Page 71 of ARIDHI: His Never-Ending Desire

The silence inside the car was deceptive, the kind that hums just before lightning cracks.

Vinayak bhaiya was driving while Ruvit sat beside him in the passenger seat.

I was still between my parents in the backseat.

Papa was staring out the window like he was ready to fight for his daughter.

It reminded me of my childhood days when he used to take my side against Bhaiya and Abhir.

Mum kept her hand gently on mine. Her thumb moved in slow, calming circles.

But her eyes were glued to the traffic lights like they’d start blinking headlines instead.

brEAKING NEWS:

WAR’S GRANDDAUGHTER ENGAGED TO HIS KILLER?

Intentional or not, the word killer echoed more than I could bear.

How could they say such things about my Ruvit?

Then suddenly I felt it.

That burn. That pull. That intensity.

My eyes lifted toward the rearview mirror, slow and instinctive.

And there he was.

Sitting like his eyes were not made of storms and sins and promises that shone brighter than any city lights outside.

They were looking back at me through the mirror.

Like he’d been waiting for me to meet his gaze.

Like he never wanted to look at something else other than me.

Our eyes locked in glass, in quiet, but the intensity in his stare?

It licked like fire.

My chest tightened, my throat went dry.

For a moment, it made me forget I was on my way to a battlefield.

He didn’t blink. Didn’t flinch.

His eyes dragged over mine like they knew things my mouth was too scared to say.

And for a split second, the air changed.

My skin flushed under the weight of it. My pulse kicked in places it shouldn’t be paying attention to right now.

That look wasn’t just I’ve got you.

It was I won’t keep quiet if they touched or disrespected you.

It was you’re mine, and they can scream all they want.

My breath caught.

I bit the inside of my cheek and quickly looked away, but I felt the smirk that tugged at the corner of his lips. The silent victory of it.

Damn him.

Even now, with chaos around us, he knew how to unnerve me with just his eyes. How to make me comfortable.

And somewhere in the heat of it all, I didn’t mind his eyes.

When we pulled into the press venue, it was already past afternoon.

Barricades. Cameras. Dozens of mics being checked and adjusted. Flashes already started going off before the door even opened.

Bhaiya turned around from the driver’s seat. “Everyone ready?”

Nodding in unison, we stepped out together.

And that’s when the reporters hit.

“ARIDHI MA’AM, IS IT TRUE YOU’VE BEEN HIDING THE ACCIDENT FOR YEARS?”

“RUVIT, DID YOU KNOW WHOSE CAR IT WAS WHEN THE COLLISION HAPPENED?”

“IS THIS MARRIAGE A COVER-UP?”

“WAS IT REALLY A MURDER?!”

I kept walking, ignoring all the questions and the pain swelling in my chest.

Blinding lights. Dozens of voices. Mics shoved toward our faces like accusations.

I didn’t flinch. I didn’t pause. I didn’t react. I didn’t give them satisfaction.

Ruvit stayed close to my left, his hand brushing mine once, twice, thrice before I held it. Tightly.

He glanced at me, the warmth of his hand sipping into my body, and somehow calming my nerves.

Papa walked beside mum on the other side.

And at the front, Bhaiya moved with practiced authority, like he was born to fight for his sister.

Security helped us onto the stage, where a table and mic setup had already been arranged.

The moment we sat down, the sea of reporters surged forward like piranhas.

Bhaiya sat tall and poised at the center. To his left was papa, followed by mum next to him.

I chose Bhaiya’s right.

Ruvit took his seat beside me—silent, unreadable, but with that subtle tension in his jaw that only I would catch.

All of it felt like walking a tight rope. One misstep, and the entire legacy would go up in flames.

But this time, I was ready to burn it.

I spotted a few familiar channels. Familiar reporters.

And a few vultures who’d once called me “India’s youngest boardroom queen” now holding placards that read ‘War’s bloodline betrayed?’

Like hell it was.

I would later see them personally.

Bhaiya raised a hand. “We will address the facts. But only one at a time. Please keep your questions respectful, or this conference ends now.”

Silence fell like a gavel before he nodded. “Let’s begin.”

The first question came from an older journalist—direct, no nonsense. “The footage that surfaced. Is it authentic?”

Ruvit didn’t hesitate. “Yes. The footage is real. But the narrative being pushed with it? That’s not.”

Another voice rose. “So you crashed into WAR’s car?” My jaw clenched.

The question wasn’t meant for me but I opened my mouth before Ruvit.

“It’s today’s trending video, right? So why bother asking? You’ve already judged him on the basis of that. Next question.”

There was a ripple of discomfort in the room because they didn’t expect that. Good.

“At that time, did you know it was WAR in the car you crashed with?” The question was again directed at Ruvit.

My blood boiled.

They were targeting him on purpose.

“Yes. I didn’t know it was Aridhi’s grandfather’s car.” Ruvit replied in his usual cold tone.

