50.
Aarav drove Yug to his house—or rather, forced him to go there.
Yug had been running on fumes, and even if he pretended otherwise, the exhaustion was written all over him.
Since it was the weekend, Aarav insisted they both take the afternoon off.
Once inside, Aarav made sure Yug had something to eat before bed—he ordered food, set it neatly on the dining table, and told Yug to eat before collapsing into sleep.
Only then did he leave, heading back to his apartment.
Weekends were sacred for Aarav. No office calls, no endless emails—just Aarya.
And today, his thoughts kept circling back to the fact that Shaurya had volunteered to stay behind and look after her.
That picture Eve had sent of Shaurya and Aarya asleep on the couch.
.. it twisted something deep in Aarav's chest. A feeling he hadn't let himself touch in years.
Warmth, longing, fear. He didn't have a word for it—only that it unsettled him and calmed him all at once.
Back at the apartment, Shaurya had already woken up. Aarya had stirred earlier than him, and he regretted it—regretted the whole wasted hour he'd spent napping instead of doing something with her. An hour lost with his daughter. The thought gnawed at him.
Ravi's words came back, sharp and irritating but true: "Stop acting like some constipated old man around her. Kids don't like that. Just... try being chill for once. Don't forget Aarav raised her".
Shaurya had bristled at the time, but now, standing in the quiet apartment, he found himself replaying it. Maybe Ravi was right.
Shaurya really wondered how Aarav dealt with his boring ass. He had a personality like a chatgpt conversation.
When he stepped out toward the sunlit patio, he spotted Aarya crouched down by the corner of the garden.
A small stray cat had wandered in, and she was holding it against her chest with all the unrestrained affection of a child.
Except—she was squeezing the poor creature so tightly its legs flailed in protest.
Shaurya stopped for a moment, just watching. The sight tugged a laugh out of him—an honest, unguarded chuckle that surprised even himself. His daughter, so tiny, so fierce, completely unaware she was suffocating the animal she wanted to love.
He walked closer, trying to keep his tone easy, light, as Ravi had told him.
"Careful, soldier," he called softly. "You'll crush your comrade before the battle even starts."
Aarya looked up, startled, her cheeks puffing in annoyance. "I'm not a soldier"
Shaurya smirked. "Really? Looked like you were wrestling an enemy there." He crouched down beside her, giving the cat an amused glance. "Poor thing's begging for reinforcements."
Aarya loosened her grip reluctantly even though she didn't know what exactly 'reinforcements' meant. The cat bolted a few steps away, then turned back, glaring at her with wide eyes. Shaurya chuckled again, shaking his head.
"You have to hold it gently," he said, miming the motion with his big hands.
Aarya narrowed her eyes at him. "You know a lot about cats?"
"Enough to survive a few scratches," Shaurya said, lifting his hand to show an old faded scar. "See? Badge of honor."
That earned him a tiny giggle. She looked at the cat again, then back at him, curiosity mixing with the caution she always carried around him.
Shaurya settled on the grass beside her, watching the cat slink off under a bush. He tilted his head toward Aarya.
"You've already got a rabbit," he said casually. "Why not a cat too?"
Aarya's fingers fiddled with a blade of grass, her voice dropping to a small murmur.
"Papa won't allow it."
The moment she said Papa, the air shifted. Yesterday's events seemed to come rushing back to her—the hurt she thought she'd caused Aarav. Her little shoulders stiffened, her mouth pressed into a pout. She fell into silence, eyes glued to the ground.
Shaurya felt the weight of her sadness instantly, and regret hit him sharp in the chest. He wanted to undo it, to tell her she hadn't done anything wrong, but the words jammed in his throat.
He'd never been good with emotions—not his, not anyone else's.
But he wasn't going to back down. Not with her.
"Is this because your papa was upset yesterday?" he asked gently, his voice softer than he even intended. "Because you called me 'Mr. Shekhawat'?"
Shaurya asked her openly since he believed that sometimes it's better to be straightforward with children rather making them spiral in confusion.
Aarya's chin dipped lower, her lips trembling. She gave the smallest nod, her hair falling like a curtain around her face.
Shaurya's heart squeezed. He hadn't expected her answer to hurt so much.
And then, slowly, she lifted her tiny hands, slipping them over his much larger ones. Her fingers barely curled around, her grip tentative but there. She didn't look at him—her gaze stayed locked on their joined hands—but she whispered, almost inaudible,
"Sorry."
Shaurya froze. For a second, he didn't even breathe. He didn't know if this was progress, or just a child trying to fix something she thought was broken. But the warmth of her hands, the fragile trust of that touch—it made him want to scream, to laugh, to cry, all at once.
