Chapter 7: The Withered Flower and the Dried Tea
Aarav held Kiyan tightly in his arms, patting his back slowly. "Calm down, Kiyan. I'm here, I'm with you."
Kiyan's body gradually went slack. His breaths began to deepen, but suddenly he pulled himself together and shoved Aarav back. He scrambled off the bed and moved towards the door.
"Kiyan, wait!" Aarav said, sitting up. "What happened?"
Kiyan didn't look back. He opened the door and walked out.
Aarav ran to the window. Outside, the rain had stopped, the streets wet and glistening. But by the time he reached the gate and peered out, Kiyan was nowhere to be seen. He had vanished into thin air, like a phantom shadow.
Aarav looked around—an empty lane, trees dripping water, the distant sound of a dog barking. He returned to his room and lay back on the bed.
"This Kiyan… something is seriously off," he muttered to himself. "First, he was trembling in a nightmare, and when I woke him, he hugged me. Then he pushed me away and distanced himself. What kind of guy is he? Doesn't talk about himself, doesn't let anyone in. And I don't know why, but our paths keep colliding, over and over. I don't know what connection we have that brings us so close only to push us apart again."
He checked the clock—12:30 AM. He pulled the blanket over himself and tried to sleep.
---
Meanwhile, Kiyan was still running down the street. His breaths were ragged, his heart pounding. The same black crow was flying above him, as if tethered by an invisible thread.
Kiyan suddenly stopped. He went under a tree and let out a guttural scream—"Aaargh!"
The sound held so much pain and rage that a drunk man passing by startled.
"Hey! Are you crazy? Why are you screaming?" the man slurred angrily.
Kiyan slowly raised his head. That golden glint reignited in his eyes, this time with a dangerous sharpness.
The man was frightened. He began to back away, but Kiyan was in front of him in an instant. He grabbed the man's throat and lifted him into the air. The man's scream died in his throat.
Kiyan widened his eyes, and a golden mist began to seep from the man's body—his youth, the essence of his years. The mist was drawn into Kiyan's open mouth. The man's skin began to shrivel, his hair turned white. In mere seconds, a young man transformed into an aged, helpless husk.
Kiyan flung him to the ground and ran off without a backward glance. The glow in his eyes was brighter now, but his face was etched with deep guilt.
---
It was 6 AM. Aarav got out of bed, stretching lazily. "Ugh… that Kiyan ruined my whole night's sleep last night. Anyway, I have to get to college."
He got up, showered, and got ready. "Don't feel like cooking today. I'll just eat out." He picked up his bag, got on his bike, and headed towards college.
On the way, he stopped at a tea stall. Just as he ordered a hot chai, a small boy approached him, holding a fresh rose.
"Brother, please buy this flower," the boy said innocently. "Whoever you love, your soulmate, this flower will reach them even if you don't give it."
Aarav laughed. He ruffled the boy's hair. "I don't love anyone, kiddo. Here, have some tea."
He gave the boy some tea and a few notes. "Take this, get something to eat."
The boy smiled and said, "Here, brother, take this flower. Give it to the one you love. Take it." And he ran off.
Smiling, Aarav picked up the flower and put it in his pocket, then continued towards college.
At the college gate stood an old 'Welcome' statue, its hand outstretched. Aarav chuckled to himself, thinking, Might as well leave it here. He took out the flower and placed it in the statue's hand, then walked inside.
A few minutes after he left, Kiyan passed by. His gaze fell on the flower. He felt something odd. He walked over to it and picked it up.
But the moment the flower touched his skin, something strange happened. The fresh red color began to drain from the petals. They started to shrivel. Within moments, the blooming rose had turned into a withered, dried-up husk.
Kiyan's breath hitched. He stared at the flower in shock, then gently placed it back in the statue's hand. He walked inside, a quiet melancholy settling over him.
---
Aarav stepped out of the library with some books when he spotted Nayan and Karishma.
"Hey Aarav! Come on, we're going to the restaurant today. You come too!" Nayan said.
Aarav smiled. "Absolutely, I was thinking the same."
The three of them walked out of the college gate, laughing and chatting. Aarav's eyes fell on the flower in the statue's hand. It had withered, dried up.
That's weird, he thought. It was fresh this morning.
Driven by curiosity, he picked up the flower and held it in his palm.
And then a miracle happened.
The moment the flower made contact with his skin, the petals bloomed again. The dryness vanished. The color returned. In an instant, the flower became fresh and alive again, as if just plucked from the stem.
Aarav was stunned. He looked around—no one was watching. He placed the flower back in the statue's hand and quickly caught up with Nayan and Karishma, a new, profound question stirring in his mind.
---
A little while later, Kiyan passed by the same path again. His eyes fell on the flower once more. But now, the flower wasn't withered. It was blooming again, fresh and red.
Kiyan's heart skipped a beat. He looked around—no one was there. He stared intently at the flower. It was the same one that had died at his touch. Yet now it was alive.
Who did this? The question rose in his mind. Who is this, who saved this flower from the corruption of my touch?
He stood there, gazing at the fresh rose, which had now become a silent witness between him and an unknown mystery.
(Chapter End)