When Aarav reached home, he pushed the door open and stepped inside.
“I’m home,” he called out.
The house was silent.
He walked into the living room. Empty. The kitchen—empty. He checked the backyard lawn. No sign of her.
A sudden worry crept up his spine as he hurried upstairs. He gently pushed open the door to her bedroom.
There she was—his grandmother, lying on the bed, asleep. A soft sigh of relief escaped his lips as he stepped closer. As he approached, she stirred and slowly opened her eyes.
"Oh, Aarav, you’re back,” she said, her voice thin and tired.
He sat down beside her, concern tightening his features. “Are you okay, Grandma?”
“Yes, I’m totally fine,” she said, smiling faintly.
But his eyes had already caught the strip of medicines on the bedside table.
“Don’t lie to me,” he said quietly. “Tell me what happened.”
She hesitated. “It’s nothing… just a little chest pain.”
“Since when?”
She looked away for a second. “Since four months, I guess.”
“Seriously? And you’re telling me now?”
Aarav stood up abruptly, frustration mixed with fear surging through him. He began changing out of his school uniform without saying a word.
“Come on, get up,” he said as he slipped on a fresh shirt. “We’re going to the hospital.”
“There’s no need for that, Aarav. It’s just a little pain,” she insisted.
“I’m not listening to you anymore,” he said firmly, grabbing her dupatta from the side of the chair. “Please, get ready.”
She opened her mouth to protest again, but the look in his eyes stopped her.
“Grandma… please?” His voice softened.
She had spent her whole life caring for him—skipping meals so he could eat, shielding him from loneliness when his parents were never around. But she never thought once about herself.
He couldn’t bear the thought of losing her. She was more than just a guardian. She was his only family.
After a moment of silence, she slowly sat up.
“Okay,” she whispered.
The doctor’s cabin was quiet except for the scribble of pen on paper and the occasional beep from a nearby machine. Aarav sat beside his grandmother, fingers fidgeting restlessly in his lap. The room smelled faintly of antiseptic and old files—a scent he already hated. His eyes were fixed on the doctor, who had just finished checking her pulse.
“What happened, doctor? Is she alright?” Aarav asked, his voice low, trying to mask the worry that was written all over his face.
The doctor removed his stethoscope, folded his arms, and spoke gently. “It’s too early to say anything conclusive. I’ve recommended some tests here. Once you get them done, we’ll know whether it’s something critical or just age-related discomfort.”
Aarav took the prescription in silence and gave a nod. His grandmother smiled at him faintly, trying to seem calm, but he could tell—she was just trying to keep him from panicking.
They returned home quietly. Aarav didn’t say much during the ride. That night, while his grandmother rested, he sat alone by the window of his room, staring at the half-moon outside. His thoughts circled one single problem—money. The tests were expensive. Too expensive.
The next morning at school, Aarav sat at his desk in silence, his face turned toward the window but his mind elsewhere. The classroom buzzed with conversations, laughter, and shuffling feet, but none of it reached him. He barely noticed when someone sat on the desk next to his.
“Yo! Buddy!” came a cheerful voice.
Aarav looked up. It was Vivan Mehta, his best friend. Vivan’s usual energy filled the space around him like always, but his grin faded as he saw Aarav’s face.
“What happened to you? Is everything okay?”
Aarav shook his head slightly. “Grandma’s not well. I took her to the hospital yesterday. The doctor said some tests need to be done.”
Vivan leaned in, concerned. “And? Did you get them done?”
“No. They’re... expensive. I don’t have that kind of money right now,” Aarav admitted, his voice barely above a whisper.
Vivan was silent for a second, then placed a hand on his shoulder. “That’s it? Don’t worry. I’ll help. I’ll arrange the money.”
Aarav looked at him sharply. “No, I can’t take money from you.”
“Why not? I’m your best friend, aren’t I?”
Aarav sighed, clearly torn. “I just don’t want to burden anyone.”
Vivan leaned back. “Okay okay. But then what’s your plan? How are you going to arrange it?”
“I don’t know yet... I’ve been thinking about it all night.”
Just then, a crackling sound interrupted their conversation. The school’s PA system came to life.
“Dear students, this is to inform you that our school is organizing a music competition. Those interested in participating may contact their homeroom teachers. The winner will receive a cash prize and other exciting rewards.”
“That’s it!” Vivan exclaimed, slamming his palm on the desk with sudden enthusiasm, startling Aarav from his thoughts.
Aarav blinked at him. “What’s it?”
Vivan leaned closer, eyes wide with a grin forming on his face. “The music competition. You should enter.”
Aarav stared at him like he’d lost his mind. “What? Why?”
Vivan rolled his eyes dramatically. “You just told me you need money for your grandma’s tests, right?”
Realization began to dawn on Aarav’s face. His brows drew together. “Vivan… the announcement clearly said the winner gets the prize money.”
“So?” Vivan grinned. “I know you’ll win.”
Aarav scoffed softly, leaning back in his chair. “You have too much faith in me.”
“No,” Vivan said firmly. “I just know you. You’ve been playing guitar since middle school, your voice is great, and music’s in your blood. Your grandma always said so.”
Aarav looked away, his jaw tightening. “It’s not that easy.”
“How can you say that without even trying?” Vivan asked, voice lowering to a more serious tone. “Come on, Aarav… this is your chance.”