He swallowed the storm in his throat, forcing himself to keep steady. Instead of pulling her into the hug he desperately wanted, he only tightened his hand gently around hers, grounding them both.
"Aarya," he said quietly, "you never have to be sorry for that. "
Shaurya waited until she dared to peek up at him, her big eyes glassy with unshed worry. He exhaled slowly, choosing his words with care, his voice low and steady.
"Aarya... listen to me," he said, brushing her knuckles gently with his thumb. "Your papa is not upset with you. Not even a little. He loves you way too much for something like this to ever matter."
Her brows furrowed, unsure. Aarya actually would never understand the depth of his words at her age.
Shaurya tilted his head, giving her a small, warm smile—the kind that softened his whole face, the kind he rarely let anyone see.
"And you don't need to feel sorry for calling me anything, hmm? You can call me 'Mr. Shekhawat' for as long as you want. I don't mind at all."
Shaurya leaned back a little, still smiling softly. "What matters to me is that you're comfortable. That's all."
Aarya blinked at him, and though she didn't say much, the sadness in her face loosened just a bit. She gave a tiny nod and looked down at their hands again, this time not out of shame but as if she was quietly content with holding on.
Shaurya's chest ached at the sight. He wanted to laugh at himself for how easily this little girl could unmake him. But instead, he just let the warmth settle in.
For once in years, Shaurya Shekhawat didn't feel like a man on edge—he just felt like a father sitting in the sun with his daughter. Which was something very new for him.
Aarya suddenly clapped her hands, making Shaurya flinch. Now that was random.
"I want to go inside!" she announced, already trotting toward the door.
Shaurya chuckled under his breath and followed her, his long strides easily catching up. They entered her little room, the walls covered with pastel stickers and a shelf stacked with her books and toys. But what Aarya pulled out from the corner made Shaurya pause.
A karaoke set.
She dragged it across the floor like it weighed nothing, eyes sparkling. "I like singing," she said proudly, setting it up with practiced ease.
Shaurya tilted his head, something tugging inside his chest. Cats. Food. Music. She was his daughter—every little interest of hers echoed something from his own life. Blood really was magic.
"So," he asked lightly, leaning against the wall, "what do you want to sing?"
"One Direction," Aarya said without hesitation.
Shaurya froze. He looked at her like she had just declared the most outrageous thing.
"You're already starting from the classics?" he muttered to himself. The corner of his lips twitched. "Figures. That was your papa's favorite band too."
Of course it was. Aarav was the biggest directioner and sang their songs every car ride, even though he was off tune and Shaurya loved it.
Aarya was too busy flipping through the karaoke machine to notice his expression. Shaurya sighed, grabbed the AC remote to set the room cooler, and turned on the music for her. He handed her the mic like it was some precious baton.
The intro started.
Aarya tapped her tiny feet against the floor, puffed her cheeks, and sang into the mic, her voice clear and surprisingly steady:
"You're insecure, don't know what for..."
Shaurya's jaw dropped slightly. She wasn't perfect, of course—her words stumbled here and there—but the fact that his five-year-old even tried to pronounce them that well left him shocked. He felt very proud.
Before he knew it, the chorus hit. Shaurya found himself joining in without thinking:
"Everyone else in the room can see it..."
Aarya widened her arms dramatically, motioning for him to pick her up. He raised an eyebrow, but she didn't lower her arms until he obeyed. With a quiet chuckle, Shaurya scooped her up and set her on the bed.
And that was it.
The next moment, Aarya was bouncing on the mattress, hair flying everywhere, the mic still in her grip as she screamed:
"Baby, you light up my world like nobody else—"
She thrust the mic toward Shaurya, urging him to go louder.
He groaned. "Aarya—"
But her little glare left him no choice.
So Shaurya Shekhawat—feared mafia boss, man feared by half the country who knew his actual world—screamed his lungs out with his five-year-old daughter, singing One Direction at full volume.
By the second chorus, he wasn't even pretending to hold back anymore. His calm, stoic demeanor cracked wide open, replaced by laughter and wild energy. For once, he didn't care how ridiculous he looked.
It was just him and his daughter, the music, and the sound of both their voices echoing around the room.
The elevator dinged and Aarav stepped into the hallway. He could already hear noise—not the usual muffled cartoons or Aarya's occasional singing, but something loud, chaotic, and... oddly familiar.
He quickened his pace toward the apartment door.
The moment he opened it, Eve nearly crashed into him. Her eyes were wide, her face pale with mock horror.
"Finally, you're here!" she whispered dramatically, grabbing his wrist. "I think Shaurya might be possessed."
