Aarav's brain had blue-screened. For a solid five seconds, there was nothing—no thoughts, no processing, just a faint internal error noise like a dying Windows XP. But now, slowly, brutally, reality was setting back in.
Room child.
His room child.
This—this disrespectful, rebellious, infuriating, absolutely insufferable menace of a human being—
Was his room child.
Nikhil watched Aarav's internal meltdown with barely concealed fascination. It was all there, playing out in high definition across that very expressive face—horror, denial, disbelief, and then, oh, the rage. The kind of rage that had nowhere to go. The kind that had to sit politely inside because of hierarchy, rules, society, and the tragic fact that murder was, unfortunately, still illegal.
And Nikhil knew, with full, beautiful certainty—
This just got so much sweeter.
He stepped closer.
Not casually. Not accidentally.
Deliberately.
The distance between them shrank until it was almost nonexistent. Aarav, who had just about managed to reboot his brain, promptly short-circuited again.
Up close, Nikhil noticed things he hadn't before.
This was the first time he was seeing Aarav out of uniform.
No stiff apron, no formal shirt trying to impose discipline on his entire existence.
Just…soft.
A loose t-shirt, slightly creased like it had been pulled on in a hurry. The fabric clung just enough to hint at a lean frame, but mostly it just made him look…comfortable. Paired with knee-length shorts, casual, almost domestic. Like someone who belonged in a quiet room with a latte and not…this. Not standing here, being psychologically assaulted by a six-foot-two problem.
His hair was a mess. Not styled—never styled—but slightly more chaotic than usual, like he'd run his hands through it one too many times. There were faint shadows under his eyes, the kind that screamed three hours of sleep and bad decisions.
And yet—
Pretty.
Annoyingly, unfairly pretty.
The kind of pretty that looked even better when it was scowling.
Nikhil's grin deepened.
Yeah. This was definitely worth all the effort.
He leaned down suddenly, closing the last bit of space. Aarav froze. Completely.
Nikhil's mouth hovered near his ear, his breath just barely ghosting over his skin. His voice dropped. It was low, intimate in a way that felt illegal.
"—So," he murmured.
Aarav's entire body went rigid.
"—if you're my 'room boss'… and I'm your room child…"
He paused.
Because of course he did.
He let it sink in. Let the logic build. Let Aarav's brain, already struggling, try to follow the trail it absolutely did not want to follow.
And then—
With the kind of shameless, gremlin-level audacity that should be studied in psychology textbooks—
He delivered it.
"—does that make you my… daddy?"
Silence.
Complete.
Utter.
Catastrophic silence.
Karan made a sound somewhere between a choke and a dying engine refusing to start.
Anuj let out a small, broken whimper, like a man who had just watched his entire future flash before his eyes and none of it was good.
And Aarav—
Nikhil watched, utterly delighted, as the light didn't just leave Aarav's eyes.
It packed its bags.
Ended its lease.
Transferred cities.
Got a new Aadhaar card.
Because those dark brown irises?
Empty.
A void.
A very pretty, well-dressed, emotionally destroyed void.
Nikhil leaned back, completely satisfied, a slow, triumphant smile spreading across his face. He took a second—just a second—to properly look at Aarav again.
Up close.
Flushed from anger. Eyes slightly glass with- not tears, not really, but something close enough to frustration. Lips parted just slightly, like his brain hadn't yet sent the signal to close them.
Yeah.
Yeah, Nikhil was absolutely a goner.
Not that he'd admit that to himself. Obviously.
This was science. Observation. Purely academic interest.
Totally.
This just got so, so much more fun.
Aarav didn't remember how he left.
Genuinely.
One second he was standing there, soul exiting his body in real time—
And the next, he was walking away.
Fast.
Not running. He had dignity.
But fast.
Very fast.
Like if he didn't leave immediately, he might actually commit a crime that would get him debarred, jailed, and featured in a very unfortunate news headline.
Behind him, Nikhil leaned back against the doorway, watching him go.
That retreating figure.
That tense back.
That very, very fast walk that was definitely not running.
A smirk curled at his lips.
He glanced at Karan—just briefly—eyes glinting with something that was part challenge, part "yes, I did that, now what?"
Karan just stared at him.
Processing.
Re-evaluating life choices.
Reconsidering everything he thought he knew about the world.
And then slowly—
Very slowly—
He exhaled.
"…You're insane," he said, almost reverently.
Nikhil grinned.
Then, inevitably, his gaze drifted back.
To that retreating back.
Gone now, around the corner.
And for the first time—
For the first time since this whole thing started—
There was something in his chest that wasn't just amusement.
Not just victory.
Something quieter.
Something sharper.
Something that made his grin soften, just a fraction.
"Yeah," he muttered under his breath, pushing off the doorway.
"I know."