The air in the banquet hall was thick with the scent of expensive cologne and celebratory lilies, but for Amol, the atmosphere felt suffocating. As the laughter reached a crescendo, he slipped away from the throng of guests, a shadow moving against the current of joy. On the dance floor, bathed in the amber glow of the spotlights, Avni and Divyash were the picture of radiance. They moved in perfect synchronization, surrounded by a tight-knit circle of cousins and friends whose cheers echoed off the high ceilings.
Amol reappeared as abruptly as he had vanished, stepping into the inner circle to stand beside Divyash. His voice, sharpened by an unreadable edge, cut through the music.
"It’s your birthday, Jija-ji!" he shouted, ensuring the vibration of his voice caught every ear in the room. "A man of your talents shouldn't be hiding in a crowd. You owe us a personal performance, right everyone?"
The suggestion spread like wildfire. A chorus of voices rose in agreement, demanding a solo. Divyash laughed, shaking his head in a modest attempt to decline, but the pressure of a hundred expectant eyes held him captive. He turned to Avni, seeking an ally in his escape, but she only beamed at him, her eyes bright with pride.
"Go on, Divyash," she urged, her voice a gentle push. "Show them. We all know you’re the best dancer in this room."
He offered a mock sigh of surrender. "Fine. But only on one condition—the moment the song ends, every single one of you has to join me. I'm not staying out here alone for long."
The DJ took the cue, dropping a high-octane track that pulsed through the floorboards. As the crowd retreated to the perimeter, leaving Divyash at the center of the vast, polished floor, the energy in the room shifted to rapt focus. From the entrance, Vivek watched his younger brother with a bittersweet smile, leaning against the doorframe. However, as his eyes drifted upward, his smile curdled.
High above the rhythm and the light, the massive glass disco ball was trembling. It didn't sway with the music; it shuddered with a mechanical, violent instability.
"Divyash! Move!" Vivek’s voice was a frantic roar, but it was swallowed by a sudden, deafening crack.
The heavy sphere tore free from its moorings. It didn't just fall; it plummeted like a comet. It struck the stage just inches from Divyash, the impact splintering the wood and sending a shockwave through the hall. For a heartbeat, there was only the hiss of the smoke machine, which began to vomit a thick, white fog over the wreckage. Then came the second sound—the horrific, crystalline shatter of the ball itself.
The heavy glass shards exploded outward. Before anyone could breathe, the light was gone, replaced by the screams of the guests. Through the haze, Avni and Vivek lunged toward the epicenter.
When the smoke cleared, the sight was a nightmare. Rishab was already there, cradling Divyash’s limp form. The birthday boy was pale, a jagged trail of crimson leaking from a deep gash on his forehead, staining his festive attire.
"Call an ambulance!" Avni’s voice was a raw, primal shriek.
Chaos became the only order. Vivek and Rishab hoisted Divyash’s dead weight, sprinting for the exit with a desperation that bordered on violence. Behind them, the family scrambled into cars. Avni took the wheel of her own vehicle, her knuckles white as bone against the leather. She didn't see the red lights or the blurring city streets; she saw only the taillights of the car carrying her husband, her foot pinned to the floor.
Behind her eyes, a darker memory was clawing its way to the surface—the smell of rain and burning rubber, the sight of her parents' mangled car from years ago. The trauma she had buried was rising like a tide.
At the hospital, the sterile white lights felt like an assault. Doctors and orderlies swarmed, whisking Divyash into the emergency room and slamming the double doors behind them. Rishab stood in the hallway, staring down at his hands. They were slick with blood—Divyash’s blood. Vivek paced like a caged animal, his breath hitching in his chest.
Avni sat on the edge of a plastic chair, her gaze fixed on the "Surgery in Progress" sign. She was falling into a familiar, cold spiral. First my parents. Now him.
