42. THE BETRAYAL
Kiara’s whole body trembled as she looked at Vivan—
jaw tight, eyes blazing, shoulders stiff with the effort of not exploding.
Her lips quivered.
She finally spoke, voice barely a whisper.
“I… I was dating you because dad told me to.”
Vivan didn’t react. Didn’t blink. Didn’t move.
Just… stared.
As if his soul had left his body for a moment.
Kiara swallowed and continued, “He… he wanted me to get close to you so I could pass Singhania Industries’ confidential data. So he could break your company. Break your ranking.”
Her father shouted, “KIARA! Enough—”
Yuvan pushed the gun harder into his chest.
“LET. HER. TALK.”
Kiara inhaled shakily and kept going.
“It was never about love. I didn’t feel anything for you.”
She said it as if she was removing a burden, not breaking a man.
Vivan’s eyes flickered—
just once.
A tiny betrayal of pain.
She didn’t notice.
Her voice grew harsher. Bitter. Honest.
“I only did what I was told. You gave me everything—attention, priority, protection.”
She shrugged slightly, wiping tears that were more fear than emotion.
“And I liked that. I liked how obsessed you were with me. How you never looked at any other girl when I was around.”
Then she clenched her jaw and admitted the ugliest part.
“When Aarvi came, I hated it.”
She looked up at him, eyes sharp.
“You stopped giving me full attention. You defended her. Looked at her. Wasted your time on her. I couldn’t stand that.”
Her breath shook.
“I don’t love you, Vivan. I just liked the attention. I liked that you belonged to me. I liked how easily I can control you. That’s it.”
Silence.
A suffocating, heartbreaking silence.
Vivan stood there like his entire world had been ripped out from under him.
Not angry right away.
Not yelling.
Just… broken.
His voice finally came out—low, quiet, raw.
“So all those years…”
He swallowed hard.
“All that trust, all that loyalty from my side… meant nothing?”
Kiara didn’t answer.
He laughed—
a hollow, painful laugh.
“I wasn’t your boyfriend…”
His voice cracked and he clenched his jaw hard.
“I was your puppet. Your ego boost.”
Kiara flinched.
But not from guilt—
from fear.
Because now Vivan was angry.
Furious.
His voice exploded.
“WASN’T I ENOUGH HUMILIATED ALREADY?! MY COMPANY IS BLEEDING BECAUSE OF YOU!”
Kiara flinched hard, as she closed her eyes put of fear.
Vivan pushed her closer, staring down at her like she was a stranger.
“You didn’t love me.”
He said it slowly, each word carving into him.
“You didn’t even like me. You LIKED what I made you feel.”
He took a breath that sounded like it tore his chest.
“And I… like a fool… loved you.”
His voice broke.
Just once.
It killed something inside her father, but he stayed silent—because Yuvan’s gun was still on him.
Vivan continued.
“I defended you against my family. My father. My employees. Even myself.”
His eyes were red—not anger, but heartbreak.
“And you were laughing behind my back. Passing data. Using me.”
Kiara whispered, “Vivan… please—”
He stepped back.
Then his expression hardened into ice.
“It’s over.”
Her whole body froze.
“We’re done.”
His voice was flat. Final.
“From now on… you are nothing to me. NOTHING.”
Kiara opened her mouth to say something—
But he jerked away instantly, disgusted.
Yuvan finally lowered the gun.
And Vivan turned, ready to walk away.
But the moment his back faced them…
His shoulders collapsed.
Like betrayal had finally landed on him with full weight.
He inhaled sharply—
as if breathing hurt.
His eyes burned. His chest ached. His heart felt like it was being ripped apart, thread by thread.
Yuvan saw it.
And even he—
who hated Kiara—
felt a flicker of sympathy.
Just for a second.
Because Vivan wasn’t angry anymore.
He was shattered.
Completely, silently, heartbreakingly shattered.
Vivan stepped out of Kiara’s father’s property like someone who had forgotten how to breathe.
The air felt heavy, poisonous, as if every word Kiara confessed still echoed inside him. He reached the car and collapsed onto the seat, shutting the door with a soft thud that sounded louder inside his chest.
Yuvan followed him silently, his eyes never leaving Vivan’s face.
