Falling Into Oblivion

Chapter 17: Mohit in the kitchen

Banhi was in the kitchen, carefully placing sweets into different boxes and wrapping them up as gifts for the wedding festivities. The air was filled with the sweet aroma of freshly made treats, and she hummed softly to herself, absorbed in the peaceful task. Each box was wrapped with care, tied with ribbons, and decorated with little touches that reflected her love for the upcoming celebration.

Suddenly, there was a knock at the door, and Mohit stepped in, his face lighting up as he saw her. His presence was like a breath of fresh air, offering the comfort of familiarity.

"Banhi! Are you here?" he said warmly, "I was just about to call you."

Banhi's face brightened into a radiant smile, her eyes sparkling as she wiped her hands on her apron. "Mohit! Finally, you're back from your work trip. Come in!"

Mohit entered the kitchen, taking in the sight of Banhi wrapping the gifts. "What an amazing aroma!" he exclaimed with a genuine smile, a wave of nostalgia washing over him.

The two began working together, chatting about life and reminiscing about old times. Laughter filled the air as they recalled childhood memories and shared experiences. Mohit grabbed a box and helped Banhi with the wrapping.

Just then, Danish arrived at the house, carrying a bag of groceries that Meeta's mother had asked him to bring. As he approached the kitchen, his eyes immediately locked onto Banhi and Mohit standing close together, laughing and sharing an easy moment.

A sharp jolt of discomfort shot through him, and his gaze darkened. Without a word, he strode into the kitchen, his steps firm and heavy.

"What's going on here?" Danish's voice was cold, his presence tense. He placed the groceries down on the counter with unnecessary force—the loud thud startling both Banhi and Mohit. When his eyes met Mohit's, a subtle, unspoken tension passed between them. Danish positioned himself between them, his body language making it clear he wasn't pleased. "Banhi, what's happening here?"

Mohit's heart pounded in his chest as the tension escalated. His eyes narrowed, his hands clenching into fists at his sides. He had been trying to stay calm and keep things civil, but seeing Danish's behaviour, something snapped inside him. He despised Danish for treating Banhi like she was his slave—he hated him.

"Stop it, Danish," Mohit said, his voice cracking slightly but remaining firm. "What the hell is your problem? Banhi isn't your property. She's a person, and you don't get to treat her like she belongs to you." His frustration was palpable as he stepped closer, trying to stand his ground. "Just stay the hell away from her."

Danish's lips curled into a sneer, and a dark chuckle escaped him. "You really think you can talk to me like that?" he retorted, taking a step toward Mohit, his presence dominating the space between them. "You have no idea who you're dealing with, Mohit. I've seen your type before—weak, desperate for attention—and I'm not in the mood to tolerate it."

Mohit's stomach twisted with a mix of anger and fear. His hands trembled slightly, but he refused to back down. "Danish, you're a coward," he shot back.

For a moment, Danish's smile faltered, replaced by something colder—something that made the hair on Mohit's neck stand on end. He took another step forward, the menace in his voice unmistakable. "I'm not here to intimidate, Mohit. I'm telling you something real. I'm the damn head of this world." His voice dropped low and dangerous, like a predator closing in on its prey. "You want to play games? You want to act all high and mighty? You really think you're going to talk to me like that and walk away unharmed? I've made entire families look like they were never even born."

Mohit froze for a second. The weight of Danish's words pressed down on him, suffocating him with fear as he realized just how deep and dangerous this man's influence ran. Yet, his pride—and his concern for Banhi—kept him from showing any weakness.