CHAPTER 32! THE THINGS HE NEVER SAYS #2
Clutching the watch tightly, she bolted out of the room and hurried downstairs.
"Suniye!"
No response.
"Suniye na!"
As she rounded the grand staircase, she realized he was already in the foyer.
The vast, marble-floored space came into view-and so did Aryav, walking with purposeful, elegant strides directly toward the massive double doors.
She reached him. The watch slipped slightly in her grip, and instinctively, she lunged to secure it.
Her foot caught the plush, raised edge of the heavy Persian rug.
The world tilted violently. Aryav barely had time to turn at the sound of her voice before she crashed directly into his chest.
Even as he lost his balance, Aryav's arm came around her waist on pure instinct, twisting their bodies.
His shoulder struck the marble first with a heavy, echoing thud, absorbing the brunt of the impact.
She landed almost entirely on him.
The foyer went dead silent.
Aadhira lay sprawled on top of him, her hands flattened against the hard, unyielding planes of his chest, her face mere inches from his.
She looked up, trapping herself in the absolute intensity of his dark eyes.
Then she realized the horrifying truth. The heavy double doors were wide open.
Standing just inside the threshold were the morning's highly anticipated arrivals.
Maa agar ye dekh leti na...
Seedha ghar le jaati.
Aur raste bhar mujhe hi daantti.
Blushing furiously, she scrambled to get up. Except, she couldn't.
A sharp, painful yank at her scalp forced her right back down against his chest. "Ow!"
Several strands of her long hair had managed to wrap themselves tightly around one of the intricate silver buttons of Aryav's dress shirt.
"Don't," Aryav murmured, a low, steady vibration she felt directly against her palms. "You're making it worse.
Aadhira, forcing herself to breathe. Her trembling fingers flew to his shirt, rapidly and carefully untangling the strands until she was finally free.
She practically leaped off him, frantically smoothing down her clothes.
Aryav stood up a second later in one smooth, impossibly graceful motion, adjusting his cuffs as if he hadn't just been publicly tackled to the ground.
For one suspended heartbeat, embarrassment swallowed everything else.
Then memory crashed into her.
His shoulder.
The wound.
Her eyes widened.
No...
She asked in panic, her hands flying instinctively to the side she'd bandaged the night before.
"Did I-"
Her voice caught.
"Did I hurt your shoulder?"
Aryav looks at her.
Not annoyed.
Not amused.
Just watching.
Then
"You're heavier in your imagination."
Desperate to restore an ounce of decorum, Aadhira thrust the watch toward him, muttering, "aapki watch."
Aryav glanced down at the watch, then at her flushed face. Without a word, he reached out and took it, his fingers brushing hers just enough to send a quiet jolt straight down her spine.
Before anyone could speak, a commanding, vibrant voice shattered the frozen tension.
"Aryav!"
Roshni Bua marched into the foyer, completely bypassing the luggage and the staff.
Everyone held their breath. She walked straight up to the formidable head of the family, reached up, and caught his face between both hands.
"Hai Ram... look at you," Roshni declared, scanning his face critically. "Do you even eat anymore? Or have you decided food is beneath the great Aryav Rai Shinghania?"
The cousins watched in absolute awe. Aryav didn't flinch, though a subtle, microscopic softening appeared around his eyes. "Bua."
She pinches his cheek.
Everyone freezes.
Aryav quietly removes her hand.
"Bas, bua."
She ignores him.
Chup.
Tu paida bhi nahi hua tha jab se main tujhe daant rahi hoon.
Waah.
To Remote control Bua ke paas hai.
Roshni clicked her tongue. She turned to a nearby butler. "Get him some real food. Feed him before he leaves."
The butler froze, glancing instinctively at Aryav.
Aryav's jaw tightened slightly. "Bua. No."
"Yes," Roshni insisted, patting his cheek affectionately before turning her sharp, discerning gaze directly onto Aadhira.
Her eyes lit up with a massive, radiant smile. "So. You're the girl who argues with him. "
Aadhira blink "...Todhi bhut buaji."
