-• nightmares •-

Consumed with darkness, the night is eerie, empty, soulless. The greedy air licks at my bare arms, and I shiver, wrapping them around my body, a futile attempt to comfort myself.

I find myself stranded on the bridge.

Silence speaks here.

As if it's calling me from all possible directions.

I don't know where to look, whom to find, or what to wait for.

"Tara," I jolt straight hearing the familiar voice. Warmth embraces me. There's someone here with me. I'm not alone.

A smile on my face as I turn. Then it drops.

It's Vivaan. Standing on the guardrail, holding around the edges as he stares at me. I frown. "Bha- Bhai?"

He smiles ruefully. "You were right. I stand here, every year, in an attempt to tell myself that I've moved on. But I haven't." His face grows sombre. "I haven't, Tara."

I take a step forward in his direction when, "Tara!"

Agastya.

I whirl around in shock. He stands on the opposite guardrail, holding the edge, tears streaming down his eyes. "I can't do this anymore. I tried, you know."

"I tried, Tara." My head snaps towards Vivaan. "I tried."

"But it keeps coming back." I look at Agastya.

"Like a boomerang." My eyes stray back to Vivaan. "It's just, I'm stuck, Tara. I'm stuck in that moment."

"I can't move on. I'm trapped there." Agastya whispers.

"No, what- what's going on?" I shake my head, blink my eyes to make sure this is not real. It's a nightmare. I'm having a nightmare. My brothers are safe and sound. But then I open my eyes and the reality stays. I stay. Torn between two ends, both carrying a part of me, prepared to end it with themselves.

"I'm sorry, love." Vivaan murmurs.

"No, no, no," but before I could go to him,

"Forgive me, short stuff." Agastya apologises.

"No-" their grip come off the handrail, their body leans back and then it drops. "No!" I scream.

The black night withers away. That grim world dissolves, disappears. I come back to my room, on my bed, heaving and gasping for air, my eyes on the ceiling, dizzy, dazed as I chase the rotations of the fan. It spins on a slow speed, and I count each rotation, breathing in and out, in and out, until I'm breathing normally again, and the last images of that vivid nightmare are out of my head.

I fist the ends of the pillow beneath my head, clench my jaw tight so the tears don't spill, but they do, and in a matter of seconds, I'm sobbing. The more I grow to love this life, love my family, the more I feel a part of myself is wilting off slowly. Like dried, curled petals on the outside of a blooming rose. And I'm afraid, soon it's going to corrupt me whole. I love my boys. God, I love them.

But it's exhausting.

Facing Yuvraaj and blinding myself to everything he's doing right and wrong with Rudra behind the curtains is exhausting. Talking to Vivaan and acting all fine is exhausting. Helping Agastya while I'm breaking from within because of that night is exhausting. Reassuring Dad that I'm fine is exhausting. Faking excitement for my first day tomorrow at University in front of Janet and the twins is exhausting. Comforting myself that I'm doing nothing wrong by letting my heart choose who it wants despite the consequences is exhausting.

I sit up on the bed, turn off all lights, and hold my face in my hands, hiding myself from the world. I want to exist alone for a moment. Willing darkness is safe. Like the game of hide and seek you play in your childhood. You pray not to be found. I wish I can play that game again. Make it my reality. I wish I can hide forever and never come out.

Dropping my hands to lap, I turn on the lights again and lean back on the headboard. I don't think I can sleep tonight. Especially if I'm alone in this room. As if I carry negative energy with me wherever I go, the large room feels like it's coming closer, compressing slowly, and will soon crush me until I'm a pile of broken bones and bloodied flesh.

The thought brings chill to my spine.

I throw off the comforter and exit the room. But then I come at an abrupt halt realising Dad and Vivaan are at the hospital. Ever since the accident happened, the palace feels a lot emptier than before. Agastya rarely steps out of his room, the twins don't interact much with me, Janet stays in her room preparing for her new course, Dad and Vivaan take up night duties and Yuvraaj only steps out of his study for dinner.

I know what that means.

Everyone is running away from the reality, from the new broken piece of the once perfect family picture. Or was it ever perfect? Something has been eating off at the corners from the beginning and now that it has started to creep closer, it's harder to avoid that the picture is almost ruined.

