-• i like you •-

Ignoring the way my heart begins to race at his words, I ask him, "Why did you do that?"

His response is nonchalant. "Do what?"

"Take the blame for my mistakes." I clarify, knowing he already understood my question. But okay, if he wants to prolong the conversation by stringing around baselessly, I've no qualms.

"I don't know." He states.

My brows pull together, befuddled at his reply. "What do you mean by you don't know?"

"Can I see you tonight, Princess?" He asks, taking me aback with the question.

"What?"

"I need to see you tonight. I'll come to you."

"When?"

"When it's the right time."

"So in the dark?" I guess.

"Yes. When it's dark."

I lick my dry lips and sit down on the bed to take a deep breath. His words were starting to drown me. Yet the way he said it, rejuvenated my every inch. "Rudra,"

He hums.

"Why is that not your name?"

He falls quiet.

"What is your name?"

"Should you know my name, to know me?"

I let out a shaky breath. "Isn't that how world works?"

"I didn't really see much of world." He replies. "And still, I saw enough."

"You didn't." I murmur.

"Is there a good side to it?" He whispers.

I shift back on the bed and rest my head on the headboard. "There's a beautiful side to it."

I've no idea how we ended up talking about this when we started from questions and accusations, but my heart feels at peace in here, it settles down in my chest, willing to beat in synchrony of his breath.

"I never knew."

"Now you do." I add softly.

"What it's like?"

"It's pretty sad," I nod, smiling painfully. "There's longing, and memories, and hopes and dreams, and there's pain in every moment, and unexpected smiles, it's tripping and exhilarating, you dance and you laugh, and you sit by the river, hearing the sound of ripples, but then you turn on the loud music and sway to the flashing lights. You taste the bitterness to intoxicate yourself and you watch others stumble to feel better about yourself. But you also hold hands and stroll through the park, you play with kids and buy them balloons. You watch them giggle and hear it thrum within your bones. You share and you steal, but at the end of the day, you dream, and you hope, and you unexpectedly smile. Because it's tripping and it's exhilarating."

"It's really pretty sad."

"But it's still pretty." I mumble.

"Is that your version of this world?"

"Version?" I repeat. "Versions are fixed and perfected, world cannot be fixed and perfected. It's my side of the world. The one I see, the one I live in, would love to live in forever."

"Oh,"

"What's your side of the world?"

"Dark." He whispers. "It's selfish, with grimy walls that smell, no- no, they reek. They reek of dishonesty, deception, and false promises. And blood, it's everywhere. In everything. Touched and stained. It's what a battlefield would like after a war. Naked swords, drenched in blood, abandoned by their warriors. Murky days swallowed by grey skies, wisps of smoke permeating the air as bodies burn and burn and burn, and then ashes. You walk through them, and they cling to your feet, creeping into your skin, someone's flesh and bones, now sticking to your soul. You don't know who among them you killed or who among them stood by your side, but you don't stop to wash it off, you charge forward with it, into another battlefield, ready to fight another war."

The easy words penetrate through my body like knives carved with stones, hard and sharp, tearing open my veins and spilling the blood all over. I feel it soak into my bones, hindering my thoughts, reeling me speechless.

"What happened, Tara?" He asks after I don't speak for a while.

"Is that why you're so fond of nights?" I divert to the lighter topic. "Because it allows you to rest?"

"Yes." He nods. "I rest, so I hear myself. I haven't heard myself in a long time. It's quiet. It's so quiet. I like quiet. I like silence. I want to hear the rustling of sheets, and the pitter patter of rain as it thrashes against the windows of my warm home. I want to smell the coffee as it brews in my kitchen. I want to sit down and flip the pages of newspaper. I want to listen to music and dance-" accidentally, I sniffle, stopping him abruptly. "Tara?"

It makes me want to cry. I've always been emotional. He might say he hasn't seen my side of the world, but he has dreamt of it and it hurts to hear his dreams, for they are so simple. No matter how much he pretends to be tough infront of the world, in the inside, he's afterall, just an eighteen year old young boy.

"Thank you."

He sighs. "For what?"

"For opening up to me."

"I was drugged."

The gentleness within the atmosphere wears off as I sit straight in shock. "What!?"

"Punishment."

"Rudra?" I frown. "What are you saying?"

