Chapter 19
Reeva
“Bhai, you have to go,” I say, balancing my phone between my ear and shoulder as I close my laptop and place it on the bed beside me. “You’ve already postponed this trip twice because of me.”
“I can postpone it again.”
“And what will you tell the investors? That your perfectly capable sister cannot survive three days without her brother?”
“That my pregnant sister is currently living beneath the same roof as a man I don’t trust.”
It has been almost a month since Shaurya moved in. Apart from joining us for breakfast and dinner, he has mostly kept to himself, respecting the distance I asked for that night at the party.
“I won’t be alone with him,” I remind Bhai. “Meena Aunty will be here.”
“That doesn’t make me feel much better.”
“It should. Aunty frightens both of you equally.”
A reluctant huff of laughter comes through the phone. “That is not the point, Ree.”
“I know.” My voice softens. “But you cannot put your entire life on hold because I’m pregnant.
I’m fine. I’ve been eating properly, taking my vitamins, and working from home.
I only go into the office when something requires my presence, and I’ve already informed the board that I’ll attend meetings remotely for the next few weeks. ”
“Promise me that if you need anything or feel even slightly unwell, you’ll call me. I don’t care if I’m thousands of miles away in Singapore. I’ll take the first flight home.”
Emotion tightens my throat. Bhai’s protectiveness can be suffocating, but it is born from the kind of love I never have to doubt.
“I promise.”
He remains silent for a moment. “I still don’t like leaving you with him.”
“Bhai,” I huff as a boarding announcement echoes through the airport behind him. “Your flight is boarding. Stop worrying about me and go.”
“Fine.” He exhales heavily.
A smile pulls at my lips. “Have a safe flight.”
“Take care of yourself and my future niece or nephew.”
“I will.”
After ending the call, I place my phone beside my laptop, climb out of bed, and head towards the kitchen in search of something to eat. Damn these late-night cravings.
As I make my way down the corridor, a thin line of light spills from beneath the guest-room door.
I slow down despite myself. Then I tell myself to keep walking.
Whatever he is doing behind that door is none of my concern.
He could be working, speaking to someone on the phone, or plotting another way to take control of my life.
None of it should matter to me. Giving in to my curiosity will only invite another argument I don’t have the strength to endure.
Yet I remember the dark shadows beneath his eyes this morning. I remember how he left for work after barely touching his breakfast. Even at dinner, he ate only a few bites before disappearing into his room.
It shouldn’t matter. But my feet betray every sensible thought in my head. Before I fully understand what I’m doing, I find myself moving towards his room. I stop outside the door, my hand hovering uncertainly near the handle.
The door is slightly ajar, and through the narrow opening, I see Shaurya sitting on the couch with his back to me. His laptop glows on his lap, but his head is bowed, one hand pressed against his temple.
Worry curls through me before I can bury it.
Before I can decide whether to knock or quietly retreat, he glances over his shoulder and spots me. Alarm immediately sharpens his features. He sets his laptop on the coffee table, surges to his feet, and turns to face me.
Damn him. Even exhausted, he looks devastatingly handsome.
His tie is gone, the top buttons of his white shirt are undone, and his sleeves are rolled carelessly to his forearms. His dark hair is slightly dishevelled, while a faint shadow of stubble sharpens his tired face.
He is still far too dangerous to my heart.
Coming here was a terrible mistake. Every instinct urges me to brush aside his questions, turn around, and flee, but that would only make me look foolish.
“I was going to get something to eat when I noticed your light was still on,” I say, trying to harden my heart against the pull he still has over me. “I thought you might...” I stop before the concern can escape. “Never mind. I should go.”
I turn to leave, but his voice stops me.
“Stay.”
I hesitate, fighting the foolish urge to do exactly as he asks.
But after a long moment, I swallow and turn back.
Almost as though under a spell, I step fully into the room, ease the door shut behind me, and move towards him.
I stop barely a foot away, close enough to feel the warmth radiating from his body.
Without another word, he turns towards the coffee table, picks up a plate of cookies, and holds it out to me.
With fingers that feel inexplicably unsteady, I take one and begin to eat, painfully conscious of his gaze lingering on me. He watches until I swallow the final bite before setting the plate back on the table and turning his full attention to me once more.
“Thank you,” I murmur. My eyes remain locked with his, and my traitorous heart begins to race.
“Still hungry?” he asks, a teasing smile curving his lips as though he can read every thought I am desperately trying to hide.
“No,” I whisper, feeling heat rise into my cheeks.
His gaze lingers on my face for a moment before slowly drifting downwards and settling on the faint bump just beginning to show beneath my loose nightshirt.
Something in his features softens, and his breath catches.
When his eyes lift to mine again, they hold an emotion so raw that my heart stumbles painfully against my ribs.
“May I?” he asks, his voice husky.
I know I should refuse. Instead, I nod.
He closes the distance between us and gently places his palm over the small curve of my stomach. His fingers spread protectively before moving in a slow, tender caress. When his eyes find mine, the intensity within them leaves me unable to separate what I feel from what I want.
I shouldn’t crave this closeness. I should step away and end the moment before it becomes something neither of us can take back.
