Unseen Scars Beneath the Surface

The soft hum of the hospital ward was punctuated only by quiet whispers and the faint rustling of sheets. Kiaan sat beside Aarohi, still holding her frail hand, when the girl's gaze shifted downward and then back up, eyes narrowing with sudden curiosity and concern.

"Bhai… what's that on your neck?" Aarohi's voice was hesitant but sharp, her small fingers reaching up toward the exposed skin at Kiaan's collar.

In an instant, Kiaan's hand shot up, instinctively covering the marks hidden beneath his collar. His heart pounded—an involuntary reaction revealing more than words ever could. The room's atmosphere thickened, as if time slowed for a fragile moment.

Dev and Tara, sitting nearby, exchanged a quick glance. Tara's brow furrowed, while Dev leaned forward, eyes flicking toward Kiaan with unspoken questions.

Before anyone could say a word, Rehaan shifted uneasily in his chair a few feet away. As if sensing the tension, he too lowered his gaze and turned his neck slightly, concealing faint bruises just visible beneath his shirt collar.

Kiaan forced a dry laugh, attempting to lighten the mood. "It's nothing—just a scratch from the chaos last night. Don't worry."

But Aarohi's wide eyes didn't let it go. "It doesn't look like a scratch, bhai. It looks like… pain."

Tara cleared her throat gently, stepping closer with a softer tone. "Aarohi, sometimes when people fight or go through hard times, their bodies show it. But they're here to heal now."

Dev nodded, adding quietly, "What you see on their skin—those are marks from enemies who don't want them or their friends to survive."

Rehaan's eyes darkened as he spoke softly, "These marks are from people who don't care about mercy."

Kiaan swallowed hard. He wanted to shield Aarohi from this ugly truth, yet her innocence pierced through his defenses.

"Bhai," she whispered, "do you want to tell me what happened?"

For a long moment, Kiaan's eyes met hers—there was vulnerability hidden behind the stoic mask. Finally, he said, "I fought for you. To keep you safe. These marks—they're the price."

A silence fell, heavy and fragile.

Dev broke it with a reassuring smile, "And we'll make sure no one ever hurts you again."

Tara glanced at Kiaan and Rehaan. "You both carry more than just physical wounds. But right now, the most important thing is healing."

Kiaan finally let his hand drop from his neck, slowly revealing the bruises beneath his shirt. Aarohi looked at them with a mixture of fear and admiration.

"Bhai…" she said softly, "I'm proud of you."

Kiaan's heart clenched. "Thank you, Aarohi. That means more than you know."

The room settled into a quiet hopefulness, but beneath the surface, the scars—and the enemies who left them—still lingered in the shadows.

As Kiaan stepped out of the ward, the sterile hospital lights seemed a little softer, the coldness of the place momentarily less oppressive. He exhaled deeply, a slow breath of relief escaping his lips, as if finally shedding the weight that had been pressing on his chest. Rehaan followed close behind, his footsteps heavy but steady. The lingering aches in their bodies were physical reminders of the brutal night they barely survived, but the scars etched deeper in their minds.

Rehaan glanced sideways at Kiaan and then lowered his gaze, fingers trembling ever so slightly as they grazed the faint bruises on his own neck. "I almost died in there," he muttered, voice low and rough, as though admitting it even to himself was difficult. He swallowed hard, turning his neck subtly to hide the marks again, especially from prying eyes. "Thank God that little girl was too young to understand what those marks mean... too innocent to know the horrors behind them."

Kiaan nodded grimly, the raw pain still throbbing beneath his skin as he adjusted his collar, trying to quell the flicker of vulnerability. "Yeah," he agreed softly. "She called me 'bhai'… That's the one thing I want to protect—no one else should see these wounds, no one else should carry this fear."

They paused near the hospital corridor, the muffled sounds of distant footsteps and hushed conversations around them. Kiaan's eyes darkened with resolve. "Tara, we need to arrange a safe place for those girls—especially for the families who haven't arrived yet. They can't stay here indefinitely, not with everything that's going on. We have to get them somewhere secure, where they can start to heal without the shadows lurking behind every door."

Tara's expression was serious as she jotted down notes on her tablet. "I'm already coordinating with local shelters and safe houses. I'll make sure it's discreet—nothing that would alert anyone who might want to find them. We have to move quickly."

Rehaan let out a dry laugh, though it carried no real humor. "Discreet is the word of the day. After last night, I don't even want to think about who's watching or waiting outside."

Kiaan looked at his friend, his voice dropping to a near whisper. "They marked me again, Rehaan. That bastard—Reyaan Malhotra. He's trying to break me, to make me remember him in every waking moment."

Rehaan clenched his fists, anger simmering beneath the exhaustion. "We won't let him win. We're not just fighting for ourselves anymore—we're fighting for those girls, for their families, for everyone caught in this nightmare."

Kiaan's gaze hardened with determination as they continued walking down the hall, the heavy burden of their silent battles weighing on their shoulders—but neither of them would back down.