Meera was the first to move.
A sharp gasp tore from her throat as she rushed forward, dropping to her knees beside Rani. "Rani…" Her hands trembled as she cradled her sister's head, panic flooding her face. "Rani, open your eyes. Please."
Aakash followed quickly, his expression tight, controlled—but alarm flickering beneath it. He slid an arm under Rani's shoulders, careful, steady. "Help me," he said quietly, guiding her toward the couch.
They laid her down gently.
Blood stained the edge of her hairline. Her breathing was shallow, uneven.
Meera brushed Rani's hair away from her face, tears pooling. "What happened… what did he do?" Her eyes lifted—slowly—toward Kiaan.
Kiaan was still standing where he was.
His fists were clenched. His jaw set. The air around him felt charged, restless, as though it hadn't fully decided whether to obey gravity again. The fragments of stone hovered, quivering, waiting for his next breath.
Yuvaan stepped forward.
"Kiaan," he said, firm but careful. "Calm down."
The boy didn't look at him.
The glow from the bangle throbbed once more—low, warning, alive.
"Kiaan," Yuvaan said again, louder now, impatience bleeding into fear. "Enough. Calm down."
Still nothing.
The hum in the room deepened. The suspended debris shook harder, rattling against an invisible force. Curtains flared. The light flickered.
Yuvaan's control snapped.
"KIAAN!" he shouted.
The sound cut through the room like a blade.
Kiaan's shoulders stiffened.
Slowly—very slowly—his fists loosened. His breathing eased, one deliberate inhale, then another. The fire in his eyes dimmed, not extinguished, just pushed back.
The bangle flickered.
Once.
Twice.
Then the glow faded, retreating into the metal as though it had never been there at all.
The stones fell.
Pebbles clattered to the floor. Plaster fragments hit the ground with dull thuds. The curtains stilled. The air settled, heavy with what had almost happened.
Silence rushed in to replace the chaos.
Kiaan finally looked up.
Straight at his father.
The calm on his face was unsettling—not relief, not fear—just restraint.
Yuvaan swallowed, his chest tight, his eyes lingering on the now-dormant bracelet.
Something had changed.
And every person in the room could feel it.
Rani stirred.
A faint groan escaped her lips as her eyelashes fluttered open. Meera leaned forward instantly, relief rushing through her features. "Rani… thank God." She helped her sit up, pressing a glass of water into her trembling hands. "Drink slowly."
Rani's fingers shook as she took the glass. A small sip. Then another. Her eyes looked dazed, unfocused—perfectly fragile.
"What happened?" Meera asked, her voice breaking. "Why… why did Kiaan do this to you?"
Rani's gaze shifted.
Slowly.
Almost reluctantly.
She looked toward Kiaan, then away, as if afraid to meet his eyes. Her lower lip trembled. Tears welled up, spilling over as she shook her head faintly.
"I…" Her voice cracked. "I only went to his room to wish him happy birthday." She paused, swallowing hard. "I wanted to make him feel loved."
The room leaned in, hanging onto every word.
"He suddenly got angry," Rani continued softly, tears sliding down her cheeks. "He told me to leave. I tried to calm him down… I swear I did." She clutched the edge of the couch. "But he… he lost control. He attacked me."
A stunned silence followed.
Meera's face hardened instantly. She turned toward Kiaan, fear and frustration blending together. "This is exactly what I was afraid of," she said sharply. "His behavior is getting worse every day. What if next time it's more serious? What if someone gets seriously hurt?"
Bhoomi's eyes flickered with doubt. Susheela's hands clenched together, unease settling deep in her chest.
Yuvaan stepped forward.
His jaw was tight, his expression severe—not a father, but a man forced into authority.
"Kiaan," he said, his voice controlled but heavy. "You cannot use your powers like this. Not to hurt people. Not ever."
Kiaan said nothing.
His gaze was fixed on the floor. His fists were clenched again—not glowing this time, but rigid with suppressed fury.
"You don't get to decide when it's okay to lose control," Yuvaan continued, disappointment cutting through his tone. "Whatever your anger is, whatever you believe—this is not how you deal with it."
Still silence.
Yuvaan's patience thinned. "Apologize."
The word hung in the air.
Slowly, Kiaan lifted his head.
His eyes were dark. Sharp. Unyielding.
He spoke carefully, each word measured, deliberate—almost savage in its restraint.
"I will not apologize."
The room froze.
Rani's sobs faltered for just a fraction of a second.
Yuvaan stared at his son, shock flashing across his face.
And for the first time, everyone realized—this wasn't just a child's defiance.
This was a line being drawn.
To be continued.....