Throne and Thread

Chapter 23 The Weight of Tathastu

What you guard with your hands, fate may still snatch from your heart.

- Author

Vritant entered the building and opened Dr. Radhika Mehta's cabin. She was seated behind the desk, working on her laptop.

"I said no appoin-" she stopped midway when she saw him. "Vritant?"

"I have an appointment," he said, sitting down in the chair opposite her.

"Oh yes, the appointment that's been due for... what? 801 days now?" she said, checking her calendar.

"Sarcasm doesn't suit you, Radhika," he muttered.

"You coming here willingly means you fucked up somewhere," she replied, holding his gaze. "So, what happened?"

"I want pills," he stated simply.

"What do you mean? The last time I prescribed them was over two years ago-and only after I told you not to take them anymore."

"Well, you think I can't get pills without a prescription?" he shot back.

"That's exactly what I'm thinking, Vardhan. You've been taking them however you wanted, whenever you wanted. So why come here now? Wait-don't tell me. Did you overdose?"

"Yes, I did," he admitted. "Look, my wife lives with me now. I can't let her see me like this. Yesterday I forgot to take them, and she saw me crying in my sleep. Radhika, I can't let that happen again."

"Oh, you're married? Congratulations," she said dryly.

"Don't be fucking annoying," he snapped.

"Don't be fucking arrogant, Vardhan," she shot back, her voice sharp.

"I'm your psychiatrist. I've treated you long enough for you to start taking me for granted.

I had to push you for everything, and then one day you just gave up and stopped showing up.

You think I don't know you've been getting pills without my prescription?

I warned you not to. And now you overdose?

Do you even realize the side effects-are you insane? "

"What else could I do? My wife was right there, sleeping in the same room."

"Now tell me-what do you want?" she asked flatly.

"I want you to prescribe something else. These aren't working anymore."

Radhika leaned back, her tone sharp but not unkind.

"Vritant, do you even remember what I told you last time? These pills aren't harmless. Even at the normal dose, they mess with your brain. You'll wake up groggy, your balance is shot, and you'll keep snapping at people without knowing why. That's the mild stuff."

She paused, her eyes narrowing.

"But the real danger? Memory gaps. You could have a whole conversation with your wife, cook dinner, even drive a car-and tomorrow you wouldn't remember a second of it.

That's not sleep, that's sedation. And if you keep going, you'll need more and more to even feel the effect.

Dependence, rebound insomnia, emotional numbness-you'll spiral faster than you think. "

Her voice dropped, steady, cutting through the silence.

"You say you don't want your wife to see you breaking down? Imagine her watching you blank out in the middle of talking, or finding you wandering the house at 3 a.m. with no memory of it the next morning. Is that what you want her to see?"

Vritant's jaw tightened. His fingers curled into fists on his knees, the nails digging into his palm. For a moment he didn't speak, just stared at the floor like the words themselves were too heavy to drag out.

His lips curled into a bitter half-smile. "You keep talking like she's blind. She's a doctor, Radhika. You think she won't notice? She already sees more than I want her to. That's why I need the pills. They keep me in check."

Radhika's brows drew together, her voice sharpening.

"No, Vritant. The pills don't keep you in check. They keep you sedated. They keep you quiet. And trust me-if she's half the doctor I think she is, she'll recognize it. The grogginess. The memory gaps. The irritability. She'll know exactly what's happening to you."

His expression hardened, though a flicker of unease passed through his eyes. "Then I'll lie. I'll tell her it's stress. Long shifts. Anything."

Radhika leaned forward, her voice dropping to a razor's edge.

"You really think you can fool another doctor? More importantly, you think you can fool your wife? She already saw you breaking once. Next time, she won't dismiss it. Next time, she'll call it what it is. And when she does, you'll have nothing left to hide behind."

"She doesn't know anything," he whispered, his voice low, almost fragile.

Radhika froze. She searched his face for a long moment, but he kept his eyes fixed on the floor. Without another word, she picked up her notepad, scribbled a prescription, and slid it across the desk to him.

"Just don't overdose," she whispered.

