His Favorite Verdict

The Wrong Coincidence

For a long moment neither of them spoke.

The silence inside the conference room felt different now. It wasn't the tense silence of two strangers sizing each other up, nor was it the awkward silence that usually followed an emotional outburst. It was simply the silence of two exhausted people trying to gather their thoughts after a day that had gone completely off script.

Swasti leaned back in her chair and stared at the city beyond the glass walls. From this height, everything looked peaceful. Cars moved like tiny streams of light. Buildings stood tall and perfect against the darkness. People hurried home to their families, their dinners, their ordinary lives.

It was strange.

The world always looked calmer from a distance.

Reality never was.

She finally reached for the glass of water Aarav had placed in front of her earlier and took a slow sip. The coolness helped, but not enough. Her pulse had returned to normal, yet her chest still felt heavy.

Embarrassment was a difficult thing to explain.

Especially to someone who had spent years building a reputation around being unshakable.

Criminals didn't intimidate her.

Politicians didn't intimidate her.

Courtrooms filled with hostile judges and aggressive opposing counsel didn't intimidate her.

Yet one look from Rajveer Chaudhary and she had almost forgotten how to breathe.

The thought made her stomach twist.

"You don't have to look so miserable."

Aarav's voice pulled her from her thoughts.

Swasti glanced at him immediately.

"That's rich coming from you."

One corner of his mouth lifted slightly.

"Fair."

She narrowed her eyes.

"Do you ever smile properly?"

"Occasionally."

"I don't believe you."

"Most people don't."

The answer was so dry that it caught her off guard.

A reluctant laugh escaped before she could stop it.

Aarav noticed.

Of course he did.

The man noticed everything.

Which brought her back to a realization she had been trying very hard to ignore.

He had witnessed one of the worst moments of her life.

The thought instantly soured her mood again.

"You can stop being concerned."

Aarav looked up from the file he had been reviewing.

"I wasn't aware I was."

"You were."

"No."

"You literally stood between me and my father."

His expression remained infuriatingly calm.

"That wasn't concern."

Swasti folded her arms.

"Then what was it?"

Aarav considered the question for several seconds before answering.

"He was making you uncomfortable."

The simplicity of the statement almost annoyed her.

"That's your explanation?"

"It's the truth."

"No dramatic speech?"

"No."

"No threats?"

"No."

"No heroic intentions?"

The faintest trace of amusement appeared in his eyes.

"I think you've watched too many movies."

Despite herself, she smiled.

Only for a second.

Only because the alternative was admitting that his answer had affected her more than it should have.

Most men would've used the situation to make themselves look important.

Aarav had reduced it to a simple fact.

He saw someone in distress.

He stepped in.

Nothing more.

Nothing less.

And somehow that made it harder to dismiss.

The room fell quiet again.

This time the silence lasted longer.

Neither seemed particularly eager to break it.

Eventually Aarav closed the file in front of him and looked directly at her.

"Can I ask you something?"

Swasti immediately became suspicious.

"That depends."

"On?"

"The question."

For the first time that evening, Aarav actually smiled.

Small.

Brief.

But unmistakably genuine.

Then it disappeared.

"Has he always had that effect on you?"

The question settled heavily between them.

Swasti didn't answer immediately.

Her gaze drifted back toward the city lights outside.

A dozen responses formed in her mind.

Most of them defensive.

Some angry.

A few dishonest.

None felt right.

Several long seconds passed before she finally spoke.

"When I was younger, I used to think fear was weakness."

Her voice was quiet now.

Not fragile.

Not broken.

Simply honest.

"I thought if I worked hard enough, became successful enough, strong enough, eventually it would disappear."

Aarav remained silent.

Listening.

"Then I grew up and realized fear doesn't work that way."

A bitter smile touched her lips.

"You can become stronger and still remember exactly what someone is capable of."

The room grew very still.

Because that wasn't really an answer.

It was something much worse.

The truth.

And for the first time since meeting Swasti Chaudhary, Aarav understood that whatever existed between her and Rajveer wasn't a family disagreement.

It was damage.

Years of it.

The kind that didn't fade simply because time passed.

For several moments neither spoke.

Then, unexpectedly, Aarav changed the subject.

Not because he wasn't curious.

But because he recognized a boundary when he saw one.

And strangely enough, Swasti noticed that too.

Which might have been the most surprising thing of all.

The conversation ended there, but the silence that followed felt different from the ones they had shared before. It was no longer uncomfortable. Nor was it entirely peaceful. It was simply the silence of two people who had accidentally learned something important about each other and weren't quite sure what to do with that knowledge.

Swasti hated how aware she had become of Aarav's presence.

Not because he was intimidating.

Not because he was powerful.

But because he listened.

That should not have been unusual.

Yet somehow it was.

Most people listened only long enough to formulate their next question. Others listened because they wanted information. Aarav listened as though he was collecting pieces of a puzzle he had no intention of solving until he possessed every single fragment.

It was unnerving.

And worse, she respected it.

