The Rathore's Family

Innocence

Advait stood in front of the mirror, fixing his tie. His wound had healed, but it still reminded him of everything that happened. Drishti hadn’t let him leave the room for five days.

She cared for him deeply, but her rules had tested his patience. Today, she finally allowed him to go out.

Before stepping out, he turned to her. She stood near the door, her face clouded with worry. Advait stepped closer and hugged her briefly. “Jaldi aa jaunga,” he said softly, his voice calm yet assuring.

Drishti’s expression brightened. A wide smile spread across her face, and she nodded. “Take care,” she said as she walked with him to the door, watching him leave.

At the office, things were busy. People whispered as Advait walked through the halls, but he ignored them. In his cabin, he sat at his desk and quickly went through updates.

Sam had done well in his absence—the man who had attacked Advait was dead. They found out it was his father’s rival and so-called friend who had planned everything.

Soon, Tej Singh Rathore, his father, walked in. Advait sat up straight, knowing how these conversations usually ended—in an argument.

“I heard you’ve been working from your bed like some sort of detective,” Tej said with a mocking tone.

“Someone had to clean up the mess your friends created—or should I say, the mess you created yourself,” Advait replied calmly, though his eyes betrayed the anger simmering within.

Tej frowned and leaned forward, his voice hardening. “You’re walking a thin line, Advait. Don’t forget who you’re talking to.”

Advait smirked, his confidence unwavering. “Oh, I haven’t forgotten anything. That’s exactly the problem.”

Tej reached into his pocket, pulled out some photographs, and threw them onto the table with a smirk. Advait’s gaze shifted to the photographs, but his reaction was far from what Tej had anticipated. Instead of fear, worry, or panic, Advait looked entirely unbothered.

“So now you’re playing the role of a photographer too? At least you’ve finally done something useful,” Advait remarked dryly.

Tej gritted his teeth, his temper flaring as he straightened up. In a louder voice, he barked, “The fire at Nandini’s house, my inability to make it to the office that day, and missing the one opportunity I had—all because of you. And let’s not forget the disappearance of the friend who gave your wife that gift. Why are you dragging me into all this?”

Advait leaned back in his chair, an expression of boredom crossing his face.

Tej said again. “That just means I’m not the only one playing dirty games. You’ve been at it longer than anyone else.”

Advait smirked. “Thanks for the lesson, though. You can leave now.”

Tej paused, narrowing his eyes as he stared at Advait. “Have you fallen in love with that woman your mother forced you to marry?”

That was the final straw. Advait’s control snapped.

“Love?” . “She’s the only reason I’m alive. My wife is the breath in my lungs. If this heart beats, it’s because of her. Without her, Advait Singh Rathore would have died long ago.”

His eyes, however, were blazing with fury as he slammed his hand on the table. “Shut up! Don’t you dare say another word about my wife or my mother. The next time you do, it’ll be your last day.”

For the first time, a flicker of fear crossed Tej’s face as Advait’s anger made the air around them heavy.

Tej stood up, his own anger rising. “Don’t forget, I’m your father—”