Chapter 13 Aftermath
The second Ekansh Rathore released his father, the entire room seemed to breathe again.
Guards stepped back cautiously.
Nobody wanted to trigger him further.
Vikram Rathore calmly adjusted his collar like being nearly strangled by his son was a routine inconvenience.
That composure irritated Aarohi deeply.
Because she could see it now—
This man provoked intentionally.
Pushed wounds deliberately.
Then blamed the bleeding.
Ekansh stood motionless a few feet away, chest rising unevenly.
Still trying to regain control.
Still halfway trapped inside old memories.
Aarohi stayed close enough for grounding, but not close enough to make him feel cornered.
"You done?" Vikram asked coldly.
Wrong choice again.
Ekansh's jaw flexed sharply.
But before the situation could spiral, Aarohi spoke first.
"You need to leave."
Vikram's eyes shifted toward her slowly.
Interesting.
Nobody usually interrupted him.
"And who are you to tell me that?"
"His doctor."
"No," Ekansh said quietly.
Everyone looked toward him.
His eyes remained fixed on his father.
"She's the reason you're still standing."
Silence.
Absolute silence.
Even Vikram looked mildly surprised.
The statement wasn't dramatic.
That was the problem.
It sounded completely true.
Aarohi felt her heartbeat stumble once unexpectedly.
Vikram noticed instantly.
Sharp man.
Manipulative men always noticed emotional shifts.
"So," Vikram murmured thoughtfully, "the great Ravan finally found a weakness."
The atmosphere darkened again immediately.
Vivaan internally prepared funeral arrangements.
But this time, before Ekansh could react, Aarohi answered calmly.
"Having someone you trust isn't weakness."
Vikram gave a faint smile.
"That depends how easily they can be taken away."
Ekansh moved instantly.
Not physically this time.
Worse.
The entire softness vanished from his face.
Cold rage settled over him like armor.
The room temperature dropped again.
"You should leave," he said quietly.
Vikram studied him carefully.
Then Aarohi.
Then the music box still lying near the overturned table.
Finally he picked it up slowly.
Ekansh's gaze followed every movement instinctively.
And Aarohi understood something terrifying in that moment—
That music box wasn't just memory.
It was the last proof his mother existed lovingly in his life.
The only untouched thing left from before he became Ravan.
Vikram noticed his son watching it.
Then deliberately held it tighter.
Cruel.
Calculated.
"Tonight," Vikram repeated calmly. "Come home."
"No."
"Then you don't get this."
The rage that flashed through Ekansh's eyes this time looked lethal.
Not emotional.
Execution-level cold.
Vivaan immediately stepped forward.
"Boss."
No response.
Aarohi looked at Vikram directly.
"Do you enjoy hurting him?"
The question made the room still.
Vikram's expression barely changed.
"You think he's a victim?"
"I think he was a child."
For the first time, something sharp entered Vikram's gaze toward her.
"He killed a man at nineteen."
Aarohi didn't flinch.
"And what happened before nineteen?"
Silence.
The dangerous kind.
Because she struck somewhere real.
Vikram looked away first.
Tiny.
But noticeable.
Aarohi caught it instantly.
Guilt existed somewhere beneath the cruelty.
Buried deep.
But there.
Ekansh noticed too.
And somehow that seemed to anger him more.
"Don't," he said coldly to Aarohi.
She looked at him.
"He doesn't deserve understanding."
The hatred in his voice sounded ancient.
Heavy.
Built over years.
Vikram adjusted his watch calmly again.
"You're emotional because you're injured. I'll overlook today's behavior."
Vivaan almost laughed out loud.
This family was genuinely insane.
Then Vikram placed the music box back onto the table deliberately.
The movement made everyone freeze.
Even Ekansh looked confused for half a second.
Vikram's eyes shifted toward Aarohi briefly.
Then back to his son.
"Keep it."
Silence.
Ekansh didn't move.
Didn't trust it.
Vikram walked toward the exit slowly before stopping beside him.
Then quietly—
"She would've hated what you became."
The sentence sliced through the room like a blade.
Ekansh went completely still.
Aarohi saw it happen.
The exact second the words hit somewhere deepest.
And before anyone could react—
Vikram left.
The doors shut behind him.
Silence remained.
Heavy.
Suffocating.
Vivaan muttered softly,
"Well. That was emotionally catastrophic."
Nobody answered.
Because Ekansh hadn't moved yet.
He stood staring at the music box on the table like touching it might destroy him.
Aarohi stepped closer carefully.
"Ekansh..."
"No."
His voice sounded rough suddenly.
Not angry.
Worse.
Breaking.
Aarohi's chest tightened painfully.
Then slowly, almost hesitantly, Ekansh picked up the silver music box.
His hands trembled slightly.
A tiny click echoed as he opened it.
Soft music filled the room.
Gentle.
Old-fashioned.
Childhood.
And for the first time since meeting him...
Aarohi watched the most feared man in Jaipur completely fall apart silently.
No screaming.
No violence.
Just one broken inhale as tears finally escaped down his face.
Vivaan immediately looked away to give him dignity.
But Aarohi stayed.
Because this wasn't weakness.
This was grief finally breathing after years of being buried alive.
Ekansh's thumb brushed shakily over a tiny faded photograph hidden inside the box.
A woman smiling warmly while holding a small black-haired boy in her lap.
His mother.
Young Ekansh.
Before the trauma.
Before the rage.
Before Ravan existed.
Aarohi stepped closer slowly.
This time she didn't think professionally.
Didn't analyze.
Didn't calculate boundaries.
She simply sat beside him quietly.
And after a few seconds—
Ekansh leaned toward her instinctively.
Like his body already knew where safety lived.