My heart felt like it was about to tear itself out of my chest.
"Aarvi," Riyan's mother said again from outside the door, her tone calm, polite… dangerous.
"Open the door. I won't repeat myself."
I backed away slowly, every instinct screaming at me to run—but there was nowhere to go.
"I—I'm not dressed," I said, my voice trembling despite my effort to steady it. "Can we talk tomorrow?"
Silence.
Then a soft laugh.
"Oh, don't be silly," she replied gently. "This won't take long."
Her hand moved.
The handle turned slightly.
Locked.
Thank God.
"Aarvi," she continued, her voice dropping, losing its softness, "you really shouldn't test my patience."
My pulse roared in my ears.
"What do you want?" I asked, my back hitting the edge of the bed.
"To help you," she said smoothly. "You look… frightened lately. Guilty people often do."
Guilty.
The word sliced through me.
"I haven't done anything," I whispered.
Another pause.
Then—
"You spoke to someone tonight," she said casually. "Someone you weren't supposed to."
My blood ran ice-cold.
"How—"
"You don't need to know how," she cut in. "What you need to know is this: whatever you think you discovered, it ends here."
I clenched my fists.
"You're wrong," I said, surprising even myself. "I know the truth."
A sharp inhale from the other side of the door.
Then her voice hardened completely.
"There is no truth," she snapped. "There is only what we allow to exist."
My stomach twisted.
"You used me," I whispered. "You let everyone believe I destroyed Arjun."
Her response came instantly—too instantly.
"He destroyed himself."
The words felt rehearsed.
Practiced.
Soulless.
"And if my elder son hadn't been so emotional," she continued coldly, "none of this would've become such a mess."
My breath hitched.
"You're talking like—like he was an inconvenience," I whispered.
"He was," she replied without hesitation. "Too curious. Too soft. Too eager to play hero."
I felt tears burn my eyes.
"You erased him," I said, my voice breaking. "Didn't you?"
Silence.
Long.
Heavy.
Then—
"I protected this family," she said quietly. "From collapse. From scandal. From destruction."
My legs almost gave out.
"So you let Riyan believe his brother was dead," I whispered. "You let him hate me. You let him break."
"That was necessary," she replied calmly.
Necessary.
Something inside me snapped.
"You're not protecting him," I said hoarsely. "You're controlling him."
Her voice sharpened.
"Be careful, Aarvi. You forget your place."
"No," I said, tears finally spilling. "I think I finally understand it."
Her hand slammed against the door.
"Open. This. Door."
And then—
A new voice cut through the air like thunder.
"What the hell is going on here?"
The world stopped.
Riyan.
His footsteps were sharp, furious, unmistakable.
I heard his mother turn quickly.
"Riyan?" she said, surprise flashing through her voice. "You came back early—"
"I asked you a question," he snapped. "Why are you standing outside my wife's room?"
My knees nearly buckled with relief.
"I was checking on her," his mother replied smoothly. "She's been acting strangely."
Riyan laughed.
A cold, humorless sound.
"Funny," he said. "Because I heard everything from the hallway."
Silence crashed down like a bomb.
My breath caught painfully.
He… heard?
"Heard what?" his mother asked carefully.
Riyan stepped closer to the door.
"Heard you say Arjun was an inconvenience," he said quietly.
"Heard you say his disappearance was necessary."
"And I heard you blame me for being emotional."
The air felt thick, suffocating.
"Riyan," she said sharply, "you're misunderstanding—"
"No," he cut her off. "For the first time in my life… I'm understanding perfectly."
I pressed my hand to my mouth, shaking.
"You stood outside my room," he continued, voice trembling with controlled rage, "and threatened my wife. In my house."
"She's manipulating you," his mother snapped. "Just like she did before—"
Riyan slammed his hand against the wall.
"Don't," he warned, his voice low and lethal.
"Say. Her. Name."
A silence so heavy it felt unreal followed.
Riyan turned toward my door.
"Aarvi," he said gently, "open the door."
My hands shook as I unlocked it.
The door opened slowly.
Riyan stood there, eyes blazing, chest rising and falling sharply.
Behind him—
his mother stood frozen, her composure finally cracked.
Riyan stepped inside, positioning himself in front of me instinctively.
"You will never speak to her alone again," he said coldly to his mother.
"Ever."
She stared at him in disbelief.
"You'd choose her over me?"
He didn't hesitate.
"I'm choosing the truth," he replied.
Her face hardened.
"Then you're making a very dangerous choice," she warned.
Riyan smiled.
Not kindly.
Not warmly.
Dangerously.
"Good," he said. "So am I."
He closed the door behind him.
And for the first time since this nightmare began—
Riyan Malhotra was no longer confused.
He was furious.
And fully awake.