That we're almost ruined.

Sometimes I scoff at Yuvraaj's determination to protect us from the world when we can't even protect us from ourselves. Does he even know there's a battle happening right inside the palace walls. Will it matter if we win in the war field if we've lost against each other?

I look straight in the direction of Agastya's room. His lights are still on. Does he ever sleep? The bags beneath his eyes are darker than the melanin on his skin.

I bite my lower lip and sigh.

I wish I can call Rudra right now. But that's not possible. We started this, whatever it is, a relationship or a fling, on the basis of conditions that we were already aware of. There's no way for me to reach out to him, and he'll only come to me when he wants to see me. He has all the power between us. And that makes me feel so helpless. I've submitted the reins of my feelings in the hands of a man who wears gloves, both physically and emotionally, as if he's making sure he isn't hurt when the rope slips off his hands.

I descend the staircase. Now that I've come out, might as well drink some water. The bottle in my room is empty and my throat feels scratchy from the moment I woke up.

I enter the kitchen and grab a glass from the cabinet, filling it with water from the purifier. I support my waist with the counter, taking small sips to soothe the dryness in my mouth. The coolness spreads in my chest and I breath softly. Strange how I felt cold in my nightmare but hot and flushed when I woke up from it.

On my way upstairs, I stop at the second floor and frown seeing the lights coming from Yuvaan's art room. I make my way towards the brown door, and lean in. My brows shoot up hearing a soft piano music play in the background, paired with Perry's light snoring. I pull away and stand straight.

It's around two am.

Why is he still up?

Should I ask him?

Is he bothered about something?

But what if he asks me to return the car? I don't want to annoy him. Half the time he looks like everything and everyone annoys him. I said half because the other half he spends cooped up in his room.

I shake my head and turn to leave.

But the door opens suddenly, surprising me to the core. I startle. He flinches too.

"What?"

My eyes drop to his clay covered hands, climbing back to meet his gaze, and I repeat, "What?"

"You are at my doorstep?" He tilts his head to the side, appearing confused.

I clear my throat. "Uh, yeah, I uhm, I saw the lights on. I was just wondering why you aren't asleep yet. Stupid, I know." I dismiss the embarrassing word vomit with a wave of my hand. "Continue, I'll go back to my room. Good night."

"Wait," He grabs my elbow. I wince from the cold. The clay stains my skin as he quickly releases it. "So-Sorry, I forgot about the clay." He whispers.

I force a smile and clean my arm with the other hand. "It's okay. What is it?"

"Your eyes..." He trails.

My fingers brush under the right eye. "What about them? Is there something in them?" I ask self-consciously.

"They are red." He states. "Did you cry?"

My hand drops to my side. I swallow. "No, I just- I woke up from the sleep, and I- uhm, I was just - I think I rubbed my eyes too much-"

"You were crying." He nods.

"No." I shake my head.

"You've tear stains on your cheeks."

"Damnit." I mumble under my breath. "I should go. Sorry for disturbing you. Good night." And I turn to leave.

"Come in." He says instead, causing me to turn halfway, as if one part of me wants to leave, but the other wants to stay.

"Huh?"

"Come in." He opens the door wider.

"Are- Are you sure?" I lick my lips.

"If I wasn't, I wouldn't have made the offer." He deadpans.

Right.

I rush inside his room with baby steps. He closes the door after us softly, so as to not wake up Perry sleeping in his bed. I crouch to the dog's level and gently stroke a hand down his body. He stirs a little so I halt, worried I broke his sleep. But then he starts snoring again. I heave a sigh of relief and stroke him to my heart's brim.

Yuvaan sits back on his stool in from of the wheel, submerges his hands in the bucket of water and then picks up a lump of clay, switching it between his wet hands and forming a bundle before he puts it in the centre.

"I think, last time I saw you working, it was a sculpture."

"That was five months ago." He mumbles.

I bite my lower lip. "Oh," Should I say we're not closer despite spending two years in the same house? Everytime I feel a connection with this man, he shuts off himself and everyone, and the connect is severed. He doesn't try to revive it, neither do I.

