Unconditional Love

87. Through the Quiet

After a long silence, Virat stood up, his mind made up.

He gathered the files, cleaned up the shattered glass near the door, and arranged Rahul bhai's cabin neatly.

He couldn't leave it like this. Couldn't leave him like this.

Once everything was back in order, Virat returned to Rahul, holding his arm gently. "Come on, bhai. Let's go home."

Rahul didn't resist. He simply nodded, standing slowly, as if he'd used up whatever strength he had earlier.

Virat walked him out the back way, not wanting anyone to see Rahul bhai in this vulnerable state.

He settled him in the car and drove them both to the house.

By the time they reached, Rahul seemed quieter, calmer, but distant.

Virat unlocked the door, guiding him inside, "Bhai, just rest, okay? I'll call for dinner."

Rahul gave a faint nod, muttering something under his breath Virat couldn't quite catch, and headed towards his room.

Virat watched him go before pulling out his phone to text Rohit.

Come home whenever you're done at Aman's. Bhai needs us tonight.

About an hour later, Rohit arrived from Aman's house, a quiet focus on his face as he walked in and locked the door behind him.

Virat was in the kitchen, sleeves rolled up, chopping vegetables. Rohit joined him silently, washing his hands, and took over cutting without a word.

Virat kissed side of his head as he joined him.

It was a comfort. Just being together like this. Today it was needed, a lot more than Virat could voice out.

After a while, Rohit broke the silence. "Aman feels really guilty," he murmured, not looking up from the tomatoes he was slicing. "He thinks it's his fault. That he said something wrong. He's carrying it on his shoulders."

Virat sighed deeply, scrubbing his face with one hand before getting back to stirring the dal.

"It's not his fault," he said, tone heavy. "This... this was there all along. Aman just asked the question we've all been too scared to tell him"

Rohit nodded. "Yeah. But Aman's not going to let that go easily."

Virat's lips pressed into a thin line. "I will talk to him"

Then, shifting the conversation, Virat told Rohit about the project.

Explained the contractor backing out, the designs that needed reworking. "But we can fix it," Virat said, glancing over. "You and me. I know we can."

Rohit offered a small smile, the kind of steady reassurance Virat always found grounding. "Yeah. We'll fix it."

Together, they plated the food quietly, a rhythm between them that needed no words.

They kept it simple—dal, rice, sabzi, and some warm rotis Rohit insisted on making himself.

Virat prepared a tray and carried it to Rahul bhai's room while Rohit tidied the kitchen.

He found Rahul sitting on the balcony, the city lights casting a dull glow across his face.

He was staring out at nothing, the half-empty glass of whiskey in his hand.

Virat quietly walked over and placed the tray on the small table beside him.

He didn't say anything at first—just took the glass gently from Rahul's fingers and set it aside.