Chapter Twenty Five.
Ira pushed open the bedroom door and stepped inside, arms full of Devraj's freshly ironed clothes.
The soft scent of laundry steam still clung to the fabric. She walked quietly, careful not to disturb him- as he was working.
but Devraj eyes still followed her.
Devraj back propped slightly against the headboard, his laptop resting on his thighs.
He looked like he was working... but every few seconds, his gaze snapped to her... tracing the line of her back, the swing of her hair, the small way she hummed to herself as she crossed the room.
He forced himself to look at the screen again.
It didn't help.
He still felt her.
Ira stepped into the walk-in closet, arranged the clothes where they belonged, then came out with her usual efficient grace.
She walked to her tote bag, checked the time-then checked the notification when her phone buzzed.
Her eyes widened instantly.
Her whole face lit up like festival lights.
Her salary had arrived.
A soft, breathless smile bloomed across her lips, bright and sweet, the kind that made her cheeks lift and her lashes flutter.
She turned toward Devraj, who had stopped typing entirely the moment he felt her shift.
"Sir." she said, barely containing her joy, "I just... received the money. Thank you very much, sir."
Something pulled tight in his chest.
She was glowing-so happy, so grateful, so effortless-and he felt a cold, dangerous pride unfurl inside him.
I did that. I made her smile.
Only me.
He nodded once, trying to stay controlled, even though inside he wanted to drag that smile closer and keep it.
"Ready to leave?" he asked.
"Yes, sir."
He cleared his throat.
"Who... is coming to pick you?" Devraj asked. His tone was calm on the surface.
Ira blinked, confused by the sudden question. "Nobody, sir. But I will be fine on my own."
"I will get my driver to drop you." Devraj said.
Ira blinked, thrown off. That wasn't a suggestion... it sounded like a decision already made.
"What? No, sir. Please, you don't have to. I'll be fine. I can even get a cab." She gave a small, polite smile, hoping he'd drop it.
He didn't.
Devraj's jaw tightened, the muscle ticking hard. His eyes darkened-possessively.
"I will get my driver to drop you." he repeated, slower this time, voice lowered, like he was trying not to snap.
Ira shook her head gently. "You don't have to bother, sir. I can go alone. But thank you for your-"
She stopped mid-sentence when she saw him glaring at her.
His expression was thunder.
"You. Will. Go. With. My. Driver."
He delivered each word coldly.
Ira stared at him, stunned.
What on earth was wrong with him?
Why does everything have to go his way?
And why was he acting like her transportation was some national security issue?
She swallowed her frustration. Fighting him was pointless.
"...Okay, sir." Ira finally sighed, defeated. "Okay."
At least it's only for today, she told herself.
And at least he wasn't insisting on coming with her.
Devraj pulled out his phone, his voice, authoritative, as he gave instructions to his driver. Not a single hesitation. Not a hint of compromise.
He hung up.
"He is waiting for you outside." he said.
Ira nodded slowly. "Goodbye, sir. And... thank you."
She turned and walked toward the door.
Devraj didn't answer.
He just watched her.
Watched the way she touched the doorknob, watched the way the light caught her hair, watched her step out and gently close the door-
-and the moment she disappeared, a burning ache spread across his chest.
Because letting her leave him, even for a few hours, was beginning to burn him.
~???~
As the car rolled down the estate towards the street, Ira's phone began to buzz, lighting up her hand. She glanced down, and the moment she saw the name, her face softened.
Kunal.
Her safe place.
"Hello, Kunal."
His tone was rushed, breathy, like he'd been pacing.
"Do you want me to get a ride for you? I-I mean, since you're still–"
"Kunal, calm down.." Ira giggled softly. "I'm fine. I'm already in a car, on my way home."
She heard him exhale, long and heavy.
"Okay. That's better. But did you see the plate number? Just-"
"Kunal..." She called, gentle affection in her voice.
"I'm fine. Really. Besides... the car belongs to Sir, he told his driver to drop me home."
Silence.
A very telling silence.
"Y-Your boss?" he finally said. "W-why would he-?" He stopped himself, but the question lingered thick in the air.
Ira sighed and lifted her eyes-only to catch the driver watching her through the rearview mirror.
His gaze snapped away the second he realized she noticed. A tiny shiver crawled up her spine.
"I really don't know." she murmured, shifting in her seat. "But at least... this should be the first and last."
"I'll get a cab to pick you up every day. Before you finish work." Kunal insisted. There it was again-concern... or jealousy... or territory.
She couldn't quite tell. But it made her lips twitch.
"Relax, Kunal. I can handle it myself, okay?"
There was a beat, then a defeated sigh.
"Turn on your location, okay? He might be your boss's driver, but I still don't trust anyone."
That part... that made her smile. Warmth bloomed in her chest at his protectiveness.
Gosh, she loved this man.
She giggled softly. "Okay, I will."
