Chapter 7 The Morning After
The room stayed silent after his last sentence.
"That was the last time I ever called someone dad."
Aarohi Mehra didn't respond immediately.
Because some pain should not be interrupted.
Outside, dawn slowly began replacing the stormy darkness with pale morning light.
But inside the room, the air still felt heavy with old ghosts.
Ekansh Rathore stared at the ceiling expressionlessly, like the story he had just told belonged to someone else entirely.
Detached.
Emotionally numb.
Classic trauma defense.
Aarohi noticed how his fingers kept flexing unconsciously against the bedsheet.
Residual anxiety.
His body remembered even when his face hid it.
"You should've received therapy," she said quietly.
A humorless laugh escaped him.
"From psychiatrists?" His eyes shifted toward her finally. "I'd rather get shot again."
Fair.
Painfully fair.
Aarohi exhaled softly.
"The people who treated you failed you."
"No," he corrected coldly. "They taught me something useful."
"And what's that?"
"That fear controls everything."
His voice carried absolute certainty.
"People obey power because they're afraid."
"That's survival," Aarohi replied calmly. "Not peace."
Something flickered in his gaze at that word.
Peace.
Like the concept itself felt foreign.
Before he could respond, the door opened.
A nurse entered carefully with breakfast trays.
The second she noticed Ekansh awake and staring at her, her hands visibly shook.
Poor girl probably knew exactly who he was now.
"G-good morning, sir."
Ekansh said nothing.
The silence alone terrified her more.
Aarohi stepped in smoothly.
"Just leave it there, Neha."
The nurse practically fled afterward.
Ekansh noticed immediately.
"She's scared."
"You threw a tray at someone yesterday."
"She still came inside."
"She's a nurse. It's her job."
"No," he said quietly. "Most people avoid me if they can."
That answer carried no pride.
Just fact.
Aarohi placed his medication beside him.
"Take these after eating."
He glanced at the pills suspiciously.
"No sedatives?"
"No sedatives."
Still he didn't touch them immediately.
Aarohi understood why.
Trust issues this severe didn't disappear overnight.
So without argument, she picked up the medicine sheet herself and showed him each label calmly.
Antibiotics.
Painkillers.
Anti-inflammatory medication.
Nothing hidden.
Nothing forced.
His eyes stayed on her face the entire time.
Studying.
Measuring honesty.
Finally, he took the pills.
That tiny action felt strangely important again.
The devil trusted no one with medication.
But he trusted her enough to swallow pills from her hand.
Dangerous progress.
The door opened again before Aarohi could think further.
This time, Rishabh Mehra entered holding a tablet.
The moment he noticed Aarohi still inside, one eyebrow lifted slightly.
"You stayed all night?"
"Yes."
Rishabh looked toward Ekansh.
Then toward the untouched breakfast.
Then toward the chair beside the bed.
Interesting.
Very interesting.
"You're trending," Rishabh informed dryly.
Ekansh looked unimpressed.
"Why?"
"One of the attack videos leaked online."
Vivaan was going to murder someone.
Rishabh placed the tablet on the bed.
A blurred nighttime video played on screen.
Rain.
Gunshots.
Bodies.
And Ekansh walking through the chaos covered in blood like death itself.
The comments underneath moved rapidly:
Ravan is insane.
That man feels no fear.
He killed six people alone.
Monster.
Aarohi glanced toward Ekansh carefully.
No reaction.
Nothing.
As if they were discussing the weather.
"You don't care?" she asked quietly.
"About?"
"What people call you."
A long silence followed.
Then he answered calmly,
"Monsters don't care about opinions."
The statement should've sounded arrogant.
Instead it sounded learned.
Like he genuinely believed humanity no longer applied to him.
Aarohi hated that unexpectedly.
Rishabh watched the interaction silently.
Something about this entire situation bothered him.
Ekansh Rathore was feared by ministers, mafia syndicates, and businessmen alike.
Yet here he sat quietly taking medicine because his sister asked him to.
Abnormal.
Very abnormal.
Then Ekansh suddenly looked toward Aarohi again.
"You're working today?"
"Yes."
"When do you come back?"
Rishabh nearly coughed.
Straight to the point.
No shame whatsoever.
Aarohi remained calm somehow.
"I have patients."
"So?"
"So I can't sit here all day."
His expression darkened slightly.
Not angry.
Displeased.
Like he genuinely disliked the idea.
"You can work here."
Rishabh stared openly now.
The audacity.
Aarohi folded her arms.
"And my other patients?"
"Transfer them."
"No."
Silence.
Ekansh looked genuinely irritated now.
Not because she disagreed.
Because she was leaving.
That realization hit Aarohi instantly.
Emotional attachment forming too quickly.
Dangerously quickly.
Probably because she represented safety during vulnerability.
Trauma bonding risk.
Aarohi softened her tone slightly.
"I'll come check on you later."
"When?"
"A few hours."
"That's vague."
Rishabh finally interrupted before this became even more ridiculous.
"She's a doctor, not your personal emotional support human."
Ekansh's cold gaze shifted toward him immediately.
"She's both now."
The room went silent.
Even Aarohi blinked.
Rishabh looked one second away from laughing out of disbelief.
The terrifying mafia lord had become emotionally attached in under twenty-four hours.
This was either catastrophic...
Or life-changing.
Possibly both.