He took the slip, stood, and adjusted his coat.

"Thank you," he said quietly, turning toward the door.

"Congratulations on your marriage," she said suddenly.

He stopped, glanced back, and gave a short nod. "Thanks."

"She must be someone special," Radhika added softly, her tone careful, not jealous-just honest. "Special enough that you came here."

Vritant's mouth twitched into the faintest of smiles. "She's my wife, Radhika. I intend to protect her. From everything. And everyone-including myself."

With that, he turned the handle and pushed the door open.

But before he stepped out, her voice caught him. "Why did you stop showing up?"

He paused, glanced over his shoulder, and his reply came like a blade wrapped in silk.

"Why did you start reporting my case to the PM sahiba?"

And then he walked out, leaving Radhika frozen in her chair, shock rippling across her face.

??? V ? A ???

When he entered the house, he noticed Shaurya Vardhan step out of his car as well. Vritant lingered, waiting for his father to catch up before walking inside together.

"You gave her chocolate," Vritant said, his tone more like a complaint than a statement, as he fell into stride with him.

Shaurya raised a brow. "Why are you being grumpy? She's my daughter-in-law. I can give her chocolates if I want."

"Why don't you gift her a chocolate factory then?" Vritant shot back sarcastically.

Shaurya chuckled. "You sound bitter. Seems like you deserve the chocolate more than she does."

"But it was always me and Echo," Vritant said again, quieter this time.

"Exactly. It was always you and Echo. And then she became your wife. So now, it's you, your wife, and your Echo." Shaurya's tone was calm as they walked toward the dining table, just as Adhrita was descending the stairs.

"Papa..." Vritant muttered.

"What?" Shaurya arched a brow. "I deserve some love too, Vritant. I didn't just lose him. I lost you as well. You don't know what it feels like to lose both your children. I spent years craving for warmth. And if I have to burn the world to feel it again, I will."

"Papa, I'm sorry. I didn't mean it," Vritant said quickly, pulling him into a hug. "I was just kidding."

"I know." Shaurya's voice softened. "And I'm not blaming you for being distant.

What you went through... it was hell. You kept away because you thought your flame would burn me instead of warming me.

But she"-he glanced toward Adhrita-"she's a fresh breath.

" He held his son tightly, as though afraid to let go.

"I'm scared, Papa," Vritant whispered.

"That your flame will burn her?"

Vritant nodded, pulling out of the embrace. His eyes followed Adhrita as she reached the dining table.

"Who knows," Shaurya murmured, watching her pick up the jug, "sometimes she might be standing with water in her hands."

Vritant's lips curved into a reluctant laugh as Adhrita poured water into the glass.

Then Shaurya went upstairs, and Vritant walked toward Adhrita.

"Had dinner?" he asked.

"No, I was shifting my stuff," she said.

"Let's have dinner in the room," he suggested. She nodded. Turning to his driver, he added, "Rohit, give the parcel to Maharaj ji."

As soon as their bedroom door creaked open and they stepped inside, he asked, "What happened?"

"Nothing."

"It doesn't seem like nothing. Your face says otherwise," he said, slipping off his shoes and folding his sleeves.

"I wanted to ask... if I can shift to another room?" she asked hesitantly.

Vritant froze. "Adhrita, are you uncomfortable with me? Did I do something in my sleep? I'm sorry if I did. It wasn't intentional. If you want, I can sleep on the sofa, I mean-"

"Vritant, you didn't make me uncomfortable." She reached out, holding his hand before he could spiral further.

He fell quiet, still confused by her sudden request.

"I had to move your things into the closet. Rearranging the whole room was one thing... but the bar in your room-" She trailed off, hesitant.

And he understood. She didn't like alcohol. He remembered their first meeting, how she had only shaken her head, her eyes silently telling him no while he held a glass in his hand.

"It's not me, right?" he asked again softly.

Instead of answering, Adhrita led him to the sofa and gently began loosening his tie.

"It's not you, Vritant. I'm not uncomfortable with you."

The closeness in her gesture told him everything-it was never about him.