"I'll call you back." she added, then hung up.
She tapped her screen, turned on her location, and sent it to him on WhatsApp.
A tiny blue tick appeared instantly.
And as the car kept rolling, Ira leaned her head against the window.
~??????~
"Uncle? You can drop me here." Ira said gently, leaning forward a bit.
The driver hesitated, his eyes flicking between the road and the rearview mirror.
They were still on a busy street-shop lights glowing, people strolling, scooters humming past. Definitely not her home.
"Here?" he asked, brows pulling tight. "I was told to drop you home, ma'am. And this... this isn't your address. We're still on the main road."
Ira's stomach dipped.
How does he even know my address?
She'd been directing him half the way. He shouldn't have known anything.
But she swallowed the unease.
"Oh-no. Don't worry." she said quickly. "My papa's workshop is nearby, and I need to see him, first."
The driver slowed the car, but his eyes found her in the mirror again.
A firm, unreadable stare.
"Sir instructed me to drop you home." he repeated flatly.
"And I want you to drop me here." Ira snapped before she could help it. Her voice had that edge now - the edge she rarely used. "I need to see my Dad."
The irritation simmered through her.
First Devraj.
Now his driver.
Why were they all so painfully persistent? It was exhausting.
The driver studied her face, searching, weighing. Then finally-he nodded. A stiff, reluctant nod.
He pressed the brake.
Ira immediately opened the door and stepped out, the cold air brushing her face. She adjusted her tote bag on her shoulder, fixed her dupatta properly, and offered a polite.
"Thank you, uncle."
The door shut.
She walked away, her sandals tapping lightly against the pavement.
After a few steps, something made her glance back.
The car was still there. Parked.
A breath hitched in her throat, but she forced herself to look away and keep walking. She wasn't about to let paranoia ruin her relief today.
Because she was happy - truly.
She got her pay.
Which meant she could finally give part of it to her father so he could pay off those people.
Those people.
Her smile faltered as her mind dragged up the memory- Mr. Tiwari's face.
A shiver rippled down her spine.
She hugged her bag tighter and quickened her pace...
How did her father even end up with him?
Of all the people to ask for help... he chose a goon.
A man with dirt under his nails and blood on his hands.
Why not the bank? Why not literally anyone else?
The thought sat heavy in her chest as she took a turn onto the narrow lane leading to the workshop.
But the moment she saw the flicker of the signboard in the distance, her worry softened.
Her smile bloomed again.
She couldn't wait to see her father's face when she handed him the money- the relief, the pride.
It would all be worth it.
But the closer she got, the more her smile began to fade.
Something felt wrong.
The workshop area was never quiet. Never.
There was always noise-metal clanking, engines sputtering, her father cursing at a stubborn bolt, her older brother running around for spare parts.
But now?
Silence.
A cold, unnatural silence that made goosebumps rise along her arms.
Her steps slowed.
Her stomach twisted.
"Papa?" she called softly, voice slightly trembling. "Raghav?"
She stepped into the open garage... and froze.
Her father and brother were on their knees.
Both terrified.
Both breathing hard.
And four men stood around them with guns pointed casually-like it was nothing more than holding tools.
Ira's breath hitched.
"Well... look who decided to join us."
The voice slithered through the air.
She jerked her head up.
There he was again- Mr. Tiwari.
Perched on the hood of a car, chewing something slowly, eyes unblinking.
Her throat tightened.
Then another voice-smoother, darker-leaned in next to him.
"Hello... doll."
She turned and saw his son.
Smirking.
His eyes trailing over her in a way that made her insides curl.
Her father snapped, voice trembling, "Ira...beta...why are you here?"
She swallowed, forcing herself to breathe.
"I... I came to give you the money." she said, her voice breaking as she looked at Mr. Tiwari. "Why are you doing this? I told you I would pay myself. I told you not to threaten my father."
Mr. Tiwari lifted his chin lazily, amusement flickering in his eyes.
"Yes.." he drawled. "You did tell me that."
He leaned forward, elbows resting on his knees.
"But it's the end of the month today... and I see nothing."
His smile stretched slow and cruel.
Ira gulped, her heart slamming painfully in her chest as his son pushed off the car, taking a single step toward her.
The air felt colder.
"It's not even the end of the day yet." Ira managed, her voice steadier than she felt.
Mr. Tiwari studied her for a long, uncomfortable second...then let out a harsh, mocking laugh.
It echoed off the workshop.
And just as suddenly, the laughter cut.
His face dropped back into that dead, stone-cold expression.
"You talk like you expect more time.." he said, his voice low and venomous. "I hate waiting."
A slow breath slithered out of Ira's lungs.
"And remember the deal."
This time it was his son, stepping forward, lips curled into a smile that didn't touch his eyes.
He was staring at her like she was something he couldn’t wait to have.
Her skin crawled.
She hugged her arms around herself instinctively.
