The morning after the storm was eerily calm. The mansion, bathed in soft light, felt almost serene, as if the chaos of the night before had never happened. But Aisha knew better. The storm had come and gone, but the emotional tempest that had raged between her and Kabir still lingered in the air, thick with uncertainty.
She woke early, her mind restless with thoughts of Kabir. Their conversation had been raw, a glimpse of the real man behind the icy mask. It wasn't enough to unravel all his secrets, but it was a start. A fragile truce had been established between them, and Aisha didn't want to break it.
When she went downstairs to the kitchen, she was surprised to find Kabir already there. He was seated at the small breakfast nook, a cup of coffee in hand, staring blankly out the window. The sight of him sitting there, quiet and contemplative, took her by surprise. He usually avoided lingering in shared spaces, as though any proximity to her was an inconvenience.
For a moment, Aisha hesitated in the doorway, unsure if she should disturb him. But before she could decide, Kabir glanced up and caught her eye.
"Good morning," she greeted, trying to keep her tone light, even though the memory of last night's vulnerability hung between them.
Kabir gave a small nod, his expression unreadable as always. "Morning."
Aisha poured herself a cup of tea and cautiously approached the table, sitting across from him. They sat in silence for a few moments, the only sound being the soft clink of her spoon stirring her tea. It was strange, the quiet between them. It wasn't comfortable, not yet, but it wasn't the stony silence of strangers either. It felt like the space between two people learning how to navigate unfamiliar territory.
"How are you feeling?" she asked gently, her eyes flickering to his hand. She had noticed the slight bruise on his knuckles from where he had punched the wall the night before.
Kabir followed her gaze and flexed his fingers slightly. "It's fine," he said, dismissing the injury as if it didn't matter. But his tone wasn't harsh. There was a weariness in his voice that tugged at Aisha's heart.
She bit her lip, unsure how to approach the subject of his father again. It was clear that the issue ran deep, but she didn't want to push him too soon. Last night had been a breakthrough, but it had also left Kabir exposed in a way he wasn't used to. She needed to tread carefully.
"You never really talk about him," she said quietly, not wanting to push but also not wanting to pretend that nothing had changed.
Kabir's eyes darkened slightly, his jaw tightening at the mention of his father. He set his coffee cup down with a little more force than necessary, the tension in his body immediately returning.
"There's not much to say," he replied, his voice cold again. "He's trying to take what's mine. That's all there is to it."
Aisha frowned. "But it's more than just business, isn't it? You're angry because he's hurt you before. This isn't just about the company, Kabir."
He shot her a sharp look, as if warning her not to go there. "What do you want me to say, Aisha? That he's a bastard? That I've spent my whole life trying to prove I'm nothing like him?"
Aisha's breath caught in her throat. She hadn't expected him to admit that. But before she could respond, Kabir continued, his voice low and bitter.
"He ruined everything - my mother, my childhood, the company. He tore it all down because of his greed and his pride. And now he wants to worm his way back in, as if none of it ever happened. As if I'm supposed to just let him destroy everything again."
His words were filled with a raw, seething anger, but there was something else too - something that sounded almost like pain. Aisha realized then that Kabir wasn't just angry. He was hurt. Deeply, profoundly hurt.
"Why didn't you ever tell me this before?" she asked softly.
Kabir let out a harsh laugh, shaking his head. "Because I don't need your pity, Aisha. Or anyone else's."
"It's not pity," she said, her voice steady despite the ache in her chest. "I just want to understand."
Kabir's eyes softened slightly, but his expression remained guarded. He looked away, staring out the window again, his thoughts clearly elsewhere.
Aisha waited, giving him space. She had learned by now that Kabir was a man who didn't respond well to pressure. He needed time - time to trust, time to feel safe enough to let her in.
After a long moment, he spoke again, his voice quieter this time.
"When I was young, I worshipped him," he admitted, his tone almost bitter with regret. "He was everything to me - larger than life, powerful. I wanted to be just like him. But then I realized what kind of man he really was."
Aisha's heart ached for him. She could only imagine what it must have been like to grow up idolizing someone, only to have that image shattered by the truth.
"He destroyed everything my mother cared about," Kabir continued, his voice tight with anger. "And when she got sick, he wasn't there. He was too busy with his affairs, his deals, his empire. She died, and he didn't even care."
Aisha swallowed hard, her chest tightening with empathy. She hadn't known the full extent of Kabir's pain, but now she was starting to understand. His coldness, his need for control, his refusal to let anyone in - it all stemmed from the betrayal of his father, from the fear of being hurt again.
"I'm so sorry, Kabir," she whispered, her voice filled with sincerity. "I can't imagine how hard that must have been."
Kabir didn't respond right away. He simply stared down at his hands, his expression closed off once more. But then, to Aisha's surprise, he let out a slow, weary sigh.
"I don't know how to let go of it," he admitted quietly, his voice almost a whisper. "The anger, the resentment. It's like it's all I've got left."
Aisha reached across the table and gently placed her hand over his. Kabir tensed at the contact, but he didn't pull away.
"You don't have to let go all at once," she said softly. "But you don't have to carry it alone, either. I'm here, Kabir. I'm not going anywhere."
For a long moment, Kabir said nothing. He simply stared at their joined hands, as if trying to understand how someone could be offering him comfort after everything he had done to keep her at arm's length.
Finally, he looked up at her, his eyes searching hers. There was still so much guardedness, so much fear and pain, but there was also something else - something that felt like the first flicker of trust.
"I don't deserve you," he murmured, his voice barely audible.
Aisha's heart skipped a beat. It was the closest thing to a confession of vulnerability she had ever heard from him, and it stirred something deep inside her.
"You deserve more than you think," she whispered, giving his hand a gentle squeeze.
Kabir didn't respond, but he didn't pull away either. And for now, that was enough.
---
End of Chapter 6