Vivan leaned back, head resting against the seat, staring blankly at the windshield as if the world outside had stopped existing. His fingers trembled for a second before he hid them in his lap.
“Shall we… go back?” Yuvan asked, voice barely above a whisper, afraid a louder tone might break Vivan more.
Vivan turned his head slowly. His eyes were red—not from tears, but from the kind of shock that steals every drop of emotion. He shook his head.
“I don’t want to go home,” he said, voice raw. “I’ll stay in Mumbai for a day. If you want… you can go.”
Yuvan just stared at him. He could see it—Vivan wasn’t asking him to leave. He was asking because he didn’t want to burden anyone with his brokenness.
Because he didn’t know how to face his family while feeling so humiliated and betrayed. Because the person he loved the most had just used him.
“No,” Yuvan said firmly. “I’m staying with you.”
Vivan looked up, startled, as if he didn’t expect loyalty from anyone right now. He gave Yuvan a smile—a small, fragile curve of his lips. But it wasn’t his smile. It didn’t touch his eyes. It didn’t even pretend to hide the hurt.
Yuvan smiled back, only to take away a little of that pain, but inside, his own chest tightened. Because he knew exactly how much Vivan had loved Kiara. How Vivan had fought every single person—his family, his father… even Yuvan himself—just to be with her.
And this is what she gave him in return: betrayal.
Yuvan said nothing after that. He didn’t have the strength to speak. He simply started the engine and drove. Vivan didn’t know where Yuvan was taking him.
After a while they reached in fron of the hotel Yuvan had arranged. Yuvan parked the car in front of the hotel. Neither of them spoke the entire way. The silence felt heavy—like if anyone said a word, Vivan would shatter.
They walked to their room. As soon as the door closed behind them, Vivan went straight to the couch and sat down, elbows on his knees, staring at the floor like it held all the answers he never got.
Yuvan didn’t disturb him. He sat on the bed across the room, keeping an eye on him, trying to decide if he should speak or stay quiet.
His phone suddenly rang.
AARVI.
Yuvan’s eyes immediately darted to Vivan. He was sitting completely still, like a statue carved out of exhaustion and heartbreak.
“Vivan,” Yuvan called softly.
Vivan looked up, eyes empty.
“Aarvi is calling. Do you… want to talk to her?”
For a second, Vivan froze. Hesitation flickered in his eyes. Did he have the strength to talk? Did he even have the voice left?
But then he nodded.
Yuvan handed him the phone.
Vivan pressed the green icon and lifted it to his ear.
Before he could say anything, her voice rushed out—fast, anxious, worried.
“Yuvan, where are you? And where is Vivan? And suddenly Mumbai? Is this something about Kiara?”
Kiara.
Even hearing the name made his breath stutter. His chest tightened painfully. His hand trembled slightly as he held the phone.
“A… Aarvi,” he whispered.
She went silent instantly.
“Vivan?” she said softly, confused by the weak, unfamiliar sound of his voice.
“Wh...why did you suddenly go to Mumbai? Here Ma, Papa—everyone is asking about you… they called multiple times,” she said gently, her softness hitting him like a punch.
Because right now even care felt heavy.
His mind spun.
Did they know?
Did the news spread?
Did his father find out about the company’s fall?
Was he going to disappoint them?
“What… what did they ask?” his voice cracked. “Do they know everything?”
Panic climbed up his throat.
On the other end, Aarvi’s voice was calm, steady—like she knew he needed that.
“Yes. But don’t worry… I’ll take care of them. They’re just worried about you,” she assured him quietly.
He closed his eyes and let out a shaky breath. For the first time in hours, something inside him eased a little.
After a long pause, he finally managed to say, “Thanks.”
Aarvi smiled unconsciously, unaware of the storm in Mumbai, unaware of the pieces Vivan was barely holding together.
She hummed softly and ended the call.
The call ended with a soft beep.
Vivan lowered the phone slowly, the weight of it suddenly too much, and handed it back to Yuvan without saying a word.
Yuvan took it, eyes scanning Vivan’s face—his best friend looked like someone had pulled the ground from under him.
Without speaking, Vivan moved to the telephone on the small table beside the bed. Yuvan didn’t book two rooms; he couldn’t. Not tonight. Not when Vivan looked like he could collapse under the smallest touch.
