EVIDENCE, EGOS, AND THE SHIRT
949 Words
The morning of Day 5 brought a strange gift for Aisha—a detailed file from her brother's secretary. She sat in her room, scanning the data.
"Soft-hearted? A child lover? Traditionalist?" Aisha muttered, her brow furrowing. "I've been parading in front of him in designer one-pieces, and the file says he likes... Saris? What kind of joke is this?"
She searched 'Traditional Values' on her phone. "He spends his time gaming, watching cricket, and values modesty. No wonder my 'femme fatale' act failed. He doesn't see a goddess; he sees a nuisance."
She called her manager. "How is the stream?"
"Ma'am, it's not just booming—it's a revolution! Every company in the Empire wants Arav's identity. They want to sign him, brand him, or study him. And they're asking when you will reveal your face."
"Soon," Aisha hissed. "But first, I'm going to use his 'Soft Heart' against him. If beauty won't break him, tragedy will."
NIGHT FIVE: THE TRAGEDY PLOT
Arav returned to the hotel, noticing the silence. For the first time, the lift was empty. No "Baital" (vampire) clinging to the walls.
"Finally," he sighed, entering Room 810. "Peace and quiet."
He prepared a plate of dry fruits and began to wind down. But just as he was about to put on his sleep mask, a thumping bass started vibrating through the wall. Music. Loud, jarring, and desperate.
"Is that girl out of her mind?" Arav groaned.
THE LIVE STREAM (LIVE VIEWERS: 1,500,000)
The camera in Aisha's room showed her spilling ketchup on her wrist and the floor, creating a gruesome "crime scene." She sat by the door, moaning loudly.
Chat: Wait! Did she actually do it? Is she bleeding?!
Chat: No, look at the bottle—it's ketchup. She's baiting him!
Girl_Fan: I hope he doesn't fall for it. Our King is too smart.
Arav walked into the hallway. He saw the red liquid seeping from under Aisha's door. He froze. Is she dead? Or is this another trap?
He pulled out his phone, turned on the camera, and spoke clearly: "To the hotel management and any legal authorities: It is 11:45 PM. I see what appears to be blood coming from Room 811. I am about to break this door to provide medical aid. I am recording this to prove I have no ill intentions and I am not responsible for any prior injuries. I am entering as a Good Samaritan."
Chat: LMAO! HE'S RECORDING EVIDENCE! HE DOESN'T TRUST HER AT ALL!
Arav tucked his phone away and delivered a powerful, calculated side-kick. CRACK! The heavy mahogany door splintered and flew off its hinges. Arav stepped inside.
He saw Aisha "unconscious" on the floor. He didn't scream. He didn't cry. He walked over, checked her pulse, and realized the "blood" smelled like tomatoes.
"Hey. Wake up," Arav said, shaking her shoulder. "The ketchup performance is over."
Aisha opened her eyes, feigning weakness. "I... I'm in so much pain... the world is so cold, Arav... no one understands the pressure of the entertainment industry... I just wanted it to end..."
Arav sat on the edge of the bed, looking at her with pity, but not the kind she wanted.
"You live in a five-star hotel. You have a job. You have your health," Arav said. "If you think this is 'pain,' you haven't seen the world. And look what you did—you got 'blood' all over my shirt when I picked you up."
He stood up and unbuttoned his shirt, revealing his ripped, white-toned physique and the legendary "butterfly" back muscles.
LIVE VIEWERS: 5,000,000 (SPIKE!)
Arav tossed the stained shirt at her. "Since you're so bored that you want to 'die,' here's a reason to live. Wash this. Scrub the ketchup out. Then, since you clearly have no hobbies, I want you to stitch the hem I ripped while breaking your door. Give it back to me in a week. If you're still alive by then, maybe I'll buy you a real drink—one without the drama."
Aisha sat up, clutching his shirt, stunned. "You... you're leaving me like this?"
"I'm going to sleep. I have a 9 AM meeting," Arav said, turning on her speaker to full volume. "Enjoy your music. I'm wearing noise-canceling headphones tonight."
THE NEXT MORNING (VACATION DAY)
Aisha waited outside Arav's door, holding a bottle of beer, looking disheveled. Arav opened the door, ready for a walk.
"Not at work today?" she asked, her voice raspy.
"It's the weekend," Arav replied. "How's the 'wound'?"
"Fine. But your shirt... I don't know how to wash this. Or stitch. I wasn't born to do 'housework'."
Arav looked at her, unimpressed. "So you're saying you're useless? You can't even clean a shirt or mend a thread, but you want to lecture me about 'pain'? In my country, even the richest person knows how to take care of their own soul. If you can't handle a needle, how will you handle life?"
He stepped past her, leaving her standing there with his dirty laundry.
LIVE CHAT:
Empire_Lady: He's right! She's so spoiled! Go Arav!
Tech_Bro: He's treating the CEO of a $10M company like a clumsy maid. Absolute legend.
Aisha looked at the shirt, then at Arav's retreating back. "A traditional man, huh? Fine. You want a housewife? I'll show you a housewife. But when I'm done with you, you'll be the one doing my laundry for the rest of your life!"
LIVE CHAT:
Empire_Lady: He's right! She's so spoiled! Go Arav!
Tech_Bro: He's treating the CEO of a $10M company like a clumsy maid. Absolute legend.
Aisha looked at the shirt, then at Arav's retreating back. "A traditional man, huh?
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