27.
Shaurya glanced sideways at Aarav, whose eyes were locked on the road, jaw clenched so tightly it looked like it might crack.
"Calm down," Shaurya said, voice low. "It wasn't that serious."
Aarav's knuckles whitened on the steering wheel.
"Not serious?!" he snapped, his voice cutting through the tense air like a blade. "You killed Rovan, Shaurya. Do you have any idea what that means?"
His voice trembled with rage — or was it fear? His eyes, rimmed red, flicked toward Shaurya for a fraction of a second before returning to the road.
Shaurya didn't respond. He didn't need to. They both knew what he had done. Killing the head of another mafia family wasn't just reckless — it was a death sentence. In the world they lived in, such actions rarely went unpunished. Torture. Exile. Execution. It was never clean.
The rest of the drive was spent in thick silence, punctuated only by the occasional sound of Aarav cursing under his breath at passing cars that got too close — like they, too, were somehow responsible for the chaos unraveling inside him.
When they finally reached Shaurya's apartment, Aarav slammed the car door and stalked inside. He didn't wait for Shaurya. Aarav already informed Ravi to go to Aarya, making sure she's protected. Because he can't risk 1% if someone from the enemy clans find out about Aarya.
"Go. Shower," Aarav muttered sharply once they were in. His tone wasn't cruel — just exhausted. Worn thin.
Shaurya wordlessly unbuttoned his bloodstained shirt, revealing a network of bruises and shallow cuts across his torso.
Aarav didn't flinch. He'd seen worse. Much worse.
Scars from past wars, failed assassinations, interrogations — they all told stories Aarav had once traced with his fingers in silence.
Shaurya disappeared into the bathroom, leaving the shirt behind. It landed on the floor with a dull, wet sound.
Aarav stared at it for a moment. Then, slowly, he bent down and picked it up. The fabric was stiff with dried blood, the collar slightly torn. His fingers tightened around it as a familiar ache settled deep in his chest.
He was used to this — the violence, the danger. This bloodied version of Shaurya didn't scare him. What scared him was the thought of Shaurya on the other side of a council chamber — not as an executioner, but him getting tortured by the council himself.
And worse than that, the image he couldn't get out of his head — Shaurya, silent and still, sitting beside Rovan's headless corpse as if the world had already ended.
Aarav had dropped to his knees in front of him, touched his face with trembling hands, pulled him close without thinking. He hadn't wanted to. But he couldn't stop himself.
And that — that was the real problem.
This wasn't supposed to happen. These feelings. This pull. This weakness.
He let out a long breath and let the shirt slip from his hands. It hit the floor with a soft thud.
Aarav sat down heavily on the edge of the bed and raked a hand through his hair, waiting for the water to stop.
Shaurya stepped out of the shower with a towel slung low around his waist, droplets of water still tracing down his chest. His eyes fell on Aarav, who sat wordlessly at the edge of the bed, elbows resting on his knees, lost in thought.
Shaurya's gaze dropped to the chain around his neck — a thin silver one with a ring hanging from it.
The same ring Aarav had given him years ago.
For a brief second, his expression flickered — something unreadable — before he turned away and pulled a clean shirt from his duffel bag, slipping it on with practiced ease.
When he turned back around, Aarav was looking at him.
"You're limping," Aarav said, eyes narrowing slightly.
Shaurya smirked. "Well, after the little stunt you pulled that day... what did you expect?"
Aarav blinked, caught off-guard. He coughed into his fist, clearly flustered, the tips of his ears coloring faintly red.
Shaurya walked over and sat beside him, towel still wrapped loosely around his waist. He lit a cigarette with a flick of his lighter, inhaled deeply, then let the smoke out slowly. It curled in the air between them like a ghost.
"You're limping just from getting kicked in the balls," Aarav muttered, folding his arms. "Imagine what's going to happen when they start torturing you."
Shaurya exhaled again, smirking. "Honestly? That might not be so bad."
