Chapter 19- Past of the century

As Rohan's eyes fluttered open, the soft morning light filtering through the curtains gently illuminated the room. Confusion washed over him as he realized he wasn't alone in bed. His heart quickened as he turned his head, and there, nestled beside him, was Avyaan.

Memories of the previous night flooded back and the heady rush of alcohol. But amidst the haze, there were moments of unexpected intimacy, moments that blurred the lines between friendship and something more.

As Rohan shifted slightly, he became acutely aware of a lingering sensation—a physical connection that stirred a mix of emotions within him. Avyaan's flesh, still intertwined with his own, served as a silent reminder of the night's events and the unspoken desires that had brought them together.

 He reached down, his fingers tracing the outline of Avyaan's open flesh nestled inside him. With a slow, deliberate movement, he extracted it, his breath hitching as he held it in his hand, the weight of the moment settling heavily upon him.

Rohan's hand trembled as he extracted it , and his breath hitched when he felt the sticky, white liquid accompanying it. 

Carefully setting the thing aside, Rohan wiped his hand clean, his thoughts a jumble of confusion and unease. Taking a deep breath to steady himself, Rohan turned his attention to Avyaan, who still slept peacefully beside him.

Rohan's movements were swift yet deliberate as he covered Avyaan with the bedsheet. With a sense of urgency gnawing at him, he hurried towards the bathroom, his steps echoing in the stillness of the morning.

As he reached the washroom, Rohan wasted no time in turning on the faucet, the sound of running water a soothing backdrop to his racing thoughts. With a sense of unease settling in the pit of his stomach, he quickly stepped into the shower, the hot water cascading over him like a cleansing embrace. 

With each drop that washed away the sticky residue, Rohan felt a semblance of clarity returning to him. But amidst the physical cleansing, his mind was still consumed by questions, by uncertainties about what had transpired between him and Avyaan.

With the steam from the hot shower still lingering around him, Rohan emerged from the bathroom feeling refreshed yet still unsettled by the events of the morning.

Rohan moved with purpose as he gathered the ingredients for a hearty breakfast, opting for warm, nourishing porridge to soothe both their bodies and minds. As he stirred the pot on the stove, the rhythmic clink of the spoon against the pot provided a momentary distraction from his thoughts.

Once the porridge was ready, Rohan poured it into a bowl, careful not to let it spill over the sides. With a deep breath, he carried the bowl back to the bedroom, where Avyaan still lay tucked beneath the covers.

Avyaan blinked his eyes open slowly, a faint furrow forming on his brow as he registered Rohan's presence. Avyaan's heart raced as he shot up from his seat, his eyes wide with disbelief and anger. "Rohan, what are you doing in my room?" His voice shook with a mixture of surprise and fury.

"Rohan," he began, his voice sharp and unwavering, "I need to remind you that you're my secretary only in the office, not here in my house." Each word was emphasized, underscoring the breach of boundaries that had just occurred. "You can't just waltz into my room without permission. That's not how this works." Avyaan's tone brooked no argument as he gestured towards the door. "I need you to leave immediately." His command hung in the air, leaving no room for negotiation.

Wait, Avyaan, you've got it all wrong," he interjected, his tone tinged with urgency. "This is my house, not yours." His words came out in a rush as he gestured around the room, trying to convey the truth of the situation.

Avyaan's eyes scanning the surroundings with a growing sense of unease. The furniture, the decor, even the subtle scent in the air—all of it was unmistakably different from his own home. Slowly, the realization dawned on him: Rohan was right. This wasn't his house.

"but how the heck did I end up here in the first place? Last thing I remember is knocking back a few drinks with the office crowd."

Rohan's expression turned bemused as he recounted the events of the previous night. "You were beyond hammered," he chuckled, shaking his head in disbelief. "I found you in the bathroom, trying to relieve yourself on the floor instead of in the toilet."

