Chapter Thirty Six.
Jummah Mubarak ?????? to my Muslim Ummah????
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Kunal stopped his car into park, the engine idling as he stared at the massive, closed entrance of the Rathore mansion. His heart beating fast.
He clenched his fists then stepped out into the heavy rain.
The rain claimed him instantly, soaking through his already wet clothes, chilling his skin, but the fire of protectiveness in his gut kept him moving.
Inside, the atmosphere was thick with a different kind of tension.
Mrs. Rathore had emerged from the kitchen, personally carrying a tray with a bowl of steaming ginger soup.
She had just reached the stairs when a violent pounding echoed through the hall.
The sound was so sudden that Vivaan stopped his frantic pacing, and the guards instinctively reached for their holsters.
Mrs. Rathore’s eyes narrowed. "Stay on guard," she commanded, her voice surprisingly stern. "Open the door."
The security detail moved with military precision, forming a grim semi-circle in front of the entrance, a human firing squad ready for any threat.
One guard reached out and heaved back one side of the massive double doors.
Instead of an assassin or a rival, the light revealed a lone figure. Kunal stood there, drenched to the bone, his chest heaving.
For a heartbeat, the sight of the armed guards made his blood run cold, but then he remembered why he was there.
His aura shifted, a raw, desperate courage masking his fear. His Girlfriend is Here!
"Who are you?" Mrs. Rathore demanded. She handed the tray to a nearby maid without looking, her gaze pinned on the Kunal.
"What a pleasant surprise," Mr. Rathore emerged from the shadows of a side hallway, his hands clasped behind his back. "Mr. Kunal Mehra, in the flesh."
Kunal’s throat tightened as he met the patriarch’s gaze. He felt like he was standing before a king.
"Kunal?" Vivaan stepped forward, his brow furrowing in recognition. "Ira’s boyfriend?"
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Meanwhile, upstairs...
The corridor felt like a nightmare that wouldn’t end.
To Ira, the hallway stretched out into an infinite, hollow tunnel, as if the mansion itself were alive and trying to keep her trapped.
Her vision was blurred, her cheeks stained with her tears and the dampness of the storm.
"IRA!!!"
Devraj’s voice tore through the air again..
Ira whimpered, a violent shiver racking her frame as she forced her aching legs to move even faster.
Then, she saw it: the grand staircase. She let out a sob of pure relief, a broken smile ghosting across her lips through the tears.
She raced down the marble steps with a terrifying speed, her feet barely touching the ground.
It was a miracle of adrenaline that she didn't trip and break her neck.
Downstairs, the air was frozen. All eyes were still fixed on the drenched Kunal.
"Why are you here, Mr. Mehra?" Mr. Rathore asked..
"I'm here for–"
Kunal’s words died in his throat. His gaze snapped past the guards to the staircase.
"Ira!" he yelled. He didn't wait for permission..he charged past the startled security detail.
Ira saw him...her anchor, her safety...and let out a strangled cry of joy.
She collided with him, throwing her arms around his neck and burying her face in his soaked shoulder as her sobs broke out fresh.
The Rathores watched the display in stunned silence. Mrs. Rathore’s brow furrowed.
Ira pulled back just enough to grab Kunal’s hand, her fingers trembling so violently she could barely hold on.
"We have to leave. Now. Please, Kunal, take me away from here.." she pleaded in broken whisper.
Kunal didn't need an explanation. He saw the terror in her eyes and nodded, his jaw setting in a firm line. He was ready to fight his way out if he had to.
Mrs. Rathore stepped toward them, her face a mask of confusion and growing alarm.
"Ira? Why are you crying like this? Oh, dear... what is wrong dear?"
Ira swallowed hard, her throat tight with revulsion. "Your... your son–"
She never finished the sentence.
Every person in the foyer froze as a they heard a loud voice drifted down from the top of the stairs...
"IRA!!!!"
Every head snapped toward the top of the staircase.
There stood Devraj..a terrifying, visceral image of madness.
His chest heaving, his eyes bloodshot and wide with a deranged fury.
Ira flinched as if she had been struck, her entire body jerking in terror.
"Kunal, let’s go! Please, now!" she begged, as a sob broke out.
She didn't wait for him to respond; she gripped Kunal’s hand and lunged toward the open rain. Kunal, seeing the monster Devraj had become, didn't hesitate.
Devraj saw them and his body jolted as if he’d been electrocuted.