I guess, that is why his presence is neither fulfilling nor disappointing. I really thought the two years will push us closer, establish the bond that I feel is missing. But nothing can move this man, not even time. Is it wise to say he lives in his art more than the actual world? Because sometimes I forget he exists.

"Don't you sleep?" I try to keep the conversation going. I'm afraid I'll have to leave this room and go back to mine where the monsters of my nightmares wait for me to lose the grab of reality so I can be in their world again. And I don't want that. I'd rather force a conversation here than hear the silence of my room.

"I do."

"I don't think I ever saw you sleeping." I murmur.

"Maybe because we've different rooms?" He looks at me like I'm making ridiculous statements.

Or maybe because we rarely interact if it's not to argue?

I stop myself from mocking him. What if he tells me to leave the room? Or worse, take back the car from me?

"Right," I chuckle awkwardly. Petting Perry one last time, I get up and slowly veer to his side, locking my hands on my back as I watch him work on shaping the clay. "What are you making?"

"I don't know." He answers.

This I understand. This I can relate with. Sometimes I pick up the brush, but have no idea what I'm going to put on the canvas.

I watch him work with fascination. His hands move seamlessly, almost like that of a ballet dancer. The nimble, long fingers, slender in shape, curve around the clay and mould it to his desire. The pressure of his hands gentle, but still impactful. Like he's doing nothing but the clay knows what's expected of it to become.

"It looks as if you're doing nothing but just touching it," I murmur with a smile.

His face looks paler in the lights, but eyes darker, calmer, like the sea on a moonless, starless, humid night. "But I'm doing everything I can." He looks up at me, and unexpectedly pulls his hands away from the wheel. I gasp. The wet lump of clay falls flat to the surface, now ruined. "See?" He whispers, spins the wheel again and slowly moulds the clay back to how it was. "I'm doing everything I can."

I frown. We're not talking about the clay anymore, that's for sure. "But it doesn't show."

"Unless they're in my place, they'll never see." He stares into my eyes.

I look away from him, overwhelmed with the intensity we've built in this room. "I wonder how Perry sleeps with so much noise?" I say, referring to the sound of wheel and the piano playing in the background.

"He's used to it now." He shrugs. "When we're used to something, whether silence or sound, presence or absence, we stop minding it." He smiles at me. But the dimples don't show.

I force one back. "Yeah," a nod, before I clasp my hands front and sigh. "Can I try that?" Another stupid attempt to change the subject.

He raises a brow. "Are you sure? Your hands will get dirty."

"Oh no, I don't mind." I shake my head. "May I?"

"Sure." He gives up on his seat for me. I sit down as he dries his hands to the cloth, watching me make decision as I stare at the lump in front of me. I don't know what he was trying to make, but it's ruined again. And now it's on me to make something of it. Even though creativity is my forte, patience is not, and this looks like it requires tons of it. "Give it a try." He encourages when I hesitate.

I nod and follow his instructions on using the wheel. Then I gently take hold of the clay and try to copy the same movements he did. But the littlest of pressure breaks off the clay and it falls apart in my hands. "It's okay, try again." I bite the inside of my lip, focusing on the clay, but everytime I try to give it a height, if breaks off in the centre. I huff.

"No, I can't." I came here to de-stress myself not distress myself. This is frustrating.

"Don't give up." He pulls a new stool behind me and sits down. I feel his chest press against my back before his arms surround me to hold the back of my hands. "Like this," as soon as he takes the control, the clay behaves. "Gently. It's not necessary that doing more means doing enough." He instructs. I nod. "Just because you're holding it tightly doesn't mean you're protecting it from breaking apart. Maybe you're suffocating it. Maybe you're crushing it. Or maybe, you're exhausting yourself to the point you're being suffocated. And you don't want that, do you?" I shake my head. "It's okay to be gentle, to press in the right places," he moves my hands to shape the neck of the vase, "and to let it decide what it wants when you cannot," he lets the mouth open wider, "and then you leave it when you've done enough." He pulls off my hands from the vase. The wheel slowly comes to stop. The beautiful vase stands on the surface without crumpling or breaking apart.

I beam. "I did it!" I look at my brother over my left shoulder, my smile as wide as it could get.

He smiles back. This time, the dimples show. "You did. And you did enough."

