The Rathore's Family

Hatred for his father

Advait entered the room with full determination, his footsteps firm. Usually, after dropping Drishti off at home, he’d leave, but not today.

As soon as he stepped inside, his eyes widened in shock. The room looked like a tornado had swept through it. Things were scattered everywhere, pillows tossed aside, and drawers left half-open. He stood frozen for a second, his hand instinctively moving to his chest. "Yahan kaunsa bhookamp aaya?" he muttered under his breath, sliding a bottle out of his way with his foot as he made his way through the chaos.

Navigating the mess, he reached the doorway of the changing room and found her there, standing in the middle of it all, completely unbothered. Drishti was staring at the wardrobe, eyes fixed, as if trying to solve some great mystery. From top to bottom, bottom to top, her gaze moved in a concentrated loop.

Advait cleared his throat, his voice rising a bit in disbelief, "Kya haal bana rakha hai kamre ka?"

Drishti jumped, startled, spinning around to face him. She scrunched her nose, annoyance flickering in her eyes .

Seeing her expression, Advait smirked. His initial mission of confronting her quickly shifted. He knew exactly what was going on, and rather than adding fuel to the fire, he decided to play it safe. In a much softer, overly sarcastic tone, he slowly said, "Main toh keh raha tha, bahut accha decorate kiya hai room. Wah, kya taste hai!" He gestured dramatically at the mess around him.

Drishti crossed her arms, raising an eyebrow. She knew he was mocking her, and she wasn’t amused.

Advait took a step closer, his eyes playful but cautious. "Toh… decoration ka mood hai, huh?" he asked, walking toward her, a mischievous glint in his eye.

Drishti immediately started backing up, step by step, trying to put some distance between them.

Advait's grin widened as he continued closing in, moving with exaggerated slowness like a predator. "Toh kya, yahaan bhi kuch aur decor karna chahogi?

She took another step back, but her back hit the wardrobe . She was cornered. Her eyes widened, darting around, but there was no escape.

"Shayad tumhe thoda aur gussa aana chahiye. Aur creative ideas milenge," he said with a cheeky smile.

"You look less scary when you smile," she had said unconsciously, enchanted by the rare warmth in his expression. But now, those words seemed like a noose tightening around her neck.

"What?" His voice broke through her trance, dragging her back to the present. Her stomach churned as she blinked rapidly, looking everywhere but at him. Desperately, she searched for an escape, but his presence seemed to fill every corner of the room.

Advait’s eyebrow arched, his lips twitching in a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. "Biwi ji, samjhane ki koshish karein. Kya matlab hai in sabdon ka?"

Her throat constricted, and the air around her suddenly thickened and suffocated. The floor beneath her feet felt unstable, as if she might sink into it at any moment. She wanted to speak, but the words wouldn’t come. She opened her mouth, only to close it again, her fingers fidgeting anxiously.

Before she could muster the courage to respond, Advait moved closer. His hand rested against the wardrobe, his towering frame leaning in, "Do I look scary to you?" he asked, his voice lower, demanding an answer.

Drishti’s fingers twisted together, her nails digging into her palms. Her heartbeat quickened, and her nerves frayed. She tried to focus on her breathing, but even that seemed impossible under the weight of his stare. Her fear was evident, and she hated how vulnerable it made her feel in front of him.