18. TRUTH
VEERANSH:
The moment I shut Aarohi's door, I exhaled through my teeth, rubbing a hand across my jaw.
My patience, already worn thin, felt like it was hanging by an unraveling thread.
Of course she had to try speaking again.
Of course she had to push herself when every doctor in this state had told her not to. Why couldn't she just listen?
But before I could even take a step, my mother's voice sliced through the hallway. "Veer." I didn't turn. I didn't need to. The tone told me enough. Sharp, shaken, furious. I closed my eyes for half a second, gathering whatever remained of my temper.
Then I faced her. "What?" I asked, more bluntly than intended. She stood in front of me, short but steady, her hands trembling slightly at her sides. Not in fear. In anger. My mother rarely raised her voice, rarely confronted anyone, least of all me.
But today, she looked like she'd been pushed past her limit. "What have you done to that girl?" she demanded. I frowned immediately. "This is not your concern." "It is my concern when my daughter-in-law can barely breathe, barely speak, barely stand," she shot back, her voice shaking.
"When she looks at you like she's waiting for you to break her." I clenched my jaw. "You're exaggerating." "No. I'm not." She took a step closer. "I heard her, Veer. I heard her trying to speak through that broken voice, trying to beg me for something, and you shut the door in her face."
My hands fisted at my sides. "She's supposed to be resting. Not begging." "She's desperate," my mother snapped sharply. "Any fool can see that." My irritation flared hot inside my chest. "I said she needs to recover. Her voice"
"I don't care about her voice right now!" my mother shouted, and the sound ricocheted off the marble walls. "What did you do to her? Why does she look like she's terrified of you? Why does she jump every time you raise your hand? Why is there a bandage on her head? Why can she barely speak?"
Every question dug into my skull like a nail. I rubbed my forehead harshly, exhaling through clenched teeth. "Mom. Enough." "No." Her voice softened then, breaking painfully. "Tell me the truth, Veeransh. What have you done?"
I stared at her for a long moment. Her eyes, usually calm, usually full of quiet pride, looked at me like I was a stranger. And that stung more than I wanted to admit. I inhaled slowly, steadying myself. "You want the truth?" I said quietly. "Fine."
She waited silently. And I said it. "I forced her into the marriage." The words fell into the hallway like a dropped match. Silent for one second. Then threatening to burn the entire house down.
My mother's lips parted. Her breath hitched. Her eyes widened with a horror I had never seen directed at me before. "What?" she whispered weakly. I didn't repeat it. I didn't need to.
She shook her head slowly, like she was trying to force the image out of her mind. "No... no, you wouldn't... tell me you didn't..." "She was convenient," I said bluntly. "She was nothing. Just a" My mother slapped me.
The sound cracked through the hallway like a gunshot. I didn't move. Not even an inch. Her voice broke as tears filled her eyes. "She is a human being," she whispered furiously. "She is someone's daughter. Someone's child."
"And you, my son, you made her a prisoner in this house?" Blood rushed loudly in my ears. Guilt? No. I refused to name it. "She agreed," I muttered tightly. "She agreed because you threatened her," my mother shot back instantly.
"I can see it. I can hear it in her voice. I can see it in her body. That girl is terrified of you, Veer. TERRIFIED." I didn't respond. What was I supposed to say? That she wasn't wrong? My mother stepped back slowly, wiping at her tears.
"You may have inherited your father's empire," she whispered shakily. "But you inherited his cruelty too." My jaw tightened instantly. "That's enough." She shook her head again, this time with a disappointment that cut sharper than any anger.
"No, Veeransh. This time I haven't said nearly enough." I opened my mouth to stop her, but she didn't let me speak. "You will fix this. You will treat that girl with care. You will let her see her mother." "You will stop frightening her like she is a caged animal."
"And if you can't..." Her voice hardened into steel. "I will take her out of this house myself." My pulse jumped hard. "Mom" "No." Her command was quiet. Final. "You've done enough harm."
For the first time in a long time, I had no words. I watched her turn away, shoulders stiff, steps fast and angry as she walked toward the staircase. And for the first time since I forced Aarohi into my life, I felt the edges of my control slipping.
My mother's footsteps faded down the corridor, but the heat of her words stayed trapped beneath my skin like fire that refused to burn out. Cruel. Like my father. A prisoner. Terrified of me. I ground my teeth hard enough that pain shot up my jaw.
She didn't understand. No one understood. Aarohi wasn't supposed to matter. She wasn't supposed to affect anything. She was supposed to play her part quietly, invisibly, without interfering in the one thing I had built my entire life around. Control.
And right now, everything felt like it was slipping. I walked down the hallway, each step sharper, louder, more vicious than the last. Servants scattered instantly. Eyes dropped. Everyone knew better than to stand in my way when I looked like this.
I reached her door. I didn't knock. I opened it. And stopped. Suhana sat on the edge of the bed beside Aarohi, holding a phone to the girl's ear. Aarohi's eyes were swollen, cheeks wet from tears.
Her lips trembled as she forced broken syllables out. "M-m... m-ma..." My entire body stiffened instantly. Suhana whipped her head toward me, eyes widening. "Bhai, listen, she just wanted to"
But my focus had already locked onto the phone. The forbidden phone. Aarohi's voice. Her mother's faint voice coming through the speaker. My mother's confrontation, the media chaos, my own slipping control. Everything crashed together inside my head at once.
I stepped forward. "Give me the phone." Suhana froze immediately. "Bhai, no. Please. Just a minute. She barely spoke" "I said give it." A muscle ticked violently in my jaw.
Aarohi's eyes darted between us, wide, terrified, shaking. She clutched the blanket tightly like someone expecting a blow. Suhana stood up, blocking me slightly. "Bhai, stop. She hasn't spoken to her mother in weeks. She"
I grabbed the phone from her hand in one harsh movement. Her gasp barely registered in my head. Aarohi's lips parted, panic exploding across her face. "N-no... pl... please..." I didn't care.
I hurled the phone toward the window. Glass shuddered loudly. The phone ricocheted off the frame before disappearing into the garden below with a dull thud. Silence exploded across the room.
Aarohi's breath hitched painfully. Her trembling doubled. Her throat strained as if the words got trapped there, choking her from inside. Suhana stepped forward angrily. "Bhai! What is wrong with"
I didn't listen. I turned toward Aarohi. Her eyes dropped instantly. Not in defiance. In fear. Fear I had created. Fear I was suddenly drowning in.
"You think you can disobey me again?" I said quietly, dangerously. "You think you can go behind my back? Use a phone in my house? Break my rules?" "I... I..." Her voice cracked violently enough to make her wince. "S-sor...ry..."
"Enough," I snapped harshly. "No more calls. No more begging. No more disobedience." A tear slid down her cheek silently. Suhana stepped protectively closer to her. "You're going too far."
I glared at her coldly. "Get out." "No." I took a slow step toward her. She didn't move, but her voice wavered when she spoke again. "If something happens to her because of you, Bhai... Maa will never forgive you. And neither will I."
I didn't answer. Because answering meant acknowledging something I refused to accept. That this girl, this fragile creature I had dragged into my world, had somehow become the center of every losing battle around me.
I turned without another word and slammed the door behind me. But even as I walked away, I couldn't shake the sound of her voice attempting one last broken plea. "Pl... please..." A sound that lodged itself deep in my chest, unwanted, unwelcome, but impossible to ignore.