Chapter Twenty Nine.
Ira walked down the quiet, balancing Devraj’s lunch tray carefully. Her phone buzzed. She paused, glanced down… and her face lit up.
Raghav.
She answered.
“Hey, Bhai.”
“Ira, I’ve withdrawn the money, okay? We’ll pay them when they come to the workshop.”
She exhaled, shoulders dropping in relief. Finally. This nightmare… done.
No more fear. No more debts hanging around their throat.
“Okay, Bhai. Just let me know how it goes, alright?”
“Of course. And be careful there too, okay?”
A soft, fond smile curved her lips.
“I’m always careful.” she teased, and the call ended.
She continued walking, a small bounce in her step, completely unaware of the eyes glued to her every move.
Devraj watched her from his laptop screen, the CCTV footage reflecting in his eyes..
The small smile she gave who she was communicating on phone, twisted something ugly inside him.
Who made her smile that way?
Is it that thing again...(Thing, as in Kunal.)
He reached for his phone and dialed a number.
“Hello, sir?” A man answered immediately.
One of the men, that spy on Ira and give him informations.
“You still haven’t found what I asked for?”
“S-sir, we’re still investigating… also… we discovered something. Those men...they belong to Mr. Tiwari. They’re local gangsters, but they… have a big tie with...Samar Khurana.”
Devraj’s grip tightened on the phone so hard his knuckles whitened.
Mafia? Around her? Near her family?
The thought made something feral claw awake inside him.
Samar is an...Old friend.. but not in a good relationship.
“What is the relationship between Mr. Tiwari and Ira’s father?” he demanded.
Silence crackled on the line, the tension thick.
“Sir… we’re still piecing that part together.”
“But, Mr. Verma is a good man, so it’s either a loan issue or a dispute over ownership. But I’m betting on the loan.” the man said.
Before he could continue, Devraj’s bedroom door opened.
Ira stepped in, with his lunch.
Devraj’s eyes flicked to her immediately.
“Find out everything,” he ordered, “I want the full details tonight.”
He didn’t wait for a response. He hung up and slowly lowered the phone, his eyes never leaving her.
“Your lunch, sir.” Ira said softly. She set the tray on the table with careful hands, almost too careful, like she didn’t want to disturb him.
Then she turned and walked toward the balcony, she was still a bit uncomfortable with the whole thing that happened few hours ago.
Devraj’s eyes still on her, then he image replayed in his head again and again..her palm resting on Vivaan’s neck, her face tilted up, concern in her eyes…
His fist clenched.
She touches them without hesitation… but me? She flinches. Avoids me. As if my skin would burn her.
A bitter, insecure anger pooled in his chest.
She won’t even look at me properly…
His fingers curled tighter.
Am I ugly to her? Does she think I’m… broken? Worthless?
The words burned inside him more than any physical pain.
He looked up at the balcony.
Ira was smiling softly at the view, her hair brushing her shoulder, light outlining her like something pure, sunlight warming her cheeks, the smoothness of her neck, her eyes gentle, innocent, full of life.
God, she was beautiful.
And worse… she was kind, too kind.
Never arrogant, never judgmental…
And far too sweet for the world she was stuck in.
And the sweeter she was…the more Devraj felt that feverish, possessive pull tightening around his ribs.
I want her so badly...
Watching her smile at the world while ignoring him..
it made him want to tear that world down with his bare hands.
Just so she’d have nowhere else to look but him.
He lowered his gaze, jaw grinding, jealousy burning through him like fire.
And all the while…
Ira smiled softly at the sky, unaware that Devraj’s entire world had narrowed around her.
~???~
Raghav jogged down the street toward their workshop with a bag filled with money, wiping sweat from his forehead. But the moment he turned the corner, his steps faltered.
A black jeep he had never seen before sat parked directly in front of the shop, engine running, dark windows, heavy presence.
His heart sank.
His father came out of the garage at the same time, relief flooding his face when he saw Raghav.
“You’re here… thank God.” He exhaled, taking the bag money from his son’s hand.
Raghav’s eyes stayed glued to the unfamiliar jeep.
“Who is that?”
Before his father could answer, the jeep door clicked open.
Deepak stepped out.
He shut the door with a push of his boot, then hopped effortlessly onto the bonnet and sat there, spreading his knees slightly as he lit a cigarette.
One drag.
Two drags.
Raghav muttered under his breath..
“God, I hate him so much.”
His father didn’t respond. He simply clutched the bag tighter and walked toward Deepak, offering it with both hands.
Deepak didn’t take it immediately.
He looked at the bag, then at Mr. Verma, slowly… at Raghav too.
His eyes were cold and Interested.
He took another drag of his cigarette, smoke curling past his lips in a lazy stream.
Then, in a soft voice that somehow felt more dangerous than a shout..
“Where is Ira?”
Both father and son stiffened instantly and exchanged looks.
Raghav’s fist curled so tight his nails bit into his palm.
Mr. Verma swallowed. “Why are you… asking for my daughter? This is the money. We are paying everything back.”
