Chapter 33
The underground spring chamber had always carried peace. Tonight, it carried silence.
Meera had not planned to come here. Her feet had brought her on their own through hidden corridors her body remembered better than her mind did.
She sat against the stone wall, knees drawn in, listening to the endless movement of water echo through the chamber. The same spring that had marked the beginning of Anands.
Her eyes rested on the oil lamp beside her. Her thoughts circled the same moment again and again.
Rajveer. Abhinav. The finality in his voice when he agreed.
He was selling her home.
Her throat tightened painfully.
“Maa,” she whispered, her voice hollow, “tell me how one person can hold you as if you are his entire world… and still sign away your home in the same morning.”
The flame burned. The water moved. No answer came.
She had walked out without telling anyone. She did not have the strength to face anyone and pretend she was happy. Everyone looked at her with joy. Everyone spoke about wedding clothes and rituals and beginnings. If one person had asked what was wrong, she would have broken.
And now, cold rose from the stone into her bones.
She welcomed it.
Better the cold of rock than the warmth of his arms still lingering across her skin. Better this ache than the memory of him whispering promises against her skin.
Her vision blurred. The lamp became the only point left in a world that had tilted.
She did not hear him.
One moment she sat there. The next, she was no longer touching the ground.
Abhinav’s arms closed around her with a force that stole her breath. He pulled her into him as if she had been slipping through his hands. His breath broke harshly against her neck, uneven and ragged.
“Meera.”
Her name tore out of him.
“Meera…”
Lower this time, breaking.
“Meera…”
This one, shattered him.
He shook.
The tremor ran through his chest into her, through the arms locked around her, through hands gripping her back as if they had forgotten how to let go.
This was not the man she knew.
The man she knew stood composed through everything. Untouched. Unmovable.
His face pressed into her neck, his mouth against her pulse as if he needed to feel it there, needed proof she still existed.
Warmth touched her skin.
Uneven.
Wet.
Her breath caught. She could not tell whether it was sweat or….
“Don’t…” His voice scraped raw enough to hurt. “Don’t ever do that to me again. Never.”
He drew in a sharp breath. His hold tightened.
“I thought…” The words dragged out of him. “Meera… I thought I lost you.”
His voice failed at the end.
She froze.
‘Lost her?’
The tremor in him had not eased. His arms clung to her with a force that spoke of fear, as if loosening his grip would take her away again.
Her chest drew tight. She leaned into it, almost surrendering to the pull of him.
Then the memory struck.
Him. Rajveer. The contract.
The hollow inside her twisted. Anger surged, sharp and blinding, burning through every softened part of her still reacting to his touch.
How dare he?
How dare he hold her as if she mattered more than breath while his signature sat fresh on papers that would destroy everything she had ever belonged to?
Her palms pressed against his chest. She pushed him away with all the force left in her.
He stumbled back. His arms fell from her as if torn free against his will.
Space rushed in between them, sudden and brutal.
“Don’t touch me.” Her voice cut clean through the chamber.
She stepped back, her legs stiff. Cold still lingered in her body, but it couldn’t reach her anymore. Anger burned hotter.
The lamp threw light across his face, catching the shadows under his eyes, the tightness in his jaw. The feeling of loss.
She saw it. Refused to feel it.
“You have the nerve,” she snapped, “to come here and hold me as if I matter to you? As if I’m precious?”
He stood frozen, the shock of seeing her alive yet to settle into him. His hand rose on instinct.
“Don’t.” She moved back at once.
His mouth parted.
“When were you planning to tell me?” Her voice dropped, low and dangerous. “After the wedding? Or did you want me to read another family’s name outside Anand Mahal myself?”
Confusion crossed his face. “What are you talking about?”
A bitter laugh escaped her. “You signed it.”
His forehead creased.
“You sat with Rajveer Singh Sisodia and signed everything away.”
Abhinav froze.
She turned from him and began pacing. The space felt too small to contain the force tearing through her chest.
“How does that even happen?” Her hands rose, then fell. “How do you hold me as if I’m your whole world…” Her voice cracked. “And sell my home?”
He took a step toward her.
“No.”
The word stopped him cold.
“You don’t get to speak yet.”
His chest rose once, sharply.
