"These people always paint me as the villain."

___________________________

•○NANDINI○•

Silence screamed in the whole court. It all fell into dead silence. Even I held my breath. My mind was already racing. Goyal, who still had that nasty scowl on his face, looked like he wanted to say something but couldn't find the right words to. Everyone in the court was stunned.

And Aariv, he just stood there, looking at the amusement in everyone's faces nonchalantly, as if he didn't know what he just did. Uff, ye aadmi!

I cleared my throat, drawing everyone's attention towards me. "Your honor," I began. My voice cut through the thick voice seamlessly. "I would like the court to verify the testimony Professor Aariv had just given."

The judge looked at me, then at Aariv, then at Goyal, then at the documents in his hand. "Objection, your honor." Goyal finally opened his darn mouth.

"Are we really going to ignore what he just said?" Yes, we are, we were, until you decided to open that godforsaken mouth of yours!

Judge turned towards me as if waiting for me to open my mouth. "Your honor, I think we all collectively misunderstood his hindi." I tried. Really tried. But what a freaking bad try, because all I got were weird stares.

I cleared my throat again and moved towards Aariv. "Let's try to clear that, shall we?" I went towards Aariv and stood in front of him, who frowned slightly, sensing the tension.

"Professor Aariv, abhi abhi jo aapne kaha.. uska matlab jara spasth karna chahenge." He opened his mouth to speak, but I beat him to it. "Aapne jo kaha kya aapke pujniya Pitaji ek badi wajah hai aap jo ban paye hai uski." He nodded.

"Bhot samman karte honge aap unka, nhi?" I asked.

He nodded proudly. "Ji, bilkull karte hai." Aariv said with unshakable pride, his chin tilted upward as though he'd just pronounced a royal decree instead of casually admitting he was the king of a non-existent ancient kingdom.

I could hear my own heartbeat in my ears.

This man.

This absolute relic of a disaster.

Goyal's smirk was slowly crawling back up his face, like a cockroach after surviving Raid.

I had seconds-seconds-before this whole case crumbled.

"Exactly," I said, stepping slightly in front of Aariv, my heels clicking sharp and fast. "Your Honor, if I may... Professor Aariv's remark about his father wasn't literal. It was symbolic. Poetic. As is often the case with scholars of ancient texts."

I clasped my hands gently in front of me and added with a soft smile, "Scholars, especially ones so deeply immersed in historical reenactments and period studies, often speak in metaphors. Professor Aariv simply meant that he identified with the values and legacy of the ancient tribes-as though he were the son of the ruler who granted the land. These poets and professors are often so.. romantic about everything." i smiled sweetly. My infamous, charming, appealing smile.

The judge raised an eyebrow. "He said, and I quote, 'ye zameen humare pitaji ne Adivasi Samrath Tribunan ko di thi.' That's a direct statement. Not metaphorical." Goyal nodded and supported his statement enthusiastically.

I leaned in slightly, dropping the pitch of my voice for effect. "Yes, Your Honor. But context is everything. Aapko sabdo ko chodiye, inki bhavnao ko samjhiye na." I said in a suggestive tone.

"And don't our very own Mr. Goyal always says, 'Words hold no meaning in this court, proof does.' And if verify the testimony tomorrow, we'll get the proof." I concluded my theory with a philosophical nod. I kept my tone neutral but convincing.

I turned to Aariv with a smile, then turned back to the judge. "You see, Professor Aariv is deeply influenced by his father-an actual historian, who raised him on ancient tribal texts and oral traditions passed through generations. He often refers to these ancient kings as paternal figures in his academic work. In fact, in one of his early journals-"

"Which journal?" Goyal cut in, like a damn mosquito.

I didn't miss a beat.

"Legacy of the Eastern Hills: Interpretive Tribal Law through Oral Transmission, published under Yaduvansh Heritage Society, 2009 edition," I said with surgical calm.

"You should read it sometime, Mr. Goyal. It's available online-Google Books even highlights the passage I'm referring to."

Goyal blinked.

The judge blinked.