"It's not night yet." He replies. "I'm not me yet."

The cryptic words get me worried. "What are you-"

"I'm sleepy."

"Are you okay?"

He doesn't say anything. And in his silence, I receive his answer. In his silence, I feel his honesty. "Sleep," I whisper.

"Will you be here after I wake up?"

"I'll always be here." I murmur.

"Liar." He slurs. "That's what everyone says. They never mean it."

"I do." I reassure him. "I mean every word I say to you."

"Is that a promise?" He exhales a tired breath.

"Yes. It's a promise."

"Alright, let me promise you something too then."

"You don't need to,"

"I do. So you're compelled to hold your promise. It's always a trade of give and take. In everything."

I sigh. It's instilled deep in his mind. I fail to refute the words.

"I'll come to you." He murmurs. "Wait for me, Princess."

"I will. I'll wait for you."

Then he hangs up and I drop my hand to my lap, feeling this overwhelming urge that begs me to bury my face in the pillow and cry on his behalf. If only I can build a tunnel to transfer his emotions over to me, I'd do it, and I'll feel it, let it fill me to the brim, so I can allow them an escape, through my eyes, and loud sobs, through my body as it rattles and shakes and cuts off the shackles holding him back so he can step out of his side of the world and enter into mine.

A knock on the door startles me. I put the phone on the nightstand and get down, putting on my slippers before I walk up to the door to open it. Dad stands at the threshold, a first aid box in his hands.

"I have one in my room, you know?" I tease him, opening the door wider to let him in.

He chuckles, and nods at me to take a seat at the edge of my bed.

I oblige wordlessly.

He pulls an ottoman closer, settles down on it and opens the box of first-aid. I roll the sleeves of my hoodie and pull up my jeans, revealing the purple-bluish bruises scattered on my fair skin like strokes of mismatched colors.

"Maybe your mother was right," he mutters while tending to my injuries.

"Why? Because she kept me out of this life to protect me?"

He nods, avoiding to meet my eyes. His face is impassive, barren of emotions, but the guilt swims deeper in those onyx eyes. I know it. I've seen it before. The first time we met at the grave of my mother, where I saw him weeping like the world was ending. Maybe for him, it was. Or maybe, it already has.

"Didn't you dream of a life with her?" I ask him bluntly.

"There must be a reason why it remained just a dream. Some of them never see the reality, because they can never survive it." He glances at me, looking down and twisting my arm so he can take a look at the cut on my elbow.

"So you regret bringing me here?" I ask coldly.

He sighs and rests his arm on his knee, the other hand still holding my wrist in position. "I don't know," he shakes his head, discarding the cotton and picking up the bandaid from the box.

"Really?" I wrench out my arm from his hold, my eyes teary as I look at him.

He rubs his joint hands up and down his face, exhaustion deepening the wrinkles around his eyes. "You were safer in London." He looks up at me.

I can hear the footsteps of doom coming closer. "No, I don't like where this is going." I shake my head hurriedly.

"Tara," he tries to catch my hand but I rip myself away from his proximity.

"No! Dad, no! Please!" I shake my head, tears falling down my eyes, rolling out in a speed that doesn't let me wipe them off to see the world clearly even for a second. "I don't want to go back."

He gets up from the ottoman. "Tara, try to understand -"

"No!" I scream as I step back, my voice louder, shrill, like a bolt of thunder, penetrating through these thick walls and booming across the palace because I hear it back, the pleading, the fear, the panic, I hear it all in my voice as it returns to me like a boomerang. "How can you!? How can you send me back there!?"

"Tara, you had a good life there." His voice is softer, gentler. "Your friends are there, Janet is there. Yuvraaj has already talked to her parents. You'll be living with them-"

"But I don't want to!" I shout vehemently. "I want to stay here! With you! With Vivaan and Agastya and Yuvaan and the twins! Do they even know? Do they know you're planning to send me back to London!? Does Vivaan know?" I ask him desperately. "I know he doesn't. He'd never approve of this! Never!"

"He does," Dad replies. "He does and he agrees."

Shock slaps me across the face and I pale. "No. No, you're lying." I shake my head, unable to believe, aghast at the truth. "He can't. And Agastya?"

Dad nods.

Tears stream down my eyes in disbelief. "They'd never."

