Chapter 17
The clock ticked softly in the Rathore mansion, its sound echoing faintly against the walls of the wide, silent corridors. The afternoon sun filtered lazily through the tall curtains, throwing warm light across the marble floor.
Aariv sat curled on the sofa in Veeransh’s bedroom, his notebook open on his lap. The page was filled with half written words little thoughts that refused to form complete sentences. He had always found comfort in writing, especially when silence pressed too heavy around him.
But now, even the silence here carried something unfamiliar… something heavy, almost alive.
His pen paused as a faint sound came from the door the low, metallic click of the handle turning. Aariv looked up instantly.
Veeransh stepped in.
The light hit him from behind, and for a second, the man almost looked carved out of shadow tall, broad shoulders, his expression unreadable. He was still in his gym clothes, his black T-shirt clinging to him, a faint sheen of sweat catching the light.
But Aariv’s eyes went straight to his arm.
There, across his forearm, was a deep, thin scratch the skin torn just enough for blood to streak down to his wrist. It wasn’t the kind of injury one got from a simple workout. It looked… angry. Like something had clawed him.
Aariv’s heart dropped.
He didn’t think didn’t even breathe. His notebook slipped from his lap as he hurriedly got up, crossing the room in small but quick steps.
“Mr. Rathore… ye kaise hua?”
His voice trembled, and before Veeransh could even respond, Aariv’s small hand reached for his arm, fingers trembling as they brushed near the wound. The skin there was hot, red, and still slightly bleeding.
Veeransh froze.
He looked down at those delicate fingers, the warmth of that touch seeping through his cold, tense muscles. His gaze lifted to Aariv’s face worry clearly in those doe like eyes, his lips pressed tight in panic.
Something unfamiliar twisted in Veeransh’s chest.
He quickly turned his head away.
“Kuchh nahi hua hai… chhodo.”
His tone was cold again that wall of distance he always used like armor.
Aariv’s eyes widened. “Aise kaise kuchh nahi hua?” he whispered, disbelief lacing his words. “Khoon nikal raha hai…”
Veeransh stepped back slightly, jaw tightening.
“Maine kaha na chhodo mujhe.”
His voice rose this time sharp, commanding. The sound sliced through the room, making Aariv flinch. For a moment, his throat tightened and fear flashed in his eyes. But then something else replaced it.
He didn’t know where it came from maybe from the part of him that had seen enough pain already, maybe from the part that refused to watch someone hurt themselves into silence.
“Main nahi chhodunga, Mr. Rathore!”
The words escaped him louder than he expected his voice trembling yet stubborn.
Veeransh froze mid step.
No one.... no one had ever raised their voice to him. Not in this house. Not in his entire life.
His cold eyes slowly turned toward Aariv, who stood there, chest heaving, eyes wet, hands clenched tightly at his sides.
For a long, loaded second, they just looked at each other the air thick with something unspoken. Veeransh’s expression softened slightly, the harshness melting into a strange quietness.
And then, without another word, Aariv took his hand again gentler this time and guided him toward the sofa.
Veeransh didn’t resist. He let him.
He sat down quietly, still watching Aariv, half curious, half… mesmerized.
Aariv ran to the cabinet and returned with a small first aid box.
His fingers trembled as he opened it, taking out the cotton and antiseptic.
The faint smell of alcohol filled the room.
He knelt in front of him, eyes lowered as he carefully cleaned the wound.
His soft hands brushed over the rough skin of Veeransh’s arm.
Every time the cotton touched a raw spot, Aariv flinched slightly more than Veeransh did.
Veeransh just sat there, unmoving, eyes fixed on him.
He didn’t even feel the sting of the antiseptic. What he felt instead was something heavier the warmth of this fragile boy sitting before him, worrying for him, crying quietly as he tried to heal him.
Aariv’s lips quivered as he applied the bandage. A tear slipped down, landing softly on Veeransh’s wrist.That broke something inside him.
“Rone ki kya zarurat hai?” Veeransh asked softly, his voice far gentler now.
Aariv looked up instantly, his eyes wide.
“M… main kaha ro raha hu,” he mumbled quickly, wiping his eyes with the back of his hand. But his voice betrayed him, cracking at the edges.
Veeransh stared at him at the tiny pout, the damp lashes, the redness of his nose. For a second, the corners of his lips curved upward the faintest ghost of a smile.
He didn’t realize it himself. It was as if his body forgot how to hold its coldness for that moment.
“Tum ajeeb ho,” he said quietly.
Aariv blinked, confused. “Kya?”
Veeransh shook his head, leaning back. “Kuchh nahi.”
Aariv finished wrapping the bandage and softly blew over the area an instinctive, caring gesture. His breath brushed against Veeransh’s skin, making the man’s muscles tense.The air thickened again not with anger, but with something unspoken.
Aariv realized what he did and instantly looked away, cheeks burning. “Woh… ab dard nahi hoga,” he whispered.
Veeransh nodded once, his eyes still fixed on him. “Tum sab ke liye aise ro dete ho kya?”
Aariv looked up. “kya... Nhi to Mai nhi rota sabke liye.”
“Phir?”
Aariv hesitated, his fingers fidgeting with the gauze.
“Bas… jin logon ke dard dekh kar dil dukh jaye… unke liye.”
His voice was barely a whisper, but it landed like a confession.
For the first time in years, Veeransh didn’t have a reply.
He simply leaned back against the sofa, exhaling slowly. His jaw loosened, and his gaze drifted away toward the window, as if fighting the emotions clawing at the edges of his heart.
Aariv, still kneeling on the carpet, quietly packed the first-aid box. His hands shook slightly not out of fear now, but out of something else. Something he couldn’t name.
When he stood up, Veeransh’s low voice stopped him.
“Aariv…”
Aariv froze. He turned slightly.
“Thank you,” Veeransh said, his tone quite almost reluctant, but honest.
Aariv blinked, then smiled softly a small, gentle curve that somehow made the whole room brighter.
“kis liye mr rathore, I am your wife itna to kr hi sakta hu.”
Veeransh was not able to process anything fast as Aariv stood up immediately.
Aariv said and then put the first aid again in the cabinet then he left the room.
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