The foyer was a vacuum of shock. Mrs. Rathore and Vivaan stood paralyzed, their minds unable to process the sight of the stoic Devraj Rathore reduced to this.
"Ira! No!! STOP HER! GET HER BACK!! GUARDS, MOVE!" he screamed. He began to descend the stairs with a reckless, pained speed, his voice trembling with a terrifying blend of agony and rage.
"Devraj? Oh my God! What is happening?" Mrs. Rathore cried, reaching out as he blurred past her.
"She can't leave! IRA!!" He reached the bottom of the stairs, his breath coming in wheezing gasps. He stumbled toward the open door, the freezing wind whipping against his bare skin.
He arrived at the threshold just in time to see the twin red smears of the car's taillights bleeding into the rain as Kunal sped away.
She was gone.
"Get my car... NOW!" he bellowed.
Mrs. Rathore gasped in horror. She and Vivaan lunged for him, grabbing his arms to hold him back.
"Devraj, stop! Look at yourself! What is wrong with you?"
"Ira! I want her back here!" He thrashed against their hold, his strength erratic and dangerous. "She can't be with him! She’ll never come back! She's leaving me!" His obsession overriding every instinct of dignity or health.
He was inches from breaking free of his mother and brother when Mr. Rathore, who had been watching the carnage in absolute silence, finally spoke.
"Hold him down!" Mr. Rathore commanded.
Three massive guards surged forward, grappling with Devraj just as he was about to launch himself back into the torrential rain.
"Let go of me!" Devraj roared, his voice cracking with a desperation that made the skin of everyone present crawl.
His eyes were fixed on the distance, watching the crimson glow of the taillights fade into the abyss of the storm.
He growled at the men holding him, thrashing with a strength fueled by pure adrenaline.
He wanted Ira. He wanted to tear Kunal away from her.
He wanted to lock the world out and keep her in the dark with him.
"I will kill you all! Every single one of you!" he screamed at the guards, his face contorted into a mask of feral rage.
But as he looked back at the storm, the reality hit him. She was gone.
"IRA!!!"
At that exact moment, a thunderous crack of lightning struck so close to the mansion that the very floor vibrated.
It was so violent, so perfectly timed with his agony, that everyone flinched..even Mr. Rathore felt a flicker of genuine unease.
Then, the crash came.
The adrenaline evaporated, leaving behind the brutal reality of the fever and the bone-deep chill. Devraj’s trembling legs finally gave out. His body went limp, and he collapsed into the arms of the guards, his head lolling back.
"Ira... please," he whimpered, his voice now a broken, pathetic thread. "Come back... I love you... I love you so much."
The confession rippled through the foyer like a physical shock.
Mrs. Rathore’s hand flew to her mouth, her eyes wide with a terrifying realization. Vivaan stood frozen, his breath hitching in his throat.
Even the maids lowered their heads, stunned by the raw, naked obsession their master had just displayed for a mere caregiver.
Mrs. Rathore rushed to his side, her hand pressing against his forehead. She gasped.
"Oh my God! He’s burning up! His fever is out of control!" she screamed, her voice shrill with panic. "Take him to his room! Use the elevator...hurry!"
The guards lifted his heavy, unconscious frame, rushing toward the elevator as the house fell into a heavy, suffocating silence.
Mrs. Rathore stood paralyzed, the image of her son..broken, drenched, and begging for a girl’s love..playing on a loop in her mind.
"He... he loves her?" she whispered, the words feeling heavy and wrong on her tongue. "He’s obsessed with Ira?"
"I’m just as stunned as you are, Maa," Vivaan replied.
He turned his gaze toward his father, who was standing like a statue of ice, watching them with an unsettling lack of surprise.
Vivaan’s eyes narrowed as he walked toward the patriarch.
"Papa, you knew," Vivaan stated. It wasn't a question, it was an accusation.
Mr. Rathore raised a brow. Mrs. Rathore turned, her eyes wide as she waited for his response.
"It was painfully obvious.." he said, his voice devoid of emotion. "The two of you simply failed to pay attention because you were blinded by his long history of detesting women. You saw what you wanted to see."
He fixed his gaze on Vivaan. "You remember the sugar incident, don't you?"
Vivaan blinked, the memory rushing back like a physical blow.
A cold realization washed over him. "Oh, shit... no wonder. He warned me to stay away from Ira. He wasn't being protective... he was jealous, Even when i got Sick."