The realization irritated her enough that she immediately returned her attention to the case file lying open on the conference table.

"If you're done psychoanalyzing me," she said, flipping through several pages, "I'd like to return to the reason we're actually here."

Aarav glanced up.

"I wasn't aware I was psychoanalyzing you."

"You were."

"And yet you haven't billed me for it."

The deadpan response caught her off guard.

For a second she simply stared at him.

Then she shook her head.

"That was a joke."

"I've been told I occasionally make those."

"By who?"

"My sister."

Swasti immediately nodded.

"That sounds accurate."

Something suspiciously close to amusement crossed Aarav's face before disappearing.

The moment was brief, but it was enough to remind her that despite the reputation, despite the headlines, despite the endless stories surrounding his name, Aarav Malhotra was still a person.

A dangerous person, perhaps.

But a person nonetheless.

The thought vanished as soon as she reached the donation records.

Her eyes narrowed.

Then narrowed further.

Aarav noticed immediately.

"What is it?"

Swasti didn't answer.

Instead, she turned the file around and pushed it toward him.

"Look at the names."

Aarav's gaze moved across the page.

At first, nothing seemed unusual.

Corporate donations.

Political contributions.

Charitable foundations.

The kind of financial paperwork that usually bored everyone except accountants and criminal lawyers.

Then he saw it.

And his expression changed.

Only slightly.

But enough.

"Interesting."

"That's one word for it."

Swasti tapped the document.

"Rajveer Chaudhary."

Then another name.

"Vikrant Mehta."

Karan Mehta's father.

The room became very quiet.

Again.

Not because either of them lacked something to say.

Because both immediately understood what this could mean.

The same political fundraiser.

The same foundation.

The same board meetings.

The same social circles.

Year after year after year.

Not evidence.

Not yet.

But certainly not coincidence.

Aarav leaned back in his chair.

His mind already moving through possibilities.

"Do you think Rajveer is involved?"

Swasti looked down at the file.

Then out toward the city.

Then back at him.

The lawyer inside her hated assumptions.

Hated theories unsupported by facts.

But experience had taught her something else.

Coincidences had limits.

And powerful people often traveled in packs.

"I think," she said carefully, "that if my father is connected to this case, I want proof before I make accusations."

The answer earned a nod from Aarav.

Because it was exactly what he expected from her.

Emotion never overruled evidence.

Not even now.

Not when her father was involved.

Not when every instinct in her body was probably screaming at her to believe the worst.

That level of discipline impressed him more than he cared to admit.

A sudden vibration broke the silence.

Swasti glanced at her phone.

The moment she saw the screen, her expression softened.

Aarav noticed.

He noticed everything.

"Agastya?"

She looked mildly surprised.

"How did you know?"

"You looked happy."

The answer arrived so casually that it took her a second to process it.

Then she rolled her eyes.

"That's creepy."

"It was an educated guess."

"It's still creepy."

But she answered the call.

"Hello?"

Her brother's voice exploded through the speaker immediately.

"You're alive."

Swasti sighed.

"Good evening to you too."

"You had a panic attack."

Her eyes widened.

Instantly.

Across the table, Aarav suddenly became very interested in the documents in front of him.

Not because he wasn't listening.

Because pretending not to listen felt more polite.

"How do you know that?" Swasti demanded.

Agastya sounded offended.

"Because Anika Malhotra apparently treats family information like a breaking news channel."

Aarav closed his eyes.

Slowly.

Very slowly.

Swasti almost laughed.

Almost.

"That girl has known me for approximately six minutes."

"Apparently that's enough."

"Wonderful."

"Are you okay?"

The question arrived quietly this time.

Without teasing.

Without humor.

Just concern.

The kind only an older brother could deliver.

For a moment, Swasti didn't answer.

Because the truth was complicated.

She wasn't okay.

But she wasn't falling apart either.

She was somewhere in between.

Trying.

Surviving.

Managing.

The way she always had.

"I'm fine."

Agastya snorted.

"That means you're absolutely not fine."

"You're annoying."

"You love me."

"Unfortunately."

His laughter echoed through the phone.

And for the first time that day, something inside her loosened.

Just a little.

Because no matter how chaotic life became, Agastya somehow remained constant.

Steady.

Safe.

Family in the way family was supposed to be.

When the call ended several minutes later, the room felt lighter.

Only slightly.

But enough.

Enough for Swasti to return her attention to the investigation.

Enough for Aarav to realize something else.

Every time she spoke about her brother, the fear disappeared from her eyes.

And for reasons he couldn't explain, that mattered to him.

Far more than it should have.

Neither of them noticed the storm building outside.

Neither of them noticed the rain beginning to strike against the glass windows.

And neither of them knew that before the night ended, a package would arrive at Swasti's apartment.

A package containing photographs.

Medical reports.

Evidence buried for years.

Evidence connected to her mother.

Evidence someone had gone to great lengths to hide.

And once Swasti opened that envelope, nothing in either of their lives would remain the same.