93.
"Bilal, put that damn gun down!" Aarav struggled against the men restraining him, his voice raw with panic.
A few feet away, Shaurya was on his knees, barely conscious, blood streaking down his face, his breathing labored but his eyes still fixed on Aarav.
Bilal smirked. "Shaurya... won't it be entertaining to watch him die? What my sister couldn't finish, I will."
He lifted the gun.
The shot rang out.
But before Aarav could even process what was happening, Shaurya forced himself up with the last of his strength and threw himself in front of him.
The bullet hit Shaurya instead.
His body jerked, and he collapsed to the ground.
Silence fell, heavy and suffocating.
Aarav froze, his mind refusing to understand what his eyes were seeing. Somewhere behind them, Ravi screamed in rage and helplessness, still tied down.
The men holding Aarav loosened their grip, but Aarav didn't move. He couldn't.
Bilal walked over casually and crouched beside Shaurya's unmoving body, gripping his jaw to check for signs of life. Shaurya's body was already going limp.
Bilal laughed—a chilling, victorious sound. He stood and shouted to his men, "Shaurya Shekhawat is dead!"
Cheers erupted around them.
And Aarav shattered.
He dropped beside Shaurya, his hands trembling as he grabbed Shaurya's cold fingers, pressing his own hands against the wound as if he could somehow hold life inside him.
"Shaurya..." His voice broke. "Wake up... please... I'm here... please..."
There was no response. No movement.
Bilal lifted the gun again and fired once more into Shaurya's body, just to prove his point.
Aarav screamed, throwing himself over Shaurya protectively.
Another shot echoed.
—
Aarav jolted awake.
His breath came in sharp, panicked gasps, his chest aching as if he'd been the one shot. For a moment, the world felt unfamiliar—blurred, distant.
Then reality slowly seeped back in.
He was still in the room, slumped awkwardly on a chair. Papers lay scattered across the table, untouched since he must have dozed off. The lamp still glowed softly, casting long shadows on the walls.
Across the room, Aarya slept peacefully on the bed, curled into herself, unaware of the storm that had just torn through her papa's mind.
Aarav swallowed hard. His throat was painfully dry, his hands trembling as he pressed a palm against his chest, trying to calm his racing heart.
Just a dream.
But the fear clung to him, stubborn and cold.
"My Shaurya..." he muttered as he pushed himself to his feet. Never in his life had he imagined a dream so cruel, so vivid. Without thinking, he hurried out of the room, driven by a single need—to see him.
Shaurya was still in his office.
Files were spread out, the air heavy with tension and fatigue.
Ravi sat with him, pulled into yet another discussion about Bilal's case.
Veer was there too, though boredom had clearly claimed him; with Aarohi and Vayu away at the palace with Rajmata, he'd buried himself in his own business files instead.
"I think we need to find Hafsa," Shaurya said firmly. "I want her in front of my eyes by this week."
No one replied.
Shaurya frowned slightly and glanced to his right. Ravi's head was resting on the table, his features slack with exhaustion—fast asleep.
He turned to his left. Veer had given up as well, leaned back in his chair, mouth slightly open, long gone.
Shaurya sighed softly.
He stood and walked to a cupboard, pulling out two familiar blankets—the ones he always kept for nights like this.
Moving quietly, he draped one over Ravi, resting a gentle hand on his shoulder for a brief moment.
Then he went to Veer, covering him as well, instinctively smoothing his hair with a fond brotherly touch.
A small smile tugged at Shaurya's lips.
That was when he felt it—someone watching him.
He turned.
Aarav stood at the doorway, pale, eyes glassy, his expression caught somewhere between fear and relief.
Shaurya immediately closed the file he'd left open, slipping it into a drawer without a sound. Then he walked toward Aarav.
"Hey," Shaurya whispered, a tired but warm smile touching his lips as he took Aarav's hand in his.
Aarav didn't respond. His fingers were cold, his grip unusually tight.
Shaurya frowned slightly. "Why aren't you sleeping?"
Aarav hesitated, then said quietly, "I couldn't sleep without you."
A soft chuckle escaped Shaurya. Before he could say anything else, Aarav suddenly stepped forward and wrapped his arms around him, burying his face into Shaurya's shoulder as if he'd finally reached somewhere safe.
The tension in his body was unmistakable.
Shaurya's expression shifted immediately. His arms slipped around Aarav's waist, pulling him close. He felt Aarav's breath tremble against his neck.
Something was wrong.
Aarav slowly pulled back, his hands moving to Shaurya's face as if reassuring himself he was real. He pressed a gentle kiss to Shaurya's forehead.
"Kya hua meri jaan?" Shaurya asked softly, his thumb brushing Aarav's cheek.
Aarav only shook his head.
Shaurya leaned closer, his beard grazing Aarav's cheek lightly, a familiar comfort between them. "Is my princess sleeping well?"
Aarav nodded. "Yeah."
"Good," Shaurya murmured.
Before Aarav could react, Shaurya bent and picked him up effortlessly. Aarav instinctively wrapped his arms around Shaurya's shoulders, his legs tightening around him.
"Shaurya... put me down," Aarav protested weakly, though he made no effort to actually get off.
"Nope," Shaurya replied calmly. "Even when I'm old and my back hurts, I'll still carry you like this."
And he meant it.
He carried Aarav through the quiet corridors toward their room. The mansion was still, lights dimmed, guards changing shifts outside. Aarav didn't argue further. His grip remained tight, like he feared Shaurya might disappear if he let go.
Shaurya placed him gently on the bed before moving away to change.
"Shaurya... please come here," Aarav said suddenly.
There was uneasiness in his voice.
Shaurya glanced back, concern flickering in his eyes. "Yeah, just a second. Let me change."