She pressed her hand to her forehead, trying to hold herself together.
“You took me into the sky.” Her body shook with anger. “You asked me to belong to you forever.” Tears burned in her eyes. “Was that before or after you decided Anand Mahal meant nothing to you?”
“Meera…”
“Answer me.” Her voice struck the walls.
“Which came first?” Her breath caught. “The decision to make me yours… or the decision to destroy everything I belong to?”
Pain crossed his face.
She barely noticed it.
“I believed you.” Her hand flattened against her chest as if she could physically hold herself together.
“Every touch. Every word. Every morning in those courtyards. Every moment you spent walking through these walls with me…” Her voice broke again before she forced it back.
“I thought you were choosing this place too.”
“Meera, listen to me…”
“Do you even understand what you signed?” Her voice rose again.
“This isn’t property to me.” Tears slipped down her face, one after another. “I cannot separate myself from these walls. I grew up here. Every corridor carries my family. My childhood. My prayers. This place is not where I live. It is who I am.”
Silence crashed between them.
Then… her voice softened. “And now you’re inside me too.”
The words escaped before she could stop them.
His expression changed instantly. Dark. Alive. Wrecked open by her confession.
She kept going.
“That’s the cruelest part.” Her chin trembled. “I can feel you everywhere.” Her fingers curled against her chest. “In my skin. In my breath. In my bones. The same place this Haveli lives.”
She shook her head hard, furious with herself. “And now both of you are tearing me apart.”
The words cracked her open.
“How am I supposed to choose?” she cried. “How do I stand beside you knowing you are the one destroying my home?”
She turned away from him because looking at him hurt too much.
Her steps carried her toward the wall. Her fingers found his father’s name and traced the letters across the stone.
“I thought…” Her voice broke. She swallowed and forced it through. “I thought the man who asked me to marry him could not be the same man who came here to sell this place.”
The last of her strength finally gave out.
Her breath turned uneven. Her shoulders shook. Tears fell as her hand remained pressed to the carved name.
Nothing remained inside her except ache.
Raw. Exhausted. Endless.
Abhinav didn’t move at first.
He watched her, breath heavy. The panic that had driven him across the city had burned down into anger, into control held together by force.
He stepped forward and closed the distance she had put between them. Stopped close enough that the air tightened, close enough for her to feel the heat of him without his hands touching her.
“Are you finished?” His voice came low.
The question hung between them, filled with every accusation she had thrown at him.
Meera turned toward him.
His jaw had locked so tight a muscle jumped against his skin. Fire burned in his eyes.
“Good,” he muttered. “Because now it’s my turn.”
Silence.
Then, “Eight hours.”
The words ripped out of him.
“Eight fucking hours, Meera.”
His palm struck the wall beside her shoulder. The impact cracked through the chamber. The oil lamp flickered.
“Police searches. Rajveer’s men. Half the city looking for you.”
Each line hit harder than the last.
“Every hospital has your description. Every taxi stand. Every driver. Your photograph is everywhere.”
His voice rose. “Your father stood in that courtyard for eight hours watching people come back with nothing over and over again.”
Meera’s expression changed at once. Confusion first. Then realization. Then horror.
‘Eight hours?’
Her stomach dropped.
‘No. No, that couldn’t… ‘
“How…” Her voice struggled. “I didn’t…”
She hadn’t thought of time. Hadn’t felt it pass.
His chest rose once before he forced the breath down.
“Your mother sat in front of that temple , praying until her hands started shaking.” Anger sharpened every word. “My mother kept everyone together while she was terrified herself.”
A harsh laugh escaped him.
“Naina hasn’t spoken in hours.” His eyes locked on hers. “Do you understand that? My sister, who never stops talking, sitting silent because you vanished.”
Meera flinched.
He kept going.
“The staff searched every corridor. Every room. Every road outside the Haveli.” His hand dragged through his hair, pulling at it. “Fields. Wells. Temples. Every damn place they could think of.”
His voice cracked under the strain. “And me?”
The words came rough. “I’ve been losing my fucking mind minute by minute.”
He stepped closer. And she felt it. Anger and fear trapped inside him with nowhere to go.