Prem blinked. It was probably wondering where I got this knowledge from.

Aariv blinked, too. But probably because he had no idea what the hell I just said. Jhooth aisa bolo ki chaar log soch mein padh jaye. I mentally patted my back, hiding a smirk.

"Besides," I continued smoothly, "if every historian were taken literally, we'd be suing poets for comparing rivers to mothers and clouds to uncles."

Laughter rippled lightly through the courtroom. The judge's expression eased. Prem looked at me like I just pulled off a magic trick.

I wasn't done.

I turned, folding my hands in front of Aariv like I was interviewing a misunderstood genius. Yep, definitely, not a mentally illed delusional, self-proclaimed king.

"Professor Aariv, kya aap kahenge ki aapki shaikshanik parvarish par aapke pita ke prachin janjatiya nyay ke prati samarpan ka gehra prabhav tha?" He frowned as if asking me why I was bringing his upbringing in here.

He stayed quiet for a while. I have to bring your upbringing because of the disaster you were about to bring on me, genius. I barely stopped myself from rolling my eyes, looking at his expressions. It's still cold, still intimidating, still caustious, still ready to behead even a mosquito who dare suck his blood.

Aariv hesitated for a second, then slowly nodded. "Woh nyay aur barabari mein vishwas rakte the." He said gruffly.

I turned to the judge slowly. "See, Your Honor. That's what he meant. Not a literal claim of bloodline. But of ideological inheritance. A deep-rooted connection to the people, the history, and the truth."

The judge leaned back, folding his hands thoughtfully. I had him. Not fully. But enough. And Goyal, like a predictable pest, had to squirm again.

"Even if we accept this ridiculous metaphor argument," he said, "how are we trusting someone whose grip on literal language is this shaky? How can we believe his testimony?"

Time to shut this down for good.

I smirked. "Your Honor, if language mastery is the new threshold for credibility, then half the politicians of our country would be unemployed by morning."

Even the stenographer laughed.

I turned to Goyal. "What matters is not the metaphor, but the manuscript. The land deeds he described, the seal discrepancy, the ancient legal custom that he brought to light. If you want to debate academic language, you're welcome to take it up with the translation board of ASI."

"ASI?" Goyal echoed dumbly.

"Archaeological Survey of India," I replied, sweetly venomous. "But of course, as a man of limited reading, I understand your confusion."

Judge: mildly amused.

Courtroom: one chuckle away from clapping.

Aariv: still looking confused.

Goyal: appropriately livid.

Prem: smirking like the proud bestie he is.

Amidst all this, I subtly glanced towards Omkara sir, who was looking at me with a proud expression. He was proud of me. Of me. Me. I exhaled.

"Your Honour," I said as the court reassembled, "in light of the confusion earlier, I've submitted a translated version of the decree Professor Aariv referred to. Kindly note the matching language used regarding the tribal grant."

The judge scanned the papers. Goyal leaned forward, ready to object again, but I raised a hand.

"And," I added, "I've contacted an independent verification committee to evaluate the historical validity. Meanwhile, I request the court to officially admit Professor Aariv's testimony as contextual expert input until formal review is completed."

The judge nodded slowly. "Granted. Pending verification."

Victory.

Small. Temporary. But sweet.

As the court dismissed for the day, I walked towards my seat. Prem leaned in again, voice low. "Now that was something." He said.

"I know." I took a sip from my water. I felt a presence behind me. I looked back to see Aariv standing there. I raised an eyebrow.

"Woh sab kya tha?" He asked.

"Arre, congra-mubarak ho, Rajaji, aapne abhi-abhi, kisiko unke hak ki zameen diladi." I smiled widely. He had a neutral expression on his face.

"Humne bas satya kaha. Humare pitaji ne woh zameen unlogo ko di thi, phir ye log kon the uss par ungli uthane wale?" He said gruffly. Prem gave me an overexagerated amused look.

"What's happening? His father gave that land to tribals? Aren't we talking about the 17th century here and not yesterday?" He questioned, looking between us.

