Beneath The Storm (Completed)

Chapter-20: Shattered Bottle & Silent Scars

Atharv stormed into his cabin, fury radiating off him with every step. The tense silence of the room was shattered as he hurled a vase across the room.

It hit the wall with a sharp crash, sending shards scattering across the floor.

He ran a hand through his hair, pacing as he tried to control the frustration surging within him.

Just then, Vihaan entered, trailing after Atharv with a mix of caution and concern. "Atharv," he began calmly, "please calm down… just take a breath."

Atharv turned to him, his voice hard. "Calm down? Do you see what happened, Vihaan? We lost the deal."

Vihaan’s expression softened. "I know, but it wasn't that crucial, Atharv. It won't affect us significantly."

Atharv clenched his jaw, every word dripping with frustration.
"Whether it’s crucial or not, we lost a deal to a company far beneath us. What message does that send? That I can't handle a simple negotiation?"

Vihaan approached carefully, trying to soothe the rising tension.

"No one's questioning your capability. Everyone in the industry knows what you're capable of. You're still the ‘Storm of Business.’ One deal won’t change that."

Atharv exhaled, shaking his head as if to rid himself of the anger simmering within. "I need a moment, Vihaan. Alone."

Vihaan hesitated, understanding Atharv’s need for space. With a small nod, he quietly exited the cabin, leaving Atharv alone in the silence.

As the door clicked shut, Atharv sank into the couch, his hands pressed against his temples.

He closed his eyes, forcing himself to breathe deeply, letting the silence settle around him.

But the frustration lingered, a familiar restlessness gnawing at him—one that no amount of success or accolades could fully silence.

As Atharv sank into the couch, waves of frustration rolled through him.

The loss of the deal gnawed at him—small or not, it was a crack in his otherwise flawless record.

And to lose it to a smaller company? It was unthinkable. Unacceptable.

His thoughts spiraled, settling on the one person who, in his mind, was responsible for this sudden change in him: Inaara.

Just weeks ago, his focus was razor-sharp, his every decision calculated with precision.

But now, his thoughts would drift, pulled toward her softness, her kindness, her quiet presence that somehow echoed louder than any voice in the room.

It was as though she’d planted herself in his mind, her roots growing deeper with each passing day. And he hated it.

His jaw clenched, fists tightening. “It’s all her fault,” he muttered to himself, bitterness threading through his voice.

“If she hadn’t shared all those naive ideas, her dreams, her ridiculous love for simplicity… I wouldn’t be so… distracted.”