CHAPTER 38
Across the still waters
VIHAAN
It’s been three days.
Three days since I saw her on that library floor, eyes red and terrified, begging me to believe her. Three days since I heard her voice tremble with the words—I have no one else, Vihaan.
I haven’t stopped hearing them. Haven’t stopped replaying them in my mind.
She sleeps now with her back pressed against me, as if needing the reassurance that I’m here, but when she wakes, her eyes look… vacant. Like she’s searching for herself and finding only fragments.
And yet… she no longer pushes me away. That’s the one difference.
Before all of this, every time I came near, she stiffened like she owed me nothing, like she wanted to protect her own independence from my shadow.
But now… she lets me sit with her. Lets me touch her hand, pat her head. Lets me stay.
She hasn’t said much since that night. And I, for once in my life, find myself without words, too. Because what words can stitch together something broken inside?
I decide, this morning, that silence can’t be the only thing I give her.
So I tell her we’re going out. Just us. No palace walls, no watchful eyes. I don’t give her details, because if I do, she might refuse. She watches me in that quiet way of hers, a little uncertain, but she doesn’t protest when I help her into the car.
The palace lake spreads wide when we arrive, glittering under the sun like a sheet of molten glass. The boating dock is nearly empty, just a few attendants waiting for us. The oars gleam, the wooden boats freshly polished, rocking gently against the rippling water.
Her brows furrow. “Boating?”
“Yes,” I say simply, hiding the nerves in my chest with a practiced ease. I am not usually nervous. I’m used to commanding crowds, rooms, negotiations. But with her, everything feels fragile, every word something I might break if I don’t handle it carefully.
Her lips part, just slightly. “I’ve never…” She trails off.
“Then today’s a good day to start.” I offer her my hand, steady, waiting.
For a heartbeat, she just stares at it. Then, slowly, she slips her fingers into mine.
The jolt that runs through me at the contact—I cover it with a steady expression, but inside, my chest tightens. Her hand is smaller than mine, softer, and she doesn’t grip tightly, but even this faint hold feels like trust.
I help her into the boat first, making sure she sits comfortably on the cushioned seat before I step in. The boat sways under our combined weight, and she tenses immediately, her fingers gripping the edge.
I take the oars in hand, my muscles straining with the familiar rhythm as I push us away from the dock. The boat glides forward, cutting through the water with smooth ease.
Her eyes widen as she looks around, hair lifting slightly in the breeze. There it is—the faintest flicker of wonder on her face. It’s not a full smile. Not yet. But it’s something.
I lean back against the seat, rowing steadily. “Relax. You’re safe. The boat won’t tip unless I want it to.”
She shoots me a glare at that. “You want it to?”
I smirk. “Depends. Do you swim?”
Her lips part, scandalized, and for the first time in days, I hear it—the tiniest huff of laughter leaving her throat. Quiet, almost unwilling. But it’s there.
It makes my chest feel lighter than I can admit.
“No,” she mutters, crossing her arms, though I can see the way her mouth twitches, like she’s fighting not to smile.
“Then you’re safe.” I dip the oar smoothly, sending a spray of droplets into the air. “Because I’m a very good swimmer. And I’d never let you drown.”
Her gaze flicks to mine at that. Something unreadable passes in her eyes. “You say that like you mean it.”
“I do mean it.” My voice is steady, sharper now.
I set the oars down, letting the boat drift gently in the middle of the lake, the water stretching wide around us like a mirror.
Then I lean forward, resting my arms on my knees, looking straight at her.
“No one will ever harm you, Poorvi. Not while I breathe. Please… let me prove that to you.”
Her throat works, and she nods. Slowly. Almost reluctantly. But it’s a nod.
I let out a breath I didn’t know I was holding.
The wind ruffles her hair, sending strands across her face. Without thinking, I reach across and tuck them behind her ear. She freezes at the touch, but doesn’t pull away. My fingers linger just a fraction longer than they should.
“Why are you doing this?” she asks suddenly, her voice low, uncertain. “Taking me here. Saying all this.”
“Because three days ago, I saw you fall apart in my arms. And I swore to myself I would never let that happen again.” My voice roughens, the memory flashing vivid and raw in my mind. “Because when you told me I was all you had… I realized you were all I wanted.”
Her lips part, her eyes wide.
I quickly look away, dipping the oars back into the water, rowing us forward again. Perhaps I’ve said too much. Perhaps I’ve bared more of myself than I should.
But she doesn’t argue. Doesn’t retreat. She just sits there, quiet, her fingers tracing absent patterns on the wooden edge of the boat.
The silence isn’t heavy this time. It’s softer. Like something unspoken hangs between us, fragile but alive.
I try again to lighten the air. “You know, you’re supposed to say something flattering back. That’s how these things work.”
Her brow arches, and she leans back, her voice carrying a hint of sarcasm I’ve missed. “What exactly do you want me to say? That I’ve been dreaming of boating with you my whole life?”
I grin despite myself. “It would be nice.”
She rolls her eyes, but there it is again—the faint curve of her lips. Not quite reaching her eyes, but trying.
“Fine,” she sighs, mock-dramatic. “Kunwar-sa, you row a boat very impressively. Truly, the most talented PR head and oarsman I’ve ever met.”
I laugh. A real, full laugh. “That’s terrible flattery, Poorvi.”
“Then don’t ask me for it.”
We trade jibes back and forth for a while, the boat gliding steadily, the sun warming our skin. For brief stretches, it almost feels normal. Almost feels like she’s not carrying that shadow in her eyes.
But then I glance at her, and I see it—the way her smile falters when she thinks I’m not looking. The way her eyes dim again, staring out at the water like she’s somewhere else entirely.
It breaks me, how she’s trying so hard to hold herself together, to give me pieces of light even when she’s drowning inside.
I want to tell her it’s okay to not smile. I want to tell her she doesn’t need to perform strength for me. But instead, I just reach across and take her hand again, steady and firm.
Her fingers tremble, but they curl around mine. And for now, that’s enough.
As the boat drifts across the still waters, I know this isn’t the end of her pain. It won’t vanish in a day, or even in a hundred. But if she lets me, I will row her through every storm, every silence, every shadow.
Because she’s mine. And no one will ever take her peace from her again.