He was oppressed by everyone around him, 'Love and care' were the terms used, for he inherits billions.
His voice was never heard outside the walls of his mind.
It was all until he realised what was happening around him. He started his game so quiet...
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Arjun's POV
It had been five days since that chaotic day, and as I watched Adhi sit in the waiting area of the hospital, a heavy weight settled in my chest. Vikram was still under observation—stable but unconscious. The doctors were not sure if that was the medication keeping him that way, the uncertainty gnawed at all of us.
Vikram had been shifted to a private ward just the day before, and despite the bullet narrowly missing his collarbone, there were complications of blood loss and tissue damage. The doctors insisted he would recover, but I couldn't shake the image of that day—the chaos, the blood, the look of disbelief on Vikram's face before he collapsed.
Adhi sat lost in his thoughts, staring out the window as if hoping to catch a glimpse of something that would offer him peace. He had been vague about the events of that day, but I knew how much it haunted him. I was grateful I had been there to pull him along and act quickly. If I hadn't been there... I couldn't bear to think about it.
Aria—Vikram's sister—had fallen apart completely, curling up beside Vikram, her small frame shaking with quiet sobs. Radhika, his mother, held a quiet vigil, her eyes red-rimmed from sleepless nights as she whispered sweet nothings to her son. It was a heartbreaking sight—a mother's love laid bare. Their father, Shakti, a powerful business tycoon, was a force of nature in his own right. He moved in high society with a confidence that radiated wealth and influence, but now, in the hospital, he was a broken man.
Shakti had been unhinged, screaming at doctors and threatening their careers. I'd had to step in more than once, trying to calm him down, but he was a storm that refused to abate. Even Adhi's dad had returned just to help rein him in, knowing that Shakti's explosive temper could complicate everything. As powerful as he was, it didn't matter in this moment—he was just a father, desperate to protect his son.
Vikram's fiancée, Saanvi, had been a pillar of strength through it all, coordinating with the doctors, managing the logistics, and trying to keep the family grounded. She moved through the chaos with grace, though I could see the worry etched into her features. Adhi had told that she had always been the bright light in Vikram's life, and now, as she sat by his bedside, her tears fell silently, the weight of fear heavy in the air. I could only imagine how devastating this must be for her—caught between love and uncertainty.
Meanwhile, Adhi had shrunk into himself, burdened by guilt. It was suffocating to watch him blame himself for what had happened to Vikram. If only he hadn't forced Vikram to join us that day—those thoughts were eating away at him, and I could see how it drained him. He hadn't slept, and the dark circles under his eyes told me everything I needed to know.
As I approached him with two cups of coffee, I hoped to break through his shell.
"How long are you planning to stay here without going home?" I asked, settling beside him on the waiting chair.
