Abhi lay sprawled on his bed, his face bathed in the golden glow of early morning sunlight streaming through the slightly parted curtains.
His face was so captivating, so ethereal, it looked as though it could steal even the soul of heaven itself.
A sudden knock broke the beauty.
"Abhi, wake up!" Aarav's cheerful voice rang from behind the door, followed by the soft creak of it opening.
Abhi groaned and turned over lazily, burying his face in the pillow.
"Five more minutes, brother. It's Sunday," he mumbled, his voice thick with sleep.
But when he peeked over his arm, his bleary eyes found Aarav standing at his bedside.
His radiant expression lit up the room. His eyes sparkled with excitement, as if holding a secret too delightful to contain.
Abhi frowned slightly, curiosity tugging at his drowsiness.
"What's with the face, Brother?"
Aarav smiled softly, his voice carrying a hint of dreamy delight.
"Ayan is coming to the meeting too."
His eyes glimmered with a thousand hopeful thoughts, making Abhi chuckle softly.
Abhi rolled back into the cocoon of his blanket.
"Best of luck?" he teased, his voice muffled by the covers.
"Abhi!" Aarav protested, tugging lightly at the blanket. "You have to come with us."
Abhi groaned again, his face disappearing beneath the comforter, only a tuft of his dark hair visible.
"Business and Ayan—both are your responsibility," he muttered. "I'm not interested."
"Fine," Aarav said, crossing his arms with a knowing grin.
"If you come with us, I'll buy you cake every day for a week."
Silence.
A moment passed.
"Every day? Without Papa's nagging?"
Abhi's head peeked out, his tousled hair sticking up, and his eyes narrowing suspiciously.
"Every single day," Aarav confirmed, his grin widening. "Any flavor. No nagging."
Without another word, Abhi flung off the blanket and scrambled out of bed, his energy miraculously restored.
"You better not be joking, Brother," he warned, though his smile betrayed his excitement.
For a moment, he looked like a child who had just won the lottery.
---
[Meeting Room]
The air in the meeting room was thick with anticipation.
Officials shifted in their seats around the long table, their low murmurs filled with tension. All eyes turned when the heavy double doors creaked open.
Mr. Rawat entered first, his aura commanding immediate silence.
Behind him followed Aarav and Abhi—his pride and unflinching protectors—their presence as formidable as their striking figures.
Mr. Rawat settled at the head of the table.
His sons positioned themselves at the side benches, their gazes sharp and alert, scanning the room like hawks.
Minutes later, the doors opened again.
Mr. Singh stepped inside, bringing with him a gust of icy silence.
Arun and Ayan flanked him, their contrasting energies drawing attention.
Arun's intensity was like a coiled spring, his gaze a silent warning.
Ayan, soft and serene, wore his usual calm smile—a gentle contrast that did little to ease the tension.
As Mr. Singh took his seat opposite Mr. Rawat, Arun and Ayan settled across from Abhi and Aarav.
Their gazes met briefly, then retreated.
Aarav and Ayan deliberately avoided eye contact, masking the closeness they secretly shared.
Abhi, however, smirked as his eyes found Arun. He raised a hand in a mischievous wave, clearly teasing.
Arun offered only a fleeting glance in return, his expression unreadable.
The room froze as Mr. Raj stood, adjusting his tie. A stack of neatly arranged documents sat in front of him.
"Gentlemen," he began, his voice calm yet resonant. "The purpose of today's meeting is to announce the next head representatives for our two leading power positions."
A ripple of unease moved through the room.
"This is not just a visionary decision. It concerns the future of this organization—and the stability we all aim to uphold."
He glanced at the papers one last time.
"I declare the next heir to Mr. Singh's position will be Arun. As for Mr. Rawat's successor—Aarav."
Gasps echoed softly.
Aarav remained impassive, his composure unwavering.
Arun's focus sharpened, his presence even more intense.
Then Mr. Singh rose, his chair scraping against the floor.
"That boy?" he snapped, his facade cracking. "Your heir? Aren't your son capable of handling your position?"
The room stilled.
Abhi tensed, fury rising. He was about to stand when Aarav's firm grip on his arm stopped him.
Across the room, Arun's eyes tracked Abhi's every move. He wasn't just watching—he was trying to understand. His hands fidgeted slightly in his lap, guilt flickering behind his hardened exterior.
Though the words hadn't come from him, their weight pressed heavy on his shoulders.
Beside him, Ayan sat frozen. The news about Aarav had startled him—but the guilt hurt more. He wanted to meet Aarav's eyes. To say something. Anything. A silent apology, perhaps.
But, they couldn't do anything.
At last, Mr. Rawat rose, his voice cold and steely.
"He is my eldest son," he declared, eyes locked with Mr. Singh's. "And let me make this clear—blood doesn't matter. Strength, loyalty, the ability to lead—that's what matters."
"You think you can dictate this alone?" Mr. Singh snapped. "It affects us all."
Then—Mr. Raj stepped in.
"Perhaps… a compromise, Master," he offered, gently. "A voting process."
Mr. Singh paused. Then nodded stiffly.
"Very well. I agree."
"As do I," Mr. Rawat said, quietly but firmly.
Mr. Raj's voice firmed as he concluded, "Then, everyone... The final decision will be made in sixty days—after a vote by all present officials. Time for reflection. For fairness."
The storm hadn't ended. It had only begun.
---
[Rawat House – Guest Room]
The room was a haven of quiet luxury—golden light pooling gently over plush linens and rich wood.
But the four boys sitting within—Aarav, Abhi, Vihan, and Karan—carried a tension that dulled even the coziest corners.
All eyes were on Abhi, whose expression simmered with quiet rage.
Karan looked to Vihan.
Vihan looked to Aarav.
And Aarav—silent but steady—passed Vihan a silent nod.
Then Aarav reached for the bottle of juice and slid it across the table.
"Abhi… let it go."
Abhi snatched it, unscrewed the cap with a tight twist. "You shouldn't have stopped me, Brother."
Sensing the moment, Vihan chimed in quickly, "Yeah, you should've let him deal with that mouthy man."
Aarav's gaze cut to him—sharp, but calm.
"He's older than us. We didn't raise you to disrespect others."
Abhi scoffed. "Respect is earned. Not inherited."
Vihan nodded in agreement. "Still don't get why Papa and Maa respect someone like him."
Their frustrations—long buried—spilled freely now.
Karan and Aarav exchanged a glance. One of worry. One of restraint.
Finally, Aarav stood.
"Let's go back to our rooms. Vihan, you too," he said gently.
Then, more firmly to Karan, he added, "You sleep here. I don't want to see you near Vihan's room at night."
As everyone exited one by one, Karan lingered behind, settling into the calm of his occasional retreat.
Under his breath, he murmured—almost like a complain.
"Brother complexes really do run in this family..."
[Singh Mansion – Ayan's Room]
Ayan sat alone in his dimly lit room, the soft glow of his phone screen casting faint shadows across his delicate features. His thumb hovered over the green call button—hesitating—as he wrestled with the decision to call Aarav.
Finally, he pressed the button.
The phone rang—once, twice—the sound amplifying the pounding of his heart.
"Hello?" Aarav's voice came through, warm and gentle—soft as a smile.
For a moment, Ayan couldn't speak. But that voice, that calm reassurance, gave him the push he needed.
"Senior..." he breathed, his voice barely above a whisper.
"Ayan... are you okay?" Aarav asked.
"Senior, I…" Ayan's voice faltered under the weight of guilt. "I wanted to apologize. For my father's behavior today."
His voice cracked on the last word. His eyes stung, tears threatening to fall.
"Ayan, listen..." he said softly. "You don't need to apologize for him. This is the business world. It's natural for him to feel… protective. He doesn't trust outsiders, and I understand that."
Ayan said nothing, his silence a mix of shame and awe—not because Aarav dismissed the hurt, but because he handled it with such grace.
"You don't have to carry this guilt," Aarav continued, his voice reassuring. "Your father's views are his own. They don't define how I feel about you."
Ayan clutched the phone tighter, the warmth in Aarav's words easing something within him.
"Senior... will you come to the library tomorrow? After the exam?" he asked, voice thick with emotion.
A pause—then a quiet, comforting reply.
"…Ofcourse, I will."
The call ended.
Ayan gently lowered the phone to his lap. His heart was still racing—but now, for different reasons.
[Singh Mansion – Arun's Room]
Arun sat on the edge of his bed, the faint blue glow of his phone screen casting hollow shadows across his face. His eyes were fixed on it, unmoving. Silent.
The silence in his room was deafening.
After a long moment, he let out a deep sigh. His fingers curled briefly around the phone before he pressed the screen off.
The screen went black. And so did the room.
Arun lay back against the bed, his arms loose at his sides. He closed his eyes, but there was no peace in the silence.
His body stilled, but his thoughts didn't.
And in that quiet, with nothing left to distract him, he realized—loneliness didn't always feel empty. Sometimes, it was loud.