Chapter 32

Abhimanyu

I couldn’t breathe.

The weight on my chest felt unbearable, crushing, like something inside me was unraveling faster than I could hold it together. My hands were shaking, my vision blurring at the edges, and my throat burned as if I had swallowed fire.

Subhi was still staring at me, her eyes filled with something unreadable—shock, sadness, maybe even regret. But none of it mattered. Because once I started, I couldn’t stop.

“You want to know why I am like this?” My voice came out strangled, uneven. My nails dug into my palms, but even the pain couldn’t ground me. “You want to know why I keep pushing you away?”

Subhi opened her mouth, but I didn’t let her speak. The words were clawing their way out of me now, raw and unstoppable.

“My sister,” I gasped, my breathing turning shallow. “She died. Right in front of me.”

The moment I said it, something inside me cracked wide open. A rush of memories flooded in, drowning me—the blaring horns, the screeching tires, the way she had smiled at me just moments before—before—

My vision swam.

“I—” My voice broke, and my legs felt weak. I squeezed my eyes shut, my entire body trembling. “I could have saved her. I should have saved her. But I didn’t.”

The lump in my throat was unbearable now. My chest heaved as I fought to keep control, but it was slipping—everything was slipping.

“My father…” My voice barely came out, choked, broken. “He blames me. And he’s right. I blame myself too. I let her die, and I can never—” My breath hitched violently.

And then it happened. The tears I had buried for years finally broke free. My shoulders shook, my hands clenched into fists, and before I knew it, I was gasping for air, completely unraveling in front of her.

Subhi’s eyes widened in alarm. I could see it—the panic, the desperation to do something.

“Abhimanyu,” she whispered, stepping closer.

“No—” I tried to move back, to push her away, to stop myself from falling apart any further. But then she grabbed my wrist.

And suddenly, I was shaking too hard to stop her.

She didn’t hesitate. In one swift movement, she pulled me toward her, wrapping her arms around me, holding me as if she could physically keep me from breaking.

I stiffened for a second, my mind screaming at me to move away, to push her back, to run. But I couldn’t.

Because the moment she held me, I felt something snap inside me completely.

A ragged, broken sob tore out of my throat, and before I could stop myself, I collapsed into her.

I gripped the back of her shirt with trembling hands, burying my face against her shoulder, as if I could hide from the world. My body shuddered violently, years of pain, guilt, and silence finally pouring out in a way I couldn’t control.

And Subhi—she didn’t let go.

She held me tighter, as if she knew I was falling apart and wasn’t afraid to catch me. Her fingers pressed against my back, grounding me, steadying me.

“It’s not your fault,” she murmured, her voice barely above a whisper.

But I couldn’t respond. I couldn’t do anything except hold onto her like my life depended on it.

For the first time in years, I wasn’t drowning alone.