else! She even had to call Rishabh bhaiya to help find you!"

Chand flinched at Krish's booming voice, her eyes downcast in a mixture of fear and regret. She knew she'd messed up big time, disappearing without a word.

"I only wanted to see Shah Rukh Khan," Chand mumbled, her voice barely audible.

Krish scoffed. "Well, now you'll get to see Roop Didi unleash her inner Maa Durga. Congratulations."

Chand shivered at the thought, picturing Roop's stern face morphing into that of a fierce goddess. A groan escaped her lips, the gravity of the situation finally sinking in.

Abhimanyu, a silent observer, watched the exchange with a furrowed brow. His hand instinctively went to his pocket, hovering near his phone. Should he intervene? Step inside and assure Roop that Chand was safe, that he'd found her? Or should he melt away into the background, leaving them to deal with the fallout?

He opted for the first plan and approached the elementary school entrance. Inside, he found Chand struggling to explain the situation to Roop, who seemed utterly confused. Suddenly, Chand pointed towards Abhimanyu, drawing Roop's attention to him.

Roop's face mirrored a cartoon character's fury. Steam practically rose from her ears, and her features flushed a vibrant red. It was a comical image, yet undeniably terrifying. Beyond fuming, Roop marched towards Abhimanyu with a menacing purpose.

Uh oh. Perhaps confronting Roop head-on wasn't Abhimanyu Raichand's brightest idea.

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Finally!!! I was able to write this chapter 😩😩😩

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