"I have the money." she said quickly. "You'll get it today. Just let my father and brother go."
That made everyone still.
Mr. Tiwari leaned forward, brows lifting.
Gaze narrowing.
"You do?"
"Yes.." she said firmly. "Give me your account details. I'll go to the bank and transfer it right now."
A beat of silence.
Then Mr. Tiwari snorted and waved a hand dismissively.
"We don't do transfers, girl."
He eyed her slowly.
"We do cash. You go, withdraw it, and bring it back."
Ira swallowed hard.
Of course. Men like him didn't want paper trails.
"Fine." She straightened. "Then you can leave now. You'll get your money tomorrow."
Mr. Tiwari's chuckle was deep, dark-like gravel.
He flicked his fingers, and instantly, the guns lowered.
Her father sagged with relief.
Her brother sucked in a breath like he'd been drowning.
Ira rushed to them, helping them up, her hands shaking.
"Stay away from us once you get your money." she warned, her voice trembling but loud. "If you come near my family again, I'll involve the police."
That made the men laugh-booming, mocking, cruel.
Except the son. She saw him.
He wasn't laughing.
He was glaring, jaw clenched so tightly she could see the muscle twitch.
There was something furious in his eyes...
something that made her look away quickly.
"Call the police if you want." Mr. Tiwari said, voice dropping to a deadly calm. "Just be prepared for war."
Her pulse stuttered.
Her father squeezed her arm.
But Ira forced herself to lift her chin.
"Leave.." she said. "One of you can come for your money tomorrow."
Mr. Tiwari held her gaze for a long, suffocating moment...
Then he nodded once.
And with another lazy flick of his hand, his goons started filing out, one by one, boots thudding against concrete, silence flooding back into the workshop like a cold wave.
Mr. Tiwari stepped closer-so close Ira could smell the tobacco on his breath.
His eyes pinned her like needles.
"I don't like threats, little barbie." he said, voice dropping into a low, poisonous rumble.
"It gets me angry. Watch your mouth next time."
The way he sneered the last word made her stomach twist.
Ira had to force herself not to step back.
"Let's go, Deepak." he ordered, turning away.
Ira let out the breath she'd been holding.
Her father and brother pulled her into a tight, trembling hug.
But the moment shattered at another voice, petulant, venomous.
"You said I can have her."
Ira froze.
She turned slowly.
Deepak was glaring at them, jaw tight, eyes burning.
Mr. Tiwari halted mid-step and turned back to his son with irritation.
"Only if they didn't pay." he said. "Tomorrow will determine."
Deepak's face darkened.
He looked like he was about to explode.
"You promised." he hissed, fist curling at his side like he wanted to punch something.
Mr. Tiwari's expression hardened even more.
"I said-tomorrow will determine." he repeated, voice clipped. "I won't repeat myself again. Move."
He walked out.
But Deepak didn't follow immediately.
No-he stalked forward to Ira instead.
Raghav shoved himself in front of Ira, blocking her with his body.
Deepak's eyes flicked to him with disgust, a low growl escaping him.
Then his gaze slid over Raghav's shoulder...
landing on Ira peeking from behind her brother.
His lips curled into a slow, disturbing smile.
"I'll see you tomorrow... my doll."
Ira's entire body recoiled at the nickname.
Her skin crawled.
"Fuck off." Raghav snapped.
Deepak gave him a bored, almost amused look-
like Raghav was nothing more than a barking street dog...and finally turned, walking out after his father.
The workshop felt colder the second he was gone.
The moment the last of Tiwari's men disappeared down the road, all three of them exhaled at once-like they'd been holding their breath since she arrived.
Ira's father pulled her into his chest, arms wrapped tight, almost crushing.
"Papa?" she whispered, cupping his face as she pulled back.
"Are you okay?"
She turned to Raghav, eyes scanning him for bruises.
"Are both of you okay?"
They nodded, but the fear still trembled behind their eyes.
"Beta, I-" her father's voice broke.
"Papa.." she cut gently, taking his hands. "We'll give them the money tomorrow. All of it. But right now, we need to go home, i don't trust that...his son."
His eyes filled instantly, tears blurring the wrinkles at the corners.
He bowed his head and she reached up, hugging him again.
"This is my fault." he whispered into her shoulder-shaky, ashamed.
Ira closed her eyes for a moment.
No matter how much she reassured him, she knew he wouldn't forgive himself until this ended.
She looked over at Raghav.
He was staring into empty space, jaw clenched, but the fear was in his eyes.
"Bhai?" she said softly, stepping closer.
"Don't beat yourself up too hard, okay? It'll be over soon. We'll fix this."
He nodded-but the smile he forced was thin and brittle.
Their father wiped his eyes and cleared his throat.
"Don't tell your mother what happened here." he said quietly.
Ira met his gaze and nodded once, firmly.
"Okay, Papa."