I wanted to update on Sunday but... some unexpected issues came in between on my weekend - sorry for the delay, guys! And thank you for all the likes and lovely comments 😊 Hope that the story won't disappoint you as it goes on!
Now, let's reverse back in time (from the Prologue) 😉
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01.
"I warned you that this wouldn't be your cup of tea."
Soumya suppressed the urge to roll her eyes in exasperation. Trying not to squirm under the intense scrutiny of the woman next to her, though, was a lot more difficult. Of course. This conversation had been pending for far too long, and she was honestly impressed that her sister had stalled it till now. Which didn't mean that she was eager to have it, at all.
She knelt down in front of one of the many bushes spreading over the garden, and plucked out one rose. Rolling its stem between her thumb and forefinger, she frowned. "It's not that."
"Oh? Then, pray tell, why did you leave? An unfinished job is not a pretty sight, as you are very well aware."
Why had she left the Oberois' mansion? Soumya wasn't sure whether there was a simple enough answer to that question let alone one that would satisfy Svetlana. They hadn't wanted to include her in this plan, to begin with. They never wanted to include her in anything, if she thought about it. Why exactly that was so, she honestly couldn't fathom. What difference did it make to either partake in their illegal activities or only know about them? She had grown up with all of this, the lies, the deceptions, the conning, everything, had been impressed by this life style. You couldn't protect what was already corrupt.
And she refused to give any of them a reason to gloat, "We told you so."
When they had denied her access to this job, she had taken it herself without informing anyone. Gathering information about the Oberois, getting first glimpses of their personalities, paving a way into their home with half-baked plans. It had been all her, and her alone. Hence, everything she did was her own responsibility, and her one chance to prove that she was not any lesser than Tia or Svetlana. Definitely better than Tia who had slipped up too many times.
She picked on one of the many red petals, considering ripping it out. "Forcing myself on them is of little use to me."
"Forcing? You're married to Rudra."
"Yeah. A fact that the whole world knows," Soumya said, her tone a mix between amusement and thoughtfulness. "But force leads to resentment and resentment will be a hindrance in getting the best of results." Which was part of her reasons. She could have stayed in that house, claiming her rights of being Rudra's wife - but what was the use of that? He didn't want her and if she imposed herself on him, it would only lead to bitterness. And the bitterness would be toxic to the results Soumya was aiming for.
What she would never admit, though, was that for a moment, a small, insignificant moment, she had slipped on her conscience. Rudra had not realized it when he had shouted at her, too caught up in his own feelings, he probably had not even meant most of his words. He didn't know that Soumya had provided their marriage video to be leaked, on that day. That she had been responsible for the chaos which ensued in the aftermath.
Funny, though, how she had felt nothing much apart from pity when Jhanvi Oberoi had been burning in front of them- but had felt like suffocating when faced with Rudra and his accusations.
The rose was plucked from her grip, snapping her out of her musings. Svetlana stared at it, brows furrowed in that specific way they always did when she was scheming, one lower than the other, a small crease digging between them. "So, you're waiting for him to come to you. Willingly."
Not just him. "You can forcefully destroy someone," Soumya said as she stood up and brushed dust from her black dress. "Or you destroy them after they practically invite you to do it. What's more satisfying?"
Svetlana let go of the flower and it floated down, swiveling erratically in the cool, evening breeze. "Sometimes, I seem to forget that you're not a child anymore." An adult. Twisted. Revengeful. Like all of us. "I won't ask what exactly you are going to do next but... be careful."
"I won't mess up," Soumya assured. Not like Tia did.
Svetlana stared pointedly at her. In the rays of the setting sun, her skin had a reddish glow to it. Unearthly. "That's not what I meant."
"Hm?"
"It's about younger siblings," Svetlana murmured, her lips twitching into a small smile. "We'd burn down the world for them."
I would. Shivaay and Omkara would.
The weight of unsaid words hung heavily over them. Unsettling. Soumya shook her head. It was a risk she had known from the beginning. But what would the older brothers be able to do, broken and ruined? "Then, I will have to burn them before they have a chance to do it."
Svetlana wanted to say something, she could see it, something important, but just nodded, in the end. "But don't forget: be practical. Don't let your emotions overrule your mind."
There was an itch in Soumya's throat. The urge to laugh. "Everything we're doing is ruled by emotions, Di. We wouldn't be here if Mom and you didn't hate the Oberois as much as you loved Dad."
The smile turned into a thin line. "Why do you still insist that we're doing this only for Dad?"