Vivan dialed the hotel service.
Vivan’s voice came—quiet, hollow.
“Two whiskeys. Double.”
Yuvan turned slightly.
“For me too,” he said.
Vivan heard him, nodded silently, and repeated the order to the staff.
The moment the phone was placed back, silence filled the room again. Heavy. Suffocating.
Vivan walked toward the mirror.
He stood there… just staring at himself.
The city lights outside faintly reflected on the glass, showing the tired, drained, almost lifeless version of him.
His voice broke quietly in the dim room.
“Was I that dumb?”
He didn’t mean for Yuvan to hear. But Yuvan did.
“Of course not, Vivan,” Yuvan said gently. “Loving someone can’t be called dumbness.”
Vivan let out a small, painful chuckle—a sound so bitter it didn’t even sound like a chuckle.
“Then I was,” he said, eyes still fixed on his own reflection.
His voice wasn’t loud—just defeated, resigned, like he truly believed it.
Before Yuvan could protest further, a knock echoed at the door.
Their order had arrived.
The waiter left quietly after placing the tray down.
The moment the door clicked shut, silence settled into the room—thick and suffocating.
Vivan didn’t rush.
He just stood there for a second, staring at the bottle as if it was something unfamiliar.
Finally, with a slow exhale, he walked toward the table.
Not angry.
Not furious.
Just tired.
Tired in a way that reached the bones.
He picked up the glass with steady but lifeless hands, poured a small amount first, staring at the swirl of amber like it carried answers.
Then… he poured more—half the glass—because answers wouldn’t come anyway.
He lifted it to his lips and took a slow drink.
Not to numb.
Not to escape.
But because he simply… didn’t know what else to do with the pain sitting in his chest.
Yuvan watched him carefully, the worry on his face strong and helpless at the same time.
Vivan sat down, at the floor.
“Since years…” he whispered.
The words broke in the middle.
Yuvan looked at him, hearing carefully.
Vivan’s voice came again, softer, almost like he was talking to himself.
“Since years she was using me… and I didn’t see it.”
He took another slow sip, letting the burn slide down his throat.
“I wasn’t even suspicious,” he said, shaking his head.
“I trusted her blindly. I defended her blindly.”
There was no anger in his voice.
Just disbelief.
And a heartbreak so heavy it dulled everything else.
Yuvan sat beside him quietly.
“Vivan… no one expects the person they love to stab them,” he said gently.
Vivan’s throat bobbed.
His eyes fixed somewhere far away.
Like he was replaying every memory—every smile, every moment—and seeing them through this new, painful truth.
He didn’t respond.
He just poured another drink—slow, controlled—before leaning back against the sofa, tired eyes blinking heavily.
He wasn’t drinking to drown.
He was drinking to breathe.
To steady the ache.
To calm the shaking inside him.
As the night stretched on, the bottle lowered bit by bit—not fast, not reckless, just quietly.
Like a man sitting through heartbreak rather than running from it.
Eventually, Vivan’s head leaned back, exhaustion dragging at his face.
His eyelids drooped.
His breathing grew slower.
Yuvan gently took the glass from his hand and placed it aside.
He switched off the lights, leaving only the dim glow of Mumbai through the window.
A soft, muted light that settled over Vivan’s tired frame.
Yuvan stood for a moment, watching his best friend—
a man who carried the world on his shoulders now crushed under betrayal.
Tonight, he wasn’t the Vivan Singhania everyone feared.
He was just… a man.
A hurt man.
Trying to survive the first night of losing the person he thought loved him.
Yuvan looked at him one last time before lying down on the other side of the room.
The city hummed outside.
The night settled heavy.
And Vivan slept—heart cracked, trust shattered, soul bruised…
He drifted into a restless, heavy sleep— heart tired, trust broken, everything he believed in shaken.
Also,
I will soon be releasing a new book, and I really hope you give it the same love and support that you’ve given this one.
It’s going to be an international love story — an Indian girl × a Russian boy, full of culture clash, slow-burn tension, bold moments, and all the feels. I’m so excited to share this new journey with you!
Thank you for staying with me, and I can’t wait for you to meet my new characters soon. ???