Avni’s POV
Please, God. Not this again. You’ve already taken everything that anchored me to this world. If he leaves, I go with him. I am a jinx. A walking omen of tragedy. I planned this party. I invited the guests. I told him to dance. The guilt felt like lead in her lungs. I forced him into the center of the room. This isn't an accident; it's my curse.
Author’s POV
An hour passed with the agonizing slowness of a century. Finally, the lead surgeon emerged, pulling his mask down. The family surged forward, a wall of frantic faces.
"He’s stable," the doctor said, his voice a calm anchor. "He has a significant concussion and some lacerations on his back, but nothing life-threatening. He was knocked out by the sheer force of the impact. He’ll need two months of recovery, and he’s sustained a clean fracture in his left hand, but he’s out of danger. We'll keep him for observation for a few days."
A collective sob of relief broke the tension. "Bhagwan ka shukar hai," his dadi whispered, her trembling hands pressed together in prayer.
While the family wept and hugged, Avni remained in the corner, frozen. She was a ghost at her own vigil. Ridha, noticing the hollow look in Avni’s eyes, walked over and gently guided her to a bench. "He’s okay, Avni. You heard him. He’s going to be fine."
Avni finally looked up, and the dam broke. Tears flooded her face as she buried her head in Ridha’s shoulder. "It was me, Maa," she sobbed, her voice breaking. "I shouldn't have made him dance alone. I shouldn't have thrown the party. It’s all my fault."
"Hush, bacha," Ridha murmured, stroking her hair. "It was a freak accident. Divyash would be heartbroken to hear you say that. He lives for your smile, not your guilt."
When the nurse finally announced that Divyash was conscious, the room emptied as everyone rushed to his bedside. Only Avni stayed behind, unable to move, her feet heavy with the weight of her perceived sins. Vivek eventually came back for her, taking her hand with a firm, brotherly grip. "He's asking for you, Avni. Don't keep him waiting."
Inside the room, the scent of antiseptic was overwhelming. Divyash looked small amid the wires and the heavy cast on his arm, but as Avni entered, his face lit up. He looked past his parents, past the cousins, seeking only her.
"Where is she?" he whispered, his voice raspy.
Avni stepped into his line of sight. The relief was a physical blow, but the sight of his bandages made her flinch. She stood at the foot of the bed, trembling, the words she wanted to say trapped in her throat.
"I told you," Ridha said with a tearful smile, "his first thought would be you."
Divyash reached out with his uninjured right hand, his fingers beckoning. Avni moved forward, finally closing the distance, and let him take her hand. The party was over, the music had stopped, and the world was shaken—but in the quiet of the hospital room, they were still holding on.
I am fine, Jaana. Look at me," Divyash said, his voice a low, soothing anchor in the sterile room. Avni looked up at him, her vision blurred by a fresh glaze of tears that refused to spill.
"Hush, look at me. I am just as fine as I was before—I’m just doing a very convincing mummy impersonation right now," Divyash teased, his eyes twinkling despite the exhaustion etched into his face. He was trying desperately to pierce the heavy shroud of her guilt with a joke, but the levity backfired. At the mention of his condition, the dam finally broke, and Avni began to cry in earnest.
"Oh, come on, it wasn't that bad of a joke that you had to start crying, Jaana," he said softly, his expression melting into pure tenderness. "Come here, give me a hug. Come on."
Avni leaned in, wrapping her arms around him with the delicacy of someone holding shattered glass. Even though she was mindful of his injuries, as she pressed against him, Divyash couldn’t help it—a sharp, involuntary hiss of pain escaped his lips.
Avni pulled back instantly, her face pale with terror. "Are you hurting somewhere?" she asked, her voice trembling and her eyes wide with fear.
Divyash quickly caught her hand with his good one, pulling her back into his space before she could spiral into another round of self-blame. "I am fine, Jaana. Truly. There is no need to worry," he whispered, his voice firm and steady. He pulled her into a protective embrace with his fine hand, holding her close as if to shield her from her own thoughts.
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