I sighed. "He is mentally ill. He thinks he's some king from the 17th century. I saw him on the street." I explained and told him the whole story. He looked at me funny.

"Nandini, are you mad?!" He snapped loudly, gaining the attention of the people around us. I gave him a look. While Aariv's hands instinctly went towards his waist towards the non-existing sword, a scowl came on his face when he realised there wasn't any.

"Keep your damn voice low." I hissed. He's gonna get us in trouble like this. "Let's get out of here first." I collected my stuff and nodded at him to make our way outside the court. Today was a close call.

"Kaha ja rahi hai aap?" His voice came, firm, steady and goddamn deep. I didn't know I had a thing for deep voices. I turned back to see him staring at me with a neutral look on his face.

"Bahar. Yahi par rehne ka irada hai kya din bhar?" I said sarcastically. He bit his inner cheek to most probably control himself. It was written all over his face that he didn't like my tone.

"Aap hume punha apne rajya, apni sadi, satravi sadi wapis jane ka marg shujhane wali thi." He reminded me in a cold voice. Prem snickered beside me, earning a cold glare from the "king" before us.

I shook my head. "Jaroor Rajaji. Wahi toh le ja rahi ho aapko. Chaliye." I said, gesturing towards the door. He gave me a skeptical look but followed nonetheless. Prem and I fell into steps behind him.

"You just faked his whole identity in the court." He whispered dramatically. "With back stories. What if they find out?" He added.

"I know. But it helped, didn't it? Now, the court will testify what he said tomorrow, and no one will bother Professor Aariv again. Professor Aariv's chapter will be closed right then and there as he'll move back to Germany." I smiled and turned towards Aariv, whose ears were perked up in confusion at the mention of his name.

He raised an eyebrow, turning back towards us. I shook my head, and he frowned but muttered something like "Vichitra stree." Under his breath. I narrowed my eyes.

"How were you so sure that he'd have the knowledge of those scrolls?" Prem questioned, making his expression like a detective trying to solve a missing puzzle from a crucial case.

"I wasn't." I deadpanned.

Prem's mouth fell open. Close it before a fly decides to pay a visit, dear. "What the!" He hissed. "Then why did you bring him in the court if you weren't even sure of what he'd say. Nandini! Do you even know how risky and reckless that was?" There goes Prem again, slipping right into his lecturer mode. I'd say parent mode, but I didn’t really know what that looks like—so let’s just stick with lecturer mode only.

"Relax, it all went smoothly, right? Though, it was a shot in the dark, it perfectly hit the bulls eye." I stated smugly. Honestly, at that time, I didn't really think about the consequences. That wasn't even on my mind when I decided to use Aariv as my leverage.

I turned in front, looking at the man in front of me. How can he be so.. huge, and tall, and well build when his mind is still underdeveloped? Maybe some accident or trauma caused him to be like this.

Prem nudged my side, making me turn to him. "What was that about taking him back to his era, kingdom, and stuff?" I explained to him the whole thing about our little 'deal' that Aariv and I made. And he hit his head. "Seriously? Kaha leke jayegi ab isse?" He hissed. "In the 17th century?" He added sarcastically. I smirked.

___________________________

We reached the parking area. Prem went to bring my car. While Aariv and I stood there. He was looking around at the cars weirdly. "Ye kya vichitra vasto hai. Ye itne bade lohe ke dhibbe kis kaam ke hai?" He asked, looking puzzled, still staring at them as if they were Thanos with a pink glittering mermaid tail, shell bikini, and Sabrina Carpenter's blonde curls. And, yeah, a bold glossy green lipstick.

"Inhe car kehte hai." I answered, nodding towards them.

He turned towards me, confused. "Kal? Inke Kal kehte hai?" He tilted his head slightly as if trying to solve the biggest wonder of the world.

I almost hit my forehead towards the near pole. Almost. "Kal nhi, meri jaan. Car. CaR. R." I tried not to snap.

He frowned and raised an eyebrow. "Hum aapki jaan hai?" He asked, sounding amused. I froze. What? I was just being phatic, not like I meant it literally. But of course, who was I kidding?

