⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟑𝟕˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆
Vidyut shifted his gaze to the little bundle in his arms. Tara was staring up at him intently, her wide eyes filled with nothing but innocence and curiosity. For a long moment, neither of them blinked. Then, as if mimicking him, she slowly blinked once.
He raised an eyebrow.
She raised hers—or at least tried to, her tiny forehead wrinkling in the attempt.
A chuckle escaped Vidyut, low and genuine, surprising even himself. Tara's lips curved into a smile at the sound, her tiny palms clutching at his shirt.
"Daddaaa," she chirped, her voice high-pitched and sweet.
Vidyut tilted his head down at her. "Yes, kitten?"
Tara pressed her lips together, thought hard for a second, then declared, "Ileam."
He blinked, taken aback before a grin tugged at his lips. "Ohh... baby wants to eat ice cream, hm?"
Tara nodded vigorously, her curls bouncing, her cheeks puffing like little buns.
Without a second thought, Vidyut pushed open the car door, adjusting Tara securely in his arms. "Alright, let's get you some ice cream then."
The drizzle had slowed to a mist outside, streets damp under the pale morning light.
Tara squealed happily as he crossed the road with her, heading straight towards a nearby ice cream shop.
The bell above the door jingled softly as he stepped inside, the sweet chill of frozen treats wrapping around them.
Tara's little finger immediately pointed towards the colorful display behind the glass. "Yayyy! Daddaaa... ileam!"
And for once, Vidyut elt the weight in his chest ease. For once, he allowed himself this—just a father and his daughter, sharing something as simple, as sweet, as an ice cream.
Inside the towering glass building, Ritvika sat on the cushioned chair of the waiting area, her file clutched tightly against her chest as though it were her shield.
The faint hum of the air conditioning and the muffled chatter of other candidates filled the space, but all she could hear was the thundering of her own heartbeat.
Her fingers wouldn't stay still—tapping against the file, twisting the edge of her sleeves, rubbing over her palm again and again. She tried to steady her breathing, but every time her gaze lifted to the bold letters on the opposite wall—STARLIGHT CORPORATION—a wave of nerves crashed over her.
It had been so long since she'd faced something like this. So long since she had walked into an unknown building, alone, with nothing but her trembling confidence and an aching hope that she might be able to rebuild.
She smoothed her shirt for the fifth time, suddenly conscious of every crease, every strand of her loose hair falling over her shoulders. Would they even take her seriously? What if she fumbled her words? What if they asked about her health?
Her throat felt dry. Her heart pounded. Her mind kept flashing to Tara—safe with Vidyut, yes, but still a piece of her that she'd left outside those doors. She pressed her lips together, whispering softly to herself, "You can do this, Ritvika. Just... breathe."
But the trembling in her hands betrayed her, nerves clicking on louder with every passing second.
The receptionist finally called her name. Her breath hitched as she stood, clutching her file tightly to her chest. Adjusting her clothes nervously, she entered the interview room.
Two men sat inside, both middle-aged, their sharp eyes darting toward her.
"Good morning, Ms. Kapoor. Please have a seat," one of them said curtly.
Ritvika forced a small smile, her fingers trembling slightly as she placed her file on the table and sat down.
They opened her file, flipping through the pages slowly. The silence felt suffocating until one of them finally spoke.
"Ms. Kapoor, we see you don't have any internship experience during your studies. You directly joined... VR Empire?"
At the mention of the company's name, Ritvika stiffened but quickly composed herself.
"Yes, sir. Right after my graduation, I was offered a position there."
The other interviewer narrowed his eyes. "VR Empire is India's No.1 firm. People work their whole careers trying to get in, and you... you worked there directly? Interesting."
Ritvika nodded softly. "Yes, sir."
They leaned forward, curiosity sparking. "But then why would anyone resign from such a company? Do you have any idea how this looks? A young candidate, no internships, direct job in VR Empire... and then resignation. Why?"
Ritvika's throat felt dry. She clutched her hands in her lap, steadying her voice.
"Sir, I know it must look unusual. But sometimes life doesn't follow a fixed pattern. I worked in VR Empire with full dedication, but due to some personal issues that demanded my attention, I had to step away. It wasn't an easy choice, but it was necessary."
The first man tilted his head. "Personal issues? Care to elaborate?"
