49.
"You look like shit," I muttered, staring at Yug. His eyes were bloodshot, his shoulders sagging as if the night had wrung every ounce of strength out of him.
"Don't tell me you spent the entire night here. Please take a break, Yug. You'll get sick at this rate."
He gave a faint smile, stifling a yawn before stretching in his chair.
"Good morning, Aaravvv," he drawled, wrapping his arms suddenly around my waist.
I froze.
"You used to hug me a lot before," he mumbled against me. "But I guess things are different now that he's back."
The words hit like a stone in my chest—something I had been deliberately ignoring. Yug, and his feelings. With a quiet sigh, I finally returned the hug. His face pressed into my stomach like he was clinging to a lifeline.
"Yug—"
"Forget I said that," he interrupted quickly. Then, softer: "But in the end... please choose who you really want. Who really loves you. That doesn't change the fact that I want you in my life forever. You're my only family, Aarav. You know that."
I swallowed the ache in my throat. "I'll never leave you behind, Yug. I can't even think of it." And it was true. The absence of him in my life is unimaginable. Because he stayed. He always stayed with me. For us. Ever before Shaurya and I parted ways. He always stayed.
I felt the smile he tried to hide against me before he pulled away, composing himself.
"Did you check on your mom?" I asked gently.
He gave a small nod. "She doesn't let me visit much anymore." His voice was flat, practiced, like he'd learned to mask the pain. He pulled a protein bar from his drawer, tearing the wrapper carelessly.
Yug's mother had always been an angel—she accepted me and Aarya as her own from the very first meeting. But fate had been cruel. Stage four cancer. She didn't want her son to see her wasting away, so she pushed him toward his career instead, telling him not to look back.
Yug chewed slowly, then said, almost too casually, "By the way, did you know Ravi likes one of Shaurya's brothers?"
I blinked. "What—?"
That made no sense. Shaurya only had one brother—and that monster was no longer alive. Unless... had Shaurya hidden something from me? I mean anything is possible?
Yug was watching me with a teasing smile. I perched myself on the edge of his glass desk, trying to collect my thoughts.
"Veer is his only brother," I said.
"That's what I thought too," Yug replied, shrugging. "I even said it out loud—until Ravi shoved me out of his car and refused to answer. He practically bullied me".
I frowned. Typical Ravi.
"But I think it might be his older brother," Yug added with a pointed look. His fingers closed gently around mine, grounding me. He knows my past with that monster so he tried to comfort me.
I shook my head and smiled faintly. "No. Ravi broke his ribs once. Badly. If he liked him, I doubt he'd have done that."
But the alternative was worse. That only left one possibility—Ravi liked Veer.
You've got to be kidding me. Because like seriously?? Ravi likes my best friend??
"I know you're thinking exactly what I am," Yug said knowingly.
I narrowed my eyes. "Wait—how did you even find this out? And why would Ravi tell you of all people?"
His grin turned downright shameless. Yug had always been a talker, somehow weaving his way into people's secrets without them realizing.
Maybe that was why he'd become my comfort person—he made people open up, even when they didn't mean to.
And who doesn't even love tea? I always hear his stories even if I don't know any damn of the people he talks about.
"What kind of conversation was that?" I asked skeptically.
"Purely plot," Yug said innocently, taking another bite of his protein bar. "But I'll tell you this much—Ravi's better at conversations than Shaurya. At least he talks."
I couldn't help but nod. He wasn't wrong. Shaurya was impossible to crack, and I had always been the exception. He only actually talked with me. That's what people told me. But wasn't it our silence—our inability to say enough—that had led us here in the first place?
Aarya rubbed her sleepy eyes and padded toward the living hall, her small feet barely making a sound on the floor.
"Evie?" she called softly when she saw Eve lounging on the sofa, eyes on the TV.
"My princess is awake? Good morning!" Eve beamed, springing up and sweeping Aarya into her arms. She buried her in a warm cuddle, rocking her slightly.
"Good morning," Aarya mumbled against her shoulder, then asked, "Where's Papa?"
Eve tucked a few messy strands of hair behind the little girl's ear, her smile gentling. "He had to leave early for the office today."
"Oh..." Aarya's lips pressed into a pout.
Her disappointment lingered even as Eve carried her to the sofa.
The memory of last night came rushing back—Shaurya Shekhawat.
The way she'd addressed him yesterday.And how Papa's face had tightened afterward.
Maybe... maybe Papa was still upset with her about it.
After a while, Eve set her down and slipped into the kitchen, promising breakfast. Aarya stayed in the living room alone, her tiny palms propping up her cheeks, her pout deepening as she stared at nothing.
