39.
It had been a week since Shaurya was thrown into the council's cell.A week of unrelenting torment.
The guards spared no opportunity to break him—beating him for hours until his body could barely hold itself together.
One guard had struck him so viciously that his leg had snapped under the blow.
No one showed mercy, just as the council had decreed.
They denied him food entirely; he survived only on sips of stale water.
No visitors were permitted.Vedansh came every day, standing outside the cold iron bars, forced to listen to his son's muffled groans of pain without ever catching a glimpse of his face.
"Mujhe Shaurya se milna hai," Aarav said firmly to the guard at the gate.The guard stepped in his path.
"Maybe you don't know the rules here—but you're not allowed. Move along."
Vedansh, who had been standing nearby, approached and put a hand on Aarav's arm.
"Aarav, just three more days. You can meet him then."
"Chhode mujhe," Aarav hissed, his eyes flashing. Vedansh let go with a slow shake of his head.
It was Aarav's first time inside the council's prison, and the moment he crossed its threshold, the stench hit him—thick, metallic, suffocating.
Blood. The corridors echoed with screams, some fading, some fresh.He and Vedansh sat outside Shaurya's cell, both silent, Aarav's fingers restlessly tapping against his knee.Then it came.A sound that carved straight through his chest. A scream so raw, so agonized, that Aarav's heart seemed to stop before pounding violently in his ears.
Never in his wildest dreams Aarav thought he would hear this sound.
"Shaurya..." he whispered, his breath shaking.
"WHAT THE FUCK ARE THEY DOING TO HIM? LET ME SEE HIM!" Aarav roared, springing to his feet. He shoved against the guard's grip.
"Sir, you can't go in—please, try to understand—"
The commotion brought the Vocarre himself, his heavy footsteps echoing in the dim corridor.
"Mr. Shekhawat, you know the rules. Please control Mr. Chauhan," the Vocarre said, voice clipped.
"Just this once," Vedansh said quietly, his tone more command than plea. "Let him in."
The Vocarre only nodded. Aarav didn't waste a second—he pushed past the guards and rushed inside.
The sight that met him turned his veins to ice.
The man lying on the floor wasn't Shaurya—at least not the Shaurya he remembered. His body was battered beyond recognition, bloodied cuts carved across his skin. And now... they were sprinkling salt over those wounds.
"STOP IT! RIGHT NOW!" Aarav's roar split the silence, thunderous and raw. Everyone froze where they stood.
He stepped forward, voice cracking. "Stop... stop this..." His chest heaved as the first sob broke free.
Shaurya stirred weakly at the sound. His head lifted just enough for his gaze to find Aarav. "Aarav..." His voice was nothing more than a hoarse whisper, but it cut deeper than any blade.
Aarav tried to reach him, but a guard shoved him back. The rage in Aarav's eyes was feral.
"Mr. Chauhan—" the Vocarre began, but his words never finished. Aarav's fist slammed against his jaw, sending him staggering.
"If you open your mouth again, I swear you'll regret your existence," Aarav hissed. His voice shook with fury as he pushed past, finally falling to his knees beside Shaurya.
Shaurya struggled to lift his body, but his strength failed. Aarav's breath hitched at the sight, his tears streaming freely now.
"Hey..." Shaurya rasped, forcing the faintest smile, "...don't cry."
"They're killing you," Aarav whispered, his voice trembling.
Shaurya's lips parted, pained but steady. "It's just... for a little more time. I'm alright."
This time, he didn't dare reach for Aarav.
He didn't want to risk that rejection again, the shove he feared would break him worse than the beatings ever could.
Aarav's hands hovered in the air, aching to hold him—but he couldn't bring himself to bridge the space.
His heart wasn't ready... maybe it never would be.
"Look at me," Shaurya pleaded softly.
Aarav kept his eyes fixed on the blood and bruises, refusing.
"Please..."
Finally, Aarav looked. But there was nothing in his eyes now—only tears, only fear. The love that used to burn there was gone, replaced by a blankness Shaurya dreaded. His chest tightened with the certainty: the thing he feared most was true. Aarav had stopped loving him.
Aarav shifted slightly, fumbling inside his pocket. He pulled out a small red thread, his fingers trembling as he tied it around Shaurya's wrist with utmost care.
"Why are you doing this when you don't mean it?" Shaurya whispered, broken.
"Aarya gave me this," Aarav said, his voice thick. "But you... you need it more. She visited the temple today—with Yug."
At the mention of Yug, Shaurya instinctively pulled his hand away. Aarav froze, but still pressed on, fastening the thread despite Shaurya's resistance.
"You don't love me," Shaurya blurted, his voice sharp with despair.
Aarav only shook his head, wiping his tears. No denial. No answer. Just silence.
"You should go," Shaurya murmured, turning his face away.
"I'm sorry," Aarav choked out, crying harder.
"Go," Shaurya repeated. His heart couldn't bear to see that face—his Aarav's face—drenched in tears for him yet empty of love.
But Aarav didn't move. He just stayed there, broken, sobbing quietly, as if waiting for permission to move on—without realizing that every second he stayed was a deeper wound to Shaurya's already shattered heart.