Her chest rose and fell quickly, but she kept her tone respectful yet firm. "With due respect, sir, they were personal and family-related. I had to prioritize them for a while. But now, I am here, ready to start fresh and determined to prove my abilities."
The second man tapped her file. "You understand our concern, right? From the outside, this looks like instability. If you could leave VR Empire so soon, how do we trust you won't walk away from here as well?"
Ritvika straightened her shoulders, her nervousness fading under the weight of her own determination.
"Sir, leaving VR Empire was never about the work.
It was purely about circumstances. I assure you, if given the opportunity here, I will dedicate myself fully.
I'm not looking for temporary placements.
I'm looking for a place where I can grow long-term. "
Her voice was firm, her eyes unflinching.
The two men exchanged glances, slightly impressed despite themselves.
"Hmm... well, Ms. Kapoor, your confidence is admirable. But we'll need to carefully evaluate your application. You'll be informed through mail shortly."
Ritvika gave a polite nod. "Thank you so much for your time, sir."
She stood, clutching her file again, her heart pounding. As she walked out of the cabin, her legs felt heavy, but her mind carried a flicker of hope.
Ritvika stepped out of the glass doors of Starlight, her shoulders heavy. The dull look on her face spoke louder than words. The interviewers' cold expressions replayed in her head again and again.
They won't take me... I'm sure they won't... she thought bitterly, clutching her file to her chest. A deep sigh escaped her lips as she walked toward the parking area where Vidyut had parked his car.
But as her eyes scanned the place, her steps froze. The car was there... but empty. No Vidyut. No Tara.
Her breath caught in her throat. "Tara..." she whispered, panic shooting through her veins. She looked around frantically, her eyes darting from one corner to another, but her daughter was nowhere in sight.
Her trembling hands quickly pulled out her phone. She dialed Vidyut's number, her heart thudding like a drum. It rang once... twice... no answer.
"Pick up, Vidyut... please pick up..." she muttered, her voice cracking.
Finally, after the second attempt, the line connected.
"Kahan ho aap? Tara kahan hai?"she almost screamed, her breath uneven.
(Where are you? Where is Tara?)
On the other side came Vidyut's calm reply, "Relax, Ritvika. Hum log yahin paas hi ice cream shop mein hain."
(Relax, Ritvika. We're just at the ice cream shop nearby.)
Without waiting for another word, Ritvika cut the call and rushed toward the shop, her heartbeat echoing in her ears. The fear of losing Tara even for a second had completely unstrung her.
The moment she entered, her eyes fell on them—Vidyut sitting casually at a table, Tara happily licking a melting scoop of ice cream. Relief washed over her, but so did an uncontrollable wave of anger.
She hurried across the shop, pulled Tara into her arms, holding her so tightly that the little girl squealed. Her lips trembled as she glared at Vidyut.
"Aapko.........—-Don't you dare... don't you dare take my daughter anywhere without my permission!"
Her voice shook, equal parts anger and fear. Tara blinked, confused by her mother's sudden tone, clinging to Ritvika's shoulder.
For a second, Vidyut's jaw tightened at her words—my daughter—but then he took a slow breath, controlling himself. His voice came softer than Ritvika had ever heard before.
"Ritvika, I understand your fear. Forgive me. It was my mistake to bring her without informing you."
The softness in his tone made Ritvika's anger falter, but not disappear. She turned away slightly, still cradling Tara protectively against her chest.
Inside though, Vidyut felt the sting of her words. Don't you dare take my daughter anywhere without my permission.
Her voice echoed in his mind. He understood then—she didn't trust him. Not even a little. And if he ever wanted that trust back... he would have to earn it.
The drive back to the apartment was wrapped in silence. Tara had dozed off in Ritvika's lap, her tiny head resting against her mother's chest. The only sound in the car was the hum of the engine.
After a long pause, Vidyut glanced at Ritvika ..
"Interview kaisa raha?" (How was the interview?) he asked quietly.
For a moment, Ritvika's mind replayed the sharp faces of the interviewers, the way they had doubted her, the way her confidence had almost cracked. Her throat tightened, but she quickly pushed the thoughts away. Without lifting her eyes, she gave a small nod.
That was all.
Vidyut's brows furrowed, but he didn't push. He understood something had gone wrong, yet he chose silence.