"Then why move, unless you truly are uncomfortable here? Rearrange whatever you like, it's your room too. Just don't touch my Hot Wheels cars."

"Oh... sorry," she said quickly.

"You rearranged them?" he asked, mock shock in his tone as he walked toward his walk-in closet.

"Sorry," she repeated, following him inside. "I knew you wouldn't want anything moved, so I thought it'd be better if I just shifted into my old room."

He turned to face her, studying her in silence for a long moment.

"I was hardly ever home. It was always Karma and me. Rearrange whatever you want, Adhrita. This is your space too. And the bar... I'll have it shifted elsewhere."

"Okay, so this problem is solved," he said, but her eyes were still distant, as if her thoughts were elsewhere.

She nodded, but her eyes were far away.

"Adhrita, the closet and the bar aren't the real issue," he continued gently. "You were overthinking something else... and that dragged you here."

He took her hand and led her out of the room. A butler appeared with their dinner, and Vritant asked him to set it on the balcony. Guiding her outside, he pulled out a chair for her. She sat down quietly, her lashes wet, emotions trembling just below the surface.

He sat beside her, served Mexican rice, curry, and salsa onto a plate, and then lifted a spoon to her lips. She parted her mouth without protest, eating in silence. He fed her patiently, each bite unspoken comfort, and only after she was done did he eat himself.

When the plates were cleared, he stood and gently tugged her up with him.

"Come," he said softly. She followed as he went to change, emerging in a loose t-shirt and shorts. She disappeared into the washroom and returned in her night suit, her hair still slightly damp.

He was stretched on the bed, waiting. But when she came closer, he pushed himself up. His eyes lingered on her for a moment before he spoke.

"Let's go out," he said quietly.

She only nodded.

The drive to the lake was wrapped in silence. Adhrita sat with her gaze fixed outside the window, her thoughts heavy, while Vritant kept his eyes on the road, giving her the space she needed.

When they arrived, she walked with him to the edge and lowered herself onto the grass, hesitant to dip her feet in the dark water.

"It's safe," he assured softly as he sat down beside her.

After a moment's pause, she slipped off her footwear, set them neatly to the side, and eased her feet into the cool water. The ripples shimmered under the light, throwing their shadows side by side on the surface. She stared at them, her fingers fidgeting in her lap.

"Now," he said gently, "the real reason."

"Papa called me," she admitted, her voice low.

"And what did sasurji say?" he asked, tugging off his own chappal.

"He asked me to come home for pagphera... after our reception."

"So tomorrow then?"

She nodded.

"You don't want to go?" His tone was soft, searching.

"I do want to... but I dropped the family name, Vritant. What will I do when I get there? I miss Mumma. I miss my home." Her voice broke as tears slipped down her cheeks.

"More than anything, you miss him," he said quietly. "But the distance..."

Her sob cut through the night, confirming his words.

"When Shaurya Papa gave me chocolate, I almost cried. My papa always gave me chocolate too. He was my father, Vritant. And when I lost Mumma, I lost him too."

He reached out and covered her trembling hands with his, steadying her fidgeting fingers.

She gripped his hand. His phone buzzed on the ground beside them - a reminder for his race. Without looking at it, he reached over, silenced it, and shoved it aside.

"He lost too much too, Adhrita. His ways might not be right, but-"

"I didn't just lose him," she interrupted bitterly. "I lost my family. And everything that comes with it."

Her voice shook with anger and grief. He didn't try to argue. Instead, he began to play with her fingers, grounding her, letting her release everything she had bottled up.

Finally, he said, "What if I come with you?"

She froze, lifting her eyes to him. "Are you bluffing?"

He shook his head.

"See? Again you have to adjust. First the room, and now this..." Her voice softened as she leaned against his shoulder, her feet drifting in the water. The cool waves calmed her even as her heart beat unevenly.

Vritant glanced down at their reflections rippling in the lake. For a long moment, he just stared.

"Actually, it's about ports," he murmured. "I was meeting him anyway."

He slipped an arm around her shoulders. She shifted closer, her lips brushing near his neck as she leaned more into him.