"Oh, hello, jyada sochne ki jaroorat nhi hai. Woh toh bas muh se nikal gya aur tumko puri baat chit mein yahi cheez imp-zaroori lagi?" I clarified, unimpressed. What do they say again? Yeah, men will be men. Phir chahe woh men dimaag se paidal Raja hi kyu na ho.

He shook his head again, muttering something under his breath. Prem came with my car. And Aariv's eyes went towards the car again. It was like an infant seeing everything for the first time.

"Toh ye hai iss sadi ka vahan? Kitni pragati kar li hai sansaar ne bhavishya mein." He muttered to himself in astonishment. "Aap log isse chalate kehse hai? Na toh koi turang hai aur na hi koi sarthi." He asked, turning towards me, looking at me expectantly.

(Turang = horse)

Prem chuckled again. He was enjoying it. "Bro, ye petrol se chalti hai, ghode se nhi." He said casually, scoffing.

"Jara apne lehze par dhyan dijiye. Mitra nhi hai hum apke." Aariv said coldly, clearly unimpressed, glaring at Prem. Guess his tone was too casual. Prem frowned. That chuckle swiped off his face too quickly.

"Accha chalo ab baitho indar. Tumhare rajya jana hai na." I said, trying to diffuse the situation. Aariv frowned. "Hum iss vastu par jane wale hai?" He asked, looking around my car. If I didn't know any better, I'd say he was checking my car.

Iss aadmi ki gandi nazre hai meri car par.

"Do you have any better option? No, right. Toh andar baitho."

"Kaise?"

"Huh?"

He cleared his throat. "Iss par baithte kaise hai." Oh god. Konse jungle se bhaga hai ye, no strach that, konse pagal khane se bhaga hai ye. I inhaled to calm my nerves and went to open the back door from him. I opened my arms in the direction of the door to gesture for him to get in. He got in carefully, his body stiff on alert. Will this man even fit in my car?

I went ahead and sat on the driving's seat while Prem took the passenger seat. I started driving. From the side mirror, I could see Aariv looking out with those deep eyes of his. His cold, aloof eyes surprisingly were lit up. Those green, brown, onyx orbs were filled with amusement and curiosity.

"Nandini, where are we going? Don't tell me you're actually taking him back to his "era" or something." Prem’s voice brought my attention to him. He was looking at me with raised eyebrows.

"Is that even possible? Talk some sense, Prem." I said, clicking my tongue, focusing on my driving.

"Then where are you taking him?"

"You'll see."

__________________________

The car stopped outside a huge building. Prem's eyes widened, looking at it. His head snapped in my direction, giving me an exaggerated look.

"You're going to do this to him." He gave me a pointed look and stated more than he asked. His tone was neutral and umimpressed.

"You're making it sound as if I’m doing a crime. I haven't brought him here to sell his organs in black." I countered. Why was he sounding as he I was doing something wrong to Aariv? I brought him here to help him out.

"Is this any less than that?" He narrowed his eyes.

"Of course, it is. They'll help him recover here."

"This is a freaking MENTAL ASYLUM, Nandini Sanyal!" He said, his voice going louder. Louder than it should've. Aariv’s cold eyes turned to him, waiting for his next move. His body was alert.

"Exactly what a mentally ill patient needs." I deadpanned, staring him dead in the eyes. Where else did he expect me to bring this 6 feet something man? To our house?

I'm just helping him out as he helped me in the court. And this is the best place for that. They'll treat him here. There is a possible possibility that in the near future, he'll recover. Am I not doing him a favor bringing him here?

These people always paint me as the villain.

I gave Prem a scowl and got out of the car. I opened the door for Aariv and gestured for him to come out.

"Kuch hua hai kya?" Aariv asked, his eyes cold and emotionless, but their was a slight frown near his eyes.

"Tumhe aisa kyu lagta hai?" I asked, raising an eyebrow in amusement. He shook his head and gave me a half shrug.

