24. Upset With Him #2
"Satyam, you may go home now. And you don't need to come from tomorrow. Enjoy your time," Rakshit said, passing him a small but genuine smile.
Satyam's happiness couldn't be described in words.
"Thank you, sir," he said gratefully.
Shivika looked at her husband proudly.
Rakshit cleared his throat lightly.
"So… shall we?" he asked gently.
She picked up her purse and mask from the table.
No reply.
He walked beside her as they stepped out of the cabin. His eyes kept shifting sideways.
Toward her.
Waiting.
Expecting her to say something.
Complain.
Tease him.
Anything.
The elevator doors opened. He gestured for her to step in first. She did quietly.
Inside the elevator, the silence felt louder.
He pressed the parking button.
The doors slid shut.
He glanced at her reflection in the mirror panel. She was looking straight ahead, face calm, lips pressed together slightly. No pout. No smile.
That worried him more.
"Ika…" he started softly.
No response.
He stopped himself.
The elevator dinged.
They stepped out.
He walked half a step ahead, then slowed down so he could open the car door for her.
He opened the passenger door carefully.
She got in without looking at him.
He paused for a second before closing her door, his jaw tightening slightly.
He walked around to the driver's side and sat inside. The soft thud of his door closing echoed inside the car.
For a few seconds, neither moved.
He adjusted his watch.
Started the engine.
He glanced at her again.
She was looking out of the window, arms folded lightly, expression distant.
He waited.
Maybe she would say something now.
Nothing.
Not a single word.
He exhaled slowly through his nose.
His fingers tightened slightly on the steering wheel.
Another glance.
Still nothing.
"Baccha, kya hua hai? Why aren't you speaking?" Rakshit finally asked, his voice softer than before, carefully breaking the heavy silence between them.
No reaction.
It was as if she hadn't even heard him.
She kept looking outside the window, watching the blurred city lights pass by, her expression calm… almost too calm.
"Ika…" he called again, a little more gently this time.
Nothing.
His grip on the steering wheel tightened.
"Ika, bacche… did I do something?" he asked, his tone carrying a faint strain now.
Still no response.
The silence was beginning to suffocate him.
"I am sorry, bacche. Please talk to me," Rakshit said quietly.
There was no ego in his voice. No authority. Just a husband who couldn't bear being shut out.
After a long pause, she finally spoke.
"We will talk once we reach home."
Her voice was steady.
Rakshit felt a small wave of relief wash over him. At least she was speaking.
He glanced at her again. She was still looking out of the window.
Carefully, slowly, he moved one hand from the steering wheel and placed it over hers, which was resting on her lap.
For a second, he waited--wondering if she would pull away.
She didn't.
That alone calmed something inside him.
He gently wrapped his fingers around hers, rubbing his thumb softly over the back of her hand. The small, repetitive motion wasn't just for her.
It was for him.
He was convincing himself.
Nothing is wrong.
She's just upset.
You will talk.
It will be fine.
He took a slow, deep breath and focused on the road.
The drive felt unusually long. Every signal felt slower. Every turn felt stretched. It was as if time itself was testing his patience.
He unlocked the door of their home and let her enter first.
She walked straight to the sofa and sat down gently.
He didn't waste a second. He went to the kitchen, filled a glass of water, and returned quickly.
He held it out toward her.
"Water," he said softly.
His eyes were searching her face.
Waiting.
Bracing himself for whatever she was about to say.
But it was enough to make Rakshit's back straighten immediately.
He froze.
For a second, he thought he misheard her.
"Ika… you are seriously asking me that?" he whispered.
He didn't stay standing.
He couldn't.
He went down on his knees in front of her, as if the ground felt more stable than his own feet at that moment.
"What did I do to give you that doubt in your mind?" Rakshit asked, his voice already heavy with hurt.
Shivika looked at him, not angry, just quietly wounded.
"You didn't feel it was important to tell me about Satyam bhaiya's wedding. You didn't tell me he invited us," she confessed.
That was it.
That simple.
That small.
But to her, it wasn't small.
And the moment he understood that- regret flooded him.
His eyes immediately filled with tears.
Not because she accused him.
But because he had unknowingly hurt her.
His throat tightened.
"I am really sorry to hurt you. Please forgive me. Next time I will tell you. Surely. Promise."
And before she could react, he lowered himself completely and buried his face in her lap, wrapping his arms around her waist.
Like a child who realised he made a mistake and ran to the safest place he knew.
"Aksh…" Shivika whispered, shocked.
She hadn't expected this.
She thought he would argue.
Tease her.
Defend himself.
But tears?
She gently tried to lift his face, but he didn't pull back.
Her fingers immediately moved into his hair, stroking softly.
Slowly… hesitantly… he lifted his face.
His eyes were red.
That strong, composed Rakshit Mahajan, undone so easily.
"Aksh, why did you get emotional like this?" she said softly, wiping the tears sticking to his cheek.
"I am sorry. I was just teasing you and wanted to get pampered by you. Sorry… but please don't cry."
He didn't say anything.
He just leaned forward and hugged her tightly, burying his face in her shoulder this time.
His arms wrapped around her as if he was afraid she might disappear.
There was fear in his voice.
Real fear.
Because her silence had shaken him more than her anger ever could.