Ishq hua (Duet 1)

Chapter 32: A fallen empire

Author's pov

The study in the right wing of the Agnihotri mansion was dimly lit, the heavy curtains drawn against the windows and the night wrapped around the estate like a noose. The only light came from the antique lamp resting on the mahogany table — warm, amber, and deceivingly calm.

Across from it sat a man whose hands had once held an empire together, a empire built on blood and lies — Aira's grandfather.

His back was straight despite his age, but his eyes held a monster. Something rotting from within.

Arsh stood on the other side of the room, rage sitting at the edge of his clenched jaw.

Vyom leaned against the wall beside the door, arms crossed, silent and still.

"You must be really desperate if you went as far as paying me a visit in my mansion," the old man said, voice gravel-slick and bitter. "Or are you here to finally accept my offer?"

Arsh stepped forward, slow and quiet, like a storm deciding what he wanted to ruin first.

"You offered a lot of things," he said. "But what I want to understand tonight… is how a man can want his own grand - daughter dead."

There was no flinch. Not even a blink.

Just that slight smirk — that same cruel, condescending smile that had shattered a dozen lives before hers.

"Aira was never meant to be anything but a pawn," the old man said simply, sipping his tea as if they were discussing business.

Arsh's hands curled into fists, and beside him, Vyom shifted — just slightly.

"You talk about her like she is not even your blood," Vyom said, his voice quiet and dangerous. "You forget she carries your name."

"I forget nothing," the old man said coldly. "She is just an emotional liability — and I stopped considering her my family the moment she stepped inside your house, and besides she is only in this mess because you choose her as the woman who carries your name."

Arsh took one more step forward.

"I never planned to kill her," he said tightly, his voice like ice shattering glass. "You did."

A chuckle escaped the old man, low and slow.

"And yet she is silll locked in your house. Wearing your ring."

Arsh's eyes flared.

"Because I wanted her to suffer," he bit out, "so your family would finally understand what it feels like to choke on its own sins. But I never wanted her gone. You? You tried to erase her. You hired the Cartel and handed her name over like she was some goddamn inconvenience."

The old man clicked his tongue, adjusting his cufflinks with an infuriating calmness.
"I only wanted to end a liability. She is the only reason my eldest son won't speak. He won't hand me over the codes all because you are holding her daughter over him."

He took a step forward.

"So tell me, Arsh... why does it even matter to you if she lives or dies?"

His voice turned silken, poisonous. "At the end of the day, isn't all of this just about the codes and the Agnihotris ruin?"

Silence cracked the air like lightning.

Arsh didn’t answer. Couldn’t.
His chest rose and fell, slow and strained, like breathing itself had become a burden.
His rage was quiet now. Measured. Lethal.

"Careful," the old man warned softly, "if you keep pretending her death would destroy you, the world might just listen."

Arsh didn't flinch.