Hearing Ayansh's choked words and quiet sobbing, Vidyut clenched his fists.
Turning in the direction of Ayansh’s voice, Vidyut’s gaze settled on the boy, huddled tightly in the corner with his face buried in his knees. His small shoulders trembled with each suppressed sob, his voice reduced to a series of broken murmurs. His cries had reached a point where they came with hiccups, his fragile form shaking from the effort.
The sight would have stirred compassion even in the heart of stone. Yet, Vidyut’s expression remained an unyielding mask, devoid of any discernible emotion.
With his hands tucked in his pockets, Vidyut regarded Ayansh with a vacant stare, his face unreadable, betraying neither anger nor calm.
After a moment, he began to move toward Ayansh.
Hearing the footsteps, Ayansh lifted his face, hope brightening his tear-streaked features. “Mom! You’re back… I knew you would come back…”
He stopped mid-sentence, recognizing Vidyut standing before him. The innocence on his face hardened, his bright blue eyes filling with a sudden, cold defiance.
The transformation in Ayansh’s expression—pain to resilience—drew a subtle frown from Vidyut. He observed the child, who moments earlier had been the image of heartbreak, now gazing at him with unexpected strength.
Ayansh wrapped his small arms around his knees, pulling himself together with a chilling stoicism that momentarily belied his tender age. Yet, the sorrow was still etched in his face—a boy grieving, desperate for the mother who had disappeared.
He was haunted by the memory of his last words to Maya, “I hate you, Mom!” Fear gnawed at him, the dread that she might have taken his outburst to heart and left forever.
Vidyut knelt beside him, a rare trace of unease breaking through his stony facade. Seeing Ayansh's silent distress, Vidyut rubbed his forehead, unsure of how to console him.
Unbeknownst to them, Rocky observed from the doorway, smirking inwardly at his boss’s plight. The same man who struck fear into others couldn’t quiet his own son’s sobs. Rocky thought with dark amusement, Boss, if you didn’t know how to handle a child, perhaps you shouldn’t have mentioned Maya.
Yet Rocky knew better than to voice his thoughts. Even if he wanted to tease Vidyut, his loyalty was unwavering.
As Ayansh’s crying intensified, Vidyut finally gathered him in his arms. Ayansh’s tiny fingers wrapped around his neck, his tears wetting Vidyut’s expensive suit. Vidyut's stern expression softened, if only slightly, as Ayansh’s head rested on his shoulder.
But Vidyut’s composure soon returned, and he spoke with a cool detachment. “Stop crying like this. You are my son. Weakness doesn’t suit you.”
At these words, Ayansh’s crying stilled. He looked up, his face still tear-stained, his gaze piercing. “Do girls have a right to cry, and boys don’t?” he challenged, his voice soft but firm.
Vidyut’s gaze narrowed. “A boy can cry, but not like this. You are my son. If you must cry, then cry like your mother.”
Ayansh fell silent, absorbing the underlying message in Vidyut’s words. Maya had never let tears weaken her; he understood his father’s meaning—he was to be like her, resilient.
Reluctantly, Ayansh settled back against Vidyut, twirling a button on his shirt. “You’re a bad daddy,” he murmured, voice barely audible. “Mom always said we shouldn’t suppress our feelings too much.”
Seeing that Ayansh had finally calmed, Vidyut exhaled, loosening his tie with subtle relief.
As they exited the room, Vidyut glanced at Ayansh and remarked, “Our strength is our own to forge. If we will it, we can make ourselves unbreakable.”
Ayansh peered up at him, a hint of curiosity in his eyes. “Can we really?”
Vidyut nodded, his voice steady. “Yes. But it requires obedience.”
Disappointed yet unwilling to challenge him further, Ayansh remained silent. Rocky, having witnessed enough, shook his head as he followed them out, his expectations of a soft-hearted Vidyut thoroughly dashed.
As they stepped outside Arya Mansion, Vidyut and Ayansh stopped abruptly, their eyes drawn to a figure standing beside a sleek sports car on the opposite side of the road.
There was Maya, calm and poised, dressed in a black sweatshirt and cargo pants, a baseball cap tilted over her face. Her expression was unreadable, her beauty strikingly cool and detached.
Ayansh’s small voice whispered, his tone edged with guilt, “Mom... she’s really angry. I yelled at her this morning…”
Vidyut’s lips curved in the barest hint of a smile as he replied, “Are you truly afraid of her, little one?”
“No,” Ayansh replied, his small face resolute. “I respect her.”
_______________________________________
What will happen next?
To know…
To be continued…
YOU ARE READING
The devil's Enigmatic bride
Mystère / ThrillerVidyut Singhania is a name that strikes fear across the globe. Known as a ruthless devil, his mere presence sends shivers down spines, including those of his own family. But after a catastrophic car accident leaves him in a coma, everything changes...