But I don’t move.
His hand slowly leaves my stomach, and then both rise to cradle my face, his palms warm against my cheeks. My breath catches as every defence I have built around my heart begins to tremble beneath his touch.
“Thank you, Reeva,” he murmurs as his thumb brushes tenderly across my lower lip, leaving my breath trembling between us. “For giving me this happiness.”
“You don’t have to thank me,” I whisper shakily. “Our baby is the one beautiful thing to come out of everything that happened between us, the one part of us I could never regret.”
Emotion flickers across his face before he asks, “Will you stay with me for a while?”
“Yes,” I breathe before reason can stop me.
Every restraint I have clung to weakens beneath the force of my longing. I could blame the hormones or the loneliness, but deep down, I know the truth. I still ache for him.
He takes my hand and leads me towards the bed. His touch remains gentle as we sit beside each other on the edge. For several moments, neither of us speaks. We simply look at one another, the silence between us heavy with everything we cannot say. But for once, it isn’t hostile.
His thumb brushes absently over my knuckles as his gaze lingers on our joined hands before slowly lifting to meet mine.
“I’ve been wanting to ask… when did you find out about the baby?” he says after a long silence.
“Just before I came to your office with the divorce papers,” I admit.
His thumb stills over my knuckles. He remains silent for so long that unease begins to coil inside me. I search his face, wondering whether he still hates me for hiding the pregnancy and trying to end our marriage before he could discover the truth.
“And how did you feel when you found out?” he finally asks.
“How did I feel?” I repeat, a frown creasing my forehead.
“Yes.” His voice takes on a quiet urgency. “Were you surprised? Frightened? Happy?” Pain flickers across his face. “I missed that moment, Reeva. I missed seeing your face when you learned we had created a life together. I need to know what it was like for you.”
A humourless breath escapes me. “I felt everything at once. I was shocked, terrified, and completely overwhelmed. But beneath all of it, I was happier than I knew how to explain.”
His expression tightens, and when he speaks again, his voice is rougher. “And when did you decide I would never be allowed to share any of that.”
“Almost immediately,” I confess, lowering my gaze to our joined hands.
“Not because I wanted to punish you or keep our child from you. I was terrified that the moment you knew, you would use the baby as leverage to manipulate me and force me back into a marriage I no longer trusted.” I swallow against the ache in my throat before lifting my eyes to his. “And that is exactly what you did.”
He flinches, but he doesn’t look away. “I was angry that you’d kept the pregnancy from me, and I let that anger convince me I had the right to decide what happened next.” His voice drops. “I didn’t want to be shut out of my child’s life, Reeva.”
I nod. “I’m still angry about the way you handled it, but I understand that fear. I wouldn’t want anyone to take my child away from me either, and I would do anything to protect that bond.”
He says nothing, and for a moment, we simply look at each other. Then, with deliberate slowness, he releases my hands and rests his lightly on my hips, giving me every opportunity to stop him. I know I should, but I don’t.
He gently draws me closer until our breaths mingle. His eyes hold mine, but there is no anger in them now. Only pain, longing, and a desperate hunger he seems barely able to contain. He looks as though he needs proof that I haven’t taken every part of myself away from him.
“Can I kiss you?” he asks, his voice hoarse and stripped of every trace of command. “Please, Reeva.”
With my heart beating wildly, I nod. That is all the permission he needs.
His mouth claims mine, and my fingers clutch his shoulders, digging into the firm muscles as he deepens the kiss.
One arm bands tightly around me while his other hand slips beneath the hem of my nightshirt.
My breath catches as his warm palm glides tenderly over the small curve of my stomach, leaving me trembling in his embrace.
His lips leave mine and trail along my jaw before descending the curve of my neck, his teeth grazing the sensitive skin at its base. A breathless sound escapes me as I tilt my head, granting him greater access. My grip tightens as pleasure begins to eclipse every reason I should stop.
“Please...” The word slips from my lips, and I hate the need threaded through it and the way it reveals just how desperately I still want him.
“Tell me what you need,” he says, his breath hot and uneven against my skin. “Tell me you want this. Tell me I can make love to you.”
The word love slices through the haze like a blade, reopening every wound the heat of his touch had momentarily numbed.
Once, I believed every kiss, every promise, and every tender moment between us was proof that he loved me.
I placed my entire heart in his hands, only to discover that the marriage I treasured had been built on a lie.
Not again.
If I surrender now, I may be able to pretend for one night that he never betrayed me. But morning will inevitably come, the truth will still be waiting, and I will wake with my heart shattered all over again. I cannot give him the power to break the same heart twice.
“Stop.” I press my hands against his chest. “I don’t want this.”
He releases me instantly and pulls back, his breathing ragged but his hands falling away without protest. The sudden distance leaves me cold.
“I am sorry,” I whisper, shaking my head as I rise unsteadily. “I thought I could, but I can’t.”
A muscle tightens in his jaw. He looks as though he wants to say something, but instead of speaking, he merely nods.
With my heart hammering painfully against my ribs, I turn and walk out of the room, telling myself I am protecting what remains of it, even as every step away from him feels like losing him all over again.