Meanwhile, in the room across the hallway, while Armaan was silently battling the storm inside him, Laksh was deep in sleep—peaceful, undisturbed… until something shifted.
Out of nowhere, his eyes flew open.
He blinked a few times, disoriented. There was this weird restlessness creeping through him, like his body had woken up before his mind had caught up. His throat felt dry, scratchy. He sat up slowly and reached out for the bottle on his bedside table… only to find it completely empty.
He sighed.
"Of course," he muttered to himself, rubbing his eyes as he swung his legs over the side of the bed.
The room was dark, quiet. Too quiet. Something about the night felt unusually heavy—but Laksh shook it off, figuring he was just thirsty and overthinking. He grabbed his phone, the screen lighting up to show it was well past midnight.
"Guess I'll go grab some water," he mumbled, running a hand through his already messy hair. With a sigh, Laksh turned on the dim bedside lamp and got out of bed, making his way toward the kitchen to fetch water. As he filled his glass and began walking back to his room, a distant but sharp noise made him stop mid-step.
A voice.
No... a scream.
His brows furrowed.
It was coming from Armaan's room.
Worried, Laksh rushed toward the door, heart thudding in his chest. As he reached the room, he found the door already ajar. What he saw inside made his stomach drop.
Armaan was on the floor, his knees drawn to his chest, hands tightly clamped over his ears, trembling—his entire body radiating distress.
Without a second thought, Laksh rushed over and dropped to his knees in front of Armaan. Placing a steady but gentle hand on his cousin's shoulder, he asked, voice thick with concern,
"Armaan, what's going on? You were screaming—what happened? Are you okay?"
Armaan flinched slightly at the sound, like he'd just been yanked out of some dark place. His eyes fluttered open, dazed and unfocused. He looked around, breathing hard, as if trying to convince himself he was back in the real world.
His hands, which had been clutching his ears tightly, slowly fell to his sides. For a few seconds, he just blinked—silent, shaken, trying to piece himself back together.
Laksh didn't push. He stayed there quietly, his knees pressed to the floor, watching Armaan's face like he was waiting for some kind of signal—any sign that he was okay.
A long pause followed. The silence in the room was heavy, like it was holding its breath.
Finally, Armaan looked up. His breathing had slowed a little, and he looked calmer now—but the storm in his eyes hadn't fully passed. There was something in his gaze—exhaustion, pain, and something else he was clearly trying to hide.
"I–I think I had a nightmare," he said, his voice still slightly hoarse. "Maybe that's why I screamed... But there's nothing to worry about now. I'm fine."
Laksh narrowed his eyes slightly. He didn't believe that completely, but he didn't want to push too hard either.
"A nightmare? Are you sure you're okay?" he asked gently, still not convinced.
Armaan stood up quickly, dusting his hands on his pants, avoiding Laksh's gaze. He looked around the room as if trying to ground himself in reality.
"Yeah—yeah, I'm fine," he repeated, forcing a smile that didn't quite reach his eyes.
Laksh stood up too, his eyes still fixed on Armaan with concern. "Alright... if you say you're fine, I won't push. Get some rest."
He turned, walking toward the door. His hand had just reached the doorknob when he heard Armaan's voice behind him—quiet, but clear.
"Laksh..."
Laksh paused and slowly turned around.
Armaan was sitting upright now, his eyes locked onto Laksh's. There was something serious about his gaze—something that made the air shift.
"Do you love Aarohi?"
Silence.
The words landed between them like a dropped glass—quiet, but impossible to ignore.
Laksh just stared at him for a second, caught completely off guard. He blinked, unsure if he'd heard right. "What? What did you just say?" laksh asked, narrowing his eyes.
Armaan stepped forward, his voice calm but firm, eyes locked on Laksh's. "I asked, Do you love Aarohi?"
For a moment, neither of them moved. The silence between them wasn't empty—it was loaded, heavy with something unspoken.
Then suddenly, Laksh let out a sharp laugh. Loud. Carefree. Almost too carefree. He threw his head back, wiped an imaginary tear from the corner of his eye, and grinned. "Me? In love with Aarohi?" he repeated, the disbelief practically dripping from his tone. "You mean the Aarohi who picks a fight with me every time we breathe the same air?"
He shook his head, still chuckling. "Come on, Armaan. I'm Laksh Oberoi. Girls chase me, remember? I could have anyone I want—why would I fall for someone I can't stand for more than five minutes?"
He started to walk away, but paused mid-step. His voice softened just a little—not enough to raise suspicion, but enough to let something slip through.
He paused, then added with a slightly more thoughtful tone, "I mean… sure, she's beautiful. Smart, too. Kind in a way that's rare. A total package, really. But nah... she's just not my type."
Armaan's brows pulled together, his voice dropping into a quiet, probing tone.
"What do you mean… 'not your type'?"
Laksh gave a small shrug, his usual arrogance dimmed, like he was trying to act unfazed but didn't quite pull it off.
"She's all about feelings, man. Emotions. That deep, soulful kind of stuff," he said, half-laughing. "I'm not wired like that. I live in the moment. I crack jokes, I keep things light. She takes life seriously. I… don't."
He paused, a faint smile tugging at his lips—one that didn't quite reach his eyes.
"Aarohi… she's the kind of girl who believes in forever. Like once she holds your hand, she's never letting go. Doesn't matter how hard it gets. And me?"
He glanced away for a second, then looked back with a lopsided grin.
"You've seen me, Armaan. Flirting, dating, moving on like it's nothing. I can charm a room, sure. But love?" He scoffed lightly. "That's not my thing. Never has been."
The grin faded just a little as he added quietly,
"She deserves someone who can hand over his whole heart without hesitation. Someone who'd choose her in every lifetime, without blinking. Someone who… makes her feel like she's his whole damn world."
He exhaled a breath, as if the words were heavier than they sounded.
"And that's not me. That's why… me and Aarohi? We're impossible."
Armaan's gaze didn't waver. His face was calm, unreadable.
"But that wasn't my question," he said quietly. "I didn't ask if you deserve Aarohi. I asked… do you love her?"