The click of the hospital room door closing behind the girls was like a starting pistol. The stunned, grateful silence they left behind lasted for all of three heartbeats.
Then, the air curdled.
The miracle, the breathtaking relief, began to rot, poisoned by a single, corrosive interpretation: pity.
"They… they paid the bill," Karan whispered, staring at his phone as if it had betrayed him. The cleared balance was no longer a blessing; it was a brand.
Aditya was the first to combust. The red in his eyes wasn't from sleeplessness anymore; it was pure, undiluted fury. "They paid it," he repeated, his voice a low, dangerous growl. "Who the hell do they think they are?"
The sentiment spread through them like a virus. Sagar, who had been listlessly poking at the abandoned khichdi, set the bowl aside with a sudden, sharp motion. His fluid, lazy grace was gone, replaced by a cold, focused energy. "We didn't ask for their help."
Gangesh lay still, the humiliation a fresh wave of nausea over his pain. This was worse than the classroom. This was a direct assault on the very core of their existence. Anya's act, intended or not, was being received as the ultimate insult. It said: *You are not capable. You cannot even take care of your own. You are boys playing at being men, and we, the capable ones, must clean up your mess.* It undermined Gangesh's sacrifice and spat on their loyalty.
"I was just nagging him!" Karan exploded, his voice cracking with frustration. He gestured wildly at Gangesh. "I was giving him a reason to stay alive! 'Don't die, you owe us money!' It was a joke! A strategy to keep him fighting! They… they misunderstood everything!"
The conclusion was inescapable and unanimous. It was the only lens through their bruised pride could view the world. The help was not help; it was a declaration of superiority. It was Anya and her group, once again, dismantling them—not with words this time, but with wallet.
The hurt went deeper than any knife wound. It struck at the heart of their brotherhood.
In a single, unified motion, they moved. Aditya stood, his chair screeching back. Sagar rose fluidly from his perch. Karan snatched his glasses from the bedside table, his hands trembling not with fear, but with rage.
They loomed over Gangesh's bed, a tribunal of fury and hurt.
"Don't move," Aditya commanded, his voice flat and cold.
"Wait here," Sagar added, his tone devoid of its usual laziness.
"Until we come back," Karan finished, the strategist laying out the non-negotiable terms.
They didn't wait for a reply. They turned and marched out of the room, a wall of righteous, misguided anger. The hospital corridor, which had been their vigil ground, was now a warpath.
***
Outside, the morning sun was harsh, illuminating the dusty, empty lawn in front of the hospital. It was too early for visitors, a silent, in-between time. The girls were sitting at a lone, concrete picnic table under a neem tree. Their faces were grim, but a subtle, shared relief—a quiet happiness at having done a good thing—lingered between them. That tiny shred of contentment was gasoline on the boys' fire.
The boys stormed out of the main entrance, their footsteps echoing in the quiet. The girls looked up, their expressions shifting from relief to wary confusion at the sight of the advancing, furious trio.
Aditya reached them first, planting his feet, his body vibrating. "What was that?" he snarled, dispensing with any greeting.
Anya stood, her own pride flaring in response to his aggression. "What was what?"
"The money!" Karan shot forward, jabbing a finger in the air. "You think we're beggars? You think we can't handle our own?"
Suman rose slowly, her sharp eyes narrowing. "We saw you were in trouble. We helped. It's a simple concept. Or is it too complex for your strategist brain to compute?"
"We didn't need your help!" Aditya roared, his voice raw. "We didn't ask for it! Who gave you the right?"
The conversation became a sparring match of heated, overlapping exchanges.
**Sagar:** "We had it under control! We were managing!"
**Kusum:** (Her voice gentle but firm) "Managing? By sleeping on the floor and eating chips? That is your management?"
**Karan:** "Our methods are our business! That was internal group dynamics! You don't get to interfere!"
**Suman:** "Your 'internal dynamics' were about to get your friend evicted from his hospital bed! Should we have waited for a more convenient time for your pride?"
**Aditya:** "It's not about pride! It's about… it's about…"
**Anya:** (Her voice cold, cutting through) "It's about what, Aditya? Tell me. What is it about, if not your fragile male ego that can't accept a hand from a woman?"
Her words were a direct hit. The boys flinched as one.
**Gangesh's Friends:** "STAY AWAY FROM US!"
**Aditya:** "We don't need your charity!"
**Karan:** "Your pity money!"
**Sagar:** "We don't want it!"
**Anya:** "It wasn't pity! It was practicality! Something you clearly lack!"
**Suman:** "Yes, your practical plan of starving and going bankrupt was truly inspiring!"
**Kusum:** "We just wanted to help Gangesh! Can't you see that?"
**Aditya:** "Help Gangesh? By making him look like a helpless child in front of his friends? By making us look like useless sidekicks who can't even pay a bill?"
**Karan:** "You insulted him! You insulted all of us! You think he's a charity case? He took a knife for a stranger! What have you ever done besides win debates?"
*Anya:** (Her voice rising, losing its cool for the first time) "And where was your famous loyalty when he was bleeding out on the ground? Cursing him? Kicking him? That is your system? It's a circus!"
**Suman:** "A dangerously incompetent one"
**Sagar:** "You think you're so high and mighty with your 'logic' and your 'systems'. Well, our system works on loyalty, not on your spreadsheets!"
!"
**Aditya:** "WE PULLED THE KNIFE OUT! Where were you? Watching from the sidelines with your judging eyes?"
**Karan:** "We were in the fight! We were in the blood! You just show up after to throw money at the problem like it makes you better than us!"
**Sagar:** "You didn't help him. You shamed him."
The accusation hung in the air, stark and painful. The girls were stunned into silence for a moment. They had seen the act as clean, efficient help. They never saw the interpretation of shame.
**Kusum,** her eyes welling up, whispered, "That was never our intention. We were… we were afraid for him."
**Anya,** recovering, her voice low and fierce, "You are so blind. You are so wrapped up in this… this performance of brotherhood that you can't see a simple act of human decency. You'd rather let him suffer than have your precious pride dented."
**Aditya** took a step closer, his face inches from Anya's. "We would have figured it out. We always do. We don't need you. We don't want you near us. Stay away from Gangesh... And stay away from all of us."
The finality in his voice was absolute. The fight was over. There were no more words left that wouldn't cause permanent damage. The boys stood, chests heaving, their anger a solid, impenetrable wall. The girls stood opposite them, their grim happiness utterly shattered, replaced by a cold, bewildered hurt.
The gulf between them was now wider than ever, carved not by philosophy, but by the bitter, misunderstood currency of pride. Without another word, the boys turned their backs and walked away, leaving the girls alone in the harsh morning sun, the ghost of their unwanted generosity hanging heavy in the silent air. The help had been given, but a much deeper wound had been opened.