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"You can't mourn something you never believed would burn."
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Delhi – April 2026
The ceiling fan spun in tired, uneven circles. It squeaked with every rotation, like it was begging for mercy. The room smelled like heat and stale memories.
Aarav lay motionless on the sofa, shirtless, eyes half-lidded, a melted bag of chips forgotten on his chest. The TV flickered across his face, throwing shadows that didn't matter.
He clicked through the channels with the remote, thumb moving like muscle memory.
News. Violence. Dead soldiers.
Click.
Some influencer screaming about skincare.
Click.
Prank video. Old man gets slapped with a fish.
Click.
"…tensions continue to rise at the northern border. Defense officials have—"
Click.
He sighed, head sinking deeper into the cushion.
Everything was noise. Everything was useless.
From the kitchen, a cabinet slammed shut.
"You gonna take the trash out or just rot there forever?" his mother's voice snapped.
He didn't look up. "Later."
"You said that yesterday."
"So what?"
"I'm doing everything in this house by myself."
Aarav rolled his eyes. "You've been doing that since Dad left. You want a medal now?"
The silence after that was brutal. Not empty. Loaded.
She stepped into the doorway. Arms crossed. Eyes rimmed red, like she'd been crying since morning but didn't want to admit it.
"You think you're grown?" she said quietly. "You think you understand anything just because he's not here?"
"I understand enough," he muttered, still not looking at her. "I remember the shouting. The broken plates. I remember watching him leave without turning back."
Her jaw clenched. Her voice cracked. "You think I wanted that?"
He sat up now, slow, deliberate. "No. I think you broke each other and expected me to sweep up the pieces."
She flinched—not from anger. From the truth.
She turned away. "There's nothing in the fridge. I'm going to the mall."
He didn't answer.
The door closed behind her with a finality that made his chest ache, but he didn't know why.
---
Minutes passed. Or hours.
On screen, some YouTuber shouted motivational bullshit at a screaming crowd.
"Step one to not being a loser: Get the hell up!"
Aarav threw the remote at the wall.
It bounced off. Didn't even break.
His phone buzzed.
Notification:
Memorial Today – Kargil Fallen Soldiers
He stared at it.
Lt. Subham Saini.
His brother.
Gone two years. Buried with a flag, praised in a speech, then forgotten.
Just another name. Just another photo in a frame.
Aarav hadn't visited the grave in a year. Couldn't even say why. Couldn't look at his mother when she cried about it, either.
He closed the notification.
---
Outside, the sky dimmed. Orange heatwaves smeared the horizon like ash on skin. The city buzzed in that slow, dying way Delhi always did before another sleepless night.
The news played in the background again. Same anchor. Same panic.
> "Breaking: Enemy troops confirmed across the northern line. Air defense activated. Civilians urged to remain indoors—this is not a drill—"
He laughed under his breath.
"Yeah, sure. What is it now, World War Three?"
BOOM.
The sound shook the windows. A low, distant thud, like the world cleared its throat too loud.
He sat up straight.
BOOM.
Closer. The glass on the TV cabinet rattled.
Aarav stood, walked to the window.
Far in the distance, smoke rose like a fist through the skyline.
Then fire. Buildings folded like cardboard. A tower collapsed. Sirens screamed.
Then gunfire.
Then more explosions.
"...What the f—"
He stumbled back as another blast rippled through the air. The wall clock fell and shattered. Dust rained from the ceiling.
His phone buzzed.
Call: Mom
He answered in a heartbeat. "Ma?!"
"Aarav?! Oh my god—baby, are you okay?"
"Where are you? I saw the skyline—"
"I'm at Sector 9 Mall. There's—there's shooting. I don't know who they are. The military's—"
Gunshots.
Screams.
"Stay inside!" she cried. "Don't come out! You hear me?! Don't you fuc—"
CRASH.
Screeching.
"LEAVE ME ALONE!"
The line went dead.
Aarav stared at the screen. No bars. No signal.
His hands were trembling.
He grabbed his jacket. Ran for the door.
Outside, the air was thick with smoke, dust, and panic. People flooded the streets, running without direction. Cars honked and reversed and crashed. The sky wasn't blue anymore — it was fire.
His lungs burned. His heartbeat was a war drum.
Somewhere beyond the chaos: the mall.
His mother.
He ran.
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TO BE CONTINUED→
[It's all about patience 🌊]