The walk to his house felt heavier than usual. Maybe it was the guilt. Maybe it was the silence that followed the screaming match between you and Shiv. Either way, your fingers hovered over the doorbell longer than necessary before finally pushing it.

The door creaked open—unlocked, as always.

Inside, the house was quieter than usual. No sounds of Shiv’s punching bag being brutally bullied, no muffled gym music, no irritated voice on a work call. Just soft giggles.

You peek around the corner and spot Aadhya on the living room floor, cross-legged, surrounded by dolls dressed in elaborate mismatched outfits. Her tiny fingers were fixing a doll’s tangled hair, but the frown on her face said something was off.

You dropped your bag by the shoe rack and walked in, kneeling gently beside her.

“Hey, Aadhya,” you said softly, a smile creeping onto your face despite the knot in your chest. “How are you, princess?”

She looked up. Brown eyes just like Shiv’s, but way too innocent to ever carry his storms. She pressed her lips into a pout and looked back down. “I’m feeling bad,” she mumbled.

Your brows furrowed. “Oh no… that’s not good.” You rubbed her little knee in slow circles. “Why’re you feeling bad, baby?”

She sniffled, still playing with her doll’s hair. “I heard bhaiya cursing in his room…”

You stilled.

She looked up again, her voice quieter this time. “He said he feels angry… Really angry.”

Your throat tightened, and you reached out to tuck a loose strand behind her ear. Your voice softened. “Did he say anything else?”

She shook her head. “He was throwing stuff… I think he misses you.”

You exhaled, heart stuttering, as if that tiny girl had just delivered the verdict your soul was avoiding. And in that moment, all the yelling, the pride, the distance — it didn’t matter.

You looked up toward his room, jaw clenched, breath steadying.

“Okay,” you whispered, mostly to yourself. “Time to fix it.”