CHAPTER 13 #3
When Komal left her briefly to fetch lime water, Karan moved without thinking.
He reached her just in time, stepping into her path as she lost her balance.
He did not grab her. He did not pull her to him.
He simply stood there, letting her take his support, knowing that if he stepped aside, she would fall and hurt herself again.
Mishti leaned into him, venting out her anger, hurt and disappointment. All of it aimed at him, spoken to him, without her realising it was him.
“Why do you hurt me so much?” she said, her voice breaking. “Why is it always my own people who hurt me the most? First Daksh bhai… and now you.”
His fingers curled slowly into his palms. He had never imagined she carried all this inside her. And now, in the effect of alcohol, she was venting it out so openly.
Mishti finally lifted her face and tried to look at him.
The moment recognition dawned in her blurred gaze, she stiffened.
When she realised she had been clinging to Karan all this time, crying against him, exposing herself completely, she tried to push him away even though her body swayed dangerously.
But before she could fall, his hands closed around her waist, instinctively pulling her back against him.
He was not ready to let her hit the ground.
Her eyes dropped to his hands, to the way he held her, before she looked up at him in confusion and hurt.
“You hate me, don’t you?” she asked quietly. “Then why do you always support me like this? Why this concern? Why do you care? Leave me. Let me fall and get hurt. You would be happy then, right?”
Karan clenched his jaw. There was something so bitter in the way she spoke tonight that he didn’t like it.
For the first time, he did not know how to deal with this fragile woman in his arms. His wife. A Goel. Reduced to this because of him.
When she struggled again, murmuring for him to let go, he did the opposite. He pulled her closer this time, strongly.
“Shut up,” he said. “You are not in your senses.”
Mishti finally stopped resisting. Instead, she leaned into him, her forehead resting against his chest again.
“Senses…” she whispered, her voice exhausted and painfully honest. “I do not want to come back to my senses. Because coming back to my senses means taking all the pain you give me again. Over and over. Without ever knowing what my fault is.”
Karan shut his eyes.
“What did you say the other day?” she asked softly, clutching the lapels of his suit for support. “You hate even my existence, right?”
She swallowed, lifting her face slightly, just enough to look at him again.
“So, I pray to the God I worship so devotedly, Karan… that a day comes when you will miss me like hell.”
His eyes flew open. Anger flared sharp as he tightened his hold on her waist.
“A day will come when you will want me,” she continued, “as your wife… as your partner… as your soulmate. But I will not be with you then. You will miss me, Ka…ra…n… Wa..dh..wa. You will… miss… me,” she slurred.
Something snapped inside him. This was not what he had been prepared for… this future she spoke of, where he would want her and could not have her.
“That day will never come,” he said coldly.
“It will.” She gave him a sad smile. “And when it does… You will regret all of this.”
He stiffened, but she did not stop.
“You will regret every cruel word you threw at me. Every time you pushed me away when I reached for you. Every moment you came close enough to make me believe there could be something between us… only to remind me that I would never have any rights over you. That I would never truly be your wife.”
Her grip tightened briefly on him, as if summoning strength from a place far deeper than pain.
“You will regret the moments we never lived,” she said softly. “The happiness you denied us. The little attraction you pretended did not exist.”
Her voice broke, but her resolve did not.
“You will regret it all, Karan Wadhwa,” she finished. “That is a promise. A wife’s promise.”
Komal, who had been watching from a distance, holding the glass of lime water tightly in her hand, finally stepped between them, unable to control her own tears at Mishti’s state of mind. She caught her hand and pulled Mishti gently but firmly away from Karan.
“Come, Mishti. Drink this.”
Mishti sagged slightly against her. So, she guided her back to the same bench and brought the glass to her lips, coaxing her to sit. Mishti took a hesitant sip and immediately scrunched her face.
“It’s… sour,” she murmured weakly.
“I know,” Komal replied, nodding. “But drink just a little more. It will help.”
She obeyed, swallowing another mouthful, her eyes fluttering shut as if the effort alone drained her. Through it all, Karan remained where he was, watching every movement without stepping back, still restless about Mishti’s bitter words.
Komal finally looked up at him, her gaze hardening the moment it met his.
“You don’t need to waste your time here, Mr Wadhwa,” she said sharply. “Go back to your party. I am with her.”
“You don’t get to decide that,” Karan shot back.
“I do,” Komal replied, matching his tone without flinching. “I am Mishti’s doctor and her friend. I can’t stay quiet anymore. I don’t know how long you plan to continue this, but she is clearly hurting because of you. This has gone far enough. No more. I will not let you hurt her again.”
Karan’s jaw locked as he glared at her and stepped forward. “Dr Komal Sharma, either go inside and enjoy the party like a guest,” he said coldly, “or leave. No one is stopping you. But do not ever come between me and my wife.”
Before Komal could react, he bent down and slid his arms beneath Mishti, lifting her against his chest. Her head lolled weakly toward his shoulder, her body pliant in his hold.
Komal surged forward, blocking his way, fury flashing across her face, but Abhimanyu and Rajat appeared just then. Abhimanyu caught her arm, halting her mid-step.
“Let him take her inside,” he said firmly, leaving no room for argument.
Komal shot him a glare, anger and helplessness warring in her eyes. Rajat nodded in quiet agreement beside him, both men choosing to stay back with her as Karan turned away.
He did not look at any of them. With his semi-conscious wife cradled in his arms, Karan walked toward the doors. Nothing and no one had the power to stop him or meddle between them.