"I’m his mother," Mrs. Rathore choked out, a wave of maternal guilt crashing over her. "How did I not see the signs? How did I not know my own son was suffering like this?"
"Even if you had known, you could have done nothing to stop it," Mr. Rathore countered.
She frowned, stepping closer to him. "What is that supposed to mean?"
"You know Devraj’s reputation. People fear him..
and Ira is no exception. More importantly, she has a life, a man she loves, and a future she’s already planned," he said, his tone turning clinical. "She doesn't want him."
Mrs. Rathore gripped his arm, her voice rising in panic. "Then what do we do? I have never seen Devraj like this..he’s losing his mind over her! How do we fix this?"
Mr. Rathore looked at the hand on his arm, then back at his wife. "Fix it? You don't. Devraj is a Rathore.. he won't let her go. You shouldn't be worried about how to help him... you should be worried about whether that girl can survive the weight of his obsession now."
Before she could respond, his phone vibrated in his pocket. He pulled it out, checked the screen, and answered with a professional tone, stepping away.
Mrs. Rathore looked up toward the darkened upper floors, then back at the storm raging outside the open doors.
"Oh, God..." she breathed, a sense of impending doom settling in her chest.
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Inside the car, the only sound was the slap of the windshield wipers against the glass.
Ira wasn't sobbing anymore, she was beyond that. Silent, heavy tears simply leaked from her eyes, against her cold skin.
Kunal’s knuckles were white as he gripped the steering wheel, What did that monster do to her?
The question burned in his mind. Finally, he couldn't take that she has tears still leaking from her eyes. He hit the brakes, pulling the car onto the muddy shoulder of the road.
He reached out, his hand trembling slightly, and brushed a damp strand of hair from her face. Ira flinched at the contact..a reaction that felt like a knife to Kunal’s heart.
She looked at him for a split second, her eyes wide and haunted, before lowering her gaze as the tears began to fall faster.
Kunal pulled a clean handkerchief from his pocket and gently began to dab at her cheeks.
"Ira, talk to me. What happened in there?" he asked, his voice thick with suppressed protective rage.
"You looked like you were running for your life when you came down those stairs."
"I was so stupid, Kunal," she whispered, her voice cracking. "I should have seen the signs. I should have... I should have listened to Ritika."
Kunal’s brow furrowed in deep confusion. "Ritika? Ira, what does she have to do with this?"
"Ira..." he called out affectionately, wanting to pull her into his arms.
She looked up at him, her eyes glistening with unshed tears, and Kunal offered a weak, pained smile.
He hated this, he hated seeing his vibrant, kind Ira reduced to a shivering, terrified shadow of herself.
"Tell me what happened," he urged softly.
Ira opened her mouth to speak, but her throat tightened.
She remembered the darkness in Devraj's eyes, the way he had growled Mine.. and the terrifying strength in his cold, wet hands.
A violent shiver of pure dread raced through her.
I can’t tell him,she thought, her heart racing. If I tell him the truth, Kunal will try something crazy... and Sir will destroy him.
Kunal saw the hesitation and the flicker of fear in her expression. He didn't want to push her. He sighed, offering her a small, comforting smile.
"It’s okay. You don't have to talk about it right now, okay? Tell me when you're ready. When you feel safe."
Ira didn't look up. She stared at her lap, her voice coming out firm despite the tears.
"I don't want to work there anymore, Kunal. I’m never going back to that house."
"You’re quitting?" Kunal’s voice was laced with shock.
He felt a wave of relief wash over him, but it was quickly replaced by a cold, nagging dread. This was Ira.
She was the most resilient person he knew..she never walked away from a challenge, no matter how grueling the hardship. If she was walking away now, it meant the line had been crossed.
A memory flickered in his mind, the only other time she had resigned so abruptly was from her first job, because her boss had been a predatory pervert.
His blood began to boil. Did Devraj touch her? The thought sent a surge of defensive possessiveness through his veins.
"I just want to work somewhere else. Anywhere else," Ira whispered.
Kunal nodded, unable to find his voice through his clenched jaw.
Ira looked over at him and saw the storm brewing in his expression.
She reached out, her soft palm coming to rest against his tense jawline. The simple, familiar contact acted like a sedative, melting the ice in his heart.
"Anger doesn’t look good on you, Kunal.." she said gently.
Kunal let out a long, ragged