Because that's the truth. Everything started with their long deceased father, a man whose face she couldn't even remember, and everything ended with him. What happened in between were moves in a game, carefully thought out and acted upon. Her brother had been a move gone wrong. They had mourned. Accepted a defeat. Pushed it into the farthest corner of their lives. And let it rot there while they continued the game with certain changes.
As much as Soumya loved her family, she also hated them for this.
"It doesn't matter," she said, at last, and turned away. It really didn't. Svetlana would do her part, and Soumya would complete her own.
***
"When did you stop talking to us?"
Startled, Rudra almost dropped the fork. God. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, trying to calm his heart down, before he lifted his head and stared warily at Om. For how long had O been sitting next to him on the floor? He hadn't even heard him enter the room. Where had he been with his mind? Seriously.
With a tired sigh on his lips, he started to pick on his noodles once again, without eating anything. He doubted that he would be able to stomach anything much especially after having just visited his mother. Though, he had been unable to eat much for days, now.
Om was tensed and agitated. Rudra could practically feel the displeasure rolling off his brother in waves and that unsettled him. "I talk to you," he said carefully. It sounded hollow. Untrue.
They both knew what Om was talking about, after all.
"But never about anything of importance."
Another sigh. He knew that tone too well, the guarded neutral tone that still didn't hide the anger burning behind it. "It's all over the news, isn't it?"
"Of course, it is," O huffed. "And thank God for that because you wouldn't have considered it important enough to let us know that you almost died."
Rudra winced. Yes, he hadn't been planning to mention the plane hijacking to anyone. But why would that have been necessary? He was alive and well- while his family was anything but. While his mother was in a delicate state, and O wasn't exactly himself, and his father was like a ghost hardly seen - and everything was simply a mess.
Why ponder over what-could-have-happened instead of focusing what had already happened?
"But I didn't. I am fine."
The plate was removed from his lap without any warning. O tugged at his arm until he obliged and turned toward his brother, his knees touching O's right thigh. Om's eyes flashed with suppressed anger and... concern? "I think your definition of fine' differs a lot from mine." He paused, his mouth twitching into a pained grimace. "It's okay, you know? Telling us, me, when you're hurting."
"But I am not!" It came out harsher than intendent, too defensive. He had always been a bad liar.
If Om's steely expression was anything to go by then he definitely agreed. "Oh, please. After everything that's gone down here, you want me to buy your nonsense? You are absolutely fine after your plane got hijacked and people died?"
Rudra couldn't suppress the flinch at that. It was like being pushed into an endless pit, one at whose edge he had been dangling and managing, with all of his willpower, not to tip over. He could still see that woman, Mohini's, face in front of himself, the crazed gleam in her eyes, and the threatening glint of her gun. Her crony had died because of him. He could have died. Nandini could have. Soumya could have- that stupid girl, throwing herself in front of him, willing to take a bullet for him. It made his stomach churn sickeningly thinking about it. He could have helped more, helped her, had wanted to. But she had said that word, that accursed admission- husband.
Something in him had just snapped. One of the chords keeping his sanity intact, having been reduced more and more over the years, had ripped. He had been aghast at her actions, relieved when nothing happened and so frustrated because every time after that when he had looked at her, he saw the flames and his mother engulfed and his father-
"Soumya was there," he heard himself say. His own voice sounded so distant to him as if he were speaking from another room. "She could have died. And I- I think... I think I killed a man."
Deep, troubled lines marred Om's forehead. "How would you have killed anyone?"
Rudra averted his gaze and swallowed hard. "I don't- she was going to shoot Nandini. I just wanted to stop her but-" A maniac glint in deadly eyes. Murderous intend. "She didn't let go of the gun and the bullet hit her accomplice." Who had died later, afterward, due to the shot wound. He had panicked even then, when the shot rung painfully loud in his ears, and was still amazed that he hadn't completely shut down because of it.
Fingers brushed through his messy hair, bringing him back to the here and now. Surprised, he registered how heavy his breathing was, and was even more surprised to see the agitation from earlier creep back into Om's otherwise gentle expression. "I don't think that qualifies as killing, Rudra. You didn't shoot. And it was self-defense."
"It..." Rudra had no idea how to word what he was feeling. He didn't even understand it himself - his mind was a complete mess.
"It still feels horrible?" Om suggested, the smallest hint of a smile on his lips. "You did what you did to protect others. Nothing wrong there."
He knew that, rationally speaking. And yet, a man had died because of him.
