His tone held no patience, and the unspoken warning was clear. They let her go, unwilling to cause a scene. Soon, Arundhati found herself seated beside Aarav in the car.
Just as the engine hummed to life, Kailashnath leaned in through the open window, speaking softly into her ear. She nodded silently. Then, without withdrawing, he turned to his son and said,
"Take care of her, Aarav. She's your wife now."
Aarav turned his head, his smile laced with mockery yet underscored by something more severe.
"Mr. Kailashnath," he began, voice smooth, "you must be suffering from memory loss—maybe due to age, or maybe due to my former 'good boy' act. So let me remind you… You'll always be dumb to me, and I'll always be deaf to you. That won't change—no matter how hard you try. So stop wasting your precious time on your deaf son... and go find that wh—"
He paused, smirk twisted in bitterness,
"I mean, your wife. I'm sure she must be missing you."
Rage burned in Kailashnath's eyes. He knew exactly which word his son had just stopped himself from saying. Just as he began to storm around the car, fist clenched and jaw locked—
"Driver," Aarav cut in calmly, "if you don't drive this car right now, I swear I'll run you over."
The driver, a frail old man, froze in panic. He trembled, fumbled with the gears, and the car surged forward like a bullet.
---
Inside the car...
Aarav leaned back in silence, the wind brushing his cheek through the half-open window.
He ran a hand through his hair, thinking over his own words.
'I almost called her a whore.'
He shook his head, uneasy—not with fear of consequences or guilt for hurting his father, but for something else entirely.
(It's not about his anger. I don't care what Kailashnath thinks or feels. But the woman standing beside him—she respected that man. I didn't want to hurt her. Not just because she once loved this body, but because... in another world, in that damned novel, she gave me something I hadn't felt in a long time—relief. Even if fleeting, her character brought me a strange sense of peace while I fought my own battles.)
He was lost in those thoughts when he noticed Arundhati staring at him, fury blazing in her eyes.
"Why can't you just show him a little respect, Aarav?" she snapped. "He's your father—not just some stranger off the street."
Aarav stayed silent. Not because he didn't want to explain, but because even he didn't fully understand the reason for the storm he carried inside. This body… this soul… it reacted with venom to the mere sight of that man. As if hate had been etched into its bones.
And yet, there was one exception. One soul in that house who didn't ignite his rage.
He let out a dry sigh.
"Don't worry about him. Mr. Kailashnath has enough money to buy anything he wants—including that so-called 'respect'."
Arundhati's expression darkened.
"Why are you like this? He deserves respect—not just for being your father, but for building everything you're living in today. Do you even know how hard it is to run an enterprise like this? And still… you act like he means nothing to you. Why do you hate him so much?"
Her words weren't meant to heal the rift between them. She knew that was a lost cause. But she felt she owed this much—to the man who stood by her, the only one in that family who had extended a hand when everyone else turned their backs. Kailashnath had made her entry into the Trivedi household possible. He had supported her revenge. And every time Aarav disrespected him, it stung.
Aarav's face turned cold. The light teasing from earlier vanished.
"Arundhati," he said slowly, his voice low, "just because I've tolerated your presence doesn't mean you get to speak to me however you want. There are boundaries—even for you. Don't cross them."
A heavy silence fell.
Then, without another word, Aarav leaned forward.
"Driver, turn off the radio. I'm going to sleep."
---
Aarav's POV:
How do you answer a question when the answer doesn't exist?
I didn't know why this body hated its own father. I didn't have access to its past memories—at least not yet.
All I had were flashes. Vague scenes. Half-baked emotions from a poorly written novel. That shabby author never gave a proper backstory, just a few dramatic hints and cheap twists.
But if I had to guess?
It was probably about her. Parul—Kailashnath's second wife. Aarav's stepmother.
That's where the poison began.
But why?