CHAPTER 23
Wadhwa Mansion – Same Night
Abhimanyu lay awake on his bed, unable to sleep, no matter how hard he tried to shut his eyes or steady his breathing.
What had happened at the office kept replaying in his mind.
He never thought Karan would get to know about Komal and him like this, when he wasn’t prepared.
His brother’s reaction hurt him, though.
Not because of anger alone, but because of the distance it created between them.
He knew he had made a mistake by keeping this from him for so long. He should have spoken earlier.
The more he lay there, the heavier the restlessness became.
He had grown up sharing everything with his elder brother, every victory, every failure, every fear.
He was not willing to let this become the crack that broke their bond.
Even if it meant swallowing his pride, even if it meant apologising without conditions, he needed to speak to Karan now.
Not tomorrow. Not after tempers cooled. But now.
With that thought he finally pushed himself out of bed and stepped into the corridor. The house was dimly lit. As he reached the living room, his gaze went straight to the bar counter at the far end. Karan was there, alone, a glass in his hand, nursing himself a drink.
Abhimanyu walked up to him and reached for the same bottle Karan was drinking from, intending to pour himself a measure. Before he could, Karan’s hand shot out and pulled the bottle away with sharp irritation.
“Take your own bottle,” Karan said flatly, without looking at him.
Abhimanyu did not back off. He took the bottle back from Karan’s hand, meeting his brother’s side profile with a resolve. “I will drink what my brother is drinking,” he replied, and poured himself a drink. He lifted the glass and swallowed it in one go, letting the burn settle deep in his chest.
Karan watched him do it. Once he placed the empty glass down, Abhimanyu finally spoke. “I am sorry, bhai.”
Karan exhaled slowly and turned his face away, deliberately ignoring him. He took another sip of his drink, as if Abhimanyu’s presence was an inconvenience at the moment.
But Abhimanyu did not stop.
“I did not even realise when things between Komal and me stopped being casual,” he said quietly. “Somewhere along the way, she became my future. My partner. My love. I wanted to tell you. But—”
Abhimanyu paused, seeing Karan pour another drink, still refusing to meet his eyes.
“You were too busy then,” he continued. “Busy with your plans, with destroying the Goels. That has always been the one thing that consumed you, bhai. Every day. Every decision. Everything in your life has revolved around that one purpose. Revenge. For years…”
Karan did not interrupt or argue. He simply sat there, listening.
“When you were so deep into avenging something that changed the course of your life,” Abhimanyu continued quietly, “when you chose to live in that darkness willingly, day after day, until your goal was fulfilled, how could I come to you with something as happy and hopeful as me falling in love? How could I talk about wanting to settle down, to build a life, when you were carrying so much pain alone?”
That finally made Karan look at him.
He turned sharply, almost glaring. “You thought I would be jealous?” he asked, disbelief hardening his tone.
Abhimanyu shook his head immediately. “No. Never, bhai.” He took a breath, choosing his words carefully.
“I thought… how could I allow myself to live my happiness when my brother was so far away from his own? That is what stopped me, bhai. I did not want you to feel that I was moving ahead, laughing, planning a future, while you were still trapped in something that has consumed you for years. I did not want you to think that I had turned my back on the pain I have watched you live with, every single day.”
Karan slowly placed his glass down on the counter. The sound was deliberate, final. He rose from the high chair and stepped closer to Abhimanyu. For a moment, Abhimanyu stayed seated, looking up at him, uncertain of what would come next.
Then Karan reached out and cupped his face.
“This revenge was mine,” Karan said, loud and clear.
“This path I walk belongs to me alone, Abhi. I never let you walk it with me. I never wanted you to.” His grip tightened just a little, not in anger but in emphasis.
“If you had told me about this, I would have been happy for you. Truly happy. Because the happiness of my siblings is all that matters to me. Nothing more. Nothing less.”
Abhimanyu’s throat tightened as Karan continued.
“It has nothing to do with the other side of me,” Karan said. “The side that still craves to finish what I started with the Goels. That darkness is mine to carry. So never think I would be angry, frustrated, or unhappy because you chose love. Because you chose to find your happiness.”
Understanding finally settled into Abhimanyu’s eyes. He nodded slowly, absorbing every word.
Karan withdrew his hand and stepped back, creating distance again, as if returning to himself. Before he could turn away, Abhimanyu stood up quickly, unable to hold it in any longer.