Aarav rolled his eyes, but the tension didn't leave his shoulders. He glanced at the cigarette, then back at Shaurya. And without warning, he reached over and plucked it from his fingers.
Shaurya raised an eyebrow, surprised. Aarav had always hated smoking.
Aarav took a drag — clumsily — and immediately coughed, his face scrunching in distaste. "How do you even like this thing?" he said, voice raspy.
Shaurya laughed under his breath, reached out, and took it back from Aarav's fingers. He inhaled again, a lazy smirk playing on his lips — the same lips that now shared a cigarette with Aarav's. He didn't say anything about it, but the amusement in his eyes was unmistakable.
Then Aarav's tone shifted.
"Why weren't you responding when I called out to you that time?" he asked quietly, turning toward Shaurya now, fully facing him. "Are you okay?"
Shaurya leaned his head back slightly and let out a sigh.
"I get overwhelmed sometimes," he said, like it wasn't a big deal. "Besides, the way you called my name... anyone would've gone numb."
Aarav didn't laugh. He didn't even roll his eyes this time.
He just stared.
A moment passed between them — heavy and quiet and aching with something old.
"I'm seriously not taking this shit anymore, Shaurya," Aarav said at last. His voice wasn't raised, but it was firm. Tired.
Shaurya looked at him then — really looked at him — and for a second, something in his expression cracked.
"Sorry," Shaurya muttered under his breath.
Aarav didn't respond. He sat still, shoulders stiff, his gaze fixed on the floor as if looking too hard at Shaurya might shatter what little strength he was holding on to.
Shaurya took a slow breath, his voice quieter now. "You should come back to Amritnagar. You've been gone too long... They need you."
Aarav's jaw tensed.
"If it's me you're running from..." Shaurya continued, "...then don't worry. I won't come near you. You won't even have to see me. Just—go back. Where you belong."
Silence.
Aarav's hands curled into fists. A deep, sharp ache bloomed in his chest — cold and violent. And then, something in him snapped.
"Are you fucking serious, Shaurya?" Aarav stood abruptly, his voice rising with fury, raw and cracking around the edges. "That's what you think I needed to hear?"
Shaurya blinked, startled. He stood as well, cautiously, and reached out to him, fingers brushing against Aarav's arm. "Aarav—"
"Don't touch me," Aarav snapped, jerking his arm away and shoving Shaurya back a step. His breath came fast now, lips trembling as the dam finally burst.
"I waited. For six fucking years, Shaurya," Aarav shouted, the words strangled in his throat. "I waited—every day, every goddamn night—hoping you would come back. Hoping you would explain. Anything! Just one fucking word!"
Shaurya looked at him, frozen.
Tears brimmed in Aarav's eyes now, slipping down despite his effort to fight them. "You just asked me to leave you. Simply like I didn't matter—like we didn't matter. And now you say you won't come near me? As if that's what I ever wanted?"
Shaurya stepped forward again, slower this time, but didn't try to touch him. He didn't speak either. He just stared, eyes full of something heavy—guilt, pain, regret—all swirling in silence.
"I loved you," Aarav said, quieter now, barely a whisper. "And I deserved more than silence."
"Seriously, I don't deserve you—or your damn stupidity," Aarav said, voice shaking. "But I still care. That's the problem."
Shaurya's gaze flickered. "Why?" he asked, almost desperately. "You saw what happened. I lose control. I get reckless. I kill people. It never ends. This life—it's chaos, it's violent, it's toxic. Is that really something you want to be a part of?"
"You don't get to decide that for me," Aarav snapped. "You don't own me, Shaurya."
He let out a bitter chuckle, eyes dark with fury. "And you know what? I was right about you. You think I'm weak, don't you? You think I couldn't handle it."
Shaurya stayed silent, shoulders tense.
"But the truth is," Aarav continued, voice rising, "you're the real coward. Hiding from your own feelings. You're a fucking manchild".
"We can't ever fix this whatever is happening now. I regret that I loved you".
"Aap hume kho chuke Shaurya. You lost me".