RIVAN apologies and bathroom romance #3
He turned her foot slightly toward the light, his brows furrowing as he inspected the sole.
Embedded deep in the soft skin near her heel was a jagged, brown shard of glass likely from a broken perfume bottle or a stray glass shattered during the chaotic party downstairs.
The skin around it was already swelling, a slow trickle of crimson staining his fingers.
Reyansh inhaled deeply through his nose, a tight, controlled anger settling over his features.
She had been sitting out here in the dark, bleeding, instead of asking for help.
Without asking for permission, Reyansh slipped one arm under her knees and the other behind her back.
With a single, effortless lift, he scooped her up into his arms.
Jinal's breath hitched in her throat. Suddenly suspended in the air, she instinctively wrapped her arms around his neck to keep from falling, her heart hammering against her ribs.
"What... what are you doing?!" she stammered, her voice trembling with a mix of pain and panic. "L-leave me! Put me down, Reyansh!"
Reyansh didn't even bother to look down at her. His jaw was set, his expression completely blank as he carried her down the hall with effortless, measured steps.
"If I put you down, you will attempt to walk," he said, his voice smooth, deep, and utterly cold. "And if you walk, you will push that glass deeper into your flesh. I do not have the time or the patience to coordinate a hospital visit when we have a flight to catch in twelve hours."
He pushed open the door to her bedroom with his foot, walked straight inside, and gently deposited her onto the middle of the plush mattress.
Before Jinal could even think about sliding away, Reyansh pointed a stern, warning finger at her.
"Do not move an inch. If you touch your foot, I will tie you to this bed."
"You wouldn't dare," she whispered, though she quickly pulled her hands back.
Reyansh didn't reply. He walked straight into her attached bathroom, rummaged through the cabinets with practiced ease, and walked back out holding a fully stocked metal first aid box and a clean basin of warm water.
He pulled up a heavy vanity stool, set it right at the edge of the bed, and sat down. He placed her injured foot back onto his lap, draping a clean towel underneath it.
"This is going to hurt," he warned quietly, unscrewing a bottle of antiseptic.
"I'm not a baby, Reyansh," she muttered, gripping the bedsheets tightly as she braced herself.
"We'll see," he murmured, his fingers gently but firmly securing her ankle.
With the first-aid kit popped open and the sterile tweezers gleaming under the bedroom lamp, Reyansh looked less like a concerned and more like a surgeon about to perform a life-saving transplant.
"I'm pouring the antiseptic now," he stated, his voice flat.
"Just do it," Jinal gritted out, her knuckles turning white as she squeezed the life out of a hapless duvet pillow.
The moment the cool, stinging liquid hit the raw wound, Jinal let out a sound that was half-gasp, half-strangled-squeak.
She instantly tried to yank her foot back, but Reyansh's grip on her ankle was like a steel vice.
"I told you not to move," he scolded, his brow furrowed in deep concentration.
"You are a heartless, cold-blooded!" she gasped, tears prickling the corners of her eyes.
"I am a realist," he corrected smoothly, aligning the tweezers with the tiny, glittering shard of brown glass. "Now, take a deep breath."
She inhaled and before she could even exhale, Reyansh made a swift, calculated flick of his wrist.
"Ah!" Jinal winced, closing her eyes tight.
"It's out," Reyansh announced, holding up the tweezers. A tiny, jagged piece of glass glistened at the tip.
He dropped it into the metal basin with a sharp clink that sounded incredibly satisfying in the quiet room.
He finished the knot, patted her bandaged foot lightly, and began packing the first aid supplies back into the metal box with agonizingly neat precision.
He wiped his hands with a wet towel, completely restoring his pristine, untouched aura.
Jinal looked down at her neatly bandaged foot, then up at him. The sheer contrast of this fiercely protective, quiet man against his usual cold, distant exterior made her chest tighten with a strange, warm emotion.
"Thank you, Reyansh," she said softly, her voice losing all its defensive edge.
The quiet room suddenly felt even quieter, the sound of her genuine gratitude hanging heavily between them.
For a long, agonizing second, he didn't move. He stood with his back to her, his shoulders rigid beneath his crisp white shirt, his mind seemingly processing a variable he hadn't planned for in his strict schedule.
Jinal held her breath, waiting for him to turn around, waiting for a sarcastic retort, a cold command, or even a brief nod.
