The echo of the slamming door still hung in the air, but Kiaan didn't move.
He sat frozen on the couch, His eyes flicked briefly down the hallway where Kavi had disappeared but he didn't follow.
He knew better.
Kavi needed space. Not another person knocking, pleading, asking, "Are you okay?"
So instead, Kiaan stood slowly, brushing cereal off his hands. He slipped on his sandals and quietly stepped out the front door of the farmhouse.
The air outside was cool and quiet, the wind tugging gently at the trees. Crickets chirped somewhere out in the grass. The fields stretched ahead, open and undisturbed.
Kiaan pulled his phone from his pocket. The screen blinked to life with missed calls, unread messages, wedding reminders. He ignored them all.
He scrolled to a familiar contact and hit call.
It rang once.
"The groom-to-be," came Dr. Laxmi's voice warm and curious. "You fine?"
"Hey, Doc." Kiaan rubbed the back of his neck. "Yeah… I mean, not really."
Her tone changed instantly. "What's wrong?"
"I need to ask you something," he said quietly. "About eating disorders."
A pause.
"Okay," she replied carefully. "What do you want to know?"
"Everything," he muttered. "What causes them? How dangerous are they? Can someone get better from it?"
There was no judgment in her response only clarity.
"Eating disorders aren't really about food. Not at the core. They can be triggered by trauma, control issues, depression, heartbreak, guilt… sometimes a mix of things. And they can be very dangerous. They wear down the body, heart, bones, organs. If it goes too far… it can be life-threatening."
Kiaan's jaw clenched.
"But people can heal, right?"
"Yes. But it's not about snapping out of it or just 'eating more.' It takes time. Patience. Therapy. Understanding. Sometimes medication. But most of all, they need to feel safe. They need someone who doesn't push them but stays close. Gently, consistently."
She hesitated. "Is this about you?"
"No," he answered quickly. "Someone I care about. Someone I—" He stopped himself. "They're not okay. And I didn't see it until now."
Dr. Laxmi exhaled on the other end.
"You don't have to solve it all now . Just don't abandon them. Let them know you're there even if they push you away. That matters more than you think."
"Thank you," Kiaan said, his voice tight with gratitude. "I needed this."
"Call me anytime," she said gently. "And Kiaan… I'm proud of you. Whoever this person is—they're lucky to have someone like you watching out for them."
Kiaan ended the call, lowering the phone slowly, the weight of Dr. Laxmi's words settling heavy in his chest.
He stared out into the sky for a moment, the cool wind brushing over his face, but it didn't soothe him.
His mind was already spiraling.
I should've stayed. I never should've left that night. He needed me, and I disappeared. This… this could be my fault.
The guilt lodged deep in his chest like a splinter.
He turned back toward the farmhouse, walked around the back, and quietly stepped inside. He headed to the living room and began cleaning up the mess without a word. The cereal had gone soggy. The milk was starting to soak into the mat.
He wiped it all carefully, then carried the bowls into the kitchen and rinsed them.
Then, quietly, he reached for an apple.
He sliced it lip thinner than he ever had before. Neat, paper-thin wedges, soft and bite-sized, almost delicate.
He arranged them in a small bowl.
Then he stood in front of the bedroom door, bowl in one hand, and knocked gently.
Once. Then again.
It took a moment.
Then click.
The door creaked open. Kavi stood there, eyes red-rimmed, face blotchy. His voice was barely a whisper.
"Listen… I… a…m. s…orry," he stammered.
Kiaan didn't wait.
He placed the bowl down on the nearby dresser and pulled Kavi into a firm, steady hug.
"No, no," he murmured against his shoulder. "It's my fault. I was too pushy. I shouldn't have done that. I'm sorry, Kav. Forgive me."
Kavi let out a sharp, shaking breath and then broke into tears
His sobs came quietly at first, muffled against Kiaan's chest. But they didn't stop. His shoulders trembled, hands gripping the back of Kiaan's shirt like he was holding on for dear life.
It wasn't just about the spoon. Or the cereal. Or even the food.
It was everything.
Kiaan didn't say anything else. He didn't offer solutions. He didn't lecture.
He just held him.
When Kavi finally loosened his grip, Kiaan gently guided him toward the bed.
He didn't mention the apple slices again.
He didn't ask him to eat.
Instead, he helped him lie down, tucked the blanket over him like he was fragile like something sacred and then lay beside him.
One hand on Kavi's back, the other gently smoothing his hair.
Kavi curled closer, breathing slowly against Kiaan's chest, letting the steady rhythm calm him.
No more words.
Just warmth. Just safety.
Exactly what he needed.