Chapter -6
The hotel room was quiet except for the hum of the AC and the faint city noise seeping in through the curtains. Aariv and Yug sat on the edge of the bed, both still carrying the weight of the strange atmosphere they had just escaped from.
Yug exhaled loudly, running a hand through his hair. “Achha hua Veeransh ne tujhe bacha liya… mai to darr hi gya tha uss moment. Samajh hi nahi aaya kya ho raha tha.”
Aariv, who had been staring at the floor blankly, blinked. His lips moved softly, almost like he was speaking to himself. “Veeransh…?”
Yug turned to him. “Haan… wahi jo corner mein khade the. Rathore family ka heir hai vo. Thoda dark type hai,but he’s powerful.”
Aariv’s throat went dry. “Ooo…” He gave a forced smile. “Achha… mai thoda fresh hokar aata hu.”
Yug just nodded, too exhausted to question further. He threw himself back on the bed while Aariv quietly slipped into the washroom.
Inside, the small space felt suffocating. Aariv stood in front of the mirror, the light buzzing faintly above his head. His own reflection stared back at him wide eyes still filled with something he didn’t fully understand. Fear? Curiosity? Something heavier?
He took a shaky breath and slowly pulled off his shirt. For a moment, he simply looked at himself at the pale skin, at the boy who always believed the world was normal, simple, and explainable. But tonight had shaken something loose inside him.
Then his gaze fell lower. His breath hitched.
On the side of his waist, dark against his skin, was the clear imprint of a hand. Veins of red where the fingers had pressed too hard, a bruised memory etched into him.
Aariv gasped, his hand trembling as it went to touch the mark. The moment his fingers brushed it, the memory flashed back with such intensity that his knees almost buckled.
The grip. The force. The way Veeransh’s hand had wrapped around him like iron, pulling him close as if he belonged there. It hadn’t just been a rescue. It hadn’t just been strength. There had been possession in that touch. A silent claim.
Unknowingly, heat rose to his face, spreading across his cheeks until they burned crimson. His chest felt tight. His lips parted as though his body was searching for breath.
“Why…?” he whispered to his reflection. His own voice sounded foreign. “Why does it feel like… his hand is still here?”
The room seemed to grow heavier, the light flickering once as though mocking him.
He quickly splashed cold water on his face, trying to calm down, but when he raised his head again, the mirror startled him.
For a second just a second he swore he saw something standing behind him. A tall, shadowed figure, watching.
He spun around instantly. Nothing. Just the empty washroom, tiled walls, and silence.
Aariv clutched the edge of the sink, his breath shaky. “Calm down… bas thakaan hai… bas imagination.”
But even as he tried to convince himself, the mark on his waist throbbed faintly, as if reminding him that what he felt… wasn’t imagination at all.
When Aariv stepped out, Yug was already half-asleep, his phone lying forgotten beside him. Aariv quietly slipped into bed, pulling the blanket up to his chin.
Yet, as he closed his eyes, he could still feel the heavy stare of Veeransh from across the mansion’s hall, and the phantom grip of his hand burning into his waist.
Sleep did not come easily. And somewhere, in the deep silence of the night.
............
Rathore Mansion
Harinarayan Rathore sat on the large carved wooden chair, his hands resting on the armrest like a king lost in thought. His eyes, though aged, still carried the depth of knowing eyes that had seen more than what they ever revealed.
In front of him, Veeransh stood by the tall window, his back to the room, staring into the garden where moonlight spilled like silver dust. His posture was rigid, shoulders taut, as if even the weight of air pressing against him was unbearable.
Harinarayan’s voice broke the silence, deep and certain.
“Ab tak tumhe ahsas to ho hi gaya hoga.”
Veeransh’s jaw tightened, but his eyes remained fixed in the distant dark.
“Kaisa ahsas?” His tone was flat, almost careless, but it carried an edge sharpened by denial.
Harinarayan leaned slightly forward, his voice lowering as though he was not just speaking but reminding.
“Anjan banne se sach badal nahi jayega, Veer.”
