Unconditional Love

20. Anchor

It was late past midnight when Virat glanced up and noticed Rohit sleeping with his head down on the desk. On the other side of the room, Aman was curled up asleep on the couch.

Virat stood up, stretched his stiff shoulders, and walked over to Aman first. He adjusted the couch cushions and made Aman lie down properly so he could sleep more comfortably. Then he moved to Rohit, gently shaking him awake.

"Go take the empty space on the couch and rest properly," Virat said in a calm voice as Rohit stirred and sat up.

Rohit looked around and realized he had fallen asleep at his desk. Embarrassed, he stood up quickly and apologized, "I'm sorry for sleeping at work. I'll head home now."

Virat frowned slightly and shook his head. "You're too tired to go anywhere right now. I'll drop you and Aman home in a little while. For now, just go lie down on the couch and rest," he said firmly, his tone leaving no room for argument.

"For the first time in two days, you mentioned me," Rohit mumbled, his voice soft and unsure if it was the exhaustion making him say it out loud.

Virat paused for a moment, his back to Rohit. The words stung in a way he didn't expect.

Without turning around, he replied, his voice low and strained to avoid waking Aman, "You wanted this, Rohit. I haven't distanced myself— you did."

Before Rohit could say anything, Virat walked out to the balcony, his fists clenched, trying to contain the turmoil bubbling inside him.

Pulling out a cigarette, he lit it with slightly trembling hands. The familiar burn in his lungs offered a temporary distraction from the ache in his heart.

He smoked in silence, dragging deeply, exhaling slowly as if trying to expel the weight pressing on his chest. But no matter how much he tried, the knot of emotions wouldn't ease.

The minutes ticked by—five, then ten—but the cigarette was not enough to calm the storm within. He gripped the railing tightly, the metal cold under his wounded hand, yet it was the only thing grounding him.

His mind replayed Rohit's words and his own frustrations, each thought adding fuel to the fire of his stress.

Rohit followed Virat to the balcony, he closed the door so that Aman wouldn't get disturbed. He pulled the blinds to block the cabin lights.

Without a word, Rohit walked up to Virat, took the cigarette from his hand, and threw it into the nearby bin. "I didn't want this," he said softly but firmly, his voice tinged with frustration and sadness.

Virat let out a tired sigh, running a hand through his hair. "Then please, tell me what you do want, Rohit. Just say it so I can act accordingly. My life's been like this forever—people come, they get tired, and they leave. If that's what this is, just make it clear. It won't be hard," he said with a bitter edge to his voice, trying to mask the hurt.

"What do you mean by that?" Rohit asked, his brow furrowing in confusion.

Virat turned to face him, his eyes weary and filled with a pain he couldn't hide. "I mean, at the very least, I deserved an explanation for your behavior, Rohit. But I guess you don't think I'm worthy of one. I thought we cared about each other... I thought you cared about me." His voice cracked slightly before he masked it with a forced chuckle. "I was wrong. You could've just told me. I'd have stepped back, kept my distance, and never shown my face to you again if that's what you wanted—"

Before he could finish, Rohit suddenly pulled him into a tight hug, cutting him off mid-sentence. The action caught Virat off guard, leaving him momentarily frozen.

"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry, Virat," Rohit whispered, his voice trembling as tears streamed down his face. He buried his head in Virat's shoulder, clutching him as though afraid he might disappear.

When Virat had spoken about keeping his distance, it had clearly scared Rohit in a way he hadn't anticipated.

Rohit's tears only confirmed how much he'd been holding back, and Virat couldn't bear to see him like this.

When Virat said not showing face to him, it scared Rohit a lot. He did not want that, he never wanted that.

Slowly, almost hesitantly, Virat wrapped his arms around Rohit, returning the embrace.

The moment he did, Rohit broke down completely, crying harder, his shoulders shaking with each sob.

"It's okay," Virat murmured, his voice soft, trying to calm him even as his own emotions threatened to overwhelm him. "Rohit, it's okay. Please don't cry like this."

But the more he consoled him, the harder Rohit cried, as if finally letting go of all the pent-up guilt and pain he'd been carrying.

Virat tightened his hold, his hand gently rubbing Rohit's back, silently vowing to never let him feel so alone again.

Virat gently pulled Rohit to a nearby chair, breaking their hug as he wiped the tears streaming down Rohit's face.

"Stop crying, Rohit. You'll fall sick," Virat said softly, his voice calm and steady as he handed him a glass of water. "Here, drink this."

Rohit took a few sips, though his hands trembled slightly. "I never... I never wanted this to happen," he hiccuped between sobs, struggling to form coherent sentences.

Virat held his hands firmly, anchoring him. "What do you mean, Ro? Take a deep breath and tell me."

Rohit sniffled, his words pouring out in a panicked rush. "They... they were all saying you're using me, that I've slept my way to the top. All these horrible things about you. I didn't want anyone to say bad things about you. And then everything piled up— I didn't know what was happening to me." He paused, his voice cracking. "And... when I saw you close to Aman, I had this weird feeling. But then he said he was your brother, and I... I'm sorry. Please, don't say you won't show your face to me—I can't—"

"Rohit," Virat interrupted gently, seeing the panic taking over.

"Deep breaths. Calm down. I'm here. I'm not going anywhere." His voice was soothing, trying to ground Rohit as he began to panic again.

"I'm sorry," Rohit kept mumbling, his breathing erratic as tears streamed down his face.

Virat sighed, pulling Rohit into a side hug as they sat together. "Ro, calm down, baby," he murmured, his tone tender. "Listen to me. Just listen to my breathing. I'm right here with you."

For the next 30 minutes, Virat continued murmuring reassurances, his arm wrapped securely around Rohit. Slowly, the panic subsided, and Rohit's breathing steadied.

When Virat attempted to break the hug, he heard Rohit's faint whisper against his chest. "Please... don't."

Virat's heart ached at the vulnerability in Rohit's voice. "Let's go inside, Ro. I'm right here, and I'm not going anywhere," he assured him, helping him stand.

Rohit gripped his hand tightly, as though afraid Virat might disappear if he let go.

When they walked inside, Aman was already awake, his eyes flickering with quiet concern as he took in the scene. Virat didn't explain and instead said, "Let's go home now."

Aman nodded without questioning, understanding the intensity of the moment. He took the driver's seat while Virat guided Rohit to the back of the car. Sitting beside him, Virat felt Rohit's hesitant fingers brushing against his hand.

Without hesitation, Virat grasped Rohit's hand firmly, intertwining their fingers and gently caressing his knuckles. "I've got you, Ro," he said softly.

Rohit leaned back against the seat, his head resting heavily as exhaustion overtook him, but his grip on Virat's hand remained firm, as though it was his lifeline.

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