Author’s POV
Another fresh morning had begun…
Atharv Singh Rathore was already awake before the sun had fully risen because of his insomnia. Discipline wasn’t something he followed—it was something that ran in his blood.
A brutal gym session, a cold shower, and then without wasting a single moment, he walked straight toward the temple built inside Rathore Mansion.
The sound of bells filled the air. Incense burned slowly, mixing with chants that never felt unfamiliar here. His Dadu—Amrit Singh Rathore—was already performing the daily aarti.
Everyone stood together.
Not because they had to.
Because they always did.
For Atharv, these few minutes were the only part of his day that didn’t demand control.
Or maybe… the only part where he allowed himself to believe it didn’t.
When the aarti ended, he bowed his head slightly and left without looking back. Not in rush. Not in peace. Just in continuation of routine.
But somewhere inside, something felt slightly off today.
And he didn’t know why.
The moment Atharv entered Rathore Industries, the air itself changed.
People straightened. Conversations stopped. Phones were lowered.
No announcement needed.
He was already enough.
He walked into the conference room where the team was already waiting.
Files arranged perfectly. Slides ready. Silence uncomfortable.
Everyone greets him but he didn't.
A second passed.
Then another.
That silence started doing what it always did—it made people overthink their own breathing.
“Start,” he said finally.
The presentation began.
Everything looked fine on paper.
Too fine.
And that was always the problem.
Slides kept moving. Words kept being spoken. Confidence tried to hold the room together.
But Atharv wasn’t looking at confidence.
He was looking at hesitation between words.
The small pauses people don’t notice when they’re speaking… but he always does.
When it ended, no one spoke immediately.
They waited.
For approval.
Or destruction.
Atharv leaned back slightly in his chair.
His expression didn’t change.
But the room still felt it.
“Hmm… I have some questions.”
That one line changed the pressure instantly.
Questions followed.
Not loud. Not aggressive.
Just precise enough to make every answer feel slightly insufficient.
The team leader started strong.
Then slowly started adjusting himself mid-way.
Not because he was wrong.
But because he was uncertain.
And uncertainty was something Atharv never ignored.
A pause came.
Longer than usual.
Atharv’s eyes stayed on one section of the report.
Something didn’t sit right.
Not enough to explain.
But enough to notice.
“This doesn’t align.”
Simple sentence.
Heavy impact.
Silence tightened.
The manager stepped forward quickly. “Sir, I can explain—”
Atharv looked up.
Not angry.
Just final.
“You won’t need to.”
A beat.
Then—
“Fix it.”
That was it.
No drama. No escalation.
Just closure.
He stood up, adjusted his coat, and started walking out.
And somehow…
that silence stayed behind louder than anything else.
The door opened again too casually.
Yashvardhan/Yash — his best friend — walked in like pressure didn’t apply to him.
Vivaan—his best friend— followed behind, already sensing the mood without asking.
Yash looked around once and sighed.
“Okay… I think I walked into a place where people forgot how to breathe normally.”
No one responded.
Not because it wasn’t funny.
Because it wasn’t safe yet.
Atharv didn’t look at him immediately.
That pause itself made everything heavier.
“Timing,” he said.
Yash smiled. “Optional concept.”
Vivaan added softly, “He means irrelevant.”
That broke nothing.
But it softened the edges slightly.
Yash sat down without permission.
“When does your life become normal?” he asked casually.
Atharv signed a file.
“It already is.”
Yash tilted his head. “That’s the most dangerous answer you’ve ever given.”
No reply.
But the silence after it stayed.
Later, in the cabin, the atmosphere shifted—but didn’t relax.
Yash leaned back slightly.
“I’m getting married in one week. Meera se.”
Atharv paused.
Just for a second.
Then continued what he was doing.
“Good.”
Yash studied him carefully.
“Bas?”
Atharv closed the file slowly.
“What else is expected?”
Silence.
Yash didn’t smile this time.
“Your family is also talking about your marriage.”
A faint shift in Atharv’s jaw.
“I didn’t ask for it.”
Yash nodded slowly.
Then said, softer—
“Not everything in life waits for permission.”
That stayed.
Even after Yash left.
Meanwhile At Aarohi’s house, the silence wasn’t peaceful.
It was waiting.
She hadn’t stepped out of her room since morning. Even Madhura her mother had stopped asking repeatedly now—only worried glances remained.
Rhea — her best friend — had called earlier. Reassured. Explained. Tried to calm everyone.
But nothing really felt calm.
Aarohi sat near the window.
Still.
But not empty.
Her phone lay face down beside her.
It vibrated once.
Then again.
Ryan.
Unread messages.
She didn’t pick it up.
Not because she didn’t care.
But because she already knew what opening it would feel like.
And she wasn’t ready to feel anything today.
Outside, life continued normally.
Inside, something didn’t.
As night started Atharv came in the balcony of his room.
He didn’t move for a long time.
Not because he was confused.
But because sleep had started becoming something he no longer trusted.
His fingers rested on the balcony railing.
Still.
Controlled.
But his mind wasn’t.
A faint ache pressed behind his eyes—insomnia catching up again.
He exhaled slowly.
And then, almost without realizing it…
his hand moved to the wallet again.
This time, he opened it.
Carefully.
Like he already knew what he would see.
The old photograph stared back at him.
Same frame.
Same smile.
Same memory that never learned how to fade.
For a moment, his expression didn’t change.
But his grip tightened slightly on the edge of the photo.
Not anger.
Not sadness.
Something heavier.
Unfinished.
He shut the wallet again.
Slowly.
As if delaying the memory from speaking too loudly.
Atharv leaned back against the balcony wall.
For the first time that night, he closed his eyes.
But sleep didn’t come.
Only that same thought returned again.
Not loud.
Not clear.
Just persistent.
Like it refused to leave him alone.
Across the city—
Aarohi’s breathing had turned uneven again.
Not fully panic.
But not calm either.
She sat still on the balcony floor, fingers clenched around the photo frame in her lap.
The night breeze touched her skin and she flinched—instinctively, like her body remembered something her mind refused to name.
Her phone lay beside her.
Unread messages.
Unanswered world.
But she didn’t look at it.
Because right now, even small things felt like too much.
Her throat tightened.
Not fear of something outside.
But something inside rising again.
A memory she didn’t want to complete.
She closed her eyes tightly.
Trying to hold herself together.
Her breathing trembled… uneven… stuck somewhere between control and collapse.
And then—
the silence broke.
Not loudly.
Not fully.
Just enough to feel wrong.
A faint shift behind her.
Like the air itself had moved closer.
Her fingers tightened around the photo instantly.
Heartbeat spiked.
Not panic yet…
but recognition of something she didn’t want to confirm.
And just then—
a voice came again.
Closer this time.
Not calling from distance.
But from somewhere that shouldn’t have been this near.
“Aarohiiii……”
This time, her eyes snapped open—
and her breath stopped completely.
Because the voice didn’t feel like memory anymore.
It felt real.
And before she could turn around....
And sometimes…
what you think is over…
is only just beginning.
Stay with it… something is about to change.
Now tell me your theories…
I’m listening.
— your author, Elara
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