“I stood there watching day turning into night,” he continued, voice heavy, “knowing every minute made it more possible that you were hurt… or unconscious… or lying somewhere waiting for help that never came.”
His jaw locked. He turned away, dragging a hand across his face, skin reddening under the pressure.
His arm cut toward the chamber.
“And you were here. Safe. Sitting beside a lamp while everyone outside was falling apart.”
The light threw sharp lines across his face.
“Then the hospital called.” His voice dropped again. “A woman. Your age. Yellow clothes. Unidentified.”
His breath caught.
“Do you understand what that did to me?” His eyes burned into hers. “Do you understand what happened in my head when I heard that?”
He didn’t wait for an answer.
“I drove there out of my mind. Red lights. Traffic. None of it mattered. I kept thinking…” His body shook under the force of it. “I kept thinking I might never hear your voice again. Never see your face. Never…”
His voice cracked. He pushed through it.
“Never touch you again.”
The chamber fell silent.
“I stood outside that hospital room,” he continued, voice softer now, “and I was scared to walk in.”
Meera drew in a sharp breath.
“I was scared,” he repeated. “Scared of what I would find. I walked toward that door believing my life had ended.”
He moved closer. Almost no distance remained between them. Heat and anger and fear pressed in until breathing felt heavy.
“When it wasn’t you…” He swallowed. “Relief hit so hard it nearly took me down. Then the fear came back. If it wasn’t you there, then where were you?”
A tremor ran through her.
“All those hours…” His anger returned, deeper now. “Searching. Calling. Imagining the worst. You were here. Sitting beside a lamp because you overheard one conversation and decided I was not worth one question.”
That cut deeper than anything else.
“You didn’t come to me.” His voice dropped. “You didn’t knock on my door. You disappeared.”
His hands pressed against his face, palms covering his eyes as if he could force the last hours out of his mind.
Silence filled the space. The water moved. The flame burned.
That was when Meera noticed his hands. Blood had dried across his knuckles. Skin split. Fresh cuts torn open again.
Her chest tightened. Her eyes burned. She reached for his hand before she could think better of it. Her fingers trembled as they closed around him. She turned his palm carefully, staring at the torn skin.
“How did this happen?”
The question barely came out.
Her eyes lifted to his face, wet and helpless.
“How did you hurt yourself?”
He gave her nothing. No answer. No softness. Only that stare. Watching her with an expression she could no longer read.
Her thumb brushed the unbroken part of his hand. The ache inside her deepened.
“I’m sorry.”
The words came apart.
“I’m so sorry.”
She pressed her forehead briefly against his hand before looking back at him.
“I didn’t plan to come here. I was walking and I couldn’t…” Her voice shook. “I couldn’t breathe up there. I came here and I lost track of time. I didn’t know hours had passed. I didn’t know everyone was searching. I didn’t know you were…”
"Meera."
She stopped.
"Did you really think that?"
His voice came quiet again. That frightened her more than the shouting had.
“That I would sell this place.”
"I heard…"
“You heard part of a conversation.” His eyes stayed on hers. “And you ran.”
She had no answer.
“After everything.” His voice stayed calm. “You assumed the worst.”
Her grip tightened around his injured hand.
He looked at their hands. “You love me. I know you do.”
His eyes returned to her face. "But you didn't trust me."
Meera opened her mouth.
He shook his head once. No anger now. That made it worse.
He reached for the oil lamp with his free hand. The other turned, his fingers closing around hers. “Come. Your parents need to see you.”
He lifted the lamp and turned toward the narrow passage. He didn’t release her hand.
Cold spread through her chest.
She felt it in his silence. In the straight line of his shoulders. In the fact that he no longer looked at her.
“Hukum.” Her fingers tightened around his. “Wait. Please. We need to…”
He stopped. Turned. Looked at her. Just looked. No anger remained. No accusation. Only pain, open and deep.
The pain of a man who had loved without hesitation and learned she had doubted him when it mattered most.
Her voice disappeared.
That look went through her harder, straight into the deepest part of her being.
She had trusted her fear over him. And now he knew it.
He turned back toward the passage.
The lamp cast golden light across the stone walls as he began walking. His hand remained around hers, warm despite the wound.
She followed.
The weight of that look stayed inside her, lodged deep inside her chest.