Unconditional Love

18. Resilience

As Rohit began explaining, Mr. Wilson's piercing gaze made him uneasy.

The way Mr. Wilson was eyeing him caused Rohit to become self-conscious, and he started fumbling with his words. Virat, noticing everything, clenched his fists in frustration, his anger building.

"So, what do you think, Mr. Wilson?" Virat finally broke the silence, his tone colder than usual.

He stood up, trying to keep his composure. Rohit, feeling the tension, stepped back a little and stood beside him.

"I accept everything... but only one condition," Mr. Wilson said, his voice confident. "Rohit should work closely with me."

Virat's anger flared at the suggestion. He could see how uncomfortable Rohit was with Mr. Wilson's offer, and he noticed how Rohit instinctively tried to hide behind him, a reaction that pained Virat more than he expected. He never wanted Rohit to feel that way, never again.

Virat took a deep breath, his jaw tightening. "I'm sorry, but we are not interested in doing business with you anymore," he said, his voice steady, but the fire in his eyes was unmistakable.

Rohit stood there, stunned by Virat's words. Mr. Wilson, on the other hand, was shocked into silence, not expecting this kind of response.

"Mr. Kohli, you cannot afford such a big loss. Think about it—you're doing this for just a mere employee. It's no big deal anyway. I just want him for one night, maybe more..." Mr. Wilson began, his words dripping with disdain, but before he could say anything further, Virat's fist collided with his jaw, landing a hard punch.

Rohit flinched at the sound, his eyes wide with shock. He quickly snapped out of his shock to see Virat gripping Mr. Wilson's collar, his knuckles white from the intensity of his grip.

Rohit moved forward, trying to pull Virat away, but Virat was consumed by rage.

"How dare you talk about Rohit like that?" Virat snarled, his voice low and threatening, his teeth gritted in anger.

Rohit, still in disbelief, quickly called security. Moments later, two guards entered, dragging the stunned Mr. Wilson out of the room.

Virat stood there for a moment, still seething, his chest rising and falling rapidly from the adrenaline.

Rohit watched him, his heart racing, torn between relief and confusion. The intensity of Virat's protective anger left him speechless, unsure of what to say or do.

"Sir, please calm down," Rohit said to Virat, who was pacing in the conference room. But it hardly worked.

Rohit placed a hand on his shoulder as Virat leaned forward, his hands on the table, taking deep breaths. "Virat, please, your hand is bleeding again," Rohit said gently, feeling upset by the whole situation.

Virat looked at Rohit, concern in his eyes, but he wasn't going to fall for it again. He just walked out of the room and into his cabin. He went out to the balcony and lit a cigarette.

The image of Rohit with someone else— it made him angry and emotional at the same time. He gripped the railings tightly, causing his hand to bleed again.

He was lost in his rage when someone took the cigarette out of his hand and threw it in the bin. "Aman, you—" Virat started, but stopped when he saw Rohit standing there. Rohit gently took his other hand and made him sit on the couch.

"When will you take care of yourself? It's bleeding again," Rohit said softly as he dressed his wound.

Virat just stared at him, thinking how innocent Rohit was and how he had to protect him from these vultures.

"I can handle it, Mr. Sharma. You can go," Virat said, not wanting to hurt him in his rage.

Rohit saw Virat close his eyes and rest his head on the couch. "Please leave," Virat said. Rohit had no choice but to leave the room.

Once outside, he had to hear everything from people— mostly because Virat had punched someone for him. It felt overwhelming at first, but now it was just hurting him.

He went into his cabin and shut the door. Virat had lost a deal that could've covered the losses from two other deals in Delhi. But he didn't take it, just because of Rohit.

He knew this was how Virat was—always caring about his employees and their safety. But he couldn't understand why people saw him as weak.

Rohit resumed his work. It was the only thing he could do to help Virat.

In Virat's cabin, he'd already received calls from other clients asking about the "misconduct." Virat had ignored most of the calls and texts.

It wasn't even misconduct, but without enough proof, he couldn't defend himself. The only proof was Mr. Wilson's bruised eye and jaw, which was deemed misconduct from Virat's side.

Virat locked the door to his cabin, not wanting to talk to anyone. He went to the balcony, lit a cigarette, and thought about his life.

Today, all his hard work was crashing down because of one thing after another, and he felt helpless.

Personally, he had never been stable. His parents left him when he was seven and placed him in a foster home.

There, he met Aman, who was only six months old at the time. Sadly, after a month of him getting parents love, Aman's parents died in a car accident, leaving seven-year-old Virat to care for a seven-month-old baby.

Aman's parents had been left money in Aman's name, which helped them survive. Virat had worked from a young age to pay for school—for both himself and Aman.

His thoughts were interrupted by a call from Robert. Virat listened carefully, taking notes of the details Robert provided.

"It's me, Aman—open the door. I need to discuss the task you gave me regarding Mr. Sharma," Aman said, knowing that when Virat locked the door, he needed privacy, but this was important.

Virat washed his face and opened the door. He handed a cup of coffee to Aman and sat on the couch to discuss.

"You were right. More than half the files are handed to Rohit. In an attempt to seek his help, they're just piling the work on him," Aman explained, showing Virat the files.

Virat got up and took a sip of his coffee, looking out the window. "What are you thinking so deeply about, bhai?" Aman asked after five minutes.

"How to handle this," Virat replied. Aman waited for him to continue.

"So, first, shift Rohit back here— don't listen to him when he says no. Second, every file will be reviewed by me; it will not go to Rohit. Assign him the new project we're aiming for in London—give him the details and tell him how important it is to me," Virat instructed Aman.

Virat was determined to get the projects back. He had to, and he knew he could.

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