His hand instinctively found her hair, twirling a strand between his fingers the way he always did.

"You're playing with my hair again," she whispered, half a complaint, half a secret comfort.

He bent his head slightly to look at her, and she tilted her chin toward the water.

"See?" she said, pointing to their joined reflection.

He let out a small laugh - quiet, warm, breaking through the heaviness of the night.

"You don't have to tiptoe around me, Adhrita," he said softly.

"I'm not," she whispered, her voice barely above the ripple of the lake. "I just... don't want to step into the wrong place."

"You can't," he replied without hesitation, as though it was the most obvious truth.

They sat there in silence for a while, letting the stillness of the night wrap around them, until he caught her hiding a yawn behind her hand.

"You're sleepy," he said with a faint smile.

She only hummed in response, pulling back slightly from his shoulder.

They slipped on their chappals and walked back to the car. The drive was quiet again, but not heavy this time - the kind of silence that felt like rest. Somewhere between the streetlights, Adhrita's eyes fluttered shut, and before long, her head tilted softly against the window.

When they reached Vardhan Mansion, he parked and called her name gently. She didn't stir. With a sigh, he stepped out, came around to her side, and opened the door. His hand brushed her shoulder in a soft shake, but she made a small, irritated sound and turned her face away.

Helplessly fond, he bent down, sliding one arm beneath her knees and the other around her back, lifting her carefully into his arms. She shifted unconsciously against his chest, and he steadied her before walking up the steps.

Inside, Vedashree was at the dining table, finishing a late meal. Her eyes widened slightly at the sight of him carrying Adhrita, but he didn't pause, didn't explain. He simply inclined his head and kept walking, the quiet weight of his wife more important than any commentary.

He nudged open their bedroom door with his shoulder. Karma was already sprawled on the bed, clearly dropped off earlier by Rawat. As soon as Vritant lowered Adhrita onto the mattress, Karma scrambled closer, tail wagging.

"Karma..." Adhrita murmured, half-asleep. The pup licked her hand and gave a small bark before circling once and curling up near her side.

When Vritant returned after setting aside his things, Karma hopped onto his chest instead, nestling down as though declaring his spot for the night.

Karma barked again, nudging closer to Adhrita. In her half-sleep, she stirred and, almost instinctively, her hand moved across to Vritant, fingers brushing lightly against his neck. She began caressing his skin absently, her touch soft and unthinking.

Satisfied, Karma clambered onto her side and curled beside her.

But the moment her hand stilled, he barked again, restless.

Vritant sighed with a tired smile, his arm sliding gently around her as he caressed Karma's head.

"Shh... sleep now," he murmured, and the dog finally settled, dozing off between them.

Leaning forward carefully, Vritant shifted Karma a little so Adhrita could lie more comfortably. He patted him once before whispering with a faint smirk, "Seems Dogesh bhai is really your biggest fan." Adhrita stirred and smiled in her sleep, as though she had heard him.

He laid back then, letting sleep take him too.

Hours later, the silence of the night broke with the faint buzz of his phone.

It kept vibrating near her side. Turning drowsily, Adhrita noticed the phone had slipped from his pocket onto the bed.

Jack Racer flashed across the screen - again and again, the calls piling.

She picked it up, saw a string of missed calls from clubs, and quietly set it back down.

Her gaze lingered on him. He was fast asleep, lashes resting against his skin, his face softened in the quiet of rest. Almost without thinking, she reached forward, her fingers brushing the hair gently from his forehead, lingering there a heartbeat longer than necessary.

A smile ghosted her lips as she whispered, barely above a breath- "Goodnight... my Midnight."

For a second, she just watched the steady rise and fall of his chest. Then her eyes flicked to the faint scar near his temple, the fire hidden even in his silence. Her smile deepened, softer, almost teasing.

"...or should I call you my Ace of Flames?"

??? V ? A ???

Next Morning -

He sat on the sofa, staring at the shoes with laces. After a long pause, he got up, walked back to the closet, and pulled out another pair-slip-ons without laces.

Adhrita, fastening her earrings at the vanity, caught him looking down at his shoes.