“What happened to you after the accident?” Another question, smoothly accusing Ruvit.

He stared at the crazy herd of reporters in front of us, before reluctantly answering.

“I woke up in the hospital with no memory of what happened.” He said, his words carefully chosen. “So, I can’t answer that question.”

More flashes. More murmurs.

He didn’t mention anything about his grandmother. So, he was defending her?

Not that, I wanted her name to get dragged in this.

But if a certain someone had the guts to release a video from years ago publicly, then there were chances that he knew about grandma’s doing too.

“You must have tried to find out who transferred you to a hospital.” Another reporter chipped. “Hospital records, you know?”

Should I be worried about how calmly he was handling the situation?

Because these reporters were really getting shameless with the questions.

“Of course.” Ruvit nodded, faking his whole demeanor. “But being a renowned personality, no one bothered to keep records. They started the treatment right away.”

A small smile formed on my lips but I quickly hid it when he added. “Thanks to the person who transferred me to the hospital that day.”

Pretend.

“Mr. Rathore, you are sounding suspicious. Without records, how could we believe you?” The audacity made me roll my eyes.

“Basically, you mean to say he intentionally crashed his car into my grandfather’s. And then, had the hospital arrangements ready beforehand.” I bit back a laugh.

Another flash. Another hand. “It’s obvious, Miss Agarwal. Otherwise how could we believe him?”

“Funny how you thought we were here to give you all the proof.” My tone held just enough sarcasm.

They were silenced and I was glad to be the cause of it.

“But ma’am,” A younger reporter said. “Don’t you think hiding this truth was misleading?”

I tilted my head. “Misleading is my middle name, darling. You think I owe the world a public essay on every trauma I’ve survived?”

That shut her up but I met her gaze head-on, this time with a serious answer.

“I didn’t hide it. I chose to live with what I knew—that my fiance and my grandpa had been part of a tragic accident. No one is to be blamed.”

A different journalist piped in. “But with this revelation, don’t you think your marriage looks like a cover-up?”

I gave him the coldest smile I’ve ever practiced.

“If you think I’d marry a man to bury a scandal, you haven’t done your research on who I am. I don’t sweep things. I deal with them face-first—especially in heels.”

A few reporters lowered their pens, visibly thrown when I added. “Do tell me if you want to experience it.”

Someone else tried shouting, “Even with murder accusations—”

“Murder?” I cut in, sharper than I meant. Taking a long breath, I gave in my explanation.

“The accident was officially cleared as an unfortunate building crash. There was no trial. No investigation. No proof. And even now, a collision of two cars isn’t considered murder. It’s still an accident, despite all the efforts to weaponize it against us.”

“Did Ruvit manipulate you into believing this?” One of them suddenly accused.

I smiled, cool and lethal. “Irony how the word manipulation only comes up when a woman chooses to speak. But no, he didn’t.”

“Careful how you speak to my woman.” Ruvit’s eyes were cold as he fixated a glare on the reporters.

They instantly shivered under his gaze.

“I am not so courageous to manipulate the woman I love, in any wrong way.” Even his stoic-tonned words made my heart flutter.

“Let me tell you who is actually behind manipulation.” Bhaiya chipped in, all the cameras snapping in his direction.

“There is someone who is manipulating this story to hurt my sister. To separate her and Ruvit. Whoever released this footage did not do it to seek justice. They did it to destroy their relationship.”

That sparked something crazy in the media. And honestly, I didn’t expect bhaiya to be this direct.

Revealing this piece of information was helpful yet dangerous at the same time.

“Destroy their relationship, you said? Why would someone do that?” Another reporter kept his question.

Bhaiya continued with his replies. “Actually, we don’t know. But let’s call this what it is—a stunt, wrapped in jealousy and destruction.”

Another flurry of flashes. “What do you say to people who now think you killed WAR?” The question was aimed at Ruvit who didn’t falter.

“I don’t give a damn about all those people. Do you really think I thrive on their opinions when my lady luck is standing right beside me?”

I wanna kiss him right now.

One voice dared again. “So the wedding is still happening?”

I looked at him like he’d asked if the sun would stop rising. Then, I laughed, and the mic picked it up beautifully.

“Abso-fucking-lutely.” I said. “In fact, I think we’ll celebrate it louder. Might livestream it too. Since people love watching our private life so much.”

Ruvit chuckled beside me, low and proud. That sound gave me just enough oxygen to continue.

“I will marry Ruvit Rathore.” I said clearly. “Not because I need to protect him. But because I trust him. Because I love him. Because I’ve seen him bleed for this truth.”

After a long pause, another question flew in. “So, Mr. Rathore, do you have anything to say to the Agarwal family?”

I glanced at Ruvit. He leaned toward the mic, slow and deliberate.

“I’ve already said everything I needed to say to the family, in person. I won’t use this platform to relive their grief for public sympathy.”

A quiet hush followed his words.

