(Vivaan's POV)
This was certainly expected.
I left the room calmly, leaving Ayesha and Kruthi inside.
Shouldn't have. Maybe.
"A mastermind move Rushaan." I muttered under my breath.
Ayesha.
The woman I have known ever, broken today.
I hate the fact that she was forced till this extent. Men really are pathetic.
I too am a man. But damn, I can't hurt my wife.
Because I have seen my mother crying late nights when my father abused her.
I remember the way her voice would echo in the dark, and no one gave a damn.
And every single time, I approached her to console, she pretended a smile.
I hated this.
I hate vulnerability, tears and above all weakness.
Ayesha and the children of our family, we all grew up together. I remember how my Rushaan's elder sister Kavya would always win the game, and Rushaan, Naina, And Avyanna would cry, accusing her of cheating. I used to sit at a distance. Alone. Solitude was a rare gift, and life seemed a hollow curse.
Slowly, but tentatively, I started noticing Ayesha.
Always alone.
Like me.
Sat at a distance, with her sketchbook and pen.
While I was busy repeating my broken world in my thoughts, questioning my birth, my life, my damned-up childhood, she would be sitting there, creating a new world of her own, on that white canvas.
I swear I never heard her voice until I was ten and she was eight.
Our first meet.
I was sitting idly, dressed in casual white shirt and blue denims. A voice at distance.
Her.
Naina.
I stood up and felt something hard breaking under my shoe.
"MY colouR" Different voice. Shock. Surprise.
Ayesha.
For the first time.
And what a first time, she was about to scold me for breaking her precious crayon.
That was her spirit.
Not what she was now.
I was walking through corridors when-
One.
Two.
Three.
Footsteps following me.
"Rushaan." I spoke. Didn't turn around. An annoyance on my face.
"Got a thing for my wife?" He smirked, approaching closer, and casually slung his arm over my shoulder.
I ignored it.
He thought he was mastermind.
Good.
Overconfidence is a self-killer, one which he possesses in abundance.
"Got an urge to have another scandal?" I turned to him with a smirk, removing his hand from my shoulder.
His jaw clenched.
Satisfaction.
It was easy to unnerve him.
Always younger, always dumb.
He relaxed, plastered a smile and looked at me right in my eyes.
"Yes. A scandal of having your wife as mine. Kruthi Rushaa..."
I felt a heat inside me.
F*ck him.
I glared at him dangerously and spoke in a low tone.
Dangerous, menacing tone.
"As your mother figure? I'll inform her Rushaan don't worry. Afterall she's your bhabhi."
He frowned.
I smiled in victory.
"But she was mine before. And mine before means endless nights, 24 hours every day, all her kisses and physical proximity restricted to me."
This kid really thought he can get on my nerve.
I stepped closer to him.
Slowly, I took my hand up. He flinched.
My smirk returned.
Such a coward.
I tapped his cheek and pretended to fix his collar before saying in a low tone.
"And she's mine today, tomorrow, forever. Her physical, social, mental, emotional all proximities restricted to me. Her silent words, her smile, her defiance, her feisty behaviour, her tantrums, her silliness, her attention, her devotion, her faith, her trust, her thoughts, her care, her mesmerising her eyes, her purity... restricted to me. And I won't stand idle if any of that is bothered. You'd do well to respect my wife, Kruthi Vivaan Malhotra."
I don't know why I said that.
That's not me.
I never speak this long.
Words are weapons.
But I felt a twisted victory.
My words hit the point already.
His breathing shallowed.
I tapped his shoulder and went from there.
The day ended.
Endless calls.
Meetings. Projects. Deadlines.
And this week fully locked in this mansion.
Still, I couldn't risk anything. I had a company to look after.
Another call.
Mirhan.
Rushaan's ex manager.
My one close, trustworthy friend.
"Vivaan, check the documents I sent you. Urgent."
I opened the pdf's.
Rushaan.
Not only him but a group of people.
And that didn't seem nice to me.
I scrolled down.
Mirhan really did his work well.
and a twisted, weird thought in my mind-
Why the hell are our names so alike? Vivaan, Rushaan, Mirhaan.
I hated this aan now.
It shouldn't be similiar.
Wait, I am thinking like her.
Of course that's her personality.
My dear wife!
The document contained everything.
Their deeds.
Their crimes.
Their methods.
But motive?
None.
It felt fishy.
Somewhat wrong.
And then, my Gurugram property.
How was Ayesha involved in all this?
And then the documents.
Ayesha's father.
He too is involved.
I zoomed the picture and something caught me-
I noticed a specific face.
One that shouldn't be there, at least not associated with Rushaan.
My jaw clenched.
Hands trembling due to anger.
I needed to let this out.
Unable to control, I flared up in the other second.
SMASH!!!
The phone smashed on the nearest wall.
My fists tightened.
I hate him.
I hate the fact he's associated with Rushaan.
I....hate myself.
"AHHH." I screamed, hair messy... everything troubling.
Even the slightest sound troubling me.
I punched the mirror in an instant.
A trail of blood going down my fist.
No attention.
No worries.
Not until...
Her.
Calm, serene...concerned.
For me.
My wife...