CHAPTER 12 #2
Karan despised his reaction. But he couldn’t stop it.
The more he tried to look away, the more his gaze returned to her…
lingering, tracing, wanting. It irritated him because this wasn’t supposed to happen.
Not with her. Yet no matter how much distance he tried to maintain, something always slipped through when she came looking like this in front of him.
Like a wife who deserved his attention and love.
He clenched the railing, trying to force control back into his body. He had real, bitter reasons to keep her at arm’s length. But desire didn’t care about reasons. And Mishti, in that red saree, looking up at him with soft eyes and a hesitant breath…had definitely started to become his weakness.
As he reached the last few steps, his arm brushed the railing, and the cuff button snapped free, rolling straight toward Mishti, almost as if even that tiny defiant button knew exactly whom it wanted to stop at.
Maria hurried forward to pick it up.
“F*ck,” Karan exhaled sharply, irritated at the timing.
He didn’t have a minute to change, and swapping the outfit wasn’t an option, not when Abhimanyu had insisted, they twin their outfits tonight. Wearing anything else would ruin his brother’s entire sentiment behind it.
“Sir, don’t worry. I’ll sew it right away,” Maria said and hurried off to get the sewing kit.
A moment later, Abhimanyu strode in from the garden, looking thoroughly exasperated.
“Unbelievable,” he grumbled. “It’s my welcome party, yet I’m the one playing host while the actual hosts are still missing. What exactly are you two waiting for? Let’s go.”
“The button came off,” Karan said, pointing at his shirt cuff.
Abhimanyu groaned in disappointment just as Maria hurried back with the sewing kit. She was almost ready to sew the button on Karan’s cuff when Abhimanyu swooped in, snatching the kit from her hands with a bright grin.
“Oh no, Maria, you don’t need to do this,” he said happily. “Bhai has a wife now.” He turned to Mishti with a teasing sparkle in his eyes. “Unless Bhabhi doesn’t know how to sew a button…which I highly doubt,” he added with a playful grin.
Then he gently nudged Maria toward the garden. “Go on, help the guests outside. See if anyone needs anything.”
Maria understood instantly what Abhimanyu was trying to do. He wanted to give Misthi and Karan a moment, and Maria wanted that too. She immediately agreed and slipped away without waiting.
Mishti, on the other hand, was confused. She knew Karan wouldn’t want her involved in anything like this, and she didn’t want to make the situation awkward either. Her confusion showed in the way she held her saree pallu, looking at Karan as if waiting for him to deny himself.
But the moment Karan noticed her hesitation, he didn’t refuse. “Fine,” he said, with a short exhale.
Abhimanyu’s grin stretched even wider as he gently caught Mishti by the wrist.
“Come on, Bhabhi,” he nudged playfully. “Don’t keep bhai waiting.” Then he chuckled and corrected himself, “I mean, don’t keep the guests waiting for the two of you.”
He pressed the sewing kit into her hand.
“Fix the button for him, please. And you both better be out soon,” he said with a mischievous wink. “I’ll keep the guests entertained till then!” he called over his shoulder, practically bouncing with excitement as he hurried back toward the garden.
Mishti stood before Karan with the sewing kit pressed between her trembling fingers.
He slid off his tuxedo jacket and draped it over his forearm before extending his other arm toward her, the one with the missing button, offering her access without a word.
She stepped forward hesitantly, leaving a careful sliver of distance between them, wondering why he agreed to this so easily. Karan, on the other hand, noticed everything…the way she swallowed, the way her lashes fluttered, the way her breath hitched.
The moment her cold fingertips touched his wrist to begin the stitch, he tugged his arm toward himself, pulling her with it.
Mishti gasped as she stumbled closer, her chest brushing lightly against his forearm.
She steadied herself with one hand on his wrist and the other bracing lightly at his sleeve, but her pulse had quickened beyond her control.
He didn’t apologise. He didn’t even blink, just watched her as she stitched the button back onto the cuff.
Every few seconds, when she lifted her eyes, he was already staring at her with a raw intensity. There was something else in his stare today, something she had seen only in flashes before in Lonavala… his desire held tightly in check.