That's when she sensed someone's presence. Expecting Eve, she turned—and froze.
It wasn't Eve.
Shaurya Shekhawat stood at the doorway, watching her with the faintest, almost uncertain smile. Aarya's chest fluttered strangely, though her mouth stayed shut.
He walked closer and sat beside her, careful to leave a little space. He knew—even children sometimes needed their distance. And to Aarya, he was still a stranger.
"Good morning, little one," Shaurya said gently.
"I'm not little," Aarya muttered, though without her usual spark.
Her voice carried more sadness than defiance. Shaurya caught it instantly.
"Why so quiet?" he asked softly, tilting his head at her tiny frame curled up on the sofa.
Aarya's eyes stayed downcast. She said nothing.
"Missing your Papa?" he tried again.
This time, she nodded—slowly—her face clouding even more.
Shaurya's heart squeezed. He shifted, kneeling down so he was at her level, so she wouldn't have to look up at him.
"What if," he said carefully, "we make today fun? Just you and me."
He searched her eyes for a flicker of interest. "Do you want to go out?"
Aarya shook her head immediately, her messy hair swaying with the motion.
Shaurya wasn't surprised. She wasn't ready—not yet.
Shaurya wasn't ready either.
Vayu, he knew. Boys he understood—the scraped knees, the reckless stubbornness, the roughhousing energy.
But Aarya... Aarya was uncharted territory.
She was small, and sharp all at once. A daughter.
His daughter. The thought alone made his chest feel too tight, because what if he said something wrong?
What if he broke this fragile thread already stretched thin between them?
Still, he tried again.
"Do you... want to watch something?" he asked carefully, almost testing the waters.
Aarya's pouting lips didn't move, but her eyes flickered toward him, wary.
"I heard from your Papa," Shaurya continued gently, "that you love Frozen."
The effect was subtle but unmistakable—her eyes brightened, just a little, the tiniest spark of recognition. But the sadness in her expression lingered like a shadow she couldn't shake.
From the dining hall, Eve was watching. Arms folded, lips pressed thin. She didn't trust him—not fully. Her gaze tracked every word, every gesture, like a hawk circling. But she said nothing, only moved to set down a plate of pancakes in front of Aarya before retreating to her watch-post again.
Soon, Aarya was nibbling at her breakfast, curled up on the sofa with Shaurya sitting beside her, the television flickering with snowy blues and soft music. Frozen.
They sat in silence, letting the film fill the gaps between them. Shaurya didn't try to push, and Aarya didn't try to run. For now, that was enough.
But then the scene came—the one Aarya always hated. Princess Anna, vulnerable, watching her parents' funeral.
Aarya froze, her fork halfway to her mouth. Her little hands tightened on the plate, and her lips trembled. She whispered under her breath, so soft it almost got lost in the music:
"I will protect Papa."
Shaurya turned to her sharply. His breath caught in his throat as he looked at her—his daughter, who was already carrying a weight far too heavy for her tiny shoulders. The words pierced him deeper than any blade could.
His chest burned, and for a second he thought the tears would spill. But no. He wouldn't cry here. Not now. If he cried, it would only be in Aarav's arms.
So instead, he reached out—hesitant, almost trembling—and laid his large hand over her small one.
"Then," Shaurya said softly, his voice steadier than he felt, "let's protect him together."
He smiled, but his heart was breaking.
Aarya simply nodded and turned her gaze back to the screen. The movie played on in silence, the only sounds the faint clatter of her fork against the plate. Minutes passed without either of them speaking.
When she finally glanced sideways, she noticed the big man beside her had dozed off, his head tilted slightly, one hand propping it up.
Carefully, Aarya stood and padded across the room. She switched off the TV, plunging the space into a quiet stillness, then returned to her spot. For a moment she just sat there, studying him.
She had never liked bearded men before—they always scared her. But this one was different. His frame was broad, his presence commanding, and yet... he didn't feel frightening. Not at all.
Slowly, she shifted on the sofa, curling into her usual corner, her gaze still fixed on his face. Shaurya Shekhawat. Her father. She couldn't deny he was handsome, but—not more than Papa. Never more than Papa.
Her eyelids grew heavy, and eventually, lulled by the quiet and his steady breathing, Aarya drifted back to sleep.
Some time later, Eve stepped into the living area. She paused at the sight: Aarya, small and soft against the sofa cushions, and Shaurya, towering even in slumber, sitting protectively close.
A smile tugged at Eve's lips despite herself. Quietly, she pulled out her phone, framed the moment, and snapped a picture. One tap, and it was sent to Aarav.