When they finally reached the apartment, Ritvika carefully carried Tara inside, unlocking the door. Vidyut followed behind, stepping toward the threshold—when suddenly Ritvika turned, her expression unreadable.
"Ruko." (Stop.)
Vidyut stopped at once, confused. Ritvika disappeared into the bedroom and returned a moment later, her arms carrying the very same bags his men had dropped off in the morning. She placed them firmly against his chest.
Her voice was calm, almost too calm.
"Here. Your things. Now you can go back to your house. I gave you shelter yesterday because you were drunk. Now you're absolutely fine, so you can leave."
Vidyut didn't move an inch. He didn't even lower the bags from his chest. His jaw tightened, but his words came measured, steady.
"I'm not going anywhere. Tum seriously lo ya na lo, legally we are husband and wife. Aur Tara meri beti bhi hai. Toh technically, humein ek saath rehna chahiye."
(Whether you take it seriously or not, legally we are husband and wife. And Tara is my daughter too. So technically, we should be living together.)
Ritvika's eyes flashed. Her voice was sharp, laced with ice.
"But I don't want to keep you in my house. I pay the rent here. This house is mine."
For a moment, silence hung heavy between them. Then Vidyut's tone softened unexpectedly, almost gentle.
"Main aadha rent de dunga." (I will pay half the rent.)
Ritvika froze, staring at him blankly, not expecting that.
Before she could form a reply, Vidyut added, his voice quiet but firm,
"Aur aadha grocery ka kharcha bhi." (And half of the groceries too.)
Ritvika just blinked at him, completely thrown off—not by his presence, but by his persistence.
Ritvika's jaw clenched in frustration. Without another word, she slammed the door shut right in Vidyut's face.
From outside, his voice came, firm and insistent—
"Ritvika! Darwaza kholo!"
(Ritvika! Open the door!)
She ignored it.
"Ritvika, I'm talking to you!"
Still, she didn't move. She walked deeper inside, her heart hammering, but her face cold. The phone began to buzz on the counter—his name flashing across the screen again and again. She silenced it.
After five minutes, the shouting stopped. The phone stopped. Silence finally returned.
With a long breath, Ritvika assumed he had left.
Turning toward the kitchen, she reminded herself that Tara hadn't eaten and breakfast still wasn't done. She looked at the ingredients lying there and decided on the quickest, simplest thing—aloo parathas with curd.
Forty minutes later, the smell of freshly cooked parathas filled the apartment. Ritvika wiped the sweat from her forehead, tied her dupatta tighter, and opened the fridge for the curd.
Empty.
She sighed in irritation. "Of course," she muttered under her breath.
Tara was still fast asleep, her tiny breaths deep and steady. Ritvika carefully tucked her in, placing pillows around her for safety, and pulled the blanket up to her chin. For a moment, she just stood there watching her daughter's peaceful face, then grabbed her purse and headed for the door.
As she unlocked it and pulled it open, her steps froze.
Her eyes widened.
There, on the stairs just outside her door, sat Vidyut. His back leaned against the wall, one arm resting casually on his knee, as if he had been waiting for hours. The sound of the door opening made his head snap up.
The moment their eyes met, Vidyut shot to his feet.
His expression wasn't arrogant, nor smug—just tired, stubborn, and oddly relieved.
"Ritvika please... I'm sorry."
Her face was blank, unreadable, but her silence only made his chest tighten further.
He stepped closer, his words tumbling over each other, desperate.
"Please, Ritvika... okay fine, I'll pay half the rent, half the grocery... and yes, I'll also do the household chores. But I will live here, only here, please..."
Her grip on her purse tightened, but she still didn't speak.
Vidyut's throat bobbed, his eyes raw with guilt.
"Ritvika, I... I know I made a mistake. I'm really... really very sorry. Please forgive me... I'm sorry."
His voice cracked on the last words, the desperation in his tone almost foreign to him.
For the first time in years, Vidyut Rajvansh—feared by all—looked nothing like the man the world trembled before. He looked like a man stripped bare of his armor, begging.
"Please, Ritvika..." he whispered, eyes shimmering with a helpless promise. "I promise... you won't face any problem because of me."
His every word hung heavy in the air between them, but Ritvika's face still remained blank, her silence more cutting than any rejection.
