Redemption of Royals (Royal #1: Book 3) | ✔

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-• who would you rather be? •-

People having something to hide are of two kind.

Those, who have done something morally wrong.

And those, who had something morally wrong happened to them.

Who would you rather be?

"His vitals look fine." I tear my eyes off the unconscious body and focus on the man in front of me. "I'm not sure why he isn't responding. But coma patients are usually like these. You never know when they wake up. It might be today, tomorrow, it may also takes weeks, months, years-"

"It's already been years." I cut him off. "Three years, to be precise." My eyes lock with his amber ones.

He sighs. "Or never."

"So there's hope, but I can't have it?"

"Something like that." He nods.

I stuff my hands in the pockets of my jacket and look down at the young boy. I've stolen three years of his life. He's innocent. He always was. Would he ever forgive me for doing this to him? I won't if I was in his place. So I hope he doesn't either. I don't want to feel more shitty about myself.

"Do we really look alike?" I ask softly.

The amber swirls shift to the sleeping reflection of mine. He gazes at the face for three long seconds and then looks back at me, nodding softly. "You do. He just lacks a bit of muscles, that's all."

"Virendra used to beat me up because he said looking at me reminded him of his half brother. I grew up hating my own face, only to realise I actually took most of my features from my mother." I smile, shallow, empty. "Isn't it funny?" My smile grows as I stare into his eyes. "When you hate someone, all you need to do is find a reason to justify it. No matter how insignificant it is. Maybe it is to make yourself feel more like a human. Only monsters kill without remorse. And nobody wants to see themselves as one. Nobody wants to be afraid of themselves."

"Do- Do the scars hurt anymore?" He asks, hesitance shining through his tone.

"No," I shake my head. "They sometimes burn. Like someone poured acid on them. It's usually when I wake up in the middle of the night after a nightmare. But all I have to do is stand under a cold shower and the scars stop burning."

He steps closer and places a hand on my shoulder, a certain kind of warmth emitting his bright amber eyes. The kind you feel when you're sitting with your family around a bonfire. "You're only 21, Shourya. You still have so much to look forward to. Is revenge your only goal in life? Is past all you think about?"

I move my shoulder away, causing his hand to drop. "Would you say the same if your mother was alive?"

He stiffens.

"See," I smile condescendingly. "It's been nineteen years since she died. But you still freeze at the mention of her. I live with the man who destroyed my family. I'm yet to find the man who sexually assaulted me when I was sedated. I used to think my father was dead. But after talking to Mr. Chauhan, I'm not sure anymore. So, yes, Mr. Vivaan Singh Chauhan, revenge is all I live for. That's what keeps me alive."

"And what will you do after you've achieved your revenge?" He asks me.

I shrug. "Buy a beautiful, cosy house in the outskirts? Read a newspaper in the morning? Have a cup of tea with my wife in peace before our kids wake up? Drive them to school? Go to work with a briefcase and come back to them before the night falls? Kiss my wife goodnight? Sleep without nightmares?"