"Would you thinking about it so much had the guy died while you tried to save me? Or Shivaay?"
Rudra's head snapped up, so quickly that he felt dizzy for a heartbeat. "Don't talk such rubbish, O!"
Om's smile widened. "But it's true, isn't it? Because when we want to protect someone we really love, little else matters."
"You talk as if you have experience with these things," Rudra huffed.
The smile faltered. "Maybe... Anyway, what I am trying to say is that it's not your fault. Stop thinking about it like that. If, at all, the guy's to blame himself."
And he could believe it this time, a little, at least. As much as he loathed to even consider any of his brothers being stuck in a life threatening situation, Om was right: would he have been responsible for someone's accidental death while trying to protect his brothers, he would have still felt bad but accepted it without fretting too much over it. Besides, the guy had come to hijack the plane and kill everyone inside, hadn't he? He had put himself in that situation. And Mohini had shot.
"As for Soumya." Om grabbed the abandoned plate of spaghetti and started to twirl a lump of long noodles around the fork. "I have no idea what's going on between you guys. Unless you tell me, I can't help you."
"There's nothing going on," Rudra muttered lowly. And if there had been anything, he had made sure to extinguish it completely. He had been nasty to her. Hurtful. Unfair, his traitorous mind supplied. It was easy to admit that to himself when no one could guess his thoughts - and Soumya was too prideful to overlook his behavior.
He had yet to determine how exactly he felt about that. There just never seemed to be time to... to mull over these things. Maybe he was too afraid to do so.
Om observed him silently, almost as if he were weighing some options in his mind. "If you want to see it that way. Though, she was a good friend, I'd like to believe. And those are hard to come by but easy to lose, apparently." He held out the forkful of noodles and Rudra accepted to offered bite distractedly. "The marriage happened, and both of you don't want it. Why let it define your relationship, then?"
Rudra was tempted to, but he couldn't tell Om how much it hurt to look at Soumya. He had screwed up so much with that drunken marriage, with agreeing to marry Sonia Chadda, with not realizing that there had been a damn video... He couldn't look at Soumya and not think of their marriage, of that one mistake, that had caused so much damage to his family. It wasn't possible.
Instead, he whispered, "It doesn't matter, O. She's gone."
Another forkful. It didn't taste like anything but it didn't made him queasy, either. "Yeah, but she's somewhere. It's your choice, really. I just don't want you to do something stupid while you're hurting, and regret it later."
He blinked, stunned. Then, bit down on his tongue to stop himself from chuckling. Of course, O didn't need him to voice out in detail what was wrong, he could guess it vaguely. When they were younger, Shivaay Bhaiyya used to tease them about being one split in two bodies because that was the only explanation for them speaking so little about what mattered and still, getting it.
Though, he shrugged, no promises, and let Om feed him silently - while chaos kept raging in his head.
***
Omkara's shoulder was numb, by now. But one look down at the mess of dark hair resting against it and he really didn't have it in him to wake up Rudra and tell him to move. Especially since he knew that the idiot had not slept well for days so, he would relish this moment of success.
Careful not to stir Rudra, Om stretched out his cramped legs and leaned his head back against the wall. At first, he had been hesitant to approach his brother, wondered if now might not have been the best of times. Whether he should let him progress whatever it was he was struggling with. If Rudra wanted them to know something, he would come to them on his own accord, or not at all. But the news flash wouldn't stop haunting him. Had Shivaay seen it? Anyone else? And considering that there was a good chance for Rudra to never speak of it, it was impossible for him to ignore.
He was glad that he hadn't been able to let the matter simply slid and let Rudra bury it inside of himself. What would have happened if Rudra had kept his fear, his confusion to himself, and allowed it to eat away at him? Om felt sick to even think about that possibility. How could Rudra believe that he had killed someone? Given all the circumstances on that damned plane? Ridiculous.
"I've done worse," he murmured into the darkness, so lowly that it was almost swallowed by Rudra's slow breaths. Would his brother consider him a murderer if he knew? Om shook his head, forcing himself not to let his thoughts stray into that direction. Once he would dare to he knew that he wouldn't be able to pull out. Instead, he picked on a black strand of Rudra's hair and wondered, not for the first time, how many such dangerous perceptions his little brother was hiding behind that lopsided grin of his.
And if there was still a heavy weight pressing down on his chest, painfully so, Om didn't acknowledge it.
The past was the past.
He didn't regret it.
You just don't when it comes down to those who matter.
