34

since majority of you decided on receiving an update today, here it is.

Happy New Year's Eve! ✨

-• stolen relationship •-

Rudra

After my three-days stay in Scotland, I extended it by traveling to California, US. I needed to sort my thoughts out before going back to India. In my state, it wouldn't be that hard to figure out something is wrong with me. I had avoided all unnecessary calls, filtering out the important ones and only attending those. Last night, before I departed from Scotland, I received a call from Yuvraaj. I hadn't heard him sound so disoriented in years. Upon asking if everything's okay, he assured me things are fine and he had called solely to check on my returning date. I told him about my hologram project and that I'll probably be busy for the next two weeks. He then told me to focus on the task in hand, before hanging up abruptly. I haven't received any personal calls afterwards, not even from Taranya.

Considering what went down between us before my departure, I was hoping she'd call, or at least message to check up on me. But she's one heartless woman. She had time to post on her Instagram about her live debate, but not a minute more to see how I'm doing.

I know I'm walking on a one-way street in this relationship. I'm simply moving forward, alone, without any reciprocal of my actions, affection, and love, and the thought is terrifying. But I had assumed it's not getting wasted. My efforts, my feelings, my love, even if not returned, are at least acknowledged.

But to hear I'm suffocating her, that was the last straw. Because she's a blunt woman. She's forward with her feelings. She has always been. And if that was what she really felt, she should have been clear with me from the beginning. Unless, she deliberately wanted to give me hope, only to break it mercilessly when I cling to it. I refuse to believe she's capable of such heartless, diabolical intentions.

I decide not to think about her much. The more I lose myself in her thoughts, the more she consumes my world, and the more incapacitated I feel. This is not the right time to become emotional. I had enough of it during my stay in Scotland.

Work is my priority right now. So I focus back on the computer screen.

Concluding the conversation, I quickly shift the windows and get to work.

It takes me more than seven hours to successfully run the code. Only to run it. Running doesn't always ensure positive results. I had to remove hundred different lines because Yara's latest version didn't support the outdated instructions, and find an alternative of them to bring back the deleted features. Professor's code is only the base, the ground I need, but it's on me to build up from there. While the technology has made it easy to create your own hologram within fifteen minutes, but it's not advanced enough to support an incredibly intelligent and capable AI like Yara.

I arrived in Los Angeles at five in the morning. Then I checked in my usual hotel, had my dinner, and immediately got to work. Professor Barnes contacted me through dark web as soon as I logged in and changed my VPN settings, forging my IP address.

Now it's almost twelve hours later.

I haven't caught a wink of sleep in the last forty eight hours. I've been traveling, working and having meetings relentlessly. I need some rest desperately. I can't drop dead because of overwork during my last meeting in LA.

I check my schedule. There's time before I can even think of getting ready for the meeting. At most, I've eight hours to relax and recharge. So, I do that.

After a long, boring, but gloriously warm shower, I put on the bathrobe and step out of the shower stall. My legs tremble a bit. I clutch the basin for support and help myself stand straight, dabbing the towel to my neck and face. I look absolutely shagged. My hair are unruly, dripping wet. I've deep, deep eye bags hanging underneath my lower lids. The tender skin of my lips has dried out, almost chapped. And my cheeks have sunk, causing my cheekbones to come out sharper. I look like a dehydrated vampire.

Dragging my body, that feels nothing less than a string of aching muscles tied together, I collapse on the bed and bury my face in the pillow. I know I need to sit up if I've to sleep peacefully, without any nightmarish memories haunting me in sleep, but I can't bring myself to move.

My eyes fall close, and I drift off into a familiar darkness.

I find myself standing at a doorstep.

No windows around.

Hence, no light.

It takes me a moment to realise where I am.

And when I do, my feet stagger. I jump feeling something hard block my way out and look over my shoulder. The long, broad metal door stands straight in front of me, unwavering, committed to my captor. I gasp softly.

Why am I here?

It took me two decades to completely free myself from these shackles. Why is it, that when I trust my body to find peace, it tricks me into coming back here?