"Aapke aur inke beech tanav maloom ho raha hai c-carl mein." He said, stuttering slight at the word 'car'. Would it be wrong to say I found this bulky, big man cute? There isn't anything cute about his whole existence, yet he is cute. Does that make sense? Iske saath ek din kya bitaya mai bhi pagal ho rahi hu.

Who is he really?

I shook my head, snapping out. He is just a mentally disabled person. He helped me, I'm helping him. To settle the score. "Koi tanav nhi hai, chalo. Wapis tumhare rajya jana hai na?" I felt like I was kidnapping a kid by tempting him with his favorite chocolate.

Aariv and I walked towards the entrance door. I stopped there. Prem refused to come, saying what's his role in here.

"Ye sthan hai jiske madhyam se hum apne rajya, apni sadi wapis ja sakte hai?" He asked, a tinge of hope in his voice. His eyes had a glint of relief.

"Haa." I nodded in agreement. He turned to look at me. "Andar jao, unhe sab batana, woh apne aap samajh jayenge kya prob—I mean kya samasya hai. Chalo bye. Chalti hu." I gave him a brief smile and turned to leave.

I had just walked a few steps when I felt a grip on my wrist. I looked down to see, a large hand gripping my wrist. His wheatish hand, a sharp contrast on my pale one.

I turned around to see him looking at me with a look, I can't quite describe. I raised an eyebrow.

"Aap bhi chaliye na andar." He said. His voice was still rough, still steady, still not giving away a hint of weakness. A complete contrast to his words.

"Kyu?" I asked, fully turning around to look at him. His grip on my wrist remained intact.

"Yadi unhone us vichitra, angrezo wali bhasa mein vartalap kiya toh?" He asked, looking at me intendly. For some reason, I found myself nodding. I suppose it would be better to explain his condition to them myself. He left my wrist. And we made our way inside.

The hallway was long, dimly lit, and echoing with the soft, irregular hum of fluorescent lights. The walls, once painted a calming pastel, were now faded and chipped, revealing patches of damp concrete underneath. A scent lingered in the air — a sterile mix of antiseptic, age-old dust, and something unplaceable, like forgotten memories.

"Ye konsa sthan hai. Sabne safed vastra kyu pehne hai? Ye vichitra si mehak, ye parivesh. Iss yug mein sab itna vichitra kyu hai?" There was a frown on his face, eyes wide, scanning the surroundings.

"Hume yaha kuch thik nhi lag raha." He stated. And turned towards me. "Aapko yakeen hai yahi woh sthan hai jisse hum wapis ja sakte hai?"

If you're asking if this is the whefe you'll be able to recover, then yes. I nodded wordlessly. He looked at me skeptically. It was written all over his face that he was doubting me. He didn’t fully trust me. He was fighting an inner debate whether he should trust me and do this or not.

I walked towards the counter. There was a middle-aged woman who greeted me. I told her everything about his situation. "He is mentally ill. He thinks he is some king from 17th century."

The lady blinked, looked at Aariv, then back at me. “He doesn’t look—”

“Crazy?” I cut in sweetly. “Most geniuses don’t.” I gestured towards his clothes and his regal attitude and aura. The lady gave me a form to fill. I filled in the details absentmindedly. My mind was elsewhere.

I turned to Aariv, who was now scanning the place like a tiger in a cage. His gaze landed on a man strapped to a bed in the next room, mumbling into the void.

His jaw clenched. “Nandini,” he said quietly. “Hume kuch thik nhi lagra.”

How did he know my name? I remember not telling him that. Come on, Nandini, he may be ill, but he's not dumb. He must've picked it up from my conversations with others.

I faked a soft smile. "Tumhe tumhare rajya wapis jane ka raasta thik nhi lag raha? Dekho, vibe pe mat jao, baato pe jao." I tried to pacify him. Honestly, I don't want to deal with this anymore. I am exhausted. I just want some good food and my soft bed.

Two male nurses came forward. Calm. Neutral. Wearing those soft-soled shoes that make no sound.

Aariv took one step back.

