CHAPTER 45
Late At Night
Mishti still wasn’t in the room. She had come back earlier to freshen up and change, but she hadn’t stayed.
She had gone downstairs again to make calls, to inform her team in London that she wouldn’t be returning for at least a week, maybe more.
Hence, her work had to be handed over, responsibilities reassigned.
She needed to make all those arrangements, and Karan hadn’t stopped her.
That unsettled him. It also felt deliberate. As if she were avoiding the room. Avoiding the bed. Avoiding him.
His body desperately needed rest. His arm throbbed despite the medicines. Still, rest refused to come to him, not without her beside him. With a quiet groan, he got off the bed and walked toward the door.
The moment he opened it, he froze.
Mishti stood right there, her hand lifted, just about to knock.
He released a slow breath of relief as she immediately pulled her hand back, startled by the door opening.
She looked just as exhausted as he felt.
Her eyes told him everything…how drained she was, how worried, how hesitant she felt about stepping into this room.
The same room where he had always insulted her.
The same room from which he had made her walk out countless times.
He understood then why she had delayed.
“What took you so long?” he asked softly, standing at the doorframe.
“Work calls.” She shrugged, trying to sound casual. Then, after a brief pause, she added, “You didn’t sleep?”
“I told you,” he said, looking intensely at her. “I couldn’t sleep in this room after you left.”
Mishti swallowed hard, but stayed where she was, still not stepping inside.
Karan let out a frustrated huff. “I can carry you to bed,” he challenged, “if that’s what it takes to make you believe how much I want you to share this bedroom with me, Mishti.”
She knew he meant every word. Not wanting him to hurt his injured arm again, she finally crossed the threshold and stepped inside. Karan immediately locked the door behind her.
Her gaze moved around the room. Everything was the same. Still so him. So dominant. So overwhelming. As if she still didn’t quite belong here.
Karan gently patted her back. “Come,” he said.
She nodded.
As he settled onto the bed, she hesitated, then picked up a pillow and said softly, “I… I’ll take the couch. It’s quite big and—”
“Now who’s ignoring whom?” he interrupted, almost clenching his jaw.
She lowered her gaze as Karan continued.
“Last night in Jaipur, when I was doing this, you denied me. And now you’re doing the same again?”
She shook her head at once. “No. It’s not the same. Your arm is injured. I don’t want to hurt it more by sleeping next to you.” She hesitated, then added, “It’s better if you sleep alone on the bed for a few days.”
Karan exhaled roughly. Explaining things to her was becoming difficult. His patience had always worn thin when it came to Mishti.
“It will hurt me far more if you don’t sleep next to me,” he said firmly, then softened his tone. “If you still want the couch, I won’t stop you. But I’ll join you there. As you said, it’s big enough for both of us The choice is yours.” He shrugged.
She looked at him, studying him seriously.
Karan waited silently, letting her decide.
Finally, Mishti sighed and gave up the idea of sleeping away. She placed the pillow back where it belonged.
“Fine. Tomorrow morning, don’t blame me if your arm hurts more.”
Karan shifted aside, making space for her. “That’s on me,” he replied. “Now get on the bed. We need to sleep.”
She switched off the bedside lamps and lay down beside him, first helping him settle carefully. His left arm had been shot, so she chose his right side tonight, making sure his injured arm remained untouched, until he placed that arm over her body and pulled her close.
She flinched instantly, worry flashing across her face. “Karan… your arm—”
He pressed a finger to her lips. “Shh. It’s exactly where it should be.” Then he closed his eyes.
Mishti watched his face for a few seconds longer. Slowly, a faint smile appeared on his lips.
Karan too opened his eyes, knowing she was admiring him and murmured, “I’m glad this happened.”
She frowned, but he continued.
“If I hadn’t been shot, I wouldn’t have gotten these few more days to live with you again.”
Anger flashed through her. She swatted his chest gently. “Don’t you dare say something like that again. Do you even know what I went through, watching you get shot right in front of my eyes?”
Her eyes filled instantly as she went on. “I thought I lost you, Karan. Forever. I—” She broke off as more tears spilt.
Feeling guilty, he pulled her closer. “I thought I lost you, too.” He wiped her tears. “For those first few seconds… the thought of never seeing you again made me die a thousand times more than the gunshot itself.”
She listened silently as he went on. “For the first time,” he said, his thumb unconsciously stroking the curve of her cheek, “I… Karan Wadhwa, who has never been scared of anything, felt afraid of dying.” His hand slid to her back, holding her there.
