CHAPTER 33! RUHI
Aryav had already left for the office.
The mansion felt noticeably quieter without him.
Not less crowded-the sheer volume of the Rai Shinghania family guaranteed the halls were never empty-but the oppressive, heavy gravity that usually anchored the house had lifted.
Without his silent, predatory presence watching from the shadows, the air felt lighter.
Easier to breathe.
Aadhira greeted Roshni Bua properly after breakfast, maintaining a polite, respectful distance, while one of the housemaids escorted Ruhi toward the guest wing.
The rest of the afternoon passed peacefully, a rare pocket of tranquility in her otherwise chaotic life.
After a quiet lunch, needing an escape from the whispering corridors, Aadhira wandered into the sprawling, manicured gardens stretched behind the mansion.
The winter sun filtered through the precise rows of flowering trees, casting long, golden shadows across the stone pathways.
That was when she noticed Ruhi.
She sat alone on a carved stone bench near the marble fountain, her shoulders slightly hunched as she stared absentmindedly into the dancing water.
Along the eastern wall, two armed guards silently changed formation. Upstairs, the cousins noticed.
The women in the garden didn't.
Aryav might have left the mansion, but his security protocols hadn't.
Even from miles away, his shadow still moved across the estate.
Aadhira hesitated for a single heartbeat, her fingers tightening around the two porcelain coffee cups she carried.
Then, smoothing down her emotions, she walked forward. Its click against the gravel made Ruhi snap her head up.
"Can I join you?" Aadhira asked.
Ruhi paused, a flicker of raw surprise crossing her delicate features. She quickly masked it, offering a tentative, polite nod. "Of course."
Aadhira sat down on the cold stone, leaving a comfortable distance between them, and extended one of the warm cups.
Ruhi accepted it, her fingers brushing Aadhira's before wrapping tightly around the porcelain.
"Thank you," Ruhi murmured.
For a long moment, neither of them spoke. The silence wasn't awkward or charged with toxic tension. It was just thoughtful, accompanied only by the rhythmic splash of the fountain.
Then, breaking the quiet without warning, Ruhi spoke, her voice dropping to a fragile whisper.
"Are you not jealous?"
Aadhira didn't startle. She simply tilted her head, glancing at her sideways. "About what?"
Ruhi let out a small, self-deprecating laugh, her gaze fixed on the steam rising from her cup. "You know exactly what. Everyone in this family does."
Aadhira's eyes returned to the shimmering water. "Because you loved Aryav?"
Ruhi's jaw tightened slightly, and she lowered her eyes, bracing herself for the sharp edge of a fiancé's territorial warning.
Aadhira shrugged, taking a slow sip. "Dil ko kab kis par aa jaana hai, uske liye koi permission slip nahi milti. Feelings don't exactly ask for family approval before showing up."
Ruhi frowned, her eyes snapping back to Aadhira in unguarded confusion.
"You're not what I expected ruhi."
"Meaning?"
"When I fell on him... you didn't look jealous," Aadhira said softly, her eyes falling to her coffee.
"You looked... relieved.
Happy."
The last remnants of Ruhi's guarded composure disappeared. Her fingers tightened around her cup until her knuckles turned a stark, pale white.
"Not because we were physically together," Aadhira continued, her voice dropping into a steady cadence.
"It felt like... you were happy simply because he was safe, because he was okay. Because for a microsecond, he looked like a human being, not a weapon."
The first tear slipped down Ruhi's cheek, catching the winter light.
She wrenched her face away, staring hard at the gravel path to hide her vulnerability.
Aadhira gently averted her eyes, taking another sip of her coffee, giving the woman the dignity of pretending she hadn't noticed.
For a long, agonizing moment, Ruhi said nothing, her breathing shallow as she fought to regain control.
Then, finally, her voice cracked.
"It isn't. The difficult part is waking up every morning and reminding yourself they were never yours. I've spent years walking away from his shadow. Some days I succeed. Most days I simply keep walking."
Her gaze lowered to the dark liquid in her cup. "But nobody ever understood that. They look at me and see an obsession. A threat. Not even my own mother understands. She just sees Aryav as a prize I failed to secure."
High above the garden, the grand stone balcony of the second floor was uncharacteristically crowded.
When those words drifted upward, Roshni froze.
The breath trapped itself in her throat, her posture locking into rigid stillness.
For the first time in years, a profound, suffocating realization settled over her.
Roshni knew every achievement her daughter had ever earned.
She knew every grade. Every award. Every social engagement and every suitable, high-society match she had meticulously curated for her.
But as she stared down at the trembling shoulders of her child, a memory resurfaced, hitting her with devastating clarity.