"You were like a lost puppy, you kept following me around everywhere I went, clinging to me like your lifeline. nobody knew where you lived, and I couldn't just leave you on the street in that state so as not to embarrass my company. So, I decided to bring you back to my place.

With a heavy silence enveloping him, Avyaan gathered his composure and rose from the bed, his movements slow and deliberate. He avoided making eye contact with Rohan, feeling of embarrassment swirling within him.

Avyaan froze mid-step, a sudden realization washing over him like a cold wave. He glanced down, his cheeks flushing crimson as he realized the full extent of his predicament. To his horror, he found himself standing completely naked, with no barrier between him and Rohan's amused gaze.

A mortified gasp escaped Avyaan's lips as he instinctively crossed his arms over his chest, desperately trying to preserve whatever remained of his dignity. "Oh my god," he muttered, his voice barely above a whisper as he felt his face grow hotter with embarrassment.

Avyaan's embarrassment gave way to frustration as he sought an explanation for his nakedness. "Rohan," he started, his tone sharper than intended, "do you have any idea why I was naked? I can't believe I'd do something like that."

Rohan's brows furrowed slightly, registering Avyaan's sharp tone. Yet, he responded calmly, "Avyaan, you were in no state to be in your clothes. You reeked of alcohol, and I didn't want my bed to smell like a bar the next morning."

Rohan's expression softened, sensing Avyaan's discomfort. "Look, Avyaan, I didn't mean to embarrass you. I was just trying to help," he said, his voice gentle and understanding.

 "I see you're without clothes at the moment. You can borrow some of mine for now, and later, once I've cleaned your dirty clothes, will send it to you."

Avyaan, Rohan's boss, accepted the clothes with a nod, his professionalism momentarily giving way to a genuine sense of relief. Sensing Avyaan's need for privacy, Rohan quickly caught on. With that, Rohan exited the room, leaving Avyaan to change. Avyaan emerged from the room, now dressed in the borrowed clothes.

Avyaan hesitated near the main door, his mind already occupied, when Rohan's voice interrupted his train of thought.

"Hey, Boss," Rohan called out, a note of warmth in his tone, "before you head out, why don't you have breakfast? It's the most important meal of the day, after all."

Avyaan approached Rohan with a sense of urgency, his expression serious as he leaned in closer.

"Rohan," Avyaan commanded in a low voice, "you must promise me something. Do not breathe a word of this to anyone. No one should know that I spent the night at your house or else you and your whole team will be discarded from the company."

Rohan watched silently as Avyaan swiftly made his way towards the door, his earlier command echoing in Rohan's mind. As Avyaan reached for the door handle, Rohan couldn't shake off the sadness that had settled within him. Left alone in the quiet of his house, Rohan couldn't shake off the melancholy that had enveloped him. 

With breakfast finished Rohan set about clearing the table. He methodically gathered the used dishes and utensils, his movements slow and deliberate. As he washed the dishes, the warm water soothing his hands, Rohan couldn't shake off the sense of melancholy that lingered from Avyaan's abrupt departure. The silence of his empty house seemed to amplify his thoughts, leaving him feeling introspective.

Rohan glanced at the clock as the chime of the doorbell echoed through his house. It was already afternoon, the day slipping away faster than he realized. Setting aside his thoughts, he made his way to the door and opened it, revealing his office buddy, Ankit, standing on the other side.

"Hey, Ankit! What brings you here?" Rohan greeted with a surprised smile, glad for the interruption to his solitude. Rohan chuckled, stepping aside to let Ankit in. "Come on in! I was just thinking about how to spend the rest of my day."

Rohan grinned as he remembered the warm pot of porridge simmering on the stove. "I actually made some porridge earlier. How about I dish some up for us?"

Ankit's eyes lit up with anticipation. "Sounds great, Rohan! I could definitely go for some." As Ankit was savoring the delicious porridge, his phone suddenly rang, interrupting the peaceful atmosphere of their meal. With a slightly apologetic look, he glanced at Rohan before reaching for his phone.