Aarav blinked. "What?"
Eve nodded vigorously. "He's laughing. Laughing, Aarav. Like a maniac. Trust me I'm scared".
Aarav just stared at her, torn between disbelief and exasperation. Before he could argue, Eve tugged him toward Aarya's room like a detective dragging in backup.
The door was already ajar.
Aarav froze the moment he peeked inside.
There, on the bed, was Aarya—mic in hand, bouncing and singing with all her might. And beside her, Shaurya. Laughing, hair messy, voice perfect like the olden days.
"You don't know you're beautiful!"
Shaurya twirled Aarya around like she was the star of some concert, his booming laugh shaking the room.
He looked like himself.
The same boy Aarav grew up with—the one who used to climb school rooftops with a guitar and sing until teachers dragged them down, a very quite menace. Yes Shaurya was never loud. But he wasn't not too naive either. But that Shaurya was lost. Lost in the dark world.
Aarav's throat tightened. He stood silently at the door, his hand still gripping the grocery bag.
Eve, on the other hand, was gawking openly, eyes darting between Shaurya and Aarya like she'd just seen an alien invasion.
Suddenly, Shaurya stilled. He hadn't even turned fully, but his instincts caught the presence at the door. His laughter died down, and he turned slowly, his eyes locking onto Aarav.
Aarav stiffened, caught like a deer in headlights.
And then Shaurya smiled.
Not his polished smile. Not the strained, distant one he wore around people. But a gentle, soft curve of his lips, something so rare it nearly broke Aarav's composure.
Shaurya didn't speak. He didn't explain. He simply shifted his gaze back to the little girl still singing happily, unaware of the tension in the room.
Aarya clutched the mic, her tiny voice carrying the lyrics with all the seriousness in the world.
"Aarya," Aarav called softly from the doorway.
Her head snapped toward him instantly, and her face lit up with the brightest smile.
"Papaa!"
In the next second, she was running, her tiny feet pattering against the floor until she launched herself into Aarav's arms. He caught her effortlessly, scooping her up and pressing their cheeks together, his smile growing with every squeeze of her little arms around him.
"Too much fun, huh?" Aarav asked, his voice teasing but warm.
"YES!" Aarya practically screamed in excitement, making him laugh.
He chuckled, kissing the side of her head. Aarya buried her face into his shoulder, hugging him tighter as though she never wanted to let go. Aarav's heart melted at the gesture.
He could feel her overflowing joy—so much that even words couldn't contain it. And he could sense the same overwhelming tide in Shaurya, though he tried not to look his way just yet.
It was new. Awkward. Fragile. For both father and daughter.
But wasn't this the very thing Aarav had wished for, quietly, for years?
----------------------------------------------
The day stretched on, and Aarya, buzzing with energy even after the karaoke chaos, insisted on going out with Eve. She didn't seem to tire one bit—her laughter and chatter echoing down the hallway until the door closed behind them.
For the first time that day, the apartment grew quiet. Just Aarav and Shaurya.
Aarav took the chance to shower, letting the hot water wash away the exhaustion of the week. When he emerged, hair damp and sticking to his forehead, he threw on a casual shirt and padded barefoot into the living area.
There he found Shaurya sprawled back on the couch, head leaned against the cushions, eyes closed like he was half-asleep. His large frame looked oddly at peace in that moment.
"What's up? Tired?" Aarav teased, dropping onto the other end of the couch. "Getting old for real, aren't you?"
At that, Shaurya cracked one eye open, and then the other, before a rare, unguarded smile broke across his face. His gaze flickered—slow, deliberate—taking in Aarav from head to toe. Damp hair, fresh shirt, the way water still clung to his skin. He didn't even hide the fact that he was staring.
Aarav cleared his throat, pretending not to notice, and shifted closer to sit properly beside him.
"It was way too much for me, Aarav," Shaurya murmured after a moment, his voice rough but strangely vulnerable. "She held my hand. I might go crazy at this point."
Aarav turned to look at him. The way Shaurya spoke—plain, honest, stripped of his usual armor—wasn't something Aarav was used to. And he liked it. He liked that Shaurya was trying, fumbling maybe, but trying nonetheless.
"You're way too damn awkward with her, I must say," Aarav laughed, shaking his head.
Shaurya chuckled lowly. "I can't help it. It's like a new territory. I'm fine with Vayu, I know what to do with him... but with her—she's a girl, you know?"
Aarav nodded, his expression softening. He understood more than Shaurya knew—because he himself still struggled with the same thought more times than he cared to admit.
"Shaurya..." Aarav drew in a breath, turning toward him. "I want to be friends with you."
Shaurya's brows lifted, but he stayed silent, watching him carefully.