"You know they would if it means to protect you." He looks into my eyes.

I scoff out a chuckle. "I can't believe this. And why are you here? To tell me the news on their behalf? What a bunch of fucking cowards."

"Tara, they care for you."

"You keep close what you care about. You don't throw it away in another country, seven seas across, so you don't have to worry about it. It's something you don't want but would be a waste to discard." I seethe at him.

His lips fall apart in disbelief, hurt etched across his face.

Not waiting to hear him preach about my brothers like a lawyer, I storm out of the room, down the stairs with my feet barely touching them before I'm back in the living room, catching the attention of my six brothers. Fucking wimps. None of them came upstairs to face me, to tell me the truth on my face.

Agastya gets up from the couch and quickly strides to me. I hold up my hand, stopping him in his place. He hesitantly drops his raised arm.

"Dad told me you guys want me gone-"

"Tara, that's not what-" Vivaan halts when I look at him sharply.

"I believe we've our own perspective. Mine is that I'm being punished and cast aside. But I understand. It's not easy to accept your half sibling as your own and defend their mistakes."

Yuvraaj clenches his jaw tightly. I see his molars grind to the point I pray they fall off from his gums. He deserves that.

"Taranya!" Agastya grabs my arm and whips me to face him. "Watch your words."

"Am I wrong?" I counter. "It's been less than four months that I came here. I tried my best to get along with everyone, accepted every change, no matter how ridiculous it was, with open heart. And this is what I get? A ticket back to London? Am I not one among you?"

"No." Yuvraaj cuts through my words.

I feel a stab of pain within my heart.

"You're way more precious." He steps closer and Agastya shuffles back to give him space. Yuvraaj comes to stand right in front of me. "Yes, it's been less than four months with you in this house, but this house has never seen such bright days before. It never saw someone giggle and fucking bounce like a damn sunshine in all the corners. It never heard music, never witnessed pranks and never had someone spilling popcorn all over the carpet. And now that it did, it cannot lose you. This house, we, our father, our future, cannot lose you." He looks down at me firmly. "It cannot go back to those days. I won't let it."

My eyes fill up with fresh, unexpected tears. "Then why are you sending me back?"

"Because it is the only way to keep you safe. It is the only way we can see those days again." He states.

I step back shaking my head. "It's not fair to me. I've grown fond of you guys. I've started to love you guys. I've accepted you as my family. I can't leave." I look at Vivaan earnestly. His eyes mirror mine, obscured by the glossy tears.

"It's not a choice."

I look up at Yuvraaj, begging him with my eyes. "Don't do this, Bhai. Please."

"Taranya-"

"I'll go along." Yuvaan suddenly speaks.

My eyes snap to where he stands.

Yuvraaj steps to the side and looks at him in confusion.

"I want to as well." Ayush whispers.

Arush startles and looks between me and Agastya. I glance at Agastya only to see him nod. "I'll go too." He raises his hand.

"Are you guys sure?" Yuvraaj asks them.

"Yeah," the three resonate together. "We'll be able to protect her closely. It's better than relying solely on the guards." Yuvaan adds.

Yuvraaj sighs, his strong, calm hands locked over his back. "Alright, if that's what you want. I'll make the arrangements." With that, he spares me a long glance and walks off briskly toward his study room.

I look ahead when Yuvaan walks up to me and raises a gentle hand to cup my cheek, his thumb running beneath my eyes, wiping off the tears that were quick to replace the old ones. "Don't ever say you're not one among us. You're the crown we carry on our heads. We're proud to have you as our sister." He whispers and that's all I need to hear before breaking down in his arms. He hugs me tightly, his hand stroking the back of my head, soothing down the vibrations of my back as I sob against his chest.

When we pull away, he leans in to press a kiss on the top of my head. "No British boys, okay?" He wags a finger at my face, his tone playful, taunting.

I chuckle through my tears. "I'm going to sneak them inside my room when you're asleep."

He gasps and hits me in the back of my head. "Do that, I dare you. I'll rip off his limbs and feed them to alligators."

I rub my head, my lips enclosed in a sad pout. "Fine, I'll sneak them inside when you're not home."

"But I'm always home." He shrugs.

"Exactly," I snort.

