The Billionaire's Cure

•Chapter~23°

No one notices your sadness until it turns into Anger, and then you're the BAD person.

Arjun's POV

The numerous and divergent office paper works were scattered on all over my desk and I was closely scrutinizing them under the radiating light of table lamp in my study room.

I always plump for doing my crucial work in darkness as I like the darkness. There's something to the feeling of not knowing my pernicious surrounding, not seeing the colour of things as they appear, but as they truly are. There's something unspoken about the dark. Something I can never quite put words to, something terrifying yet beautiful.

The sound of a phone ringing abruptly captured my whole attention, and I let out a deep, frustrated sigh because I hate it when someone interrupts and diverts me from my office work.

I peeked a glance at the phone and stopped keyboarding and wetted my chapped lips in edginess as he was none but my own father as I've a father but never had a dad.

I do not despise him. I've just lost all respect for him and have nothing to say to him anymore. He went around living his life without a care of his children well being. All he ever cared about his band of notes or mindless opinions that were held about him by others.

I was just a puppet in his business schemes and a pawn in his deceitful games because raising children is what makes a person a father, not just having children, but he chose to walk away.

Every time I was around him, I felt like I was standing on the edge of a terrifying ocean, and that I would drown at any moment from the wrathful waves.

I eventually acknowledged the call and took a long slow breath, inhaling deeply and felt the heaviness in the chest.

"Oh, Arjun, how are things going in your business?" Even though his words were rapacious, his aged voice sounded sugarcoated.

After a pause in which I scowled, I said, "Perfect."

"Don't you think that you should pay visit somewhere with your wife as Media, tycoons, people without a shadow of uncertainty will do spiteful talk about you". Too traditional and conservative to say that, he remarked, and I could hear the anger piercing his voice.

"Someone's else opinion aren't my problem". Unable to contain my annoyance, I responded.

"You might not care what others personally thinks of you, but reputation is everything in business. How could you possibly manage your business affairs if you can not even manage your personal life?" He hit a question with a tint of anger on me but I chose to gave no response as no response is a response.

"If there isn't something worthy to exchange views, then excuse me" I replied, my voice low and calm but I was anything but that and hung up the call in a second.

A tornado of ideas and a gust of memories struck me as someone else's thoughts swirled through my mind, and I started to think about my parents.

The thing about a few parents is, they think giving birth to you automatically makes you their property. They breed you to their convenience, teach you what they want you to learn at that particular point in time, they nurture you with utmost care when they're in the good mood. But mentally abuse you when they are not. They instill in you a rosy mental picture of them; you believe your parents are the kindest people on earth, incapable of hurting a fly. Until they aren't.

Until you realise that it was all a massive lie, that your parents are in fact more flawed than you. That their promises to you are promises until they think it should be and that they have the power to burn the hopes they ignited within you all throughout the years.