Instead, Reyansh gripped the handle of the first aid box a little tighter. Without turning back to face her, without letting her see whatever expression was crossing his face, he simply took a long step forward.
He moved out of the room with his signature, silent strides, stepping across the threshold and into the dimly lit corridor without uttering a single word.
The door clicked shut behind him, the soft thud sealing the silence.
Jinal let out a long, slow exhale that she hadn't realized she was holding, the tension finally leaving her posture.
She stared at the polished wood of the door for a few seconds.
Slowly, carefully avoiding her injured heel, she shifted her weight and let herself sink back into the plush pillows.
Pulling the heavy duvet up to her chin, she lay down on the bed, her eyes fixed on the soft shadows dancing across the ceiling.
Her foot still throbbed with a dull, manageable sting, but as she closed her eyes, her mind remained entirely occupied by the memory of his steady, surprisingly gentle handss.
.
.
.
.
Rivan stood entirely alone in the grand corridor, the silence of the villa wrapping around him like a heavy shroud.
His hands were buried deep inside the pockets of his black night causal, his silhouette tall and imposing against the dim lighting.
The warmth from his chaotic encounter with Devyani had evaporated, replaced instantly by his usual unreadable calm.
The icy aura and intimidating presence that kept the world at a distance had locked right back into place.
Yet, for all his terrifying reputation, his feet flatly refused to carry him toward his own bedroom tonight. Instead, they dragged him down the hallway, coming to a dead stop outside a specific pair of double doors.
It was Virendra and Yashodha's room.
For the first time in as long as he could remember, the fierce, unyielding Rivan Thakur visibly hesitated.
His fingers slowly curled into tight fists inside his pockets.
He was a man who had stared down the barrels of loaded guns without flinching. He had eliminated lethal enemies without a second thought, negotiated with heartless monsters, and systematically dismantled corporate and criminal empires.
Yet, raising his hand to knock on this single, wooden door felt infinitely harder than every brutal war he had ever fought combined.
Closing his eyes, he forced a deep, stabilizing breath into his lungs to steady the sudden tremor in his chest.
Then, his knuckles rapped against the wood. Knock. Knock. Knock.
Inside the bedroom, the sudden sound caused Virendra to look up toward the entrance in surprise. "So late?" he murmured, checking the time.
Yashodha, who was busy folding a few clothes near the wardrobe, glanced over her shoulder.
"I'll see who it is," she said softly.
Virendra walked over and turned the handle.
The moment the heavy door swung open, the older man froze entirely in his tracks.
Rivan stood framed in the doorway.
He was standing perfectly straight, silent and expressionless the exact picture of the powerful, ruthless man the entire business world feared.
But tonight, Virendra noticed it instantly.
Something was profoundly different about his son.
Rivan's eyes weren't carrying their usual sharp, defensive anger. Instead, they carried a crushing, exhausting weight.
A gentle, deeply understanding smile broke across Virendra's face. "Come inside,RIVAN," he welcomed softly.
Rivan gave a single, tight nod.
Without uttering a word to break the silence, he crossed the threshold into the room.
Yashodha looked up at the sound of footsteps, a warm smile automatically gracing her features the moment she saw him. "Rivan... you haven't slept yet?"
He didn't answer her right away.
Instead, his dark eyes quietly wandered across the space.
Virendra observed his heavy silence, the paternal instinct kicking in.
"What happened? Is everything alright?"
Several seconds stretched out between them. The silence grew thick, suffocatingly quiet.
Yashodha walked closer, her brow furrowing with sudden motherly worry. "RIVAN?"
For a long moment, Rivan simply stood anchored to the floor, the internal battle raging behind his calm eyes.
Then, his jaw unclasped, and he spoke.
"...I came..." His voice was unusually quiet, stripped entirely of its lethal edge. "...to apologize."
Both of his parents froze instantly. Virendra blinked in sheer disbelief.
Rivan looked at neither of them, his gaze dropping to fixate firmly on the polished floorboards beneath his shoes.
"I have said... many things... that a son should never say to his parents."
A profound stillness filled the bedroom.
Rivan's jaw clenched tightly, every single syllable clearly tearing at his throat as he forced the truth out.
"I insulted you. I ignored you. I raised my voice. I left this home," he confessed, the words raw and heavy. "I behaved... like you meant absolutely nothing to me."
Yashodha's eyes instantly pooled with unshed tears, her heart aching at the sheer pain vibrating in his voice.