Ankit picked up the call, rays of light burst forth from the phone's screen the image of the caller appeared on the screen. 

" Yes, Mom?" exclaimed Ankit, " I had told you that I will be visiting Rohan's house and not to disturb me." 

"Hello, Mom!" Rohan greeted with a friendly wave.

Ankit's mother returned the greeting with a smile. "Hello, Rohan! It's lovely to see you."

Ankit turned his attention back to his mother, a hint of concern in his voice. "Is everything alright, Mom? Did something happen?"

Ankit's mother's expression turned more serious as she spoke. "Ankit, I need you to come back home as soon as possible. There's something important that needs to be taken care of."

Ankit's brow furrowed with concern at the urgency in his mother's voice. "Is everything okay, Mom? What's going on?"

His mother hesitated for a moment before replying, her tone measured. "It's nothing to worry about, dear, but there are some family matters that require your attention. I'll explain more when you get here."

Ankit nodded, trusting his mother's judgment. "Alright, Mom. I'll leave right away."

s Ankit ended the call, a sense of responsibility settled over him. He quickly turned to Rohan, a sense of urgency in his voice. "Rohan, I need to head back home. There's something important I need to take care of."

Rohan nodded understandingly, concern etched on his face. "Of course, Ankit. Don't worry about anything here. Take care of what you need to, and let me know if you need anything."

With a quick farewell, Ankit hurriedly gathered his things and prepared to leave. As he stepped out the door, Rohan watched him go, hoping that everything would be alright for his friend and his family.

Feeling the weight of solitude once more after Ankit's departure, Rohan found himself drawn to the comforting familiarity of his mother's room. With a mixture of nostalgia and longing, he gently pushed open the door and stepped inside.

The room was filled with memories of his childhood—photographs adorning the walls, the scent of his mother's favorite perfume lingering in the air. As Rohan gazed around the room, a sense of warmth enveloped him, as though his mother's presence still lingered within these walls.

He walked over to her dressing table, his fingers trailing lightly over the various trinkets and keepsakes that adorned its surface. Each item held a story, a fragment of his mother's life that now felt like a precious treasure to him.

Taking a seat on the edge of the bed, Rohan allowed himself to simply be in the moment, surrounded by the tangible reminders of his mother's love and presence. Despite the ache of loneliness that still lingered within him, being in this room brought him a sense of solace and comfort that he desperately needed.

Rohan's gaze drifted across the room, and he noticed a door nestled in the corner, partially obscured by a delicate lace curtain. It was a door he hadn't paid much attention to before, its presence almost forgotten amidst the familiarity of his surroundings. Intrigued by the sight, Rohan's curiosity was piqued. He rose from his seat on the bed and made his way over to the door, his steps hesitant yet filled with anticipation. With a gentle push, he opened the door, revealing a small closet hidden away in the corner of the room.

Inside, the closet was filled with boxes and old belongings, each one holding memories of a time long past. As Rohan sifted through the items, he unearthed forgotten treasures—a childhood toy, a stack of old letters tied with ribbon, a worn-out photo album filled with yellowed photographs.

Rohan carefully lifted the book from the depths of the old boxes. Its cover was weathered and faded, hinting at the passage of time and the countless hands that had once held it. As he flipped through the pages, Rohan discovered that it was a book titled "The Fall and Rise of the Celestial Realm."

Curiosity piqued, Rohan settled back onto the bed, the book cradled in his hands. He began to read, the words transporting him to a world of magic and wonder, where gods and mythical beings roamed the skies and ruled over the celestial realm.

The pages were filled with tales of epic battles, forbidden love, and the eternal struggle between light and darkness. Rohan found himself captivated by the vivid descriptions and rich imagery, losing himself in the enchanting narrative woven within the pages of the book.