I flinch.

No one's loud here. Nobody screams. My voice is not overpowered here. I can hear it clearly, even if whispered. Yet, I'm still unheard, nobody notices me.

I turn around and slam my fist on the door.

I'm stronger now.

This door doesn't scare me.

I can break it down. I'm powerful.

"Open this door!" I scream.

"Whoever it is, open this door right now!" I command.

"Please, please get me out!" I request.

"Help!" And I beg.

"What are you doing?" I whirl around in shock.

My eyes grow large in horror.

A little boy stands in front of me. Filthy, soiled, unwashed. He rubs a tiny hand on his cheek, trying to clean off the dirt mark but fails. I grimace.

"Don't look at me like that." He glares at me.

"Like what?"

"Like I'm dirty."

"You are." I state.

His nose flares. "You're not?"

"Of course, not!" I growl. "I'm wearing the most expensive clothes." I dab my sleeves to get rid of any dust settled in the creases.

"Then why are you here?" He raises his chin defiantly.

"I don't know." I answer. "I'm locked."

"With me? With a dirty boy? Why? You don't belong with the ones who wear similar clothes?"

I blink, speechless hearing the words.

"I do. I belong there." I say weakly.

"You don't believe that."

I turn around and start banging the door. "Get me out! Get me out, please!" I beg desperately.

Shocking me, Virendra walks in through the door. I stumble back, startled to my core. He approaches the young boy. I stand there, timid as a mouse, making myself smaller as he leans down and grabs the boy by his chin. The boy looks at me. Tears in his eyes. As if he's waiting for me to help him. I can't. I need to get out of here first. Virendra raises his hand and slaps him in the face. The tiny body collapses to the floor. I flinch.

I rattle the door knob again. Luckily, it opens. Just as I close the door behind me, painful cries reverabate the air. I close my eyes, press my hands to my ears and walk down the dark hallway, stumbling into another room tiredly, bending over my knees to breathe slowly.

"How will you say he goes home in past tense?" I hear a woman ask.

Lifting my head, I see another small boy, younger than the first one, reciting something from a book. A woman, dressed as a nurse, teaching him patiently.

"He went home." The boy grins.

"Correct!" She ruffles his hair.

He giggles and claps his hands, his eyes suddenly finding mine. He points at me. "Me!" His declaration happy.

Horrified, I rush out of the room, slamming the door closed.

It's then I look around, realising I'm in a never-ending hallway, where thousands of doors open to the same room, same boy, but of different ages. And I wander there, lost, trying to find a door to get out of this place.

After opening hundreds of doors, I fall weak in the knees, exhausted, thirsty and tired. I fall to the floor and breathe raggedly.

"You need to leave."

I look over my shoulder. There he stands. This time much older. Perhaps, at the age of eleven or twelve.

"I'm trying. I can't find my way out."

"Is there something out there that you love? Something that keeps you going? Something that makes you happy?" He asks softly.

"My wife." The answer is quick, unthought, instinctive.

"Then look for her. She'll get you out."

I shake my head. "She won't. She doesn't love me."

"Find her first." He tells me and disappears inside one of the doors.

I force myself on the feet and take support of the walls, dragging myself down to the new door. I open it, the darkness welcomes me. "Tara?" I call out in a whisper. "Tara, please get me out. I'm stuck. It's scary here." I beg her. "Please, come get me." I fall to my knees again, sleepy, hollow, empty. "Tara," I slur out, feeling dizzy.

"I'm here," spoken gently, with the tenderness of a soft breeze, the voice lulls me towards it.

"Tara," my eyes open to the blank ceiling with a gasp.

I sit up straight and run a hand down my sweaty face. I'm drenched.

Grabbing the AC remote from the side, I try to lower the temperature. But the machine beeps. It's already at the lowest. Tossing the remote aside, I haul myself out of the bed and step outside in the fresh air on the balcony. I sit down on the chair and drop my feet on the coffee table, throwing my head back over the headrest. The cool air feels nourishing to my hot, scalding skin.

