42.
It's been two weeks since Shaurya started healing.
His upper body is regaining strength at a surprising pace, which is a relief.
I just hope his legs follow soon. The doctor said the plaster has to stay on for at least two more weeks.
But honestly, his physical health isn't what worries me the most. It's his mind.
A few nights ago, Ravi called me in a panic—Shaurya's body had been trembling, almost like a panic attack.
I rushed over as fast as I could, but as usual, he shut himself in and refused to talk.
He didn't come out once, not even when I stayed until morning.
In the end, I had no choice but to leave, my chest heavy with frustration.
But today's different. Today, I have plans.
When I caught my reflection in the mirror this morning, I almost laughed. I looked like hell. My hair was a mess, and a rough stubble had crept across my jaw. Stress really does make your beard grow faster. With a sigh, I shaved myself clean and jumped in the shower.
Aarya was staying at Eve's place last night, so I didn't have to rush with school runs.
That gave me more time to think about what to wear.
After digging through my shirts, I ditched the idea of button-ups altogether and pulled on a tank top.
The heat outside made the decision for me.
My eyes drifted to the tattoos inked across my left arm.
Right. He's definitely going to be shocked when he sees those.
Helmet on, I fired up my bike and sped off toward Shaurya's place.
That's my first mission today—checking in on him, no matter what mood he's in.
Even if he tries to kick me out, I'll bite him and stay.
I've got too much restless energy today, and besides.
.. someone has to make sure his mind is healing along with his body.
I reached Shaurya's apartment and rang the doorbell. As usual, his housewife opened the door. Ravi's gaze dropped to my arms, narrowing slightly at my biceps.
"Impressed, huh?" I smirked.
"They look fake to me," Ravi deadpanned.
I rolled my eyes and brushed past him, heading straight toward Shaurya's room. But the moment I stepped inside, I froze.
There he was—shirtless, his body still a map of bandages and bruises, yet stubbornly curling dumbbells as though nothing was wrong.
Resistance bands lay scattered on the floor, sweat glistened down his chest. His eyes weren't really focused on what he was doing; he was staring into nothing, lost somewhere I couldn't reach.
"He's been stretching a lot. Says it helps," Ravi murmured behind me.
My chest tightened. "What do you think you're doing? Are you insane?" I stormed forward, ripping the dumbbells out of his hands before he could argue.
His fingers went slack, his gaze slowly finding me. For a moment, he just... stared. At my arms. And the look on his face wasn't admiration—if anything, it seemed like he might puke.
"Are you trying to impress someone?" I snapped. "You're not healed yet. Don't even think of touching these again."
"You changed," he said quietly, finally blinking.
Hands on my hips, I arched a brow. "Why? You don't like it?"
"I didn't say that." His voice was low, almost hesitant. Then he motioned toward the chair beside him. "You can sit, you know."
I reluctantly sat on the edge of his bed, still watching him like he was a reckless child. He tried to stand, limping awkwardly to reach for a shirt.
"Hey, let me help—"
"It's alright. Ravi, pass me that shirt."
Ravi obeyed without hesitation, even helping him slip it on, tugging carefully over the bandages. They'd grown close, I realized. Closer than I'd expected.
Shaurya eased back down with a soft wince. "So," he exhaled, shifting uncomfortably. "Can we talk now?"
"I came here to talk too," I admitted.
I studied him, the silence stretching between us. That's when he tilted his head, sniffing lightly.
"What?" I frowned.
"You smell... different."
"Oh. Right. Yug recommended this—"
"I don't like it," Shaurya interrupted.
I almost smirked but bit the inside of my cheek instead. He was still staring at me.
"Will you stop staring?" I muttered, swallowing hard.
"You look... weirdly beautiful," Shaurya said without hesitation.
My gaze faltered, dropping to the floor.
"You sure you don't feel anything for me?" His voice had gone low, almost trembling.
I forced myself to change the subject. "I came to talk about you, not me."
His jaw clenched. I pressed on. "I didn't like how you shut me out that night. You did it again. You can't keep refusing to talk."
"I'm sorry."
"I'm not here just to hear that," I snapped, my frustration bleeding through.
"Yeah, I know. I just... I can't help it."
"Why?"
"I don't know." His answer was small, defeated. I didn't push further. Not now. He needed time more than my anger.
"Aarav..." He shifted uneasily. "I'll try harder once my leg heals."
I allowed myself a small smile. "Okay." Then I leaned closer, softening my voice. "I want you to heal fast—not just your body, Shaurya. Your mind too. And Aarya... she'll help with that. So wait just two more weeks. And try smiling more, or you'll scare her."
His lips quirked faintly, but his eyes stayed heavy. "And only you can fix my heart."
My chest tightened. I looked away quickly and rose, but his sudden movement caught my eye—his body tensing as he tried to push himself up from the headrest, as if afraid I'd leave too soon.
Before he could say anything else, I grabbed a pen from the bedside table, sat by his plastered leg, and bent down to write something across the white cast.
"Smile more grumpy old man".
"Certified crybaby".
"Don't flirt with Ravi, it makes me puke".
"Property of Aarav: No touchy" I wrote the last line but scribbled on it instantly and instead drew a stickman drawing of two figures.
One referring to Shaurya and other Aarya.
Both of them holding hands. I took a pic of it and showed to him so it would not be much of a trouble for him.
He smiled instantly, his eyes almost disappearing. I really liked that smile.
"No one's going to touch me unless you allow it anyway".