Why did Rishabh die?

"She said Rishabh got bad grades in the predictor exams," said Aryan, shaking his head in disbelief, "and that probably had an effect on his mental health considering he... was one of the brightest students in the school and put a lot of pressure on himself to do well." he continued in a mechanical tone without pause except when he had to talk about his brother in the past tense. "I don't believe a word of that." said Aryan. "My brother, he was too strong to let his grades get in the way of his life. He was too smart to get bad grades in the first place. Though, our way of life during his exams wasn't ideal, to say the least. I tried to help him but he wouldn't let me! I should have tried harder." Aryan sighed, "It's all my fault."

"No, it's not." said Ahmed. "And what if he got bad grades in the predictor exams? It's not like they affected his future! The predicted grades weren't based on just those exams. It was the whole year's grades."

"But Rishabh told us those were the exams his predicted grades depended upon." said Aryan, his eyebrows furrowed.

"No, no, it's clearly stated in the email they sent." Ahmed clarified.

"Where?" asked Aryan.

"I'm not sure. Let me check." said Ahmed, fumbling with his phone to go through his emails and hunt for that accursed email that could have saved his friend's life. "To Parentmail..." replied Ahmed. "You guys set up Rishabh's Parentmail, right?" asked Ahmed.

"I don't know, let me ask my parents." replied Aryan.

Aryan went to his mother, who sent him to ask his father, who sent him to get his laptop. Ahmed, Aryan and Aryan's father sat around the laptop on the sofa in the living room, like a group of indigenous people sitting around campfire, their gazes focused on the changing screens as Aryan's father went through several forgotten password links to finally get to his emails.

About half an hour later, they were looking at the very email Ahmed had mentioned to Aryan. Ahmed explained the email to Aryan's father as Aryan logged into Rishabh's school account to check his predicted grades, which had been published a few days after Rishabh's passing. It said: A* in Mathematics, A* in Physics, A in Biology and A* in Chemistry.

Rishabh's father broke into tears as he saw his son's stellar grades that Rishabh never got the chance to see because of his father's stupidity. It was up to him to keep his child up to date with these details, and he had failed. He had failed as a father, as a husband, and as a human. All to drown his non - existent sorrows in alcohol which then created even bigger sorrows for him and his loved ones. He looked at Aryan's small, sad but stately face. He ran his fingers through Aryan's soft brown hair. Immediately, he got up to throw any bottles of alcohol he had in the bin. Then, he went online to search for help for alcoholics.

As happy as Aryan was with his father's sudden change of heart, he still couldn't understand why his brother had to die. If anything, seeing his brother's grades made him even more confused. What kind of a game had the universe played with his brother? Forced him to die in sorrow while bringing him solace after its significance had seized to exist.

But his brother couldn't have committed suicide just because one door was closed, no matter how deeply carved with hopes and dreams that door was. He expressed his disbelief to Ahmed, who nodded solemnly, then, with some hesitation, said, "I think you are right, Aryan. You knew your brother well, that's for sure." His proud smile dimmed slightly as he continued, "There were other factors at play that pushed your brother to... you know. Anyways, I can't tell you what those other factors were just now. I don't want to corrupt your mind at such a young age. Just know that if you still feel this question gnawing at you when you are an adult, you can come find me. You know my social media accounts, and I'm unlinkely to change them in the near future. So just, you know, find me."

This is all Ahmed said before getting up and taking his leave from Rishabh's family for the last time in a long time. He had started to feel he was scratching their scabs rather than healing their wounds by his words.