I stay there until the morning sun peeks out from behind the horizon, and the warm sunshine spreads all over the city, reaching my balcony at six thirty am.

I have to order my own breakfast.

It's the first time in three years I'm traveling without my bodyguard. But I knew my trip to Scotland needs to be kept under wraps. Of course, I had to broadcast it to the world, since it'll know anyway, but the purpose of my visit had to be a secret. I trust Amir. But not more than Yuvraaj. And if I'm hiding this from Yuvraaj, there's no point involving Amir into it. Or anyone for that matter. Until the time is right, the information I know should be kept confidential.

For lunch, I'm meeting the face behind Devi Studios. While I'm not much into games, we've a team of developers who have had experience working in the game industry, and the raw talent needs to be explored. Devi Studios could be their experiment. It hasn't made a name for itself per say, so I was taken aback to find the owner already wanting to sell it off. Because judging by the sales graph, and how effortlessly they've maintained their position in the top charts of paid adventure games, the company has a lot of potential. But I understand why he can't afford wasting time on a small scale company when he has an Empire to take care of.

"Are you ready to order now, sir?" The waiter comes to my table.

"No, I'm waiting for-"

"Not anymore." A hand pats me on the shoulder, before the chair in front of me is pulled back, and a young man, possibly the age of Arush, or perhaps a little older, settles down. He smiles. "Hi, Dev Raichand."

"Give us a few minutes. We'll call you." I say to the waiter. He leaves with a nod. I look back at the man in front of me and reach out to shake his hand. "Shourya Singh Rajawat." He shakes my hand firmly. "You're late."

He glances at his wrist watch. "By ten minutes. My car broke down-"

"Don't lie."

He chuckles. "I'm sorry. I've a bad habit of prioritising my personal needs over my professional commitments."

I nod.

I can tell that.

He oozes off with the whole 'I'm the hottest motherfucker in the town, you're gonna regret passing out on this opportunity" kinda narcissistic personality. But I'm here to do business. His personal life doesn't concern me so I make the effort to wave off the slight twinge of annoyance I feel.

"You don't like me." It isn't a question.

"I don't need to like you to do business with you."

Dev smiles. "True." He leans in, bracing his arms on the table. "So, why are you interested in Devi Studios?"

"Because you're interested in selling it off." I answer.

"I know that smartass."

Neither is his language professional. God, this is going to be a long meeting.

"You know it's going to be tough shifting the base from US to India. It's gonna cost you a lot."

"I've the resources." I nod. "And I don't plan on shifting the base. I've a team of developers who know about the nuances of gaming industry. They're more than eager to take over here. Of course, the old staff can stay. I want them to stay."

"Look, I'd have considered your offer if Rajawat Innovations was still in the picture. For Devi Studios to become a part of another profitable subsidiary would have worked wonders. But to run it as an independent -"

"I'm offering you a takeover for my personal agenda, Mr. Raichand. It has nothing to with the Rajawat Corporation."

He frowns. "You're not merging it with the main corporation?"

I shake my head, taking a sip from my steaming cup of coffee.

He leans back, legs sprawled and regards me with a look of suspicion. "You're only experimenting, aren't you? You don't give jack shit about the company, or its employees."

I put the cup down, cross my legs and place a hand on the table, tapping my fingers rhythmically. "And you weren't?"

"What?" He tilts his head.

"You weren't experimenting?" I ask him. "Everyone knows Devi Studios was never your goal. You're aiming for the family business. So stop being emotional. I'm giving you the market price. Let me take over the company."

He clears his throat, sitting straighter. "I admit I started it as something fun, something that I can dispose later after I've had my goal achieved. But that doesn't mean I can just watch it run into the ground. I want someone capable for the responsibility. Devi Studios means a lot to me."

"And I think I'm fit for it."

He sighs. "I'll consider your offer."

He leaves shortly after.

