CHAPTER 40 #2
Karan placed the box down on the bed, fully aware that she was testing his temper. “Stop testing my patience, Mishti,” he said. “I know you like red. I know you love that lehenga and want it. Just because I bought it for you doesn’t mean you have to reject it.”
She turned back sharply. “Stop giving yourself so much importance to think I’d reject something just because it came from you. And now, get out. I need to change.”
Now Karan fumed. Had she really just asked him to get out? Instead of moving, he dropped into the recliner, spreading himself comfortably, and looked at her calmly.
“Go ahead,” he said. “I’m not looking.”
Mishti’s jaw dropped. Even saying he wouldn’t look was wrong, because he didn’t mean it. He was already staring at her, seated in that dominant posture of his, as though waiting for her to change right there in front of him.
“I won’t give you that liberty,” she snapped. “You don’t get to see me change, even if I’m your wife. You lost that right a long time ago.”
He rose from the recliner and strode toward her angrily, but she shoved him hard onto the bed and walked back to the closet.
Picking up her nightwear, she hurried into the bathroom instead, knowing very well he wasn’t going to move his arse out of the room.
Not because she wanted him to. She knew him far too well.
Even after she came out of the bathroom, changing, Mishti remained remarkably controlled. So much, that it completely took Karan by surprise.
She followed her nightly routine, as if she were alone. He watched her standing before the dressing mirror, calm, as she reached for the body lotion. She made a conscious effort not to look at him even once.
Karan was back on the couch, his laptop open on his knees. On the surface, he appeared to be working, scrolling through files, fingers moving across the keyboard. In reality, his attention was nowhere near the screen. His eyes were fixed on her.
Mishti slipped on her Bluetooth EarPods and took a call, as she spoke to her team back at the Sahara Foundation in London. She discussed work matters, deadlines, and updates with one of her staff members, completely immersed in the conversation.
Karan listened to her, and then his fingers stilled mid-motion when he saw her move to the small ottoman near the mirror and sit down.
She was dressed in a silk nightshirt and matching pants.
To apply the lotion, she lifted the fabric of her pants to her knees, entirely oblivious to the fact that his gaze had darkened at the sight of that, and locked onto her.
Mishti was lost in her phone call, smiling gently as she spoke, unaware of the effect she was having on him.
While Karan Wadhwa had never felt more seduced.
Although she wasn’t exposing anything overtly intimate, yet, the way she applied the lotion, rubbing it slowly into her skin, smoothing it over her legs with slow, unhurried strokes of her palms, was enough to undo him.
The softness of her movements, the curve of her fingers, the ease on her face as she spoke into the phone, he saw it all. And his restraint began to crack.
Fast.
He wanted to cross the distance between them, kneel before her, lift her feet and rest them on his thigh, to take the lotion from her hands and apply it himself. He wanted his hands on her smooth skin more than he could explain.
Correction.
He wanted his hands and his mouth, both, on her.
There was a raw, powerful need stirring inside him, demanding release. But he knew better. He knew where that path would lead him…to disappointment.
Just as every moment like this in the past had ended with her disappointed, when he had pulled away, withdrawn, and left her standing alone in the heat of what could have been.
And that knowledge was the only thing holding him back.
Suddenly, Mishti ended the call. That was when she realised Karan was watching her. His eyes were hooded, dark, filled with need.
The moment their gazes met, she reacted instinctively. She pulled her pants back down quickly and placed the lotion away. But Karan still did not look away.
Without a word, she walked to the bed, pulled the comforter over herself, and switched off the bedside light. The room fell into a quiet semi-darkness.
Karan smiled faintly. “Good night,” he said.
“Good night,” she murmured from the bed, before looking at him and asking, “When are you going to sleep?”
He paused for a few seconds, as if deciding and then replied, “Not for a few more minutes,” he said calmly, “if I’m sleeping here on the couch.”
She did not understand what he meant, but he continued, “But if I get to sleep there,” his eyes gestured toward the empty space beside her on the bed, “then I’m winding up right away.”
Despite the low light in the room, he could see her cheeks turning red. She pulled the comforter tighter around herself, turned her face to the other side, and closed her eyes, without responding.
Karan smirked to himself. That woman was going to be his undoing if she did not forgive him soon. He let out a hard sigh, loud enough for her to hear, before returning his attention to the laptop and resuming his work.
