Unconditional Love

16. Fragments

Aman grabbed the cigarette from Virat's hand and threw it away—it was already his fifth one. He pulled him inside. "Go, freshen up, Bhai. Now," he said sternly.

Virat washed his face and looked at himself in the mirror. All he could see was the caring expression he always wore for Rohit. Yet here he was, broken and left alone once again, just as always.

"I so wished you were different, Rohit," he whispered painfully. He hated himself for being drawn to Rohit's kind personality and the comforting presence he brought.

Aman knocked on the door and stepped into the cabin. Virat had returned, now dressed in a comfortable outfit since he didn't have any more meetings. Aman noticed the empty space where Rohit used to sit and caught Virat staring at it.

"Lunch kare? I'm really hungry," Aman said, trying to divert his attention.

They sat on the couch, and Virat silently reminded himself to get a grip on his emotions.

"Aman, I've instructed everyone to provide detailed reports of our clients, especially the ones from Delhi. I expect them as soon as possible. Make sure to follow up and get me those reports," Virat said while having his lunch.

"I'll get it done," Aman replied, serving him some more rice.

Their lunch was interrupted by a knock on the door. "Who is it?" Virat asked.

"It's Rohit. I had some doubts regarding the financials," Rohit said from outside. He felt nervous about facing Virat again but resolved to remain professional.

Aman glanced at Virat. His expression shifted slightly, but he quickly masked it with professionalism. "Come in," Virat said.

"Should I come later?" Rohit asked hesitantly, noticing they were in the middle of lunch.

"You've already interrupted it; why bother asking now?" Aman said, his tone unusually sharp, even surprising himself. He didn't understand why he felt that Rohit was different or why he still felt that way. But after seeing Virat's state earlier, he couldn't hold back.

Rohit looked down, avoiding eye contact. Virat stared at Aman in shock—Aman was the kindest person he knew, someone who never raised his voice unless it involved Virat. Aman realized his slip and mouthed, "Sorry," to Virat. Then, without a word, he started wrapping up the table.

Rohit felt terrible; he had lost his only friend. Aman stepped outside, leaving the two of them alone.

Virat washed his hands and sat down at his desk. "What are your doubts, Mr. Sharma?" he asked coldly.

"Mr. Sharma?" Rohit thought. That's just for the meeting room. But he's calling me that here too. Did I make a mistake? Did I lose the only person who cared for me?

"Mr. Sharma? I don't have all day," Virat's professional tone snapped him out of his thoughts.

Rohit quickly handed over the file and stood in front of the desk, waiting for a response.

"Take a seat," Virat said, noticing the file would take some time to go through. Rohit sat down nervously.

Virat read through the file, marking a few things before explaining the points Rohit had questions about.

Rohit carefully read the notes and the marked sections as Virat explained. While Rohit was engrossed in reading, Virat couldn't help but stare at him. Why, Rohit? Why do I care so much? Am I really such a bad person?

"Sir, this one seems fishy—don't you think?" Rohit asked, breaking Virat out of his thoughts.

Virat looked at the section carefully. "No, it's correct. Given the market crisis, the changes were made," he explained.

"Anything else, Mr. Sharma?" Virat asked.

Rohit went through the file again and replied, "No, Sir."

"You can leave, then," Virat said, turning his attention back to his laptop.

Rohit left without saying anything. This is what I wanted, so why does Virat's behavior hurt so much? Even Aman's tone earlier...

As he walked out, he noticed Aman in a meeting. For a moment, he considered talking to him—explaining his side of things—but ultimately decided against it.

Rohit went to his corner office and immersed himself in work. He knew how crucial these files were for the company and for Virat; he couldn't afford to make any mistakes.

It was midnight, and Virat was still working in his office. The contracts needed to be redone, and he couldn't afford to slack off. Determined to push through, he decided to stretch his legs before continuing.

Stepping out of his office, he noticed the floor was empty—he had sent Aman home earlier.

As he walked around the cubicles, the weight of the situation sank in. If he failed to secure those contracts, all his hard work would go to waste, and he'd have to start from scratch. The thought gnawed at him as he paced silently through the dimly lit office.

As he was lost in thought, Virat noticed the light in the corner cabin was still on. Curious, he opened the door and saw Rohit working on something. Rohit looked up and met his gaze.

"Sorry, I thought no one was here," Virat apologized and quickly went back to his own cabin.

He wanted to ask Rohit what he was doing so late in the office, whether he had eaten dinner, how and when he planned to go home. But Rohit had taken all those rights away from him.

Frustration and helplessness surged within Virat. In his anger, he clenched his fist so tightly around the glass in his hand that it shattered.

Pain shot through him, but it didn't compare to the emotions in his heart.

He couldn't understand why, when it came to Rohit, his emotions spiraled so wildly out of control, leaving him hurt—physically and emotionally.

"Sir, I—Sir, oh my god, that's a lot of blood! What were you thinking, Virat Sir?" Rohit exclaimed as he entered the cabin, likely intending to talk, but instead saw Virat's hand soaked in blood.

Without waiting for a response, Rohit quickly cleared the broken glass from the floor. He then retrieved the first aid kit from the drawer and knelt in front of Virat, who was sitting on the couch, silently staring at him.

"This will hurt," Rohit warned gently, but Virat didn't react; he just continued to watch him intently.

Rohit carefully cleaned the wound, checking for any glass shards. Thankfully, there were none, but Virat had lost a significant amount of blood. Rohit's hands trembled slightly as he worked, focused entirely on tending to the injury.

Virat let out a hiss of pain as the antiseptic touched his hand. "Sorry," Rohit apologized repeatedly, his voice filled with concern as he continued bandaging Virat's wound. He cleaned everything up and placed the first aid kit back in the drawer.

When he turned back, he saw Virat swaying slightly on his feet. It was likely from the blood loss, and Rohit knew Virat hadn't had dinner since Aman had left early. Virat had a habit of skipping meals.

Without hesitation, Rohit rushed to his side, supporting him by putting an arm around his shoulder. "Careful, please," he said softly.

"Leave me—please," Virat requested, his voice strained. It was hard, really hard to have Rohit so close to him, and he couldn't help but plead at this point.

"Sir, you're not okay—please let me take you home," Rohit insisted, but Virat had no energy to argue. All his exhaustion caught up with him, and he leaned against Rohit's shoulder without even realizing it.

Rohit carefully helped him to the elevator, called a cab, and gave the driver his own home address. Virat had his head rested on Rohit's shoulder, sleeping from a combination of pain and fatigue.

"Why, Virat? Why are you hurting yourself?" Rohit whispered, his heart aching as he looked at Virat's bandaged hand, his pale face, and the exhaustion in his eyes. "It hurts to see you like this."

______

vote and spam the comments ⭐️