Deepak tilted his head, studying the older man as if the answer annoyed him.
He didn’t blink.
He took another drag.
Then he leaned forward slightly on the bonnet, his eyes gleaming.
“I asked where she is..” he said quietly. “Don’t make me repeat myself.”
Deepak’s face twisted into irritation, a dark storm brewing behind his cold eyes.
“She was supposed to be here..” he said slowly, every thing irritated him. “She was supposed to hand me the money.”
“I want to see her.” he added, almost casually.
Raghav didn’t hesitate.
“Go rot in hell, you psychopathic freak.”
Mr. Verma’s eyes widened at the insult, but Raghav stepped forward anyway.
“That’s the money we owe your father..” Raghav continued. “And my father already called. He will hand it over. Not Ira. Now get your money and pack your shit out of here.”
Deepak just… watched him rant.
Then he smiled.
A twisted, slow, spine-crawling smile as he pushed off the bonnet. He flicked the last bit of ash from his cigarette before dropping and crushing it with the heel of his boot.
“Wow..” he chuckled, “you amuse me so damn much.”
“P-please… take the money and leave..” Mr. Verma stammered, hands trembling as he held the bag tighter.
Deepak turned his head lazily toward him.
“And if I don’t?”
Mr. Verma swallowed hard. Raghav’s fists clenched.
“I really want to see Ira.” Deepak said casually, almost smiling but the way he said it made Raghav flinch.
“Why?” Raghav growled.
Deepak’s eyes flicked to him, Then he smirked.
“Because I miss her face..i miss...her.” he murmured with a shameless shrug. “She’s… breathtaking. I was this close to having her. Very close.”
Raghav’s blood boiled. He surged forward with a snarl, ready to break his jaw, but his father yanked him back, shaking his head sharply.
Deepak’s smirk widened. The predator’s confidence radiated off him.
Deepak laughed under his breath, fascinated.
“Now that the debt is cleared, I can’t have her." He tilted his head, "But, Mr. Verma…” he took a step closer, Raghav moved with him, shielding his father instinctively.
“…can you give me Ira?”
Raghav’s breath froze.
“I...i just.. i can’t get her out of my head,” he said, voice shaking with fixation. “I can’t. I want her.”
He exhaled shakily, forcing himself to calm down, but the madness still burned behind his eyes.
He looked at them again…
and smiled.
This guy is insane. Totally deranged. Raghav’s thoughts, his chest tight with anger and disbelief.
Every word, from Deepak sent a flare of rage through him.
“Over my dead body.” This time it was Mr. Verma who snapped, he was scared but, his precious daughter isn't someone for a sick bastard like him to have a fantasy on.
“We’ve paid the debt! Ira is out of this, and she will never be part of it!” His tone rang final.
Deepak just chuckled, a low, unsettling sound that crawled under their skin.
“But she was… she involved herself–” he started, teasingly.
“And the debt is paid. Now get your money and leave my garage!” Mr. Verma yelled, cutting him off, he was done talking to a man who was clearly mentally unstable and talking ill about his daughter.
Deepak’s jaw tightened, his teeth clenched, fists curling into tight balls. Anger and obsession laced every fiber of him.
Then his phone rang. He picked it up without a glance at them.
“Yes?” His voice was casual, calm, almost chilling in its detachment.
A pause. Then, click. The call ended.
He didn’t say another word. Slowly, he grabbed the bag of money Mr. Verma had handed him, weighing it in his hands.
He froze for a moment, eyes flicking toward Raghav and his father, the corner of his lips curling into that twisted, dangerous smirk.
Raghav felt his stomach twist. Disgust. Fear. Rage. All at once.
Deepak’s gaze was like a predator’s, calm but loaded with unspoken intent.
Then, without another word, he got into his jeep and drove away.
Raghav exhaled shakily, rubbing his face. “I… I have a bad, ugly feeling about him.”
Mr. Verma’s shoulders slumped, tension still radiating off him.
“For one thing, I’m just glad the debt is finally off.” he said quietly, though the unease in his eyes betrayed him.
~???~
Ira walked down the stairs, tote bag resting against her shoulder. Her body felt lighter knowing her work for the day was done. It was time to go home.
Just as her foot touched the last step.
“Ira!?”
She looked up instantly.
Mrs. Rathore was hurrying toward her, her face lit up with such genuine joy that Ira couldn’t help but smile back.
“Oh my God.” Mrs. Rathore exclaimed, clasping her hands together, eyes bright. “What magic soup did you make? Vivaan is so much better now. His fever is completely gone!”
Relief washed through Ira, She hadn’t realized how much she’d been worrying until that moment.
“I’m so glad I could help, Mrs. Rathore.” she said softly, her smile sincere.
Mrs. Rathore’s gaze dropped to the tote bag on Ira’s shoulder. “Oh… you’re leaving already?”
“Yes,” Ira replied gently. “It’s 3:00 already.”
Before Ira could take another step.
