𝑻𝒉𝒆 𝑹𝒐𝒍𝒍𝒆𝒓𝒄𝒐𝒂𝒔𝒕𝒆𝒓 𝑹𝒊𝒅𝒆

PART-6

Rudraksh's eyes fluttered open, only to squeeze shut again as a sharp, splintering pain sliced through his skull like a thousand tiny knives stabbing at once. He groaned, lifting his head an inch before letting it fall back onto the pillow with a soft thud. The ceiling spun above him, and his mouth felt dry-parched like the Sahara.

Blinking against the harsh light filtering through the half-drawn curtains, he squinted at the room, unfamiliar yet oddly known. The muted green walls, the mess of thick law books on the study table...

"Siddharth's room?" he rasped, eyes widening. "What on earth am I doing here?"

He forced himself upright, clutching his pounding head in both palms, fingers pressing tightly into his temples. "Ugh, damn it! My head's gonna explode." A low groan escaped him as he scanned the room, searching for any clues about the previous night's events.

The creaking sound of the door opening made his head turn toward the source.

Siddharth stepped in, carrying a tray with a bowl of steaming hangover soup and a glass of water. "Good afternoon, sunshine," he greeted, lips stretching into a bright smile before pressing together tightly.

Rudraksh, still clutching his head, winced; his eyes narrowed as he looked at his friend. "Sid... what... what happened last night?" he stammered, voice hoarse and brittle.

Siddharth set the tray down on the side table with a soft clink. Folding his arms sternly against his white kurta-clad chest, he raised his eyebrows at Rudraksh. "Well, let's just say... you tried to drink the entire bar dry, my friend." He clapped his hands together with a soft smack, his voice neutral. "Very heroic."

Sighing, he walked over to the wardrobe and pulled out a clean white shirt and a pair of grey joggers. "Go freshen up first," he said, handing the attire to the confused man. "We need to talk."

Rudraksh nodded wordlessly, grabbed the clothes, and dragged himself to the bathroom. The door shut behind him with a quiet click. A moment later, the sound of running water filled the silence, broken occasionally by muffled groans. The fog in his head hadn't cleared yet, but one thing was certain-something had cracked wide open last night.

About thirty minutes later, Rudraksh emerged from the bathroom, looking marginally more human. The collar of his shirt was slightly damp from the towel slung around his neck. Strands of his black hair fell over his almond-shaped eyes and straight nose, partly covering his diamond-shaped face. He ran a hand through his hair, pushing it back. The redness in his eyes lent a touch of menace to his already sharp features.

With the unkempt beard and mustache creeping toward ascetic lengths, Siddharth couldn't help but see him less like a broken man and more like a meditative sage, one who had seen too much. Shaking his head with a little smile across his face, he asked, "Okay?"

Rudraksh gave a slow nod, his lips pressing into a tight smile.

Siddharth nodded in return and gestured toward the tray on the table. "First, drink this soup; it'll help with the headache. Then we'll talk."

Rudraksh gingerly moved, as if each limb had to be negotiated with, and dropped onto the couch beside him. He picked up the bowl and took a cautious sip. His eyebrows lifted. "Wow, Siddharth!" His eyes sparkled as he turned to face Siddharth. "I didn't know you could cook this well. This is really good."

Siddharth let out a soft laugh. "Thanks. Maa made sure I know how to survive without starving or depending on anyone." He shook his head, half-grinning.

They sat in comfortable silence for a few minutes, broken only by the clink of the spoon against the bowl. Rudraksh's chest loosened with every sip, the flavors dancing on his taste buds. He felt a sense of gratitude toward Siddharth. His friend had been taking care of him, nursing him back to health, and was now offering a lifeline to confront the events of the previous night.