I have my lunch there, and then retreat to my hotel for a moment of rest. I've a flight to take this evening. Taranya still doesn't call me. It takes me immense strength to not just lunge for my phone and call her. I know I'm pathetically in love with her, but I've had enough of her push and pull. It's time she makes up her mind.

I board my flight at six in the evening. The taking off part, as usual, is the hardest part of the journey, along with the landing. I stick to my seat the whole time, only getting up to use the loo. At the airport, I didn't expect Yuvraaj to wait for me with his car. Wheeling my luggage closer, I leave it to his secretary to stuff it in the trunk while I open the door of the backseat and slide in.

"Everything okay?" I unbutton my suit jacket.

"I'll tell you on the way." His face is grim.

I panic. "Is Tara okay?"

He looks at me torned, as if he's contemplating whether to tell me or not. I swear under my breath and get my phone out. My hands tremble. He hunches forward to stop me. "She's fine. It's not about her."

I relax.

Zoya starts the car and we drive out of the airport premises.

"Then what is it?"

"It's about the old Shourya."

I pause for a moment, hundreds of possibilities sinking in, all of them scary. "Is he- is he okay?"

Yuvraaj looks straight into my eyes. "He's awake."

Something heavy crushes my chest. I turn my head to look ahead, and find myself staring at the back of the driver's seat. My fingers fumble as they press the button to pull the window down. Cold winds blast in, slapping me in the face, and I close my eyes.

We don't speak for the rest of the journey.

He takes me directly to the hospital.

I fail to step out of the car.

"You'll have to face him someday. It's better if you do it now. He has hundreds of questions. And no answers." I meet his eyes, frowning. Yuvraaj nods. "He remembers nothing except his name. Vivaan said it's the side effect of the potent Virendra used to inject in his veins. It's unlikely he'll remember anything ever again."

"You're suggesting we manipulate his past?"

"I don't know. It's on you."

I step out of the car and look up at the third floor of the hospital. I never imagined coming here to talk to him. Only to see him.

"You'll need to remove your lens." Yuvraaj tells me over the car roof.

I nod absent-mindedly.

We enter the hospital with a mask on. I remove my lens in the bathroom and then join him in the elevator that takes us to the third floor. Shourya's personal nurse meets us outside his room. She looks at me worriedly, patting my back as I gather enough strength to open the door and step in.

The man at the window turns. He's dressed in loose hospital clothes, his hair disheveled, but it's his face that makes my heart race wildly. Almost similar. Except the eyes and a slight change in our jaw shape. I swallow.

He looks taken aback.

"Rudra?"

I blanch.

"Miss. Farida told me about you." He says, referring to the woman outside by her real name. "She said we're half brothers, and you've been looking after me for a long time."

I stand in my place while he walks up to the bed, taking his IV stand along and settles down comfortably. "Come sit, I've a lot of questions. But I think you need some time to take it all in. Come," he beckons me over.

I force my feet to move and sit down on the stool, looking anywhere but him. I don't know what it is I'm feeling. Guilt, regret, fear or insecurity.

"Miss. Farida said I woke up unexpectedly. And that you guys have been hoping for my recovery for a long time now." He mumbles. "I remember nothing. And I don't have any access to the outside world in this hospital. I was hoping you'll speed up my discharge process. I want to come back home."

I stiffen.

The door behind me opens. I don't even have the courage in me to face anyone anymore.

"Ah, you're here." His voice turns lighter, rejuvenated. "Rudra, that's Tara. I'm sure you already know. My wife."

My gaze snaps to the woman standing at the doorstep.

Taranya stands there, staring back at me, eyes shining.

"Tara?" My blood boils at the way he says her name, with so much ease and familiarity, as if he has any right on her, as if she's his.

She sniffles. "Hi, sorry I'm late. I brought you lunch." Ignoring me, she walks up to him with a breathtaking smile on her face.

Was I mistaken?

Was it not me that she reached out in the dark?

Was it someone else?

Was it...... him?

Fuck, I'm crying 😭

Hope you enjoyed the chapter. Don't forget to vote and comment. Makes my day.