****************
Sometime later, Mishti heard his pained voice.
“No…”
Her eyes opened slowly. For a moment, she was disoriented. Then she remembered that she was in the hotel room she shared with Karan. He was on the couch. It was still night, and he appeared to be asleep.
Then she heard it again.
“No… Maa…”
The moment the word left his lips, her heart clenched. She turned on the bedside lamp and looked toward him.
Karan was trembling on the couch. His body lay rigid, disturbed, his face contorted as though caught in a nightmare. Pain was etched across his features.
“Maa,” he murmured again, his voice thick with anguish.
Mishti rushed to him immediately and sat on the edge of the couch, fitting herself into the little space beside him.
“Karan,” she called softly, trying to wake him.
He did not respond. She called his name again, but he still did not wake. Finally, she reached out and touched him.
That was when his eyes flew open.
He was breathless, gasping as though pulled suddenly out of deep water. The moment he saw her, he sat up abruptly, his body shuddering as another tremor ran through him.
Mishti wrapped her arms around him and soothed his back gently. He did not hug her back, though. He was still trapped in the remnants of the nightmare.
She knew he needed comfort badly.
“It’s okay. Relax. Calm down,” she began murmuring. His heart was still racing beneath her palms, beating erratically.
Mishti did not want him to slip back into that terrifying moment even after waking up. She needed to ground him. Distract him. Do something to pull him out of it.
So she reached for his arms, which still hung stiffly by his sides, and guided them around her waist, one arm at a time. Once his arms circled her, following her gentle lead, she hugged him even tighter.
That was when he finally responded.
Karan held her back with all the strength he had, clutching her as if she were the only thing keeping him anchored.
“It’s okay,” she continued whispering soft reassurances, repeating them again and again.
Slowly, it worked. His breathing began to steady, each breath syncing with the closeness of their embrace in the limited space on the couch. He buried his face in the curve of her neck, in her hair, inhaling her scent, letting it pull his thoughts away from the darkness.
And it helped him gradually. In the past, whenever these nightmares struck, and he woke drenched in sweat, sleep became impossible. To distract himself, he would either reach for a drink or throw himself back into work.
But tonight was different.
Tonight, Mishti was in his arms. She was holding him, whispering gentle words, calming him in a way nothing else ever had.
They stayed like that for a few more minutes.
Only when Mishti was certain that his breathing had fully returned to normal did she loosen her hold.
He did the same. Still, she did not move away.
She remained seated beside him on the couch, her gaze lifting to meet his.
“Are you okay?” she asked.
Karan nodded slowly. Their hands were now entwined, fingers locked together. Karan swallowed, then tightened his grip as he began to speak, describing what he had seen.
“I saw him,” he said. “I saw him aiming that gun at maa. Maa was…” His voice broke. “…lying lifeless… in that pool of blood. I…”
He stopped, shuddering, unable to go on.
Mishti’s heart ached painfully as she watched him struggle. She knew exactly what he had seen. It was the same scene that had happened right before his eyes sixteen years ago. A memory that had never loosened its hold on him. No wonder these nightmares still returned so often.
“How do you live with this, Karan? There has to be a way to stop this from tearing you apart like this.”
She meant medical help. Therapy. Anything that could ease his nights. But the moment the words left her mouth, Karan’s expression hardened. He looked straight into her eyes, anger flashing through them. The fury was not meant for her, but for the man responsible for all of this.
“This will stop when he dies, Mishti,” he said harshly. “Not before that. That’s the only way I’ll ever sleep without these nightmares again.”
Mishti almost choked. He was not wrong for feeling this way. She understood that. And yet the man he was talking about was her father. Although she felt no sympathy for him, not after everything he had done, still, hearing Karan wish for his death pierced something deep inside her.
Her eyes filled with tears, which Karan noticed. He took a deep breath, forcing himself to calm down. “Go to sleep. I’m fine now.”
She did not move.
“You can take the bed,” she offered. “I’ll sleep here on the couch.”
Karan looked at her, knowing she was only trying to make him feel better, trying to ensure he rested. But he shook his head slightly. “Bed or couch, it’s all the same,” he replied. “Go. I’ll be fine.”
She sighed and finally returned to the bed.
Karan lay back down on the couch, staring wide-eyed at the ceiling above him. Mishti kept watching him, silently hoping he would fall asleep soon, until her own eyes finally closed and she drifted off before he did.