“All I asked God for was a few more moments with you. Just… us. After that, he can decide whatever he wants.”
Mishti’s fingers fisted the fabric of his shirt instantly. “Don’t,” she scolded him, shaken. “Don’t say that…Not even as a thought,” she warned. “Talk about death again and see how patient I am. I won’t tolerate this morbid nonsense from you.”
Karan’s brow arched, mischief flickering back into his eyes as his thumb traced her lower lip deliberately. “And you scold me like that again,” he said slowly, “for something as harmless as opening my heart to you… and be prepared to get spanked.” A faint smile curved his mouth. “I mean it.”
She froze. Speechless for a few seconds. Her grip on his shirt tightened, breath catching, because she knew exactly what spanking meant.
Swallowing, she finally lifted her chin and said softly, challengingly, “You think I can’t spank you back?”
Karan grinned. The kind of grin that was sweetly romantic, teasing, and dangerous all at once. His hand slid down her spine again, pulling her closer.
“Women don’t spank men,” he said lightly, holding that smile. “At least… not like that.”
Her cheeks warmed instantly. “They don’t?” She murmured, hesitant yet curious.
He shook his head slowly, eyes never leaving hers. “They just swat their men’s arse,” he corrected, his voice dipping lower as his fingers brushed her waist. “If they really want to get their man to obey.”
Mishti swallowed, and her teasing side slipped back into place. She let her fingers curl into his shirt again. “Then I’ll swat too.” Her lips twitched. “Because you definitely need it almost every day, for the kind of tantrums you throw.”
Karan burst out laughing. He laughed so hard, so freely, that it startled even him. He had never laughed like this before. The image of Mishti swatting his very solid arse whenever he tried to dominate, or sulk, flashed vividly in his mind, and it only made it worse.
Mishti watched him laugh, completely taken in. She had never seen him like this either. So genuinely happy. For a moment, he looked like a man who had everything…no pain, no regret. Just peace.
And she knew why.
It was her.
His wife.
Right here. Beside him. He didn’t need to say it aloud. She could read it all in his eyes, and that was enough.
When his laughter finally faded, he pulled her back into his arms and murmured, “Crazy woman. Close your eyes now. We should sleep.”
She nodded, finally settling against him, careful not to touch his injured arm, mindful of every breath he took. Karan leaned in and pecked her lips gently, almost too soft, before closing his eyes, too. Soon, their breathing slowed, syncing naturally, as they drifted into sleep…together.
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Next Morning
Mishti stirred awake, feeling something wet against her upper arm.
Still half-asleep, she didn’t register it at first. Karan and her had slept wrapped around each other all night.
Her back was still pressed firmly to his chest, his body moulded to hers, his morning wood unmistakably nudging between her arse.
In her drowsy haze, her instinct was to move back, to cuddle into him more, to rub against his hardness the way her body was already craving to.
But the dampness on her arm bothered her. She slowly opened her eyes, lifted her hand and touched it.
Blood.
Her breath hitched as she realised what it was. Karan’s arm was draped around her, the same arm that was injured. She pulled away immediately, the sudden movement waking him, too. Her gaze flew to his arm. The bandage was soaked through, stained deep red.
She winced in panic. Karan noticed it as well.
“This had to happen,” she said, worry spilling into her voice. “I told you. That’s why I said I’d sleep on the couch. Your stitches haven’t healed yet, Karan.”
He exhaled slowly. “Relax.”
She stared at him, disbelieving. “Relax? First, you carried me in your arms when the doctor clearly told you not to lift heavy weights for a few days. Then last night, you wouldn’t even let me sleep away from you. Of course, this was bound to happen.”
Karan countered calmly, “The doctor also said not to panic or scold the patient.” His eyes flicked to her. “So, who’s the one defying instructions now?”
She rolled her eyes. He was always good at arguing. Sliding off the bed, she immediately grabbed the first-aid kit. She helped Karan take off his shirt, then cleaned the wound carefully and changed the bandage. She wrapped a fresh one around his arm.
“This doesn’t look good,” she said, still not satisfied. “We need to get it checked again. I’ll call Komal right away.”
Karan groaned and rolled his eyes this time. “Call anyone but her.”
Mishti placed a finger on his lips, silencing him instantly. “Start being nice to her,” she warned softly. “She’s going to be Abhimanyu’s wife soon. Deal with it.”