"Do you want me to tie the laces?" she asked softly.

He shook his head. "I'll wear these instead." He slipped them on, then walked over to her. Picking up the comb, he began running it gently through her hair.

"Related to your Echo?" she asked, watching him in the mirror.

He nodded, his voice low. "He always tied my laces. And, used to mimic Daadi- 'Tujhe meri umr lag jaaye'." He bent down to take his wristwatch. "And your god really granted it. His years... got added to mine."

Adhrita tried to lighten the weight in his voice. "Mere bhagwan? As if you don't believe."

(My god)

"Of course I don't." He slid on his coat.

"Not even Ganpati Bappa?" she asked carefully.

He froze. His eyes lingered on the sindoor box kept on the table. He picked a pinch between his fingers, his expression hard.

"I don't believe in him anymore, Echo ko tathastu unhone hi bola hai.. Bas mujhe hi bolna bhul gaye. Woh kehte hai naa jinse sabse jyada pyaar karo woh tumhari sabse pyaari chiz tumse chheen lete hai." He rubbed the sindoor between his fingers, as though weighing every word.

(I don't believe in Him anymore. He's the one who said tathastu to Echo, but forgot to say it to me. They say the one you love most... He takes away your dearest thing.)

"Unse naraz ho?" she whispered.

(You're angry at Him?)

He shook his head. "Nahi khud se hoon ki maine unpe umeed lagai thi ki meri zindagi iss sindoor ki tarah laal nahi hogi" His voice carried an ache sharp enough to wound.

(No. At myself. For hoping... for thinking my life wouldn't bleed red like this sindoor.)

Then, as if shutting the door on his own vulnerability, he continued flatly, "Anyway, I told you-I don't get along with Mothers. Or their sons. So..." He leaned down and, almost abruptly, filled her parting with sindoor. "I made everything about myself."

Her breath caught. But she steadied, her voice soft yet firm. "Pata hai tathasthu unhone bola hoga bas aapne sunne se inkar kar diya hoga. Par woh aapse naraz nahi hai. Agar hote toh aap yeh sindoor meri maang mein nahi bharte fek dete. Aur khud ko nahi duniya ko jalate."

(You know, maybe He did say tathastu. You just refused to hear it. He's not angry with you. If He was, you wouldn't be putting sindoor in my maang. You'd have thrown it away. Burnt the world instead.)

His lips curved in a bitter shadow of a smile. "Mujhe delusional world mein jeene ka shaukh nahi hai. Yeh sindoor maine pehle bhi aapki maang mein bhara tha. Mere naam kaa ki aap meri ho remember marking my territory?"

(I don't live in delusion, Adhrita. I filled your maang with sindoor before too-remember? Not as a blessing. As a claim. A mark that you were mine.)

He disappeared into the closet again and returned with a gun.

"Khud ki raksha khud hi karni padti hai," he said, placing it in her hands.

(You have to protect yourself.)

She rose, her eyes steady, and slipped the gun into her clutch.

"Agar maine woh Suraj Rathore se shaadi ke liye haan kar di hoti toh?" she asked suddenly, testing him.

(What if I had said yes to marrying Suraj Rathore?)

"Toh aaj aap uski biwi hoti. Main force nahi karta," he replied, voice flat, absolute.

(Then today, you'd be his wife. I wouldn't have forced you.)

Her gaze dropped to his hand, still faintly stained red. She caught it, held it up between them.

"Par sindoor bharke toh mujhe apna banaya na?" she whispered.

("But by filling my hairline with vermillion... you made me yours, didn't you?")

Because the gods answer in strange ways-sometimes with a gift, sometimes with a thief.

He stilled.

"Shayad... unhone mujhe tathastu bola hai," she breathed, her words almost breaking, and turned away, leaving him rooted to the spot.

(Maybe... it was me they blessed with tathastu (so be it).)

He didn't move. Didn't answer. She hadn't said much-but the silence she left behind carried everything unsaid.

It was almost poetic-how he dismissed gods, dismissed pain, and yet kept catching Adhrita every time she stumbled.

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