The words were heavy, ancient almost, and for a moment they filled the entire room. Veeransh finally turned. His piercing eyes, always so unreadable, now carried a storm hidden behind them.
“Toh kya kare hum?” His voice cracked with frustration. “Aapne dekha na, uske aate hi uske upar itni badi musibat aa gayi. Aap chahte hain ki bas… bas is shrap ke wajah se main kisi aur ki zindagi barbaad kar dun?”
The firelight reflected in his eyes, making them look like molten bronze. His hands clenched at his sides, veins standing out against his skin. He hated the feeling this pull, this invisible chain that bound him to something he didn’t ask for.
Harinarayan’s expression softened, almost pitying. He rose from his chair, slow but deliberate, and walked toward him.
“Matlab tumhe ahsas toh ho gaya, Veer. Yehi tum dono ki kismat hai. Tum chah ke bhi khud ko usse alag nahi kar sakte.”
The words cut deeper than Veeransh wanted to admit.
He looked away, his throat tightening. Aariv’s face flickered in his mind those wide doe, questioning eyes, the trembling lips, the way his body had felt so fragile when Veeransh’s hand had gripped his waist. That mark he knew it had been too harsh.
He hadn’t meant to hold him like that. And yet, in that moment, something inside him had refused to let go.
He clenched his teeth.
“Main kuch bhi kar sakta hoon. Main use khud ke kareeb aane hi nahi dunga.”
The words were spoken with conviction, but they sounded more like a man trying to convince himself than anyone else.
Harinarayan stopped a few steps away, his gaze sharp, unblinking. And then, he smiled a slow, knowing smile.
“Aur tumhe lagta hai tum ye kar paoge? Veer, tum kuch bhi kar sakte ho… par bhagya ka likha nahi badal sakte.”
Veeransh’s breath hitched. For a second, he almost hated the calmness in Harinarayan’s voice, as if his future was already etched in stone and he was nothing but a pawn walking toward it blindly.
Harinarayan’s tone deepened, almost ritualistic, as if reciting words older than himself.
“Woh ladka sirf tumhare liye bana hai. Tum chaho ya na chaho… wahi hai jo is shrap ko tod sakta hai. Tumhari kismat sirf tumhari nahi, Veer. Aur tum isse naakar kar bhi usse apne se door nahi rakh paoge.”
The words hung in the air like prophecy.
Veeransh’s chest tightened. He took a step back, suddenly suffocated by the room, by the old Pandit certainty, by this web of destiny that he never wanted.
No. He couldn’t allow it. He wouldn’t.
“Aap jo keh rahe hain, vo sab bhram hai,” Veeransh muttered, his voice low, dangerous. “Main usse apni zindagi se door rakhunga. Aur main dekhunga kaise koi bhagya ka likha hua mujhe majboor karta hai.”
But even as he spoke, his hand unconsciously brushed against his palm the same hand that had left that dark imprint on Aariv’s skin. His heartbeat betrayed him, thundering against his ribs, telling him the very truth he refused to accept.
Harinarayan only sighed, as though he had heard this defiance before in another lifetime, in another story. He turned back toward his chair, his voice carrying across the room like the final bell of a temple.
“Doori jitni chahe rakh lo, Veer. Lekin yaad rakhna… jab bhagya bulata hai, toh darwaze band karne se kuch nahi hota. Ek din tum samjhoge, aur tab tumhe ehsaas hoga ki tumhara inkaar sirf ek vilamb tha.”
Veeransh’s face darkened. The fire snapped loudly behind them, casting tall, trembling shadows on the walls, like restless spirits dancing in silence.
He turned away once more, staring out at the moonlit garden. The silver light spilled over his sharp features, making him look like a statue carved in anguish. His mind screamed at him to resist, to fight, but deep inside, something had already shifted.
And he hated it.
Outside, the night deepened, the wind carrying with it the faint sound of temple bells from afar. As if the heavens themselves had heard Harinarayan’s words, and were waiting for Veeransh to surrender not to fate, but to the boy who unknowingly carried his salvation.
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