"I think maybe... we don't talk to each other the way we used to.
Ughh what am I even saying? Of course we don't talk.
And Aarya—she might've taken that the wrong way.
I don't want her to think there's bad blood between us.
I want her to see that we're... good friends.
Because honestly, Shaurya, we were. That was real.
I used to talk to you about everything. You always listened.
And I want that back—at least for her sake. "
Shaurya's throat tightened. He didn't want Aarav to be just his friend. But he could read the sincerity in Aarav's eyes, and for now, he understood the weight of the situation.
"I like the idea," Shaurya said finally, nodding with a small smile.
Aarav exhaled in relief, sinking back into the couch. "Good. Then—what's up, old man?" He grinned, stretching his legs across the couch lazily.
Shaurya chuckled at that, resting his head on his palm as he angled toward Aarav. "You tell me."
"Of course, I have to start it," Aarav rolled his eyes. "Fine. So... what did you do all these years?"
Shaurya's smile dimmed. "I don't know. I don't remember everything, really."
Aarav frowned. "What do you mean?"
Shaurya's voice dropped, casual but heavy. "I guess I forgot some parts of those years. Maybe the drugs, you know."
The words hit Aarav like a blow. His chest ached, and before he could stop himself, his hand moved, gripping Shaurya's tightly. Warm. Steady.
Shaurya froze. For the second time that day, he wanted to scream, to cry, to let it all out—but he swallowed it down, holding on to Aarav's touch for just a moment longer.
"Do you... want to talk about it, Shaurya?" Aarav asked gently, voice low, careful not to push too hard.
Shaurya sighed, gaze falling to where their hands were joined. "I... yes. I do want to talk about it. But not today."
Aarav nodded slowly. "Not today, then." He lingered a moment before he carefully slipped his hand free, realizing it had stayed longer than it should. Shaurya let him go, but the weight of it—the comfort of it—still lingered between them, unspoken.
"You smiled a lot today," Aarav said, half-teasing, half-genuine.
Shaurya smirked. "You notice me too much, don't you?" He threw in a wink.
"Chiii! Kaun notice kar raha hai aapko? Shakal dekhi hai apni? Chapri," Aarav shot back instantly, scrunching his nose.
For a second, the air went heavy—an awkward pause, the kind where both didn't know whether to laugh or hold back. Then, almost in the same breath, they broke into laughter together, the sound spilling into the quiet room, easing everything again.
"So say something, Shaurya. I'm bored!" Aarav whined, resting his chin on his hand dramatically.
"What should I say?" Shaurya asked lazily, glancing at him.
"Anything! Ugh—fine. Do you like my biceps?" Aarav flexed them exaggeratedly, his lips quirking.
Shaurya paused, pretending to observe.
"I don't know. But surely you've gained some weight."
Aarav gasped. "Excuse me?! Rude."
Shaurya chuckled, shaking his head. "I'm kidding. You look... insanely beautiful." His voice softened, and that familiar fond smile curved his lips. "I may not like your tattoos, but you look great."
Aarav raised his brows, caught off guard, before folding his arms. "I don't care what you think anyway. Doesn't matter." He muttered, looking away.
Shaurya tilted his head, studying him. "So only Yug's opinions matter, I guess?"
Aarav hesitated, then gave a small nod.
Something shifted in Shaurya's eyes. He moved closer, closing the space between them before Aarav could react.
His arm slid around Aarav's waist, pulling him in firmly.
Aarav stiffened, but Shaurya didn't let go.
His fingers traced the line of Aarav's jaw with a gentleness that contradicted the intensity in his gaze.
He lowered his head slightly, inhaling against Aarav's skin. The brush of Shaurya's moustache grazed Aarav's neck, sending a shiver down his spine. Aarav's breath hitched, his hands moving instinctively to Shaurya's shoulders—meant to push him away, but instead just... stayed there.
Shaurya's lips ghosted near his ear as he whispered, his voice low and certain, "Does Yug make you feel like this too?"
Aarav's chest tightened, his pulse racing in a way he couldn't control.
"Ahh.... Shaur..ya-"
Shaurya smirked slightly at that. Aarav hands then travelled upwards towards Shaurya's short chopped chair. The clean fade, the little strands of hair electrifying Aarav's palms.
"You still break for me, Aarav," Shaurya murmured, his hand tightening at his waist. "Nobody can change that."
A wave of heat pooled in Aarav's stomach, his throat dry. He clenched his jaw, fighting the sound that threatened to escape when Shaurya's hands moved across his waist with deliberate care.
"You belong with me," Shaurya whispered, every word dripping with quiet conviction.