𝐖𝐡𝐢𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐂𝐫𝐨𝐬𝐬𝐞𝐬

XXIII

Out of all my sins, you're my favourite.

-

Arjun sat back, absorbing his father's face on the screen, his brows knit tightly in annoyance. His father’s voice crackled through the laptop, thick with the disappointment Arjun had grown used to over the years.

“Why is she back?” his father asked, voice tinged with disdain. He was talking about his wife—Arjun’s mother—whose sudden return after years of silence had stirred up a bitter restlessness in both of them.

“Do I look like I know or care?” Arjun shot back, a frustrated edge slicing through his words. He didn’t want to think about her, let alone talk about her. She had left long ago, walking out on him and his father. He had built a life without her, without her constant drama and complicated demands. He was happy with Sara now, and he wasn’t going to let his mother’s reappearance ruin that. His relationship with Sara was the one stable, uncomplicated thing in his life, and he wasn’t going to let anyone or anything change it.

“You—” his father began, but before he could continue, the office door swung open abruptly. Arjun’s assistant, Harsh, stepped in, his face a tight mask of urgency.

“You need to see this,” Harsh said, barely concealing his agitation as he approached the desk, placing a sleek, dark laptop in front of Arjun. The screen was open to a live video feed from a prominent news channel.

Arjun’s attention shifted from the frustration of his father’s call to the news report on the screen. He leaned forward, watching the reporter speak with barely hidden intensity, her voice crisp as she delivered the headline: “Advocate Sara Singhania to take over the rape case of 16-year-old Diya Banerjee.”

Arjun frowned, momentarily confused. He knew Sara took on high-profile cases, she was one of the top advocates in the country. She had handled some tough, even dangerous cases in the past. He respected her drive and dedication. But something about the way Harsh had rushed in, the urgency on his assistant’s face, unsettled him.

“What about it?” Arjun asked, a flicker of impatience in his voice as he looked up at Harsh.

Harsh’s face was pale as he responded, his voice lowered, as if saying the name itself could bring consequences. “The accused is Jatin Arya.”

A chill ran through Arjun’s veins, the weight of that name settling like lead in his chest. The Aryas weren’t just influential—they were ruthless, powerful, and dangerously unforgiving. They had connections in every corner, ties that stretched far beyond what most people could imagine. Those who dared to cross them often paid for it in ways they couldn’t foresee. And his wife, Sara, had just taken on a case against Jatin Arya, the youngest of the Arya brothers, notorious for his charm as much as his cruelty.

Arjun felt his throat tighten, a mixture of dread and anger building within him. How could she take on such a dangerous case without even mentioning it to him?

The video on the laptop continued, and Arjun watched, transfixed, as Sara appeared in front of the media. She was standing on the steps of the courthouse, poised and unwavering, her dark hair pulled back in a sleek ponytail. Her gaze was steely, filled with a conviction that he knew all too well. The reporter held a microphone out to her, eagerly asking her for a statement, and Sara’s voice came through the speakers, cold and resolute.

“I will bring her justice. I will avenge her.”

The passion in her words, the fierce determination that had initially drawn him to her, was unmistakable. Arjun had seen her like this before—relentless and unyielding when she believed in something. But this was different. This was the Aryas. He knew she was fearless, but her bravery bordered on recklessness.