“So… you forgave me?” he asked hopefully.
Karan paused. He took a few seconds, staring ahead, then nodded once and turned around to leave.
Relief washed over Abhimanyu.
“So Komal and I…” he began from behind him. But Karan turned again and instantly cut him off.
“I forgave you,” he said evenly. “I have not given my approval yet. Good night.”
And with that, he walked away.
Abhimanyu stood there, his face falling for a brief moment.
Then, slowly, a smile tugged at his lips.
He knew his brother. Forgiveness, coming from Karan Wadhwa, was never casual.
It was not easily given. And when it came, approval was never far behind.
This was just his brother testing him, nothing more.
Abhimanyu poured himself another drink, this time with a satisfied hand. He raised the glass, finished it in one easy gulp, and walked back to his room with a calm heart that finally everything would fall into place.
***************
Next Morning
Karan came down for breakfast, already dressed for work. He was about to step into the living room when he noticed Maria heading for the stairs with a tray in her hands. A glass of water, medicine strips placed neatly on the tray.
He stopped her instinctively.
“What is that for?” he asked.
Maria paused. “For Mishti Ma’am,” she replied. “She has a fever.”
“Fever?” he repeated, in disbelief.
“Yes, Sir. This morning, when Ma’am did not come down at her usual time for prayers, I went to check on her. When I entered her room, she was shivering in bed. She is running a high temperature.”
Karan could hardly think. Mishti had been perfectly fine the previous day. More than fine. Walking, talking, arguing with him, standing her ground like she always did. And now she’s sick? How?
Maria resumed climbing the stairs, and Karan just wondered what to do. He had to leave for work, had back-to-back meetings to handle. But somehow, he couldn’t take another step out. So, without thinking much, he followed Maria instead.
Inside the room, Mishti lay curled on the bed, her face pale, her lips faintly parted, her hair scattered messily across the pillow. The colour that usually warmed her cheeks was gone, replaced by a fragile stillness. He didn’t like seeing her this weak and sick.
Maria moved closer, trying to wake her gently. “Ma’am,” she said softly. “Please take these medicines.”
Before Maria could do anything further, Karan was already at the bed.
He placed his palm against Mishti’s forehead and immediately pulled back, realising her skin was burning hot.
“Call the doctor,” he said at once. “Doctor Patel. Not Komal.”
Maria nodded quickly. “Yes, sir.”
“And bring a bowl of ice-cold water,” he added. “Put some salt in it. And bring a clean cloth.”
Maria hurried out.
Mishti stirred faintly but did not wake. Her brows furrowed as if she were trapped in an uneasy dream. Her lips moved, and a soft murmur escaped her.
“…love…” she whispered. “…love…”
Karan leaned closer, trying to hear and stiffened.
Of all the words she could have spoken, that was the last one he expected.
Love.
His gaze stayed on her face. Was she still caught in the aftermath of yesterday’s argument? The discussion about Abhimanyu and Komal, about love, choices, and blessings he had refused to give? Or was this fever pulling thoughts out of her that she kept locked away while awake?
He did not know.
Without thinking further, he removed his jacket, set it aside, then rolled up the sleeves of his shirt to his elbows and sat down on the edge of the bed, protectively.
Maria returned moments later with the bowl of ice water. Karan took it from her hands without hesitation.
“I will do it,” he said.
“Sir, I can—” Maria began, but one look from him stopped her mid-sentence. She understood immediately.
“Of course,” she said quietly. “I will call Doctor Patel now.”
She left the room, closing the door behind her.
Karan dipped the cloth into the cold water, squeezed it out carefully, and placed it against Mishti’s forehead. She flinched faintly, but his hand stilled her gently, and she eased.
He continued doing it, keeping his attention fixed entirely on her face, studying every detail.
The paleness of her skin. The tight line between her brows.
The weakness in her body felt foreign to him because, in all these months of marriage, he had never seen her like this.
Mishti was strength wrapped in grace. Seeing her reduced to this pricked him deeply.
A knock on the door, followed by Abhimanyu stepping inside, broke his thoughts.
“Oh God,” Abhimanyu said softly. “What happened to Bhabhi? Maria told me she has a fever.”
Karan nodded once, without looking up, his hand never leaving its task.