“For a man claiming to be ‘disinterested’ in his marriage,” she said quietly, unable to stop herself, “you admire your wife an awful lot.”
The line had hit its mark. Karan went still, and his gaze shifted elsewhere for the first time since she began.
Mishti bent slightly, leaning close to his wrist to finish the last stitch. When she caught the extra thread between her teeth to cut it off, her lips brushed the fabric in the process.
He tried hard not to look at her when her fingers grazed his cuff one last time.
“You say you don’t want me,” she continued, eyes lifting to meet his, “but you behave like you can’t decide what to do with me.”
Now that definitely detonated something inside him.
Before she could step back, his hand wrapped around her waist, yanking her against him. Her breath caught, and her palms landed helplessly on the firm planes of his chest to steady herself.
“You wore red,” he finally said, with his eyes sweeping over her like he had no intention of looking away anymore.
“So?” she whispered.
“It’s my favourite colour,” he said, running his gaze over her slowly, almost possessively.
A tiny smile tugged at her lips. “It’s my favourite colour too.”
Karan hadn’t expected that. Red was her favourite colour too? Or was she making that up?
Either way, he couldn’t stop his gaze as it dropped once to her slightly parted lips, coloured in the same shade she wore.
Mishti noticed that shift in his eyes and lifted her chin slightly as her confidence returned.
“At least, our choices match in something,” she added, drawing a slow breath before continuing. “And I didn’t wear this saree just like that. I chose it… because I wanted your attention.”
His brow arched slightly, but he didn’t interrupt. That gave her the courage to go on.
“I know,” she murmured, fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt at his chest, “time and again you made it very clear that you were never interested in this marriage.”
Her voice trembled once, but only for a heartbeat.
“But people change,” she said softly. “Interests change. Sometimes… without even realising it.”
She forced herself to meet his eyes even as her heart hammered painfully inside her chest.
“I might be inexperienced in relationships, unlike you, but I can definitely read the tug of war in your eyes and expressions.”
He stared at her for a long, taut moment, trying to decode the meaning behind every syllable she’d spoken, before he closed that thin space between them and leaned in. He didn’t touch her mouth. Instead, his lips brushed close to her ear.
“My interest in you or this marriage will never change, Mishti,” he said, each word uttered deliberately cruel. “Even if you strip completely bare, I wouldn’t be interested in claiming you as my wife.”
Her body stiffened, but she didn’t move.
“But,” he continued, pulling away but keeping his eyes locked with hers. “Seeing you so desperate for my attention… begging for my love… and weeping for never getting the rights of being my wife…that’s definitely what I crave for.”
His gaze dipped briefly to her trembling mouth before lifting back to her eyes.
“Because I hate you.”
Her eyes burned with fresh tears, but she didn’t look away. He had broken her like this many a time. Tonight was nothing new.
“You are living in a delusion, Karan. There’s a difference between truly hating someone… and pretending to hate someone.”
His jaw clenched.
“You don’t hate me,” she continued. “You are only trying very hard to hate me. And I don’t understand why? What have I done to deserve this?”
He didn’t move. Didn’t blink.
“You wanted to destroy my brother’s business… but then you proposed marriage to save it,” she said. “You made me your wife… and now you claim you hate me. What does any of this even mean? Why can’t I have one honest answer? Why can’t we have a real conversation about this marriage?”
His grip on her waist loosened. Karan was about to turn and leave when she gripped his shirt tighter over his chest, not letting him move until he answered her.
“Everyone close to you knows the truth,” she muttered. “Rajat knows. Abhimanyu knows. Maybe even Kanika knows. Only I’m the one ignorant. Only I’m the one trapped in a marriage whose reasons I’m blind to.”
Her voice broke on the last line. “It’s not fair.”
He stared at her for a long, unbearable second. And then slowly… very slowly… an emotionless smirk curled on his lips. He caught both her wrists in one swift movement and shoved her away, breaking every inch of closeness they shared.
He didn’t justify, only let that mocking smirk twist deeper… and then turned away without a word.
Mishti stood rooted to the place for long after he disappeared down the hallway, her throat still burning, her heart still breaking.
Tonight, she had asked for the truth. But he had shown her how expertly he could walk away from it. Like every other time.