Ritvika didn't utter a single word. Her face remained cold, blank, as if his desperate pleas hadn't even reached her. She adjusted her purse on her shoulder and simply walked past him, her steps steady, unhurried, but each one cutting him deeper.
Vidyut stood frozen at the stairs, watching her retreating figure. His throat felt tight, his chest hollow. She hadn't shouted, hadn't argued, hadn't even spared him her anger this time—just silence.
And that silence screamed louder than anything else.
He sank back down onto the stairs, elbows on his knees, head falling into his palms. For the first time, the great Vidyut Rajvansh had no words, no defense, no strength—only guilt eating him alive.
Vidyut was still sitting on those cold stairs, his back hunched, head heavy in his hands. His phone buzzed against his thigh. With a tired sigh, he pulled it out.
Aarush.
For a moment, he almost let it ring out. But then he swiped, pressing it to his ear.
"Bhaiii... where are you?" Aarush's voice cracked, panicked. "Do you know Maa is going crazy with worry? Where are you, haan?" His desperation bled through the line.
Vidyut closed his eyes, exhaling sharply through his nose. His reply came low, flat, hollow.
"Jahaan bhi hoon... zinda hoon. Itna kaafi hai, samjha?"
(Wherever I am... I'm alive. That's enough, understand?)
And before Aarush could say anything more, Vidyut cut the call, dropping the phone back in his lap. His chest felt like lead.
Minutes passed. The world moved on around him—neighbours going up and down the stairs, sparing him quick, judgmental glances. He didn't even care.
That was when he heard footsteps again. His head lifted slowly. Ritvika stood there, a small packet of curd in her hand, her expression unreadable.
She saw him still sitting there, still in the same place she had left him. People passing by gave him odd looks, whispers curling in the air.
Ritvika let out a long, resigned sigh.
Ritvika finally broke, her voice sharper than she intended.
"Okay fine! Get inside, Vidyut. People are staring."
Her irritation was palpable.
Vidyut's head instantly shot up, and without wasting a moment he scrambled to his feet. The heaviness in his eyes melted into something almost boyish. He stepped inside like a happy child being allowed back into class after being punished outside.
Ritvika closed the door behind him, leaning against it for a second, just staring at him. He was drenched in guilt, yet his smile at being let in made her chest ache with a strange, confusing pull.
Taking a breath, she finally asked patiently, "Why are you not going home, Vidyut?"
He turned to her, expression softer now, but steady. "Because... my home is here only."
Her heart stuttered. She blinked rapidly. "What? This is not your home."
Vidyut stepped closer, his voice dropping low, as if the truth surprised him even as it left his lips.
"No... my home is Tara..." he paused, then whispered, almost to himself, "and you."
The last words weren't meant for her ears, but Ritvika caught the faintest echo. Her heart fluttered violently against her ribs, her breath hitching as confusion flooded her senses.
Ritvika turned sharply, ready to storm into the kitchen just to put distance between them, when his voice came—hesitant, almost careful.
"Can I... can I go to Tara?"
The words struck something deep inside her, twisting it painfully. He wasn't demanding, wasn't barging in like he always used to. He was... asking permission.
Ritvika's throat tightened. She didn't trust herself to answer, so she simply gave a small nod, eyes fixed anywhere but him.
Vidyut's gaze lingered on her for a moment before he quietly moved toward the bedroom. As he stepped inside, his eyes immediately softened.
There lay Tara, curled up in the blanket Ritvika had tucked around her, her tiny fists peeking out, lips parted as she breathed steadily. Vidyut felt his chest ache, his entire body growing still as he took her in.
Slowly, carefully, he crouched beside the bed. His usual sharp eyes melted into tenderness, his features unrecognizably gentle.
Vidyut stayed crouched beside the bed, his hand hesitating in the air before finally brushing Tara's soft hair. His throat worked hard as he whispered, barely audible.
"I'm sorry, kitten... sorry for everything." His voice cracked. "Sorry for the way I treated your mumma... sorry for scaring her... for scaring you. I don't know how to do this, but I promise—I'll try. I'll fix everything."
His eyes burned as he bent closer, pressing the lightest kiss on her forehead. "From now on, I'll make sure you and your mumma never have to cry because of me. This is my promise, princess."
Just then, the faint sound of footsteps made him turn.
Ritvika walked in, holding two plates—steaming hot aloo paratha with a bowl of curd on the side.