The crescent on our lips slowly grows heavy, and whatever he said to me in last ten mins comes back, hits me hard, and fills my eyes with fresh tears.

I close my eyes when he leans in to press a kiss to my forehead. "Was it a nightmare?"

I nod softly.

He sucks a deep breath and pulls me closer in his embrace. I bury my face in his chest, wrap my arms around his lean torso and sigh in bliss. This is the calmest I've felt since getting discharged from the hospital.

I sleep in his room that night. He gives up on his bed for me and takes the couch. I cushion my head with my arm over the pillow, and close my eyes, hoping sleep doesn't abandon me halfway if nightmare appears.

But thankfully, I wake up directly in the morning hearing Perry's barking. He isn't really fan of seeing someone else sleep on his master's bed, so he doesn't stop until I'm out of that forsaken bed.

"Done! Happy!?" I snap once I'm standing on the floor. Ignoring me, he hops on the bed and sprawls, as if occupying it all so I don't try to get on it again. "You're so cheap."

"What's happening?" I turn around and scrunch my nose in disgust seeing my brother get out of the bathroom half naked.

"Put on a shirt. I don't want to throw up first thing in the morning."

"Girls die for this," he strokes a hand down his washboard abs.

I gag.

He comes closer and shakes his wet hair like a dog. I shriek and get away from him. Opening the door, I turn around and look at him. "I'd die too, just to never see this again." I retort and slam the door close just as he almost pounces on me. Laughing to myself, I make my way towards the staircase.

But seeing Agastya stops me in place. I walk to him instead. "Why are you up so early in the morning?"

"Why did you come out of his room?" He frowns.

"Oh, that, I was there last night. I hate to admit but we had fun." I help him walk upstairs. "We made a vase together, then we watched a movie, and he let me sleep on his bed." I chuckle. "Perry woke me up. And then we bantered a little before I came out and saw you. You still didn't answer me though? Why are you up? Doctor advised you to not go for a run -" he gently releases himself from my hold and looks at me blankly.

"The physiotherapist said I can go for a walk once in a while. So I went for a walk."

"We- we could have gone together," I murmur hesitantly.

"Yeah, we could have, if you were in your room." He shrugs. "But you were busy having fun with him." I frown. "I mean, I'm shocked he knows how to have fun." He chuckles. "You should go wash up and get ready for University. It's your first day. I heard you're driving his car?"

"Yeah, I, uhm, he said I can keep it."

Agastya hums. "Very generous of him. Anyway, have a great day. Bye." Then he limps off.

I nibble on the inside of my lower lip. Why does it feel like that interaction was more of an accusation than a conversation?

"Tara?" Arush's voice flinches me. I turn around. He's standing at the threshold of his room, holding the door open. "Why are you standing there alone and staring into the distance like a creep? Go and get ready. We've to leave in like," he glances at his wrist watch. "Thirty minutes."

"Right, sorry." I rush out with the apology and scurry to my room.

I choose a maroon shirt that has flat collars and short sleeves. I pair it up with beige color wide legged trousers and for accessories, I choose an elegant gold moon charm pendant with drooping stars that go perfectly with my gold watch. I leave my ears bare, apply a light touch of blush to my moisturized cheeks and color my lips with the rose tint lip balm. I give my hair a centre parting, use a straighter and keep them open. Satisfied with my look, I grab the backpack from the bed and put on the beige pumps, leaving my room with the card key and phone in my hand.

The twins come out at the same time.

We all look at each other, slightly surprised at our timings.

"This reminds me of your first day of school." Ayush smiles.

"Yeah, the same thing happened back then." I chuckle.

"Goes to say we're really siblings." Arush sighs and takes the lead.

Ayush and I follow.

For our first day at the University, we all decided to go together, of course in our own cars. I'm responsible for driving Janet back and forth since her driving license isn't approved yet. I hope it comes soon because our schedules are vastly different and it's going to be a task matching them.

Janet is wearing a white bottleneck blouse and navy blue trousers, paired with a double breasted navy blue trench coat. She's also wearing a black mask.

"Why the mask?" Though I already know the answer, but I'm helplessly hoping she says it's because of the pollution.

"I'm still not that confident to show off my scars proudly." She say sheepishly.

Awkwardness settles in faster between the four of us.

