Beneath The Storm (Completed)

Chapter-30: Ego, Empires & Cold Reign

Two days had passed since the party. Inaara’s presence in the penthouse was like a ghost—silent, fleeting, almost invisible.

She moved with calculated precision, ensuring that her paths never crossed with Atharv’s.

Her avoidance wasn’t out of fear but a determination to maintain peace. She reasoned with herself, It’s better this way.

The less we see of each other, the fewer the fights.

Atharv, however, felt the weight of her absence in ways he couldn’t articulate.

The stillness she left in her wake gnawed at him, stirring an unfamiliar and unrelenting restlessness.

His focus at work faltered; his temper at meetings was short. And at home, her muted presence was deafening.

Seated in his study late at night, Atharv loosened his tie and leaned back in his chair, his fingers drumming against the wooden armrest.

The words Sangeeta had spoken just two days ago echoed in his mind.

“Inaara is strong. She never bows to anything she finds wrong.”

A frustrated sigh escaped his lips. His brows furrowed as the thought consumed him.

Why can’t she bow down just once? Why does she always have to stand her ground?

His jaw clenched as he recalled her defiance, her refusal to yield even in the face of confrontation.

Deep down, another voice whispered—one he stubbornly ignored. It reminded him of the tears on her face that night, the way she had sat alone in the balcony, silently wiping them away when she sensed his presence.

But his ego wouldn’t let him soften.

Why should I be the one to speak first? he thought bitterly, slamming his palm against the desk.

She should come to me. After all, it was my name, my reputation, that was humiliated at the party.

The gnawing restlessness only grew.

It was unlike anything he had ever felt before—an unknown, intense feeling that tightened his chest and left him yearning for something he couldn’t quite name.

His mind argued that she was in the wrong, that she should apologize.

Yet his heart, no matter how much he tried to suppress it, whispered something else entirely.

Frustrated, Atharv pushed back his chair and stood abruptly, pacing the room.

Why does she always make everything so difficult? he thought, his fists clenching.

Why can’t she just agree for once? Why does it always have to be a battle with her?

But even as he tried to convince himself of her fault, a nagging thought lingered in the back of his mind—a quiet, unsettling question he refused to confront.

Why does her silence feel like punishment?

Inaara lay on her bed, her eyes open but unfocused, staring at the ceiling.