Chapter 55 Unspoken Guilt And Apology
My voice grows even softer, more tender. Shyly, I whisper, “I… I’m missing you. Come get me… I’ll visit Dad again later.”
On the other end, I feel the shift even before he speaks. There’s a pause, a deep breath. When he finally answers, his voice is gruff, controlled. “I’m coming.”
The call disconnects. And though I can’t see him, I know his anger fades, replaced by a smile meant only for me.
Shorya returns home from his office, completely drained and weary. His mind is cluttered with work stress, yet home remains his only solace the place where he finds peace amid chaos. As soon as he steps inside Shekhawat Villa, his eyes drift toward the living room corner, where I stand quietly.
I look at him with a warm, loving smile, my eyes filled with affection and hope. But his face stays cold and unreadable. He glances at me once, doesn’t return my smile, and without a word, walks straight toward his room. My smile slowly fades. A dull ache settles in my chest, but I stay silent, watching him walk away.
Shorya opens the door to his room and steps inside. His eyes widen in surprise. He freezes, completely stunned by the sight before him. Right in the middle of the room stands Neeti, fresh out of the shower. Water drips from her wet hair, and she is wrapped in just a towel, her skin glistening in the soft light.
The moment Neeti sees Shorya, she gasps in shock. Her cheeks instantly flush red, and she stands frozen for a second. Then, in sheer embarrassment, she abruptly turns around, her back facing him. In a flustered voice, she stammers, “I… I forgot to bring my clothes…”
She grips the towel tightly and rushes into the bathroom, her heart pounding. Shorya remains rooted in place, watching her run. A playful smirk slowly appears on his face as the awkwardness dissolves into quiet amusement.
A few moments later, the bathroom door opens slightly, and Neeti’s soft voice comes through. “Can you… please pass me my clothes?”
Shorya picks up her clothes from the bed and walks toward the bathroom. Holding them in his hands, he speaks in a mischievous tone, “First promise me you won’t leave the house for days without telling me again. Only then will you get your clothes.”
From inside the bathroom, Neeti responds in disbelief, “What?! Are you blackmailing me?”
Shorya chuckles. “Absolutely. No clothes unless you promise. Otherwise… you’ll have to come out as you are.”
Neeti huffs in frustration, her voice turning sharp. “Fine! I won’t leave again without telling you.”
Shorya smiles, hiding the happiness on his face. “Good girl.”
Then her voice turns soft, almost pleading. “Now please… give me the clothes…”
From the slightly opened door, Neeti extends her hand, reaching out for her clothes. Her delicate, fair fingers tremble slightly. Shorya looks at her hand for a moment slender, soft, and beautiful. He places the clothes gently into her hand, and the instant she grabs them, she slams the door shut.
Shorya bursts into laughter.
A few minutes later, Neeti comes out, now dressed properly, but her face is still flushed with anger and embarrassment. She glares at Shorya, who is still wearing that mischievous smile.
“What is your problem?!” Neeti snaps. “Why do you always tease me?”
Shorya puts on a mock-innocent face. “Problem? What problem could an innocent man like me possibly have?”
Before Neeti can reply, she suddenly sneezes loudly. Concern immediately flickers in Shorya’s eyes as he stands up, “Did you take a cold shower again?”
Neeti nods shyly, Shorya makes her sit down and scolds her gently, “Are you crazy? It’s freezing outside, and you’re taking cold showers?”
Neeti shoots back, “You do it every day too!”
Shorya looks at her seriously. “You’re not me. Understand?”
He pulls out a shawl and wraps it around her carefully, his protective nature clearly showing.
After changing his clothes, Shorya and Neeti come downstairs. At the dining table sit Mr. Shekhawat, Samar… and me.
I sit there quietly, my hands resting in my lap, my heart already heavy.
Shorya sits beside Samar and asks, “When did you come?”
Samar smiles. “Just now. Came to pick up my wife.”
Shorya nods, and the maids serve dinner. Everyone eats together, but Shorya remains unusually quiet.
After dinner, Samar takes me with him, and we leave. Once we’re gone, Mr. Shekhawat looks at Shorya sternly and says, “You should be ashamed. She’s your younger sister, yet you won’t even speak to her properly. Have you ever thought about how she feels?”
Shorya says nothing. The words hit him hard. Without replying, he silently walks to his room. Neeti watches him go.
Samar and I sit in the car, but a deep silence hangs between us. The engine hums softly, yet inside, my silence feels unbearably loud.
I stare out of the window, lost in my thoughts. My chest feels heavy, my eyes sting, but I don’t let the tears fall. The pain I’m carrying is written all over my face, even if I say nothing.
Finally, Samar asks gently, “What’s wrong, sweetheart? Why is your mood off?”
I immediately look away and reply in a cold tone, “Nothing.”
Samar softly takes my hand but his voice turns firm. “There’s no point lying to me, understood? Tell me, what’s going on?”
I glance at him for a brief second but say nothing, then turn my face away again. Samar decides not to push further. The same heavy silence lingers in the car, and soon they reach home.
As Samar and I step into the Shekhawat Mansion, both of them freeze in place. In the living room, Mr. Ajay and Mrs. Shobha stand silently, and beside them is Vihan. Behind Vihan stands a cute girl, partially hiding behind him. Shock flashes across Samar’s face as he stares at Vihan, unable to look away.
Vihan’s eyes fill with tears. His face is weighed down with guilt. Slowly, he steps toward Samar and looks straight into his eyes, remaining silent for a moment.
Then, without hesitation, Vihan hugs Samar tightly and says,
“Samar, my brother… you’re alive… I knew nothing would happen to you. Please forgive me, brother.”
Samar doesn’t react. His eyes remain fixed on Vihan not with anger, not with forgiveness, but with a deep, unreadable silence. Vihan knows his mistake cannot be erased with a simple apology.
Gathering himself, Vihan turns to me and says softly, “You too… please forgive me. I’ve wronged you as well.”
I say nothing. I remain quietly by Samar’s side.
Vihan steps back toward the girl standing behind him, and Samar watches her closely. The girl looks up at Samar, then quickly lowers her gaze and clutches Vihan’s hand tightly.