Intrigued by the chapter titled "Forbidden Love," Rohan turned to the page with eager anticipation. As he began to read, he found himself drawn into a tale of star-crossed romance, set against the backdrop of the celestial realm.

The story unfolded with the introduction of two protagonists—a celestial being of ethereal beauty and a mortal man, each drawn to the other by an irresistible pull of fate. Despite their vastly different worlds and origins, their hearts beat as one, bound by a love that knew no bounds.

As Rohan continued reading, he found himself on the edge of his seat, captivated by the unfolding drama of the celestial being's plight.

In a climactic moment atop a towering mountain peak, the celestial being bravely wielded the Sword of Light and was was critically injured. With every ounce of strength they possessed, the celestial being managed to utter a desperate plea for help, their voice echoing across the mountain peaks. In response, a radiant beam of light descended from the heavens, enveloping them in its embrace and whisking them away to the safety of the celestial realm.

As Rohan read on, he could feel the tension mounting, his heart pounding with concern for the injured celestial being.

As the celestial being was whisked away to the safety of the celestial realm for healing, the mortal man was left behind on the mountain peak, his heart heavy with uncertainty and longing. Despite the pain of their separation, he clung to the hope that the celestial being would one day return for him.

Days turned into weeks, and weeks into months, yet still, the mortal waited, his faith unshakeable. He watched as the seasons changed, the landscape transforming around him, but his determination to wait for the celestial being remained steadfast.

the years passed and the mortal man's resolve remained unyielding, he began to devise a plan to reunite with the celestial being he loved. With each passing day, his determination grew stronger, fueled by the memory of their love and the promise of a future together.

In his solitude, the mortal man had pondered the mysteries of the celestial realm and the power of the Sword of Light. He knew that if he could harness its magic, he might be able to traverse the boundaries between worlds and reach the celestial realm where his beloved resided.

Rohan continued reading, he discovered a pivotal moment in the story—the defeat of the ferocious beast Markati by an unknown man wielding the power of the Sword of Light.

Guided by the radiant glow of the sword and fueled by the memory of their love, he pressed forward, his heart beating with anticipation.

As he ventured deeper into the unknown, the mortal boy felt the fabric of reality begin to shift around him, the boundaries between worlds growing thinner with each step. The air crackled with energy, and the celestial realm beckoned to him like a distant star shining in the night sky. With each passing moment, the mortal boy drew closer to his destination, his determination unwavering despite the challenges that lay ahead. He navigated through ethereal landscapes and traversed shimmering portals, his spirit buoyed by the promise of reunion with his beloved.

As the mortal boy entered the celestial realm, he knew that his journey was far from over. With the Sword of Light in hand and the knowledge of powerful spells he had learned over the years, he understood the importance of discretion and concealment.

Drawing upon the arcane arts he had mastered during his time away, the mortal boy cast a veil of illusion around himself, hiding his true identity from the inhabitants of the celestial realm. With each incantation, he wove intricate spells that masked his mortal form, allowing him to move through the realm undetected.

As the mortal boy entered the celestial realm, he knew that his journey was far from over. With the Sword of Light in hand and the knowledge of powerful spells he had learned over the years, he understood the importance of discretion and concealment.

Drawing upon the arcane arts he had mastered during his time away, the mortal boy cast a veil of illusion around himself, hiding his true identity from the inhabitants of the celestial realm. With each incantation, he wove intricate spells that masked his mortal form, allowing him to move through the realm undetected.

But his precautions didn't end there. Aware of the significance of the Sword of Light and the attention it could draw, he utilized his newfound magical abilities to conceal the sword from prying eyes. With a whispered invocation, he invoked powerful wards and enchantments, cloaking the sword in an aura of secrecy that rendered it invisible to all but himself.