"Let's go, we're late." Arush says stiffly.

I turn and see Ayush, staring longingly at Janet as she walks off briskly past him. He looks at me, as if he's torn between consoling her and confessing her. Because I'm sure he's dying to do both, but has no idea how.

The drive to the university lasts an hour. Janet and I don't speak much, apart from the topic of her face surgery. The doctor said it's possible to remove those scars. And I know Janet was more than happy to hear the news. We can own our scars as long as they're well hidden. Not when they're open to the world's judgement. So I'm with her in every decision she makes.

Atharva and Anagha meet us in the parking lot and they take it on themselves to show us around and make us familiar with the campus. My brothers are still not comfortable around him because of our past, but Ayush manages to hold Arush back from blurting out the wrong things in a fit of anger. As latecomers, we need as much help as we can get.

Once Arush is off to his building, the three of us separate and I tag along with Atharva. He was held back a year when he had run off to Delhi with his sister. The irony, it was Anagha my brother wanted to make sure fails, but the opposite happened. I've no complains. I'll take Atharva as my classmate over anyone else any day.

"So, ready for your first class?"

I wipe my clammy hands to my pants and nod. The moment we step inside the classroom, I draw attention of multiple pair of eyes. Ignoring them, I follow Atharva to the centre row and sit down next to him.

The final bell rings and in a matter of seconds, our professor arrives.

"That's Mrs. Deshmukh. Our HOJ professor." Atharva whispers in my ear.

"HOJ?" I whisper back.

"History of Journalism."

Oh.

I nod in understanding.

Unlike school, there's no first day introduction and we're quickly told to take out our laptops. Atharva had already shared the notes with me and I had studied them last night, so I'm mentally prepared for the upcoming.

By the end of it, I'm slightly overwhelmed with all the information.

"So, that's it for today." She turns off the projector. "Oh, by the way, nice to see you, Taranya," I startle. All eyes turn to me.

"Uh, Hi, Ma- Ma'am." I stutter.

The well dressed, middle aged, beautiful woman smiles at me confidently. "I hope you understood everything that I taught?"

"I did."

"Alright. I'm sure you're already aware of the project you've to submit for my subject at the end of this semester." I nod. "Since you had valid reasons to not attend the university for the first week, I left your column blank. If you want, you can do the project in a team of two, or you can do it individually. What do you choose?"

Do I answer now? I don't get time to decide?

"We'll do it together." Atharva speaks on my behalf.

"Was my question for you, Mr. Saxena?" She inquires sternly.

"We'll do it together." I say confidently. I'd rather have someone to share the burden with than do everything alone. I'm already swallowed in student loans and my part time job. I need good credits to move ahead and grab a well paying job. I'm not slacking off in the first semester itself.

"You know the details." I nod at her statement. "He has already submitted the case he'll be studying, but if you wish to change, you've two days. This is for everyone." Her voice increases a notch. "I don't want anyone of you coming to my desk and requesting a change of case title after two days. That's it for today. Thank you." And she leaves, her prim hair in place, the pleats of her cotton saree moving gracefully.

Almost everyone sighs in relief.

So she's one of the stricts.

"So, do you have a case in mind or should we go with mine?" Atharva asks me.

"Which case title did you submit?"

"The Attacks of 26/11,"

I shake my head. "No, I'm sure there are many who chose the same."

"Yeah, when I filled in my title, two groups had already selected the same for their project." He nods. "Burari Deaths?" He clicks his fingers. "It has some unsolved mysteries around it."

"The topic is already documented." I dismiss.

He purses his lips together, nodding in agreement. "So what do you suggest? Mrs. Deshmukh said, choose a topic that we can give a new opening to, which has something notable to mention, but wasn't studied properly or was closed without a proper investigation."

"I've one in my mind."

"Tell me." He probes.

"Inayat Rizwan, Sunrise Orphan Home suicide case." Is my confident answer.

That's it! Now it's our Tara's time to shine. To everyone thinking why I couldn't take mystery forward, it was because the book is written majorly from Tara's perspective. I needed her to grow up, become a little mature, and give her a valid reason to dive into that world headfirst.

Hope you enjoyed the chapter. Don't forget to vote and comment!