"Good. Finally someone who doesn't nod at everything he says. Come. I already like you."
Someone finally exhaled.
Reyansh and Tara visibly relaxed.
Only then did another woman step quietly through the doorway.
Elegant, graceful, and perfectly poised-Ruhi. She greeted the cousins with easy warmth, hugging Tara, smiling at Myra, and pausing to greet little Ayaan before turning to Aadhira.
"You must be Aadhira," Ruhi said softly, her smile gentle. "I've heard so much about you."
There wasn't a trace of hostility in Ruhi's demeanor, which somehow made a strange twist of guilt pull at Aadhira's chest.
Myra, emboldened by the sudden warmth in the room, peeked out from behind Arjun.
"Bhabhi... he still hasn't worn the watch. Why don't you put it on for him?"
Aryav turned his head slowly, his gaze locking onto Myra.
The temperature in the foyer instantly plummeted, and Myra snapped her mouth shut.
Wanting to end the spectacle as quickly as possible, Aadhira stepped closer and sighed. "Give it here."
Aryav handed her the watch without comment.
As Aadhira took the cool metal, Reyansh stepped forward, a look of sudden realization dawning on his face.
"Wait, Bhai... that's the same watch I gifted you for your last birthday, right?"
Without looking at his brother, Aryav kept his eyes fixed ahead and gave a clipped, monotone response. "Hm."
Reyansh smiled without realizing he'd explained far more than he intended.
Aryav's thumb brushed once over the familiar bezel before his hand fell still again.
Her fingers stalled against the strap.
Reyansh's gift.
That was why.
Aadhira averted her eyes, working rapidly to hide her flustered expression.
Her fingers brushed the inside of his wrist as she pulled the strap.
His pulse was steady. Unlike hers.
Kitna normal act kar rahe hai.
Jaise do minute pehle hum dono floor pe nahi pade the.
She fastened the strap around his wrist and clicked it shut. "Done."
For a briefest moment, Ruhi's gaze drifted toward the watch in Aryav's hand, a quiet, lingering shadow of old familiarity passing over her face.
Ruhi offered a soft smile, then quietly clasped her own hands tighter behind her back, watching a life she had long accepted would never be hers.
Aryav looked at the watch once.
Then at her.
Neither of them said thank you, but he waited-half a second longer than necessary, letting her pull her hands away at her own pace before he finally turned.
Before anyone could recover, Aarush quietly raised his phone, a wicked grin spreading across his face as he whispered to Arjun.
"I got pictures of them when they fell. I'm making them the family group icon. It's like watching a mountain crumble."
Reyansh whispered back dryly, "You value your life surprisingly little."
Too late. Aryav stopped dead in his tracks near the entrance.
The silence that followed him as he turned back around was heavy, suffocating, and absolute.
Aarush's hands began to tremble.
Aryav walked right up to him.
He didn't even look at Aarush.
Only at the screen.
Three precise taps, and the photographs ceased to exist.
He slid the phone back into Aarush's breast pocket, his dark eyes locking onto his cousin's pale face.
"She isn't entertainment," Aryav said softly.
He paused.
"Next time...ask."
He let the warning ring in the dead silence before turning on his heel.
The convoy waiting beyond the gates came alive immediately.
Doors opened in synchronization.
Men in black suits straightened, and every guard subtly adjusted their earpieces as Aryav's elegant strides carried him toward the waiting vehicles.
The exact millisecond his silhouette vanished, the tension snapped.
Aarush collapsed backward onto the sofa like a puppet with its strings cut, clutching his chest. "I just witnessed my own funeral."
Aadhira slowly looked toward the now-empty driveway. The watch gleamed against his wrist as the convoy disappeared beyond the gates.
Reyansh quietly smiles.
Then says
Mujhe laga tha bhai ko yaad bhi nahi hoga maine diya tha.
Aadhira looks toward the gate.
Then quietly says
Yaad tha unhe.
Aryav Rai Shinghania had never been a man of explanations.
The things he valued weren't spoken.
They stayed with him.