“Nandini.” His voice hardened now. “Ye humare Rajya jane ka marg nhi hai.” He gritted out. His jaw was clenched. His eyes turned wild. A raw, unfiltered rahe in them. The usually cold orbs were filled with fury.

“Please cooperate, sir,” one of the staff said, reaching for his arm. Aariv slapped his hand away—not hard, but enough to send the nurse stumbling slightly. How can a man be so strong?

The second nurse tried to circle him from the back. "Humare samip aane kya dussahas bhi mat kariyega." He said sharply, turning to glare at him.

"Hum iski agya nhi dete. Aur yadi kisine koshish ki toh hum uska sir uske dhar se alag karne mein piche nhi hatenge." His voice held the power. He knew what he was saying, and he meant every inch of it.

I blinked.

This wasn’t what I expected.

Aariv turned to me, betrayal beginning to flicker behind his eyes. “tumne jhooth kaha humse, dhokha diya hume.” he said, gritting his teeth. His voice laced with anger, disbelief, and hurt.

And for a second—for just a flicker of a breath—I almost felt it.

Guilt.

The raw, ancient kind. The one that flicks you behind the ribs like a whispered curse.

But I blinked, and it passed.

I did the right thing.

I didn't say a thing. I just stared back at him while he glared at me. His gaze boring holes in my skull. A nurse came caustiously and inflicted an injection in his neck.

He grunted and held his neck. His bloodshot eyes were screaming betrayal in uppercase at me. He fell on his knees, his eyes never leaving mine. It was the rage, the hurt that send chills down my spine.

But beneath all the rage, his gaze was wounded.

Without any other word, I turned around and made my way towards the door. It was a long day. I need my bed. This instant. I wish, I had the power to teleport.

I sighed as I made my way towards the door. I came out and went towards my car.

Prem gave me a look as if to ask if it went well, I nodded and sat on the driver's seat.

"What do you want to eat? I'm ordering." Prem asked, as I pulled the car on the highway. I shrugged. "I am fine with anything."

"Just make it spicy." I added.

__________________________

I let my body collapse into the mattress.

God, I hadn't realized how heavy the day had been until I stopped moving. Courtroom lies, tribal land wars, a delusional king in an ancient sherwani, and a fabricated historian dragged into a fabricated mess—everything had spiraled, fast.

But I’d won.

And that's all that matters.

I should’ve been smug. Triumphant.

Instead, my skull throbbed at the temples like someone had been beating drums in my head all evening.

Gods, don't I need this sleep.

I buried myself under the blanket, shutting my eyes, letting the silence of my apartment swallow me whole. Finally—peace. The kind I bought in blood, lies, and carefully signed discharge slips.

Sleep pulled me fast.

....

My ears irked at the disturbing sound. I groaned and buried my head more into the pillow, closing my ears. The sound came again.

Knock. Knock.

A sharp, precise rhythm. Once. Twice.

My eyes flew open in annoyance and frustration. I looked at the clock.

1:11 am.

What the hell!

Who is it this late at night? I groaned in frustration, making my way towards the door. I swear if it's for a stupid reason, I'll chop that disturbance into peaces and feed them to the street dogs and curse their whole entire bloodline to be born bald and spineless.

As I reached the door, I squinted at the peephole.

Empty.

What—

I unlatched the chain, unlocked the bolt, and opened the door just slightly. Just to check. I saw a silhouette standing there. It wasn't clear due to the darkness. I opened the door fully only to be pinned against the wall by a muscular body. I looked up, only to see him.

He pressed my body between the wall and himself, pinning my hands above my head. I gulped, staring at him.

His eyes were wild.

They burned—not with the heat of fury, but with a cold, calculated fire. There was no mercy in them, no hint of hesitation. My breath hitched.

There was rage.

Pure.

Unfiltered.

Unadulterated.

Now, that was cruel.

What do you think will happen now?

Are you excited to see Aariv's anger?

Please vote and comment to share your opinions and do follow me for any important updates.

Till next chapter...

Adios, mio mariposas🦋