“Would it be okay if you stayed a little while longer, dear?” Mrs. Rathore spoke again, tilting her head thoughtfully.
Ira blinked, genuinely surprised.
“A… a while?” she echoed. “Why? I’m done with my work.”
Mrs. Rathore chuckled softly, affection laced in the sound. “You look tense, Ira. Please don’t be.” She said, “And no, I’m not asking as your employer.”
She turned and began walking toward the living area, and instinctively, Ira followed.
“I want you to have dinner with us.” Mrs. Rathore continued. “As a thank-you. You’ve been with us for a month now, and Devraj…” she paused briefly, choosing her words, “…has been more comfortable than he’s ever been with any caregiver before.”
That sentence landed heavier than it should have.
“This is simply appreciation..” Mrs. Rathore added, stopping and turning to face her fully, her smile gentle, “From the Rathore family.”
Ira forced a polite smile back, even as something unsettled stirred quietly inside her.
Appreciation shouldn’t feel this… weighted.
And yet, as she stood there under Mrs. Rathore’s expectant gaze, saying no suddenly felt harder than it should have.
Ira swallowed hard.
She wanted to decline. Not because she wasn’t grateful..she was..but dinner with the Rathore family? All of them?
She wasn’t ready for that.
“Um… Mrs. Rathore..” she began carefully, lips curving into a polite smile she’d perfected over the years. “I really appreciate the invitation… I truly do. But I’m sorry, not today. Maybe another day?”
Mrs. Rathore’s smile faltered, just a little.
“But why not today?” she asked gently. “Are you uncomfortable?”
“No no..no..” Ira rushed, shaking her head. “Not at all. It’s just… um…” She hesitated for half a second, then slipped smoothly into the lie. “My mom wants me home early today. She needs help with...some groceries.”
“Oh,” Mrs. Rathore murmured, disappointment flickering across her face before she smiled again. “Then I’ll call your mother. I’ll send a few maids and guards to help her. That way, you can stay.”
Ira’s eyes widened.
“No no, please,” she said quickly. “Um… that–my mom! wouldn’t be comfortable with strangers helping. She’s very… traditional.”
“That’s why I’ll call her first–”
“No!” Ira cut in again, then winced internally “I mean..um..y-you really don’t have to bother. I’ll call her myself.”
Her smile tightened, stretched thin by rising frustration and unease.
Mrs. Rathore paused, studying her for a moment, then nodded, seemingly satisfied.
“Alright..” she said warmly. “But when you’re done, you must teach me that soup you made for Vivaan. I’ll be in the kitchen.”
And just like that, she walked away.
Ira stood there for a second, frozen.
“Oh God…She is so persistent.” she muttered under her breath, biting her lip. “Dinner? Here?”
Her gaze drifted instinctively toward the upper floor.
Her stomach twisted.
“The whole Rathore family…” she whispered. “I’m comfortable with Vivaan. And Mrs. Rathore is sweet.…”
She exhaled slowly.
“But Mr. Rathore..and Sir…”
A shiver crawled up her spine.
“They have this… scary, angry aura.” she muttered, “I don’t belong at that table.”
She hugged her tote bag closer to her side, heart thudding, with the instinct that she was accepting something she shouldn’t.
She stepped aside and pulled out her phone, fingers hovering for a second before she dialed. The line rang once.
“Hey, silly girl..” her mother’s voice came through, “Are you coming?”
Ira exhaled. Just hearing her eased something in her chest.
“Maa… I can’t come home right now.”
There was an immediate pause.
“Huh? Why?” her mother asked. “What’s wrong?”
“Mrs. Rathore…” Ira lowered her voice instinctively. “She asked me to stay for dinner.”
Another pause. Longer this time.
“Why?” her mother asked slowly.
Ira sighed, rubbing her forehead. “Ugh… according to her, it’s an appreciation or something.”
“An appreciation?” her mother scoffed. “You work there, Ira. You’re not there to serve charity or entertain anyone.”
“I know, Maa.” Ira said quietly. “But Mrs. Rathore seems… genuinely kind...she was very persistent too. She almost called you."
"What?!"
"I’ll just… come home late.” Ira sighed..
Her mother’s tone shifted instantly, worry seeping in.
“Ira, are you sure you’re safe? I don’t have a good feeling about this.”
Ira swallowed.
“Me too, Maa.” she admitted softly. “But Mrs. Rathore doesn’t seem like someone I can refuse easily. Don’t worry… I’ll be fine.”
There was a small sigh on the other end.
“I’ll tell Raghav to come pick you up.” her mother said firmly. “Just let me know when you’re ready to leave.”
Ira’s lips curved into a faint smile. “Okay, Maa.”
“And Ira…” her mother added, her voice low now, almost pleading.. “Please be careful.”
Ira nodded instinctively, even though she knew her mother couldn’t see her.
“Of course, Maa.”
The call ended.
She lowered the phone slowly, staring at it for a second before slipping it into her bag.
I hope I don’t regret this…
With a quiet sigh, she adjusted her tote bag and walked toward the kitchen.