“But if this is about the truth, then here it is. It was purely an accident. And if I could change it, I would. But I can’t. So instead, I’ll live every single day proving that I never meant to hurt the woman I love, or her family.”

For a second, the room didn’t move.

Then, he added. “Lastly, the footage is very much real. However, the conclusions drawn from it are fake.”

Flash. Flash. Flash.

I scanned the crowd when a reporter jumped in.

“All that aside, who suppressed this footage all these years? How did it ever surface until now? Who is that someone who made this video viral?”

I kept my face steady, despite the sudden nervousness taking over me.

That was the question I didn’t know the answer to.

However, I intend to figure it out.

Judging by those creepy texts, he must be eyeing me for a long time.

Bastard stalker.

And maybe he was holding something dangerous for me.

I could feel the storm shifting—they were listening now.

Not completely believing, but listening.

Taking the mic, I replied. “As bhaiya mentioned before, we don’t know.”

The questions started again, louder, overlapping.

“Do you plan to sue whoever leaked the footage?”

“Has WAR’s family accepted Mr. Rathore officially now?”

“Will you take action against the person who is behind all this?”

I stood up, raising my hand. “I have a few words for that creep—you don’t scare me. The more you try, the more I love Ruvit.”

And just when I thought it was over, Papa stood too, his voice composed and authoritative.

“We know who Ruvit is. And we stand with him. Our family won’t collapse under lies and accusations.”

Mum followed. “My daughter is stronger than what you believe her to be. And we support her.”

Another question echoed suddenly. “Aridhi, do you want to say something?”

I didn’t answer immediately.

Instead, I turned to look at Ruvit, standing nonchalantly.

However, his eyes? They were obsessed—already fixed on me, steady, grounded, unwavering.

Like a magnetic pull which wasn’t through a mirror this time, I felt the same fire in my body.

Not like he was waiting.

Rather, he was devouring.

His jaw was tight, but that intense gaze was back.

Hungry. Heavy. Heavenly.

They were protective in a way that made my stomach drop and my heart pick up.

There was gratitude in them but also the rage for the world that tried to come between us.

I took a slow breath, and when I turned back to the mic, I said.

“I know people want a headline. A villain. A scandal. But this isn’t fiction. This is my life. And I won’t let it be rewritten by someone hiding behind a screen.”

They paused before a reporter tried again, as we stood up. “Miss Agarwal, anything for your grandfather?”

I laughed. Just once. Dry. “My grandfather was a legend. But this circus doesn’t honor him.”

I placed the mic down and the room went dead silent.

For the first time, they couldn’t speak.

Security began clearing space as he stood with me, my own back straight, and shoulders squared.

We made our way off the platform, our footsteps echoing in the stillness after the storm.

Ruvit just walked next to me like we were a duo, not that we were defending ourselves but we’d chosen this together.

The world had seen us, heard us, judged us. But somehow, we’d survived.

At that moment, I walked out with my family, and it felt like the first battle had been won.

The voices from the conference still lingered faintly behind us, muffled, chaotic, like the static of a world we no longer owed explanations to.

Ruvit suddenly leaned a little closer.

“What?” I raised one brow.

“I’m thinking about dragging you somewhere dark.” He murmured so only I could hear.

My breath faltered after he asked. “Or should I just kiss you in front of them all?”

The air between us went sharp. Flammable.

I laughed but my cheeks burned anyway. “Shut up, Ruvit.”

He shook his head. “God, you are so adorable sometimes.”

“Sometimes?” I questioned, narrowing my eyes. He smirked in return. “Sometimes, you are scary.”

I slapped on his shoulder as if the cameras didn’t record our interaction from behind.

Flashes of light were still dancing at the edge of my vision, reporters were shouting questions, and security was closing in.

It was a frantic symphony of the aftermath.

But then suddenly—

POP.

It was sharp, and deafening as if a bullet just passed beside me.

The world flipped, a violent lurch that stole my breath. Screams erupted all around me, a sudden, horrifying chorus.

Instinctively, I recoiled, pulling away but he was faster.

Ruvit lunged right into me.

His body slammed into mine like a wall of heat and steel, a protective impact that knocked the wind clean out of me.

My heels scraped against the pavement as I stumbled, my shoulder hitting the hard wall with a jarring pain.

And then I heard it.

The sickening thud of Ruvit’s body made contact with me, followed by the worst sound I’d ever heard.

His gasp.

The sound that resonated deep in my bones held something painful now.

I blinked wildly, trying to make sense of the sudden chaos.

Wae was his face twisted in pain above me?

Wae wasn’t his arm holding me as tightly anymore?

And then, slowly, I saw it. My eyes trailed down his arm.

Blood.

Dark, vivid red, spilling down his bicep. Staining his crisp white sleeve like someone had painted it with a brutal stroke.

My eyes widened with horror as I gasped loudly. “Ruvitttttt!”

~·~

My author instincts want to

add a bit of trauma. ??

And, I love drama more than

I can write ????