She didn't look at him directly, just placed the plates on the table and said in her usual patient tone, "Kha lijiye.
Eat before it gets cold." (Eat before it gets cold.)
Without waiting for his reply, she moved to Tara, gently nudging her. "Tara... utho, baby." (Wake up, baby.)
Tara stirred, rubbing her eyes with her tiny fists. Ritvika carefully lifted her, freshened her up with practiced ease, and carried her to the table.
Soon, the three of them sat together. Tara, still half-sleepy, picked up pieces of paratha with her little hands, smearing curd clumsily on her cheeks. She giggled, babbling happily between mouthfuls—
"Pathaa... pathaa!"
"Dadaa... dadaa!"
"Mummaa... mummaaa!"
Her innocent words filled the air, light and warm, weaving a fragile but beautiful thread between the three of them. Vidyut just stared—at Tara's messy face, at Ritvika's tired but gentle patience—and felt something shift inside him.
Evening sunlight painted the walls orange as Tara babbled to herself, stacking and scattering her toys across the carpet.
Vidyut sat slouched on the couch, his laptop open, though his eyes often flickered toward Ritvika as she moved around the room, adjusting bedsheets and folding a blanket neatly at the corner.
A soft ding broke the calm. Ritvika picked up her phone from the side table.
Vidyut noticed the small pause in her steps, his gaze automatically drifting toward her.
She tapped the notification, opened the mail.
.. and her face fell. The light in her eyes dimmed instantly, lips pressing into a thin line.
Vidyut straightened, brows furrowing. "Kya hua?" (What happened?) he asked gently.
But Ritvika didn't reply. She just kept staring at her phone, chest rising and falling a little faster, as though the words on the screen were choking her.
Vidyut stood slowly, laptop forgotten on the couch. Before he could say anything more, her phone rang again. Roohi. Ritvika swiped to answer, her voice low. She walked out toward the balcony, not sparing him a glance.
Vidyut froze, torn between giving her space and the gnawing urge to know what had shaken her so badly. Finally, his feet carried him toward the balcony. He had no plan of eavesdropping—he told himself that—but the moment he reached, Ritvika's dull voice cut through the evening air.
"They rejected me..." she whispered.
Vidyut's chest tightened.
"yes Roohi... they asked why I resigned from VR Empires... and I told them that because of personal reasons. They thought maybe the problem is me. Maybe I'm the reason."
Her words were a dagger. Vidyut's jaw clenched, fury erupting inside him. His fists curled by his side, blood rushing to his temples. That single name—VR Empires. His empire. His decision. His mistake.
His eyes burned, a storm gathering. He wanted to tear down every wall between them, shout at the unfairness, shout at himself.
Ritvika stood there in the balcony, her voice quiet but heavy with defeat, while behind her, Vidyut's anger—and guilt—rose like a tide he could barely contain.
Vidyut's hands were shaking as he stepped back from the balcony. His face was a mask of control, but his chest heaved with every breath. The words "problem is me" kept echoing in his skull like poison.
He strode to the table, snatched up his car keys with a sharp clink.
"Ritvika!" his voice was louder than he intended, rough with the weight of anger and guilt. She turned slightly from the balcony, startled.
"I'm going out... I'll come back in some time."
He didn't wait for her reply. His jaw was tight, his breath ragged as though the walls were closing in on him. Without another word, he yanked the door open and walked out, slamming it behind him.
Ritvika stood frozen in the balcony, the phone still in her hand, staring at the door he had just walked out of—confusion and a flicker of unease rising in her chest.
Vidyut slammed the car door shut and gripped the steering wheel so tightly that his knuckles turned white. His breath came out harsh, chest heaving as though every muscle in his body was straining to contain the storm inside him.
The engine roared to life, and with a violent press on the accelerator, the car shot forward. The city lights blurred past, but his vision was fixed—red, furious, unblinking.
His eyes burned, veins pulsing in his temples. He clenched his jaw so hard it ached, the words spilling from his lips in a low, venomous whisper, almost like a curse... almost like a prayer.
"One more name... one more person added to the death list."
His voice was sharp, cold, cutting through the silence of the car.
"First Ritvika's so-called parents... then her ex-in-laws... and now one more."
The steering wheel rattled under his grip as he pressed harder on the accelerator, rage tearing through him, the city unaware that a storm was on the loose, hunting.