Okay, it's been a while. Hi guys, how are you ?

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Well, now let's move on to the chapter.

Her

I woke up to the sound of something shattering. My heart pounded in my chest as I blinked, trying to shake off the fog of sleep. It was late, too late for any noise like that. Sitting up in bed, I strained to hear what was happening. That's when I realized the sound came from Bhaiya's room.

I jumped out of bed, my pulse quickening as I rushed down the hall. Bhaiya never made a scene, so the idea that something had broken in his room sent a wave of panic through me. When I reached his door, I pushed it open, only to find a scene that made my stomach drop.

Bhaiya was leaning over the bed, his arms braced on the edge, his head down. A shattered vase lay near him, pieces scattered across the floor like remnants of his outburst. Dante stood a few feet away, tense and still, as if unsure of what to do next.

"What happened here?" I gasped, my voice trembling at the sight of the broken vase and the tension in the room. My eyes darted between the two men.

"Tara, take your boyfriend out of this room, please." Bhaiya's voice was weak, but the anger simmering beneath it was unmistakable. He didn't even look at me, just kept his head down, shoulders rigid with frustration and sadness.

I felt my chest tighten at his words, but I knew better than to argue with him right now. "Dante, come with me. Please," I said, my voice calm but firm. I couldn't let this escalate any further.

Dante started to protest, "But Tara-"

"No," I cut him off, shaking my head. "Whatever you have to say, you can come and say outside." I shot him a look, hoping he'd understand that now wasn't the time for pushing. I grabbed his arm gently, but firmly, pulling him toward the door. Bhaiya needed space, and Dante's presence wasn't going to help right now.

Reluctantly, Dante followed me out of the room. I quietly closed the door behind us, feeling the weight of everything that had just happened settle over me.

"What the hell were you thinking?" I rounded on Dante, trying to keep my voice low but unable to hide the frustration bubbling up. "I told you he needed some space!"

Dante sighed, running a hand through his hair, clearly feeling just as torn as I did. "But he's my best friend, Tara. He's been there for me through so many things, and I wanted to help him."

"I know," I said, my voice softening, though the tension remained. "I get it, Dante. I really do. I want to help him too, more than anything. But he just... he just needs space right now. You pushing him won't fix anything."

Dante exhaled heavily, the fight draining from him as he nodded. "Fine, I guess," he muttered. "I'll hit the hay for tonight."

"Yeah," I agreed, my body suddenly feeling heavy with exhaustion. We hugged each other, holding on a little longer than usual. "Goodnight," I whispered, pulling away reluctantly.

"Goodnight," Dante murmured back, giving me one last glance before heading off to his house.

The next morning, breakfast was... well, awkward to say the least. Bhaiya and I sat at the table, both of us quietly munching on the parathas I'd made. I'd always loved our breakfasts together; it usually felt like a little slice of home. But today, after everything that happened last night, the silence between us was heavy, as if neither of us knew what to say.

I glanced up at him a few times, catching the way he was absently tearing his food apart with his hands instead of eating it. I knew he was thinking about something, but I didn't want to push. If Bhaiya was ready to talk, he would.

Finally, he cleared his throat, breaking the stillness. "So what are you planning to do today ?" he asked, his tone light but his eyes focused on his plate.

I set my paratha down, relieved he was opening up a little. "Nothing, most probably just chill," I said. "Maybe go out and check out London on my own."

He nodded, taking a sip of his tea. "And when are you planning to go back ?"

I hesitated for a second, thinking about it. "I was thinking around next month. The ticket prices should be down at that time I think."

Bhaiya smiled slightly, his expression softening as he reached over to ruffle my hair. "You and your plans. Always so calculated, huh?"

"Bhaiya!" I protested, swatting his hand away and trying to smooth down the mess he'd just made. "I don't mess with your hair, do I? I mean, what if I did this?" I leaned forward and mock-styled his hair with my fingers, making exaggerated motions like I was crafting some avant-garde masterpiece.

He laughed, shaking his head. "Please, I'd look better than you even on my worst day."

"Excuse me?" I raised an eyebrow. "This-" I pointed at myself dramatically, "-takes minimal effort. Unlike you, who probably spends an hour in front of the mirror fixing that 'just got out of bed' look."

"Oh, you wish. I wake up looking like this," he teased, flipping an imaginary lock of hair.

I rolled my eyes, feeling the awkwardness between us start to melt away.

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