He laughs and pulls me for a hug once again. I sigh in his embrace. For the first time, his presence doesn't alarm me, rather it comforts me. I won't be alone there. I'll have him by my side. Oh, and the twins too.

He steps back when his phone begins to ring. "I've to take this, excuse me." He says and walks off.

"Taranya," I feel my hand being held. My eyes shift to the owner. Agastya's onyx eyes stare back at me regretfully. "I'll come along too."

I chuckle and step closer to him. "I know why you can't. I understand."

He lowers his head sheepishly. "I'm sorry."

"It's okay. At least you offered to come. That's what matters."

"I'm going to miss you." He looks into my eyes.

"You should be relieved. I'll be gone again."

He clicks his tongue in disapproval. "Don't say that." And he pulls me in for a tight hug. "I'm going to miss your nagging when I flirt with older women, and your blackmailing when I try to speed up, and the way my loud music annoys you. That reminds me, your choice in music is shitty by the way."

I pull away, rolling my eyes at his audacity. "Don't make laugh now. If my choice in music could be traded, you'd never be able to afford it."

"Accha? (Oh really?)" He drags on playfully.

"Ji, acchaa!"

"Oh, Tara understands Hindi now."

I scoff. "I always did."

"Jhooti. Tu toh Hindi movies bhi Hindi subtitles padh ke dekhti hai. (Liar. You even watch Hindi movies with Hindi subtitles.)"

I don't know what he said but it felt insulting. "Shut up."

"What did I say?" He interrogates.

"I'm not wasting my time repeating shit to you." I scowl and walk away so I can hide my real feelings between the walls of my room. On the way, I come across Dad. He raises his hand in my direction, but my body automatically recoils, away from his touch before I head upstairs past him.

I'm still not happy with Yuvraaj's decision. But I have to accept it because he's older among all the siblings. It feels unfair. Dad could have rejected the idea of sending me back to England. He's our father for Pete's sake. But no, he'd never say no to Yuvraaj, because in a stupid way, that's his way of repenting. He'll always stand quietly in a corner, like a bystander watching everything without an opinion because it doesn't concern him. Does it not really? I'm scared to find out.

I close the door to my room and sink to the floor, allowing the grief to catch up to me. I've no idea how long I'll be in England for. Does that mean this is the end of what Rudra and I had?

What did we even have?

And if we had nothing, why does it hurt so much?

I drop my head between my knees, wishing to crush my skull and tear it open, so I can sort through my thoughts and get rid of those belonging to him.

Lifting my eyes, I rest my head against the door. I wonder what happened to Meera. My inevitable return to England was a result of my curiosity and concern for her.

I hope wherever she is, she is safe.

I can't even tell my brother about it since he'll know it was my decision to throw myself in the mouth of danger. Whatever chance I might have at changing his mind about sending me to England will be close to nothing if he finds out the truth.

But I can tell Rudra.

I should tell him.

The dinner is a strained event. None of us speak. They can't because it has always been me introducing lighter and fun topics to the table. Yuvraaj is focused on his phone. Yuvaan plays with his food. Agastya barely even eats. Ayush has brought over his book to read and Arush constantly sighs, so much that one time he even receives a glare from all of us. Vivaan tries to talk to me but I don't spare him a glance. For some reason, I feel betrayed by him. I remember him blaming me for thinking to choose Anagha over them, and now it was him, agreeing with Yuvraaj's decision to send me back.

After returning to my room, I fail to wait up for Rudra the moment my back touches the comfort of bed. I fall asleep despite my fight against the consciousness.

And then I wake up to a gentle touch fleeting across my cheek, like a storm of snow, cold, freezing, it brings shivers to my body. My eyes flutter open to the sight of a dark figure glowing under the moonlight, crouched at the side of my bed, their face concealed with a mask.

"You came."

"Because I promised." He whispers.

In the haze of sleep, through the blaze of passion, I fling myself into his arms and he gasps, his heart racing mile a minute, his body estranged to affection, but that doesn't make him throw me off. He stays still, his arms loose on the sides, they twitch and they hesitate, they linger in the air, hovering close to my waist, but they never settle.

"Ta-Tara."

"I like you." I confess.

Oh, this has to be my most fucking favourite chapter!

Hope you enjoyed it as much as I did while writing. Don't forget to vote and comment. Makes my day.