He quickly swapped his clothes for something comfortable and dimmed the lights through the remote, letting the room fall into a soft, warm glow before returning to the bed.
He lay beside Aarav, watching him carefully. "You're thinking something. Wanna talk about it?"
Aarav shook his head and shifted closer, guiding Shaurya onto the pillow before resting his own head on Shaurya's chest, listening to the steady rhythm of his heartbeat.
Shaurya pulled the blanket over them both, instinctively wrapping an arm around Aarav. His hand slipped under Aarav's shirt, slowly massaging his back in soothing circles.
For a while, neither spoke.
Then Aarav's voice broke the silence.
"Shaurya... how long will this go on? This fight with Bilal?"
Shaurya exhaled slowly, staring at the ceiling.
"I don't know," he admitted. "This life... it's an endless loop. One enemy goes, another rises. Sometimes... I get tired too."
His voice softened.
"I miss Udaipur. Those days when it was just us. No politics. No enemies. No blood. Just... you, me, and peace. Now it feels like this war will never end."
Aarav's arms tightened around him. It was the first time Shaurya confessed said that he was tired.
"Will you kill him... if I ask you to?" Aarav asked quietly.
Shaurya paused, surprised. He looked down at Aarav.
"You were always against that."
"I still am," Aarav whispered. "But I'm scared. If he stays alive, he'll keep coming back. And if you kill him... others might declare war. I don't want to lose you in that storm."
Shaurya's expression hardened slightly.
"I don't fear them. We're Rajputs, Aarav. Fear isn't in our blood."
Then his tone softened again.
"But if you truly ask me to end this... I will. I was only waiting for your words."
Aarav lifted his head, eyes glistening.
"But you don't get to fight alone," he said. "You involve me. I stand beside you. I protect you too."
A small smile curved Shaurya's lips.
"Of course," he murmured.
Aarav leaned forward and pressed a soft kiss to his lips before settling back against his chest.
Silence returned, calmer now.
Aarav's voice came again, barely above a whisper.
"I love you".
Shaurya tightened his arms around him, pressing a kiss into Aarav's hair.
------------------
The next day~
Ravi hadn't shown up for an entire day after his confession, and Yug had convinced himself it was embarrassment.
"Finally, I can breathe in peace," Yug muttered while packing his bag.
The door suddenly banged open.
Without looking up, Yug assumed it was Ravi and continued stuffing clothes into his bag.
"Yug."
Kabir's voice made him look up.
"What are you doing here?" Yug asked, confused.
Kabir looked unusually serious — like he'd uncovered something major.
"I have something to show you."
He handed over an envelope.
"What is it?" Yug asked, opening it.
"People connected to Ozge and Bilal. Past and present. Some of them are already dead. Taken out by Shaurya," Kabir explained.
Yug flipped through the photographs one by one.
Faces he didn't recognize.
Men in files.
Crime scenes.
Then his fingers froze.
His father's picture.
So his suspicion was true. His father had been connected to them.
And if his father was involved...
Did Shaurya kill him?
"Shaurya didn't kill him," Kabir said calmly, as if reading Yug's thoughts.
Yug looked up sharply. "How do you know?"
"Because your father was sent here as a spy by Ozge. He also sold internal Shekhawat information. But Shaurya wouldn't kill someone just for that. And if he had, I would've known."
Yug looked back at the photograph.
His father... a spy. Selling information.
It hurt, but it didn't shock him. His father always chased money, no matter the cost.
Still... Ozge?
That part was harder to digest.
"So what are you saying?" Yug asked quietly. "You know who killed him?"
Kabir hesitated.
"I have a theory. No proof yet."
Yug's jaw tightened. "Say it."
Kabir adjusted his glasses.
"I think it might've been Ravi."
Silence fell.
"I heard he once killed a spy without Shaurya's permission. Something that had never happened before," Kabir continued. "And nowadays, people planning something always leave traces. Digital ones."
Yug felt his chest tighten.
"I went through records... old internal logs... even internet activity from years back."
Kabir exhaled slowly.
"And..."
"And what?" Yug asked, his voice barely steady.
Kabir exhaled slowly.
"He searched for you the most," he said. "Watched a lot of your interviews. Public appearances. Anything related to you."
Yug's grip tightened around the envelope.
"And when I compared your father's photo with yours..." Kabir continued, studying him carefully, "...the resemblance is strong. Anyone who knew him would notice."
Yug swallowed. His throat felt painfully dry.
"So if Ravi was involved in your father's death," Kabir went on, "and he kept tabs on you afterward, then the first logical conclusion is that you could've or might be in danger. Maybe your father did something to him. Maybe Ravi wanted or wants revenge."
The words rang in Yug's ears.
Revenge.
The room suddenly felt smaller.
Running away flashed through his mind for a second, but he immediately knew it was pointless. People like them could find anyone, anywhere.
He held out the envelope to Kabir.
"Take this," Yug said quietly. "Burn it. Destroy it. Do whatever you want... just make sure Ravi never finds out you showed this to me."
Kabir raised an eyebrow. "I think I scared you a little too much."
Yug forced a weak shake of his head. "No... I just... need some time alone."
Kabir studied him for a moment, then simply shrugged and left.
The door clicked shut.
Silence filled the room.
Yug hurriedly started packing again, stuffing things into his bag without even looking. But midway through, his hands stopped moving.
He pressed both palms against his head.
What the hell had his father done?
And Ravi... wanted revenge?
That didn't make sense.
Ravi had stayed around him. Helped him. Confessed his feelings.
Was all of that fake?
Was he just getting close... waiting for the right moment?
Yug's breathing turned uneven.
Nothing added up.
And that uncertainty scared him more than the truth ever could.