Unconditional Love

71. Family, Written In

One week passed, and they gave Aman the space he needed to process everything.

No pressure, no more heavy conversations—just quiet support, checking in, and letting him set the pace.

Virat and Rohit had resumed work at their office, sliding back into their routines, though their minds always wandered back to Aman at least once an hour.

Rahul Bhai also returned to the office.

Somehow, being around Virat and Rohit for lunch helped steady him too.

Every afternoon, the three of them met for lunch. Sometimes they spoke about work, sometimes normal life, and sometimes they sat in companionable silence.

Meanwhile, Jassi worked from home.

Aman wasn't allowed back at the office yet—Rahul Bhai's strict orders, backed by Virat's serious no arguments tone—so Jassi stayed close.

He balanced his work with watching over Aman, making sure he rested, ate, and didn't spiral into overthinking.

Of course, Aman wasn't one to sit still for too long.

The moment he felt bored, the whining started. "Bhai, I'll die of boredom. Please let me do something!" he would complain dramatically during their calls.

Virat, unable to deny him for long, started assigning him small tasks.

Simple ones—proofreading documents, sorting files, things that wouldn't tire him out but would give him something to do.

Aman grumbled at first that it wasn't important enough, but secretly he was grateful. He just wanted to be involved.

One afternoon, Virat messaged Jassi.
"How's he doing with the tasks?"

Jassi replied almost instantly.
"He's pouting but focused. It's cute."

Virat smiled at the message. And for the first time in days, his heart felt just a little lighter.

It was Friday.

The week had been relentless, especially for Virat.

There was no break, no space to breathe between meetings, reports, and decisions that only he could make.

By the time it was 8 p.m., the office was nearly empty. Lights dimmed, silence hanging heavy in the space.

Rohit returned from a late meeting with Rahul Bhai, his steps automatically leading him toward Virat's cabin.

The glass door was still ajar, and Rohit quietly pushed it open before locking it behind him.

They were the last ones left.

His eyes softened as they landed on Virat—still in his chair, sleeves rolled up, head bent over files, his fingers pressing at his temple in an almost subconscious rhythm.

He was exhausted.

It was written in the faint slump of his shoulders, the crease between his brows.

Rohit approached quietly, his voice gentle, "Are you okay?"

But Virat didn't answer that question.

His eyes remained on the paper as he asked instead, "How did the meeting go? Show me the file."

Rohit sighed but handed the file over anyway, watching him for a moment longer before turning to his own desk to pack their things up.

He moved slowly, giving Virat time.