Roshni remembered a fourteen-year-old Ruhi sitting beside her after a school function, tugging at her sleeve.
'Mama, can I tell you something?'
Roshni had been answering urgent emails on her phone. 'Later.'
The later never came. Looking down at her daughter now, Roshni couldn't remember what Ruhi had wanted to say.
Slightly behind her, the siblings stood in a tight, solemn cluster.
The harsh, unspoken judgments they had silently passed on Ruhi for years-the lazy assumptions that she was just another obsessive, social-climbing woman-were crumbling into dust.
"Well," Reyansh exhaled slowly, crossing his arms. "Now I feel terrible."
Myra folded her arms tightly against her chest, her jaw set. "I spent two years deciding what kind of woman Ruhi was."
Below, the faint sound of Ruhi's effortless laughter drifted up through the winter air.
Myra looked away, staring at the stone floor. "Turns out I never asked."
At the very center of the balcony stood Mrinalini Devi, her hands resting firmly on the handle of her cane.
Beside her stood Rajendra Vikram Rai Shinghania.
The younger generation saw kindness.
Mrinalini Devi saw leverage.
Kindness made people comfortable. Leverage made them loyal.
Most people mistook kindness for softness, and that mistake usually cost them everything.
Aryav could silence a room.
Aadhira could make it speak again.
In the end, only one of those talents built dynasties.
"Interesting," Rajendra Vikram murmured, a faint, proud smile touching his aging lips as his gaze remained fixed on Aadhira. "Aryav inspires loyalty through fear."
The old king tilted his head, watching the way Ruhi's defensive shoulders had relaxed beside Aadhira.
"Fear builds empires," Rajendra Vikram said, turning his gaze away from the garden. "Trust keeps them standing."
Down in the garden, Ruhi wiped her eyes quickly, taking a shaky breath before turning to look directly at Aadhira.
"And the one person who had every right to hate me... understood me."
Aadhira looked into her coffee. "Then they noticed who you loved..." She paused, looking up. "...and forgot to see who you were."
Ruhi laughed weakly, a watery, emotional sound. "Being seen?"
Aadhira nodded once. "Being seen."
Aadhira asked the one question that had been lingering in the back of her mind.
"Did you ever tell him?"
Ruhi didn't need to ask who she meant. "Yes."
Aadhira raised an eyebrow, genuinely intrigued. "Seriously?"
Ruhi nodded, a sad, nostalgic smile touching her lips. "Seven years ago."
The timeline assembled itself in Aadhira's mind. "What happened?"
Ruhi stared into the fountain, the smile vanishing from her face as she drifted back into a memory that had altered the course of her youth.
"I asked him why," Ruhi whispered.
"Why he couldn't even consider me."
Her fingers tightened around the porcelain until it practically vibrated.
She swallowed hard, the ghost of his freezing, absolute voice echoing in her mind.
"He wasn't cruel," Ruhi whispered.
"He never mocked my feelings. He simply looked at me... as if he already knew how the story would end.
And then he said, 'The place you're asking for was occupied long before you knew it existed.'"
Aadhira froze.
The entire garden suddenly felt dead.
Occupied.
Not promised.
Not married.
Occupied.
The distinction refused to leave her mind, dropping like a cold, heavy weight into her stomach.
Seven years ago. Ayaan had already been born by then. Was it truly the biological mother-the woman who had left Ayaan behind-or was there another layer to the absolute enigma that was Aryav Rai Shinghania?
Breaking her out of her spiral, Ruhi looked at her gently, a newfound respect in her eyes.
"You know... now I finally understand why they all like you so much."
Aadhira forced herself out of her thoughts, chasing away the fog.
"Why?"
Ruhi offered a quiet, beautiful smile.
"You somehow know when people need comfort and when they need someone to stop treating them like they're broken."
Aadhira opened her mouth to reply, but the words died in her throat.
Because for the first time since she had entered the Rai Shinghania mansion... she wasn't entirely sure of anything at all.
The two women sat quietly beneath the fading afternoon sun, sipping their cooling coffee, deliberately steering the conversation away from the ghost of Aryav, talking about trivial, normal things.
Upstairs, the younger Rai Shinghanias had retreated from the balcony, slipping back into the safety of the grand hallway.
The heavy atmosphere hung over them until Aarush quietly pulled out his phone, his thumbs flying across the screen.
A distinct chiming sound echoed from five different pockets simultaneously.
Aarush: Ruhi: Removed from Suspect List.
Aarush: Status: Approved by Bhabhi.
Aarush: Arguments prohibited.
Myra: ??
Reyansh: ??