With his true identity hidden and the Sword of Light safely concealed, the mortal boy ventured forth into the celestial realm, his steps guided by the flickering light of the stars above. Though the journey ahead was fraught with uncertainty, he was determined to reunite with his beloved and forge a new destiny together.

he mortal boy ventured deeper into the celestial realm, his steps guided by the gentle glow of the stars above, he found himself standing before the grand Heavenly Court—a place of ethereal beauty and divine judgment.

With trepidation in his heart, the mortal boy stepped forward, his eyes taking in the majestic surroundings of the celestial hall. Columns of shimmering light stretched towards the heavens, while celestial beings of radiant beauty moved gracefully among the gathered assembly.

But as he entered the court, the atmosphere shifted, and whispers of accusation filled the air. Eyes turned towards the mortal boy, their gazes filled with suspicion and distrust.

Despite his earnest protestations of innocence, the mortal boy's words seemed to fall on deaf ears as the accusations against him grew stronger. He pleaded with the Heavenly Court, offering every clarification he could muster, but his efforts seemed futile against the weight of suspicion that hung in the air.

As the trial unfolded, it became clear that the odds were stacked against him. Whispers of conspiracy and mischief echoed through the celestial hall, casting doubt upon his every word. And amidst the chaos, two heavenly princes emerged as the instigators of the accusations—the mischievous orchestrators of his downfall.

With a heavy heart, the Heavenly King Nakh, a figure of divine authority, delivered his judgment, finding the mortal boy guilty of the crime of theft. Despite the mortal boy's protests and pleas for mercy, the verdict was final, and the consequences dire.

As the mortal boy's beloved stood beside the Heavenly King Nakh, a solemn silence fell over the celestial court. The mortal boy's heart sank as he realized the truth—the one he loved did not recognize him.

In that moment, a sense of despair washed over him, the weight of his unrequited love pressing down upon his shoulders like a burden too heavy to bear. He had longed for this moment, dreamed of reuniting with his beloved in the celestial realm, only to be met with indifference and silence. With a decree from the Heavenly King Nakh, the mortal boy was condemned to the dungeons of the Thousand Lightings, With heavy chains binding his wrists and shackles weighing down his ankles, the mortal boy was led away from the celestial court by a contingent of celestial guards, their expressions impassive as they escorted him to his grim fate.

Tears welled up in Rohan's eyes, tracing silent paths down his cheeks as he read the story before him. Rohan flipped through the remaining pages of the book, only to discover that several were missing. A sense of frustration welled up within him as he realized that the conclusion he had been seeking might forever remain out of reach.

Rohan turned his attention to the old boxes scattered around the room, his heart pounding with anticipation. He sifted through the dusty contents, his hands moving with purpose as he searched for any trace of the missing pages or the elusive book.

With a sigh of disappointment, Rohan closed the old boxes, resigning himself to the fact that the missing pages were not to be found among their contents. Determined not to give up, he turned his attention to the old cupboard standing in the corner of the room—a relic from a bygone era, its doors creaking with age as he approached.

Undeterred by the chaos before him, Rohan plunged into the task at hand, methodically sifting through the myriad objects that lay within the depths of the cupboard. His hands moved with practiced efficiency, searching for any sign of the missing pages that had eluded him thus far. Despite his earnest efforts and tireless search, the missing pages remained elusive, leaving him feeling defeated and disheartened.

With a sense of determination, Rohan picked up the book once more, his fingers tracing the weathered spine as he examined its cover. As he turned the book over in his hands, his eyes fell upon a small inscription etched into the bottom corner of the cover—the year of edition. With a sense of anticipation, Rohan leaned in closer, his heart pounding with excitement as he read the date.

"2024," he murmured to himself, The realization that the book was over a century old sent a shiver of excitement down his spine, for he knew that within its weathered pages lay the secrets of a bygone era. Rohan flipped open the book to the title page, where the author's name was printed in elegant script. 

"Tina," he whispered, his voice tinged with awe though name was unfamiliar to him, but there was a sense of intrigue surrounding it.