Aarav sighed, running his fingers through his hair. Doubt clung to him like a shadow—he had never performed in front of a big crowd before. It had always just been his grandmother sitting on the veranda, clapping to his rhythm, eyes twinkling.
“But…” he began, his voice hesitant.
Vivan cut him off gently. “Do it for her, Aarav.”
That struck deep. Aarav’s gaze slowly dropped to his hands resting on the desk, fingers still stained with nervous fidgeting. For her. For the woman who had raised him, who smiled even when her chest ached, who cooked his favorite food on exam days, who made his school uniform crisp even when her body was exhausted.
She’d done everything for him.
Now, it was his turn.
He swallowed, the decision already forming in his chest before he even said it. “Okay. Fine.”
Vivan grinned from ear to ear. “That’s my buddy!” he said, slapping Aarav’s back. “Let’s go get the form before anyone else snatches the last slot!”
The two of them rushed to the staff room. Their homeroom teacher raised an eyebrow when she saw the urgency on their faces, but said nothing as she handed them the registration form. Aarav filled it out with trembling fingers, aware of every stroke of the pen, as if the moment itself was carving into his life.
Once the form was submitted, they stepped out of the room into the golden afternoon light. Aarav could feel the weight of what he’d just committed to—but alongside it was a strange flicker of purpose.
They walked together to Vivan’s family café. It was a quiet place tucked near the end of the street, filled with warm, inviting smells and the soft hum of instrumental music playing in the background. It had always been their after-school sanctuary.
As they settled into their usual booth, Vivan pulled out his phone with a grin. “Hey, I got that new zombie shooter game last night. You up for a match?”
Aarav shook his head, managing a small smile. “Not today. If I’ve signed up, I need to focus. I have to give it my best.”
Vivan nodded, his grin softening into a look of pride. “Good. That’s the Aarav I know. Focused, intense, and determined.”
Aarav laughed lightly under his breath. “You make me sound cooler than I am.”
Vivan smirked. “You’ll prove it on stage. I’ll be cheering from the front row.”
The sun dipped lower, casting long shadows through the café’s windows. After a few more minutes of casual chatter, Aarav got up, slung his bag over his shoulder, and bid Vivan goodbye.
As he walked home through the narrow lanes, past familiar shops and rustling trees, his mind was already swirling with melodies. His fingers itched to hold the guitar again. But more than that, his heart beat with a quiet resolve.
This wasn’t just about money anymore.
This was for her smile.
For her health.
For the woman who had given him everything.
He would win—because failure was simply not an option.
As the evening settled in and the distant hum of the town softened into quiet, Aarav reached home. The small house stood modestly at the end of a narrow lane, its faded blue paint gently peeling, yet it radiated warmth — not from the bricks and mortar, but from the woman who waited inside.
He pushed the wooden gate open and stepped in. The air smelled faintly of tulsi leaves and something simmering in the kitchen. His schoolbag hung loosely from one shoulder, but his steps slowed as he reached the door.
“Aarav, is that you?” his grandmother’s voice called out from inside — soft, a little tired, but still laced with the warmth he knew so well.
“Yeah, Dadi. I’m home,” he said, stepping into the living room.
She was sitting on the old woven chair near the window, wrapped in a cotton shawl, a half-knitted sweater resting on her lap. Her silver hair was tied in a neat bun, and though her face bore the lines of age and struggle, her eyes still held the same gentleness that had raised him.
“You’re late today,” she said, looking up.
“There was an announcement at school… something came up,” he replied, placing his bag down and kneeling beside her.
She brushed his hair back like she used to when he was little. Her fingers, though weaker now, still carried that same motherly instinct.
“Did you eat anything?” she asked.
“Had something at Vivan’s café. You didn’t rest properly again, did you?” His voice held a hint of scolding, but it was softened by worry.
She smiled faintly, her eyes searching his face. “I tried. But I kept wondering… what did the doctor say? Anything serious?”
Aarav hesitated. He didn’t want her to worry, not more than she already did. “He’s asked for some tests. Nothing confirmed yet.”
She nodded slowly, her expression unreadable.
There was a brief silence, filled only by the ticking of the wall clock and the sound of boiling water in the kitchen.
“Dadi…” he began softly. “Do you remember when I got my first guitar?”
Her face lit up at the memory. “Of course. You were eight. You saw that broken guitar in the junk shop and wouldn’t stop begging for it. It didn’t even have all the strings.”
Aarav chuckled. “You still bought it. Said if I could fix it, it was meant for me.”
“You sat for hours trying to tune it, using thread and wire. It sounded terrible,” she laughed, a little cough interrupting it, but the sparkle in her eyes stayed.
“But you clapped anyway,” he whispered.
“I always will,” she said.
Aarav looked at her then, really looked — at the woman who had sold her bangles once to pay for his school uniform, who had stitched torn books back together with thread and love, who had never let him feel the absence of anyone else.
“I joined a music competition,” he said quietly.
She raised her eyebrows. “You did?”
He nodded. “The prize money… it might be enough for the tests.”
Her eyes softened. “Oh, beta…”
“I’ll win, Dadi. I have to,” he said, his voice catching just slightly.
She placed her hand gently over his. “You already make me proud, Aarav. Whether you win or not… you’ve already done more than I ever dreamed for you.”
He looked away, swallowing down the lump rising in his throat.
The light from the window faded slowly as dusk wrapped itself around the house. And in that quiet moment — no music, no applause — just the soft comfort of home and a hand that had always held his since the very beginning.
