CH 16 Bandage
The steady knock on the heavy oak door pulled Aarav's attention away from the papers in front of him.
"Come in," his voice was calm, clipped as always.
The door creaked open, and Ashiana stepped inside her usual fire dimmed today. her shoulders slumped slightly under her kurti, eyes duller, a bandage visible on the side of her forehead. The faint weariness in her walk didn't escape his gaze.
she placed the stack of files neatly on his desk, her tone polite but noticeably low.
"Sir... my manager said to sign them," she said, stepping back a little as though wanting to leave quickly.
Aarav's storm-grey eyes lingered on her longer than they should have. He didn't reach for the files immediately. Instead, his gaze shifted from the papers... to the bandage.
"What happened?" His voice cut through the silence, sharper than you expected not soft, but not casual either. It sounded more like an interrogation than concern, yet there was weight behind it.
she froze, caught off-guard by the question.
He leaned back in his chair, fingers steepled, his eyes locked on hers with that same piercing intensity.
"I asked you something," he said firmly.
she kept her eyes fixed on the floor, voice low and shaky.
"N... nothing happened. J-just slipped in the bathroom," she muttered, clutching files tightly nervously as if that could shield her from his gaze.
The silence that followed was heavy, charged.
When she finally dared a glance upward, Aarav was still watching her, storm-grey eyes narrowed slightly. His jaw ticked once, the faintest sign of disbelief.
"Bathroom," he repeated flatly, like he was testing the word on his tongue.
He leaned back in his chair, but the intensity in his stare didn't lessen. If anything, it deepened like he could read straight through her half-truth.
"You hide pain," he murmured, voice low, deliberate, dangerous. "You think it goes unseen. But I see. And lies... I don't forgive."
The words hung between them, unsettling. He didn't push further, not yet but his eyes told her clearly: he didn't believe her.
Instead, he picked up the pen, flipped open the first file, and signed with deliberate strokes. The silence stretched, his authority pressing down on her even without another word.
Then, without looking up, he said quietly:
"From tomorrow, instead of reporting to the manager, you'll report directly to me."
she swallowed hard, fingers fidgeting with the hem of her dupatta, and gave a small nod.
"y.. yes, sir," she murmured, her voice stripped of its usual sharpness. No protests this time, no fiery glare just obedience laced with the weight of her own thoughts.
her eyes stayed lowered, lashes hiding the storm brewing behind them. For once, she didn't argue back. she didn't even glance at him again, as if looking might betray too much.
Aarav signed the last page, placed the pen down, and studied her in silence. The lack of her usual defiance unsettled him more than her stubbornness ever had. His gaze lingered, searching, as though trying to peel away the layer of quiet her had wrapped around herself today.
"You may go," he finally said, his tone clipped but softer than before.
she gave a brief nod, clutching the files you needed to return, and turned toward the door. her steps were slow, distracted her mind clearly somewhere else, drowning in thoughts she didn't voice.
And even after she left, the echo of her silence remained in the room, gnawing at him more than her words ever did.
The door shut behind her, and silence settled like a weight across the cabin. I didn't pick up the files again.
My gaze stayed fixed on the door, jaw tightening, fingers tapping against the armrest.
That bandage on her forehead. The way her eyes had dropped, her voice subdued. Submission. That wasn't her. She was stubborn, irritating, reckless... but never quiet like that. And the very thought made something inside me restless.
I stood abruptly, the leather chair creaking in protest, and moved toward the glass windows. The city stretched before me, washed clean by rain, glittering beneath pale sunlight. But my reflection staring back wasn't the king the world knew. My own eyes looked... unsettled.
Almost without realizing, my hand brushed the pocket where the toffee had been last night. And her bracelet and anklet once placed Empty now, but the memory of it lingered, sharper than I liked.
"Bathroom," I muttered under my breath, replaying her excuse. A lie. Too weak, too rehearsed. She thought I wouldn't see through it. She was wrong.
I picked up my phone, dialed the number.
"Aditya. In my cabin. Now."
When he entered, I didn't turn immediately. Hands clasped behind my back, eyes still on the skyline, I spoke in a tone that allowed no room for misunderstanding.
"Ashiana."
The way he said her name its not distance its a concern and something more he didnt named yet.
I could feel his curiosity without looking, the shift in his posture as he caught on to what I wasn't saying. Finally, I turned, locking my gaze with his.
"She came in today with a bandage. Said she slipped in the bathroom." My voice was calm, but steel edged every word. "I don't believe her."
Aditya smirked, amused. "And you want the truth."
"Find out," I ordered, each word sharp, final. "How she got hurt. Who's behind it. Everything. By tonight."
He gave me a small nod, eyes gleaming with curiosity. "As you say, bhai. If there's something hidden, I'll uncover it."
And then, as expected, he couldn't resist. "You don't usually notice interns' bruises. This one must be... unexpected."
My jaw clenched. I didn't answer. Silence was enough. He got the message.
His low chuckle lingered as he left, but it didn't matter. The cabin fell quiet again, and I didn't reach for the files. My eyes stayed on the door long after it closed.
Because no matter how tightly I locked myself down, the thought of her bandaged, subdued, hiding something refused to leave me. And I knew I wouldn't rest until I had the truth.
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