Chapter 8 Mine
The silence after his words felt dangerously heavy.
"She's both now."
Rishabh Mehra stared at Ekansh Rathore for a long second.
Then at his sister.
Then back at the mafia lord sitting injured on a hospital bed acting like emotional dependency was a perfectly normal announcement.
"This," Rishabh said finally, "is exactly why therapists shouldn't treat emotionally unstable patients personally."
"I'm not unstable," Ekansh replied calmly.
Rishabh looked at the broken IV stand, shattered glass, damaged wall, and security report in his hand.
"Right."
Aarohi pinched the bridge of her nose lightly.
"You both are giving me a headache."
Shockingly, Ekansh immediately went quiet after that.
Rishabh noticed.
And that bothered him even more.
Because men like Ekansh Rathore listened to nobody.
Yet one sentence from Aarohi calmed him instantly.
That level of emotional responsiveness after one day was unhealthy.
Extremely unhealthy.
But before he could say anything else, his phone vibrated.
He glanced at the screen.
Then his expression changed slightly.
"Maa's coming upstairs."
Aarohi froze.
"Oh no."
Ekansh noticed instantly.
"What?"
"My mother."
"And?"
"She talks too much."
Rishabh smirked.
"That's an understatement."
A few seconds later, the room door opened dramatically.
Savita Mehra walked inside carrying homemade food containers.
Then she saw Ekansh.
And froze.
"...Oh."
The entire room became awkwardly silent.
Savita looked between her daughter, the armed guards outside, the terrifyingly handsome injured man on the bed, and the visible destruction in the room.
Then, like every Indian mother ever—
Her priorities shifted immediately.
"You look too thin."
Everyone blinked.
Even Ekansh.
Savita walked closer without fear and placed the food containers on the table.
"You boys never eat properly."
Rishabh looked exhausted already.
"Maa..."
"No wonder he's injured. Look at his face. Completely tired."
Ekansh genuinely looked confused for the first time since arriving at the hospital.
Aarohi noticed immediately and almost smiled.
This man probably had no idea how to react to maternal behavior anymore.
Savita turned toward him fully.
"What's your name, beta?"
A dangerous silence followed.
Normally nobody casually asked him questions like that.
Not without trembling.
But Savita simply waited patiently.
Finally—
"Ekansh."
"Hmm." She nodded approvingly. "Very nice name."
Ekansh stared at her silently.
Something strange moved behind his eyes.
Not emotion exactly.
Memory.
Aarohi noticed his hand tighten slightly against the bedsheet.
His mother.
This interaction reminded him of her.
Then Savita suddenly gasped softly.
"You haven't eaten!"
Before anyone could react, she opened one container and placed food near him.
"Eat first. Mafia can happen later."
Rishabh nearly choked.
Aarohi looked down instantly to hide her smile.
Even the guards outside seemed spiritually shaken.
Only Savita Mehra could casually tell Jaipur's most feared mafia lord to eat his breakfast.
Ekansh looked at the food quietly.
Then at her.
"You know who I am?"
Savita snorted lightly.
"I'm Indian. Of course I know."
Rishabh muttered, "This is going terribly."
But Savita ignored him.
"You look scarier on television."
Aarohi failed to stop the laugh escaping her this time.
Soft.
Small.
But real.
And the entire room changed instantly.
Because Ekansh looked at her like the sound itself mattered more than oxygen.
Rishabh saw it immediately.
Dangerous.
Very dangerous.
This man was attaching far too deeply already.
Savita noticed too.
Mothers always noticed.
Her gaze shifted thoughtfully between them.
Interesting.
Very interesting.
Then she gently pushed the food plate toward Ekansh again.
"Eat."
For a second, Aarohi thought he would refuse automatically.
Instead—
He quietly picked up the spoon.
Rishabh stared openly now.
This was unbelievable.
"Did... did my mother just succeed where armed security failed?"
Aarohi murmured, "Apparently."
Savita looked proud of herself.
"See? He's a good boy."
The room fell silent again.
Good boy.
Nobody had probably called Ekansh something gentle in years.
Maybe decades.
He lowered his gaze briefly toward the plate.
And Aarohi noticed something that made her chest ache unexpectedly.
His eyes looked suspiciously wet for one second before his expression hardened again.
But she saw it.
So did Savita.
Neither woman mentioned it.
Some wounds deserved dignity.
After breakfast, Savita finally prepared to leave.
But before exiting, she paused near the bed and spoke softly to Ekansh.
"Angry people are usually hurt people."
His entire body went still.
Then she smiled gently.
"Don't scare my daughter too much, okay?"
And just like that, she left.
The room stayed quiet afterward.
Rishabh slowly looked toward Ekansh.
"...My mother just emotionally adopted a mafia lord."
"No," Ekansh said quietly, eyes still fixed on the closed door.
The word came strangely rough.
Almost fragile.
Then finally he looked toward Aarohi.
"She reminded me of mine."
The vulnerability in that single sentence hit harder than any emotional breakdown.
Because he didn't say it with rage.
Or bitterness.
Just loss.
A deep, endless kind of loss.
Aarohi's chest tightened painfully.
And before she could stop herself—
She reached forward and gently touched his hand.
The reaction was immediate.
Ekansh's fingers closed around hers instinctively.
Firm.
Possessive.
Like his body had already decided where safety existed.
Then he looked directly into her eyes and said quietly—
"You shouldn't touch dangerous things so gently."