Amara tried to reach out, hoping to mend what had broken between them while still nursing her slow-healing injuries. Every word she rehearsed felt fragile, like it could shatter the moment she saw him.
Vihaan, meanwhile, was caught between anger and sorrow — not because she lied, but because she didn't trust him enough to share her burden. The act she thought would bring them closer to justice only made him feel betrayed… and unwanted.
The case hearing was just two weeks away, and the opposition had begun to see Amara as a threat — a loose end that could unravel all their lies.
Amara's POV:
It's been a whole week, and Vihaan still hasn't really spoken to me. He doesn't ignore my calls, but every conversation feels like a wall — polite, distant, and almost mocking my recklessness without saying the words outright.
I can walk properly now; maybe I should visit him once. This silence between us… It's heavier than any wound I've had.
I scrolled through my contacts and stopped at Eric. I couldn't call Vihaan directly — he'd just find another reason to end the call early. Maybe Eric could help, somehow.
The line connected."Hey, Ama!" Eric's cheerful voice came through, the familiar tone I didn't realize I missed until now.
"Hi," I said, forcing a small smile he couldn't see.
"How are you now?" he asked. "I asked Brother about you, but he was so… cold. Just said, 'She's fine now.' That's it. Did something happen between you two?"
His question hung there, pressing harder than I expected. I didn't know what to say — not without sounding guilty, not without sounding broken.
"Umm, no, everything's fine," I said quickly, forcing a little laugh. "Just a small… couple fight, you know. Nothing serious."I couldn't tell him everything — this was the safest lie I could manage without sounding broken.
"I actually wanted to ask," I continued, trying to keep my tone casual, "is he home right now or already at the office?"
"Well, he just left," Eric replied. "He was on a call with someone, arranging a meeting at the office. So… if you want to talk to him, that's where you'll find him."
He paused for a second, and I could almost hear the smile in his voice."Good luck, Ama. I know you can handle it. He can't stay mad at you for long."
A small chuckle escaped me, and for a fleeting moment, I felt the warmth in Eric's words — He can't stay mad at you for long.But this silence between us had lasted longer than I could endure.
I quickly made my way down the hallway. Mom had already left for work, and Jia was probably gone too. Albert was out of town for some business trip, which meant… I could leave without anyone questioning me.
The cab ride felt longer than it really was. With every passing street, my heartbeat picked up, matching the rhythm of my thoughts. What would I say? How would I even start?
By the time I reached Vihaan's office, the familiar building suddenly felt foreign. His secretary recognized me instantly — I didn't even need to show an ID this time. She offered me a polite smile and gestured toward his cabin.
My palms were damp. Each step toward that door felt heavier, louder. The air itself seemed to tighten around me.
I stopped just short of the door, my hand hovering near the handle. The faint hum of conversation slipped through the narrow gap — his voice.
Vihaan.
I froze. I hadn't heard him speak this close in days. His tone was calm, professional, the same voice that once made me feel safe, now making my chest tighten.
"…no, I'll handle it myself," he said, his words clipped but steady. A short pause. "Just make sure no one interferes this time. I don't want another reckless move ruining everything."
My breath hitched. Reckless. The word stung more than I expected.
I took a step back, my throat dry, my pulse uneven. Maybe I should leave. Maybe seeing me right now would only make it worse.
But before I could turn away, his voice was slower — barely audible through the door."We can't make any wrong move here. One wrong move, and we might lose it forever."
Something in that tone stopped me — not anger this time, but exhaustion. He is talking about something else, but the phrase,' Might lose forever,' stuck in my mind, and I could barely move now.
I straightened my posture, steadied my breath, and finally reached for the handle.
"You can do it, Ama," I whispered to myself.
I took a slow breath and knocked twice, soft but firm enough to be heard.
"Come in," Vihaan said from inside, his voice still steady, unaware of who stood behind the door.
I pushed it open, and for a second, he didn't look up — his eyes still fixed on the papers scattered across his desk. He was dressed in a crisp white shirt, sleeves rolled up, hair slightly tousled — the same way he looked when too tired to care, yet too focused to stop.
When he finally glanced up, the pen in his hand froze midair. His expression shifted — surprise first, then guarded calm.
"Ama," he said, her name coming out almost as a sigh rather than a greeting.
I stepped inside, closing the door quietly behind me. The sound felt too loud in the room's silence.
"I… didn't mean to disturb you," I said, my voice lower than I intended.
"You're not disturbing me," he replied after a pause, setting the pen down but not breaking eye contact. "I just wasn't expecting you here."
The air between us was thick — not with anger this time, but with all the things left unsaid.
For a moment, neither of us spoke. The quiet stretched, filled only by the faint ticking of the clock and the hum of the air conditioner.
"I didn't know how else to reach you," I finally said, breaking the silence. "You wouldn't answer properly, and I thought… maybe if I came here, we could talk."
He leaned back slightly, crossing his arms — not cold, but distant. "Talk about what, Ama? About how you nearly got yourself killed? Or how you decided to play hero while I was kept in the dark?"
His voice wasn't raised, but each word landed heavy.
"I wasn't trying to—" I started, but he cut me off.
"Weren't trying to what? Worry me? Betray my trust? You promised you'd stay away from this alone."
The word promised hit harder than I expected. I took a slow breath. "I know. I messed up, Vihaan. I thought… if I could get that proof, everything would end faster. I didn't think about what it would cost."
He exhaled, his jaw tightening. "That's the problem, Ama. You never think about you. You think about your family, about justice, about everyone else — and somewhere in all that, you stop caring what happens to yourself."
I looked at him — really looked at him — and beneath the frustration in his eyes, there was something else: fear. The kind that comes from almost losing someone you love.
"I just wanted to help," I whispered.
"And I just wanted you safe," he replied softly.
For the first time in weeks, our eyes met without blame — only exhaustion, and something fragile beneath it.
The silence between us finally felt different — not suffocating, just heavy with everything unspoken. I opened my mouth to say something, maybe even apologize again, when a sharp knock echoed at the door.
Vihaan's gaze broke from mine. "Come in," he said, his tone instantly shifting back to the calm, professional one I'd heard through the door earlier.
The secretary stepped in, holding a file and a phone. "Sir, it's Mr. Arnav on line two. He said it's urgent — something about the case documents you requested."
Vihaan nodded, his expression tightening. "I'll take it."
She gave me a brief, polite smile before leaving, closing the door softly behind her.
He didn't look at me right away. Instead, he picked up the phone, his voice clipped but steady as he spoke. "Yes, Arnav… what happened?"
I stood there, feeling out of place — like I'd just walked into a life that was moving perfectly fine without me. His words to Arnav blurred into background noise, but the distance between us felt clearer than ever.
When he finally ended the call, he placed the receiver down with care — too much care — the kind that hides frustration.
"Work?" I asked quietly.
"Something about the hearing," he replied, rubbing his temple. "They're moving the witness interrogation sooner than expected."
"Oh…" I managed, unsure what else to say.
He nodded absently, then finally looked at me again — not coldly, but with that same unreadable calm. "You should go home and rest, Ama. We'll… talk later."
Later. The same word that always meant not now.
I nodded, forcing a faint smile. "Sure."
And before he could see the tremor in my hands, I turned toward the door.