Unconditional Love

96. Where the Light Falls

Rahul bhai glanced sideways when he felt Rohit stir beside him, his jaw tight, eyes glassy.

"Stop the car," Rohit said suddenly, voice low but firm.

Rahul looked at him, confused. "Rohit?"

"Please bhai... stop the car."

The vehicle came to a halt at the side of the road.

Rohit exhaled shakily, running a hand through his hair. "No, bhai. I can't do this. I can't leave him alone like this. I know he's hurting, I know why he's pushing me away—but I'm not gonna let him."

His voice cracked, but his resolve didn't waver.

"He was the one who said he wanted to build a home with me. A life. A forever." Rohit's fingers curled into fists in his lap. "So, I'm not going to let him drown in his darkness. Not when I can hold the light for him."

He turned to look at Rahul bhai, tears brimming. "I love him. And I'm not going anywhere."

Rahul bhai's expression softened. He smiled through misty eyes and reached over, gently patting Rohit's cheek, wiping the tear that had fallen.

"You sure, Want me to take you back?"

Rohit nodded, fierce and certain. "I'll find my way back to him... and I'll bring him home. I have to."

Rahul bhai nodded with pride. "Then go get your man."

Rohit pushed open the main door of the office, the hallway quiet, lights dimmed except the ones in the far end near the cabins.

It was almost 9 p.m., and everyone had clearly gone home.

His footsteps echoed softly as he made his way through the familiar corridors, heart thudding with a strange mix of anger, hurt, and stubborn love.

He reached Virat's cabin and paused.

Through the glass, he could see him — head buried in his hands, hair disheveled, surrounded by a mess of open files and papers.

A nearly empty bottle of whiskey sat beside the laptop, and the ashtray was filled.

Another cigarette was burning between his fingers.

Rohit clenched his jaw, pushed the door open and walked in.

Without saying a word, he reached Virat and snatched the cigarette from his hand, extinguishing it in the tray with a sharp motion.

Startled, Virat looked up. His eyes widened when he saw him. "Rohit? What are you doing here?" His voice was hoarse. "I told you to go with Rahul bhai..."

Rohit didn't flinch. "And you think you can boss me around like that?"

Virat blinked.

"In the office—yes, you're my boss," Rohit said, stepping closer, his tone firm. "But in my life... in our life... you don't get to decide things for both of us. Not like this."

There was a pause—thick, weighted with emotion.

Virat just stared at him, stunned.

That voice, that defiance—it wasn't anger. It was love refusing to be shut out.

Virat stood frozen as he watched Rohit silently wrapping up the mess in his cabin — organizing the scattered files, shutting the laptop, setting aside the half-finished drink. He looked tired, heartbroken, but steady. Focused.

Virat didn't know what to say. His throat felt like it was closing up.

Then Rohit looked at him, firm and unwavering, and said, "We're going home now. And I'm not taking a no."