Chapter Twenty Three.
Devraj sat at the edge of his bed, his back was hunched, shoulders rigid, hands resting on his knees.
He didn't move. His head was bowed, eyes fixed on the floor, lost somewhere between thought and his hidden rage.
the moonlight pouring through the half-open curtains, tracing his tense silhouette. The night air drifted in, cold and quiet... too quiet.
Before him stood one of his men, the one he had sent to keep watch on Kunal.
The guard's breathing was uneven, his Adam's apple bobbing every few seconds as he swallowed nervously.
Sweat beaded at his temple despite the cool air.
Devraj's silence stretched long enough to make the man's skin crawl.
Then, slowly, Devraj lifted his head. The shift was almost imperceptible, but when his gaze met the man's, it felt like a weight pressing down on his chest.
"I told you. " Devraj's voice was quiet, calm... too calm. "Not to let him get here."
The man stammered, "S-sir, I...I tried. I made sure his car stopped to delay him and blocked a few-"
"Then how.." Devraj's tone cut him off "did he still come to pick her up?"
The man froze, panic flashing in his eyes. "S-sir, the only other option was to tamper with his brakes, but that might have caused his... his dea-"
He didn't get to finish.
Despite the weakness in his legs, he rose with a sudden, controlled fury, gripping his crutch in one hand, and with the other, his fingers wrapped around the man's throat.
The man gasped, his eyes bulging as Devraj's hand tightened.
His crutch clattered lightly against the floor as he used it to steady himself, the muscles in his jaw twitching.
"You should have done that.." Devraj murmured, the words vibrating with quiet madness.
He pulled the man closer.
"You had one task." he hissed, tightening his grip until the man's breath hitched. "And you failed."
Then, with a harsh shove, Devraj released him. The man stumbled back, gasping, falling to his knees as he coughed and clutched his throat.
Devraj's chest heaved, but his face remained blank, only the faint tremor in his hand betrayed the storm inside him.
He sat back on the bed, his gaze fixed on the wall as if he could see through it, to where Ira was.
"You're fired." he muttered, "Get the fuck out."
The guard staggered to his feet, hands trembling as he walked to the door, he opened it and slipped out, leaving Devraj alone in the room.
"I will deal with it myself."
~???~
"Hmmm..." Raghav moaned with his mouth full, eyes fluttering shut in dramatic joy.
"Ira, this is heaven. You seriously need to cook more often."
Ira laughed softly from her seat beside him. The dining table was warm with the aroma of freshly made butter chicken and soft naan, dal tadka with jeera rice.
It was a peaceful dinner within them.
Their mother shot Raghav a glare. "Oh? So my food suddenly isn't good enough for you, beta?"
Raghav froze mid-bite, his spoon halfway to his mouth. "Ma, no! I didn't mean it like that...I just meant.." he looked helplessly at Ira, "..some dishes she makes, you'll literally bite your fingers off."
Their father tried to hide a smile behind his glass of water, but their mother's glare turned on him next.
"Right, Papa?" Raghav asked quickly, desperate for backup.
"Oh, no, no.." The father held up both hands, already shaking his head. "Don't drag me into this mess, son. Your ma's food is... the best."
Raghav blinked, betrayed. "But Papa, you said.."
"I don't know what you're talking about." The father cut him off, straight-faced.
Ira couldn't stop giggling, and that only made their mother huff louder.
"You two comedians can cook your own dinner tomorrow." she said, scooping rice onto her plate.
"Wait, why me too?" the father asked, bewildered.
"Because you encouraged him." she snapped, refusing to look at him.
Raghav tried to steal a piece of butter chicken from the middle dish, but the mother's hand smacked his wrist before he could.
"Ah!" He winced.
"That's Ira's piece." she said firmly.
"But Ma-"
"Say one more word, and you'll eat outside with the stray cats."
Raghav instantly zipped his lips, making Ira burst out laughing again.
"Go and get the paneer masala from the kitchen, Ira." The mother said, her voice softening as she turned to her daughter.
Ira nodded, still smiling, and got up from her chair and head to the kitchen.
Suddenly a phone started ringing on the dining table.
It was Ira's phone.
"Ira, your phone's ringing." Raghav called out, picking it up from the dining table.
His eyes frowned slightly when he saw an unknown number flashing.
"Drop her phone, Raghav." the mother said absently, still chewing.
But before he could, Ira's voice called from the kitchen, soft but curious. "Who is that? Can you check the name?"
Raghav hesitated, he was supposed to just let her know, but instead, he pressed the call button.
"Hello?"
A tense silence followed, and then a voice, it was deep, almost... dangerous asked, "Who are you?"
Raghav felt a chill down his spine.
"Aren't you the one who called, i should be asking." he asked, trying to mask the sudden chill crawling up his spine.
"I want to speak with Ira." the voice said.
"Not until you tell me who you are, Mister. " Raghav replied, a little braver than he felt.
"Give her the phone." the voice demanded, and very deep, with an edge that made Raghav shiver despite himself.
"Hold on..first tell me who you are.." Raghav snapped, trying to assert control. "You don't sound like a friend, and your number isn't saved. Either tell me, or I hang up."
Coming from the kitchen, with the paneer masala in hand, a frown knitting Ira's brows, she caught the tension in his voice.
"Who could that be?" She thought.
Something about it made her stomach twist.
"You don't have to know who I am. Give her the phone." the voice growled.
Raghav's jaw tightened. "Fuck off then, freak." And he slammed the call.
"Who was that?" Ira asked as she sat down, placing the dish on the table.
"A... freak." Raghav said, shrugging, though his hands still trembled slightly. "Sounded like a killer, honestly." He handed her back the phone.
Ira's fingers wrapped around the device, heart thumping against her ribs.
She stared at the number, confusion and unease battling inside her. Then her eyes went wide.
"What?" Raghav asked, leaning forward.
"Bhai... this... this is my boss!" she whispered, voice tight.
Raghav and their parents froze, processing her words.
"Your boss?" Raghav echoed, brows raised.
Ira exhaled, a mix of frustration and nervous energy.
"Yes, Bhai."
"Okay... maybe I overreacted a bit. But he didn't tell me who he was on the call." Raghav blinked scratching his head.
"Maybe you should've just dropped the phone like your mom said." the father said, shaking his head.
"I hope your boss won't be mad." her mother added, concern lacing her voice.
"I hope so too." She sighed
Ira met their eyes and then lowered her gaze. "Don't worry, Ma. I'll call him back, clear the air... and apologize if I need to."
Her mother nodded, satisfied yet still uneasy.
~◇◇◇~
Ira glanced at her phone screen.
Her hair was still damp, strands sticking to her neck as she sat cross-legged on the bed.
She ran her fingers through her hair, lost in thought.
"Do I really need to call him? I can just wait until tomorrow?" she wondered, her voice barely a whisper. Then she sighed, lowering her eyes. "Raghav was rude. I guess I should apologize."
Her thumb hesitated over Devraj's number for a second before she pressed call.
It rang once. Twice.
Then his voice came through, deep, steady,
"Ira."
"Hello, sir." she greeted carefully.
"Who was that with your phone?"
She blinked. "I'm sorry, sir... that was my brother. I apologize if he sounded rude."
Silence.
The seconds crawled, each tick echoing in her chest until she found herself whispering, "Sir?"
"Who came to pick you up today?" he asked, his voice low, almost too calm.
Her brows drew together. "Sorry?"
"After you left... who came to pick you up?"
"My fiancé came-"
"I don't want to see him in my estate again."
Her lips parted in disbelief. "I-what? I'm sorry, sir, but... why?"
"Because I don't want unwanted people in my property."
The way he said property made her throat dry.
Unwanted? she thought. That's harsh. But she swallowed it, her tongue heavy.
"Okay, sir." she said softly. "Goodnight, sir."
She was just about to lower the phone when his voice snapped through the speaker, loud enough to freeze her mid-movement.
"Don't hang up."
Her hand stilled.
"Sir? Anything else?" she asked, her brows knitting in confusion.
"H-how... was your evening?" he asked suddenly, his voice softer, too casual to sound natural.
Ira blinked, caught off guard. "Um... it was... nice?" she said, uncertainty dripping from her tone.
A faint pause. Then, "Have you eaten?"
Her grip on the phone tightened. "Um, yeah. I have, sir."
The silence that followed wasn't comfortable, it stretched, heavy, almost listening to her breathe. She shifted on the bed, glancing at the clock again.
Why was he asking this? Talking to him like this feel...kinda Awkward.
"Um... sir, I have to hang up now." she murmured, trying to sound polite but firm.
There was a low sound, like a quiet breath, before his voice came again. "Why?"
Her brows furrowed. "Because it's late, sir. And I'm sleepy." she replied, forcing a light chuckle.
Can't he see the time?
Another silence. But this one felt... different.
He wasn't saying anything, but she could feel him there.
The faint inhale. The rasp of air through his throat.
When he finally spoke again, it came out rough, restrained.
"Goodnight, Ira."
"Goodnight, sir.." she said quickly, hanging up before the silence could reach her again.
She dropped the phone beside her and rubbed her arms. The room wasn't cold, but her skin prickled anyway.
It's so hard to understand him, she thought finally trying to sleep.
???