101.
After returning from Hafsa's place, Shaurya's condition worsened.
Hafsa had survived. Not only that — she had sent her men after Shaurya and Aarav. But Shaurya's backup had already been in position. The ambush failed.
Still... something wasn't right.
Hafsa could have killed him.
She had the chance.
But she didn't.
That thought bothered him more than the wound burning across his chest.
Now he was confined to his bed, propped up against pillows, his torso tightly bandaged. Every breath felt like a reminder of that night.
"Dadda?"
The small, soft voice instantly melted the tension in his mind.
Shaurya looked up.
Aarya stood at the doorway, her little fingers curled around the edge of the frame, her big eyes searching his face carefully.
"Come here, my love," he said gently, opening his arms despite the pull in his chest.
Aarya's face brightened. She ran toward him and climbed onto the bed in a rush, throwing her arms around him tightly.
Shaurya hissed faintly at the pressure but masked it with a smile. He pressed a slow kiss to her hair.
Aarya pulled back and looked at the bandage peeking from under his shirt. Her eyes welled up again. She had cried for hours the day before when she saw him injured.
"Daddy... is it still hurting?" she asked.
Shaurya cupped her cheek softly.
"No, jaan. It's much better now," he lied smoothly. "But tell me — did you eat?"
She shook her head stubbornly.
"No. I want to eat with you."
He sighed softly.
"Alright. Then we'll ask them to bring the food here, hmm?"
"There's no need. The food is already here."
Aarohi entered the room with a small smile, the maid following behind her carrying a tray.
The tray was set carefully on the table near the bed before the maid quietly left.
"Aarya refused to eat unless her daddy eats," Aarohi said, looking at Shaurya knowingly.
A small, rare softness passed through Shaurya's eyes.
"Is that so?" he murmured.
"Yay!" Aarya cheered and climbed off his lap carefully this time, hurrying toward the tray.
Shaurya watched her, his hand unconsciously resting over his wound.
"Wait, let me help you, dear," Aarohi said softly as she began serving food onto the plate.
"Aarohi, don't serve for me... I don't really feel like eating," Shaurya muttered, leaning back slightly.
"Then I won't eat either!" Aarya declared, crossing her arms with a dramatic pout.
Shaurya looked at her for a long second — those stubborn little eyes so much like his own.
He sighed.
"Aarya... I'll eat when your Papa comes, okay?"
Before she could argue, Aarohi spoke gently.
"Shaurya Bhai, he'll be late today. Veer just called me — the client delayed the meeting. And Bhaiya is preparing for the campaign as well. It might take a while."
Shaurya nodded quietly. Of course. Work. Responsibilities. Aarav will be more busy with the royal duties after the coronation.
"Can I feed you, Daddy?" Aarya asked suddenly, her eyes hopeful.
Shaurya chuckled faintly.
"You're treating me like I'm critically injured. I'm fine, little one."
She leaned closer, pleading softly. "Please? I want to feed you."
Aarohi smiled at the sight, warmth filling her eyes.
Shaurya raised his hands in surrender. "Alright then... Boss."
Aarya grinned triumphantly and carefully climbed back onto his lap — slower this time, mindful of his wound.
Aarohi sat beside them, holding the plate steady.
Aarya scooped a spoonful of rice with great concentration and lifted it toward him.
"Daddy... aaa."
Shaurya obeyed, opening his mouth.
She fed him with such seriousness, as if it were the most important duty in the world. Then she took a bite herself.
A little gravy stained the corner of his lips. Aarya immediately noticed.
"Wait!" she said, grabbing a napkin and gently wiping his mouth with tiny, careful hands.
Shaurya's chest tightened — not from the injury.
But from the memory.
The way she fussed over him. The way she smiled with that slight stubborn pout.
Just like his mother used to.
For a brief second, the room blurred.
Aarav raised the most beautiful soul... he thought quietly.
And somewhere along the way, he lost pieces of himself doing it.
"Daddy... aaa," Aarya insisted again, bringing another spoon toward him.
Aarohi watched them both, her fingers softly brushing through Aarya's hair.
"Who would ever say you two were apart for so many years?" she murmured gently.
After a few more bites, he placed his hand over Aarya's.
"I'm done, little one. I'm full."
"Okay!" she chirped happily.
Aarohi set the plate back on the table.
"I'll wash my hands!" Aarya announced before hopping off the bed and running toward the washroom.
Shaurya stared ahead, his jaw tightening slightly.
"I don't know if I can ever be a good parent to her," he said quietly.
Aarohi looked at him.
"She was raised by Aarav. He gave her everything." His voice dropped. "And I couldn't even be good to him."
"It wasn't entirely your fault," Aarohi said gently. "Please stop blaming yourself all the time."
Shaurya stayed quiet.
"You're already a good parent, Shaurya Bhai. She loves you. Both the kids do."
He looked up at that.
"Sometimes Vayu's teachers get confused whether he's your son or Veer's," Aarohi added with a soft chuckle.
A faint smile finally touched Shaurya's lips.
"How's Rajmata?" he asked after a pause.
"She's doing well. Overjoyed, actually. Her grandson touring the country before the coronation? She hasn't stopped smiling since morning."
Just then, Aarya ran back in and jumped onto the bed beside Shaurya.
"I should go now," Aarohi said, standing up. "Need to check some mails... and see if Vayu has fallen asleep."
"Alright. Goodnight," Shaurya replied.
"Goodnight, Beautiful!" Aarya chirped with a grin.
Aarohi laughed and leaned down to kiss her cheeks.
"Gosh, I could eat these cheeks someday."
Aarya giggled loudly.
"Goodnight, my princess."
And with that, Aarohi left. The room grew quiet.
Father and daughter talked for a while.
Shaurya learned that Aarya had punched a boy in class because he was teasing her and pulling her skirt.
His jaw tightened slightly.
"And what did the teacher say?" he asked calmly.
"She said I shouldn't punch," Aarya replied proudly. "But he started it."
Shaurya kissed her head. "You did good princess".
Soon, they switched on Shinchan.
"I don't like Kazama," Aarya said, frowning at the screen. "Why is his hair blue?"
Shaurya stared at the TV seriously. "Maybe he dyed it."
She giggled.
"I think Shinchan and Kazama like each other," Shaurya added, too invested in the episode.
"Yeah, they're friends, Daddy. Of course they like each other."
"Not like that. I mean they might be—"
"Alright, you don't need to explain, Mr. Grandpa."
Aarav's voice came from the doorway.
Both Shaurya and Aarya turned their heads at the exact same time.
The synchronized made Aarav chuckle.
"Papaaa!" Aarya squealed, jumping off the bed and into his arms.
"Hey, my little princess," Aarav smiled, kissing her forehead.
"Sorry I'm late. Did you and Daddy eat?"
"Yes! I fed him today!" she declared proudly.
"Really?" Aarav raised his brows dramatically. "Aap bohot jaldi bade ho rahe ho."
He tickled her belly lightly. "It's good you're taking care of your father. I'm very proud of you, baby."
He made her sit back on the bed.
As expected, she immediately crawled back into Shaurya's lap.
Aarav watched that for a second — something soft flickering in his eyes — before he sighed and loosened his tie, walking toward the closet.
"Shaurya, you have a doctor's appointment tomorrow. Don't forget. You always forget things like these easily". He paused. "How are you feeling now?"
He turned around.
Both Shaurya and Aarya were looking at him with identical pouts.
Aarav blinked.
"What?" he asked, trying not to smile.
Aarya pointed at him accusingly. "You're scolding Daddy."
Shaurya crossed his arms. "Yeah. I'm injured. Be respectful."
Aarav laughed under his breath.
"You didn't give Daddy a kiss too," Aarya said suddenly, narrowing her eyes suspiciously. "You don't love him anymore?"
Shaurya, absolutely unhelpful, nodded slowly.
Aarav felt a sharp little pang in his chest.
His daughter genuinely believed love could disappear over a missed kiss. Kids really were dangerously innocent.
He walked straight toward the bed and lightly hit Shaurya's head.
"What are you nodding at?" he muttered, then turned to Aarya.
"Baby," he said softly, rubbing her back, "I will never stop loving your Dad. Ever. Don't say that again, okay?"
Aarya looked unconvinced.
"Then why didn't you kiss him?"
"Yeah," Shaurya added seriously. "Explain."
Aarav shot him a warning look before looking back at Aarya with exaggerated patience.
"Because I just came home, Aarya. I'm sweaty and tired. Should I kiss your Daddy smelling like the whole city?"
"Daddy doesn't mind". Shaurya said quietly.
Aarya scrunched her nose. "Nooo."
"Exactly. I'll shower first. Then I'll give him lots of kisses. But listen carefully," Aarav said, holding her tiny face between his palms. "Love doesn't depend on kisses. Even if we fight, even if we're angry, even if I scold him and make him starve for days".
Shaurya raised a brow.
"—I will still love him. Always."
Aarya seemed satisfied with that.
"And anyway," Aarav added lightly, "your Daddy is too handsome to ignore."
Aarya burst into giggles.
Shaurya's hand casually slid toward Aarav's waist.
Aarav immediately smacked it away.
Then he looked at Aarya. "It's past your bedtime. Why are you still awake?"
"We were waiting for you," Shaurya said quietly.
Aarav's expression softened for a split second before he masked it.
"Too late for that now. Baby, let's go. I'll tuck you in Aarya".
He lifted Aarya into his arms. Before leaving, he leaned down and placed a quick, gentle peck on Shaurya's cheek.
"Happy?" he muttered under his breath.
Then he left the room.
Shaurya smiled to himself and slowly got off the bed, ignoring the dull ache in his chest.
He walked to the wardrobe and pulled out a fresh set of clothes for Aarav, laying them neatly on the bed.
A few minutes later, Aarav returned.
"What are you doing, Shaurya?" he asked, noticing the clothes.
Aarav stared at him for a moment.
"You're cute," he said quietly, stepping closer.
He wrapped his arms around Shaurya carefully, mindful of the injury.
Shaurya rested his chin on Aarav's shoulder, breathing him in.
For a moment, neither spoke.
Then, as Shaurya's hands slowly began to wander under Aarav's shirt, Aarav caught his wrists gently.
"Doctor's appointment tomorrow," Aarav reminded him, raising an eyebrow.
Shaurya smirked faintly. "I'm not dying."
"You're injured," Aarav corrected softly. "And I just got you back. Don't test my patience."
The teasing tone was there.
But beneath it was something far deeper. Care.
Possessiveness.
"Wait. I'll shower first," Aarav said, picking up the clothes from the bed.
Shaurya watched him disappear into the bathroom.
The sound of running water filled the room. For the first time that day, the heaviness in Shaurya's chest eased — not from the injury, but from the quiet comfort of knowing Aarav was home.
After several minutes, Aarav stepped out, hair damp, face fresh. He dried his hair with a towel and changed into the clothes Shaurya had laid out for him.
He walked toward the bed.
Shaurya was scrolling through his phone.
The moment Aarav came closer, Shaurya put the phone aside and gently pulled him by the wrist, guiding him onto his lap.
"Careful," Aarav murmured automatically, but he didn't resist.
Instead, he cupped Shaurya's face and began pressing soft kisses all over it — forehead, cheeks, temple — like he was making up for lost time.
Shaurya let out a quiet chuckle and rubbed his beard playfully against Aarav's cheek.
"I missed you so much," Aarav whispered. "I love you."
Shaurya looked at him — really looked at him.
"I love you too," he replied softly, leaning forward to kiss the tip of Aarav's nose.
Aarav's expression shifted slightly — serious now.
"I'll never stop loving you, okay? Aarya just gets confused sometimes."
"I know," Shaurya said quietly, squeezing Aarav's waist gently.
Aarav leaned down and kissed his lips — slow, soft, careful of the injury. It wasn't urgent. It was grounding.
He pulled back slightly and brushed his fingers over the bandaged area on Shaurya's chest.
"Aapko zyada dard to nahi ho raha na?" he asked, concern slipping through his calm tone.
"I'm fine, baby," Shaurya replied, resting his head against Aarav's shoulder.
Aarav ran his fingers through Shaurya's hair slowly.
"Shaurya... tension mat lo, okay?" he murmured. "About Hafsa — we'll handle it. We just need to locate her properly and—"
Shaurya's grip on him tightened slightly.
"Baby, it's our time now. Let's not talk about that". Shaurya said.
"Umm okay". Aarav said.
"So how's our wedding preparations going on? Did you finalize the design for what you're going to wear?" Shaurya asked.
"Not yet. We still have time. So I was thinking if I could complete the campaigns first. I'm just worried Hafsa might do something during my campaign".
"Nothing will happen. Wait for a week before you start. I'll find her first and end this thing". Shaurya said.
"Hmm".
Shaurya took Aarav's hand gently and brought it to his lips, pressing a slow kiss against his knuckles.
"Aarav..." he murmured, his voice lower now. "I want you."
Aarav's lips curved into a knowing smirk.
"Can't you wait?" he teased softly.
"It's still more than a month," Shaurya groaned quietly, leaning his forehead against Aarav's shoulder.
Aarav chuckled. "You're impossible."
There was a playful pause before Aarav raised a brow.
"Well... I don't mind," he said casually. "But you have to let me be the top."
Shaurya narrowed his eyes at him.
Aarav's grin widened. "Just once."
Shaurya exhaled and pushed him away, turning to the other side and pulling the blanket over his head.
Aarav snorted. "Oh God, Shaurya."
He slipped under the blanket anyway and wrapped his arms around Shaurya from behind, pressing close carefully so he wouldn't hurt his injury.
After a moment, Shaurya turned back to face him.
Without a word, he pulled Aarav's leg over his own waist and settled him closer, their bodies fitting together.
The teasing faded.
Aarav leaned forward and pressed a soft kiss to Shaurya's forehead.
He slid his fingers gently through Shaurya's hair, slow and soothing.
Aarav kept tracing small circles against his scalp, and Shaurya's breathing gradually steadied.
Within minutes, both of them drifted off — tangled together.
--------------------------------
Ravi's mind was still spinning.
Yug said he cared for him.
Cared.
The word echoed in his head.
He started walking in the direction Yug had gone, but a hand grabbed his arm.
"Ravi, wait. Please."
Alizeh.
He stopped but didn't look at her.
"What?" he asked flatly.
"I don't know what he heard," she said quickly. "Dadijaan and I were just talking about our marriage. She thanked me for agreeing. I don't see what the problem is."
Ravi let out a dry laugh.
"And what exactly is there to be thankful for?"
"Ravi..."
"No. Just don't." His jaw tightened. "Keep quiet."
She swallowed but didn't step back.
"I know you're angry because I left you," she said, softer now. "I was young. I didn't understand what I was saying back then. But now I do. I don't care what work you do or don't do. I just want to be with you."
"And your father? He suddenly doesn't care either?"
"He doesn't need to know everything," she replied with a sigh.
Ravi scoffed and turned to leave again.
She grabbed his arm once more.
"Ravi, just listen to me!"
Her raised voice snapped something inside him.
He turned around slowly, anger finally surfacing.
"Who do you think you're raising your voice at?" he said, his tone dangerously calm.
Alizeh stiffened.
"You need to stop being stubborn," she said, her own frustration spilling out. "You can't erase your past. The world doesn't work the way you want it to. People want security. Status. Respect."
She took a shaky breath.
"Yug Khurana is richer than all of us combined. He might act like he cares, but deep down he knows exactly what he wants. And you—" she shook her head, "—you think everyone has to feel what you feel for them. That's not how it works, Ravi. Stop fooling yourself and grow up."
The words landed.
Ravi didn't react.
He just stood there, silent.
Her voice softened again.
"I was wrong to let you go," she whispered. "But I love you. I don't know how else to prove that."
For a second, something flickered in Ravi's eyes.
Then it was gone.
Without another word, he pulled his arm free and walked away.
Straight to Yug's room.
Before Yug could shut the door, a hand pushed against it.
"Go away," Yug muttered without turning around.
"This is my house," Ravi replied calmly.
And before Yug could argue, Ravi caught his wrist and steered him back inside the room. The door clicked shut behind them.
He's definitely going to kill me now, Yug thought, swallowing.
Ravi locked the door.
The small metallic sound echoed louder than it should have. Yug felt his throat go dry as Ravi turned toward him. There was no smirk this time. No joking.
Ravi stepped closer.
"Look," he began, voice steady, "I'm sorry about what I said to your grandmother. I shouldn't have said it like that."
"But I meant what I said about Alizeh," Yug continued. "She doesn't deserve you. I don't care how pretty she is. There are millions of women in this world. We'll find someone better for you. You—"
"Oi, shaadi.com, chup kar," Ravi cut in sharply.
Yug froze mid-sentence.
Silence fell.
Ravi exhaled and ran a hand through his hair, clearly irritated — but not angry.
"You're a terrible kisser."
Yug stared at him.
So much happened and he wants to talk about that damn kiss? he thought, stunned.
"I didn't even feel it," Ravi said quietly.
Yug didn't respond. He just stood there, unsure whether to defend himself or pretend he hadn't heard it.
Ravi took another step closer.
"Will you kiss me again?" he asked.
"Ravi..."
"So you regret it?" Ravi pressed.
"No," Yug said quickly. Then he stumbled over his words. "I mean—I didn't mean to—I—"
"I didn't ask for any explanation did I?" Ravi said. "Kiss me now or you know very well I can do to you".
"You can't force me". Yug said.
Ravi tilted his head slightly.
"Oh?" he said.
Before Yug could react, Ravi pulled him closer by the wrist — not painfully, but firmly enough to make a point. His other hand settled at Yug's waist, steadying him.
"Kiss me," Ravi repeated, his voice lower this time.
Yug's breath caught for a second when Ravi's hand started travelling further down to his ass.
"Alright, alright," Yug muttered. "First let go of my hand."
Ravi released him.
Now that he was free, Yug suddenly didn't know what to do with himself.
Ravi wasn't much taller — but the way he stood, broad shoulders relaxed, eyes locked in, made him feel towering. Yug tried not to glance at his partially unbuttoned shirt.
"Need help?" Ravi teased.
"No," Yug said quickly, exhaling.
He placed his hands on Ravi's shoulders, avoiding direct eye contact at first. But Ravi didn't look away. His gaze was intense — almost hypnotic. Ravi noticed how dark his eyes were, the pupils barely distinguishable.
Slowly, Yug leaned in.
Their noses brushed.
"Your nose is too sharp," Yug murmured under his breath.
Ravi smirked, one hand sliding up to Yug's back.
Yug hesitated just one last second — then closed the distance.
The kiss started slow. Careful. Testing.
Yug kept it restrained, lips pressed but closed, almost shy.
Ravi clearly didn't approve.
He nudged closer, brushing his thumb along Yug's jaw before lightly bitting at his lower lip in complaint. Yug flinched, pulling back slightly.
Ravi was smirking again.
Yug hoped he wouldn't say anything.
"Maza nahi aaya," Ravi said suddenly.
Yug stared at him. "What do you mean maza nahi aaya? You're so annoying. Move."
He tried to push past him, but Ravi stepped forward instead, backing Yug gently toward the wall.
"I said I get to kiss you if I win the bet," Ravi reminded him. "So now it's my turn."
Before Yug could argue, Ravi leaned in again — this time without hesitation.
The kiss was deeper, more confident. Ravi held Yug's face firmly, but not harshly. There was intensity in it — playful dominance.
Yug froze for a split second.
Then he responded.
If Ravi thought he could overpower him that easily, he was wrong.
Yug's hands slid to Ravi's collar, pulling him closer instead of away.
The kiss deepened — no longer one-sided, no longer hesitant.
It turned into a quiet battle neither of them wanted to lose.
Their tongues battled against each other.
Yug tasted like pleasure to Ravi. He knew he would lose control today.
Somewhere in between, Yug let out the softest moan — barely audible.
But Ravi heard it.
And that was enough.
He finally pulled back, just slightly.
Yug was breathing heavier now, eyes lowered, trying to recover whatever composure he had left.
Ravi looked at him flushed, lips slightly swollen, stubborn expression still intact.
Yug then looked at Ravi and sighed.
"Whatever she said to you... she's wrong."
Yug's voice was steady.
He had heard everything.
Ravi looked at him for a long second — then smiled faintly.
He stepped closer and brushed his thumb against Yug's split lip, wiping the thin line of blood. Without breaking eye contact, he licked the stain from his thumb.
"Haaye... Mashallah," he murmured under his breath.
Yug didn't react to that. He kept his expression firm.
"You don't believe her, right?" Yug asked quietly. "All that nonsense about pity and sympathy?"
Ravi huffed softly.
"Nope." He tilted his head slightly. "She already sensed what I feel for you. That's the problem."
Yug's jaw tightened.
"She doesn't want that. But..." Ravi stepped closer again, lowering his voice, "aap humari zid hain."
He held Yug's gaze deliberately.
"It's not that easy to mess with my head."
A faint flush crept up Yug's neck despite his effort to stay composed.
"Dude," he muttered, stepping back slightly, "how long are we going to stand like this? Move away."
Ravi smirked.
"You're blushing."
"I'm not."
"You are."
Yug rolled his eyes. "Shut up. I don't blush".
Ravi shrugged and stretched lazily and walked toward the bed, dropping onto it like nothing had just happened.
"I'm sleepy," he declared casually.
Yug exhaled slowly, trying to steady himself. He didn't trust his own face at that moment.
Instead of engaging further, he quietly turned and walked towards Ravi's room. He slipped inside and locked the door before Ravi could say anything else.
The click of the lock echoed faintly.
Ravi lifted his head from the pillow, propping himself up on one arm.
He stared at the closed door.
For a moment, the teasing smile faded.
"Haaye mere Khuda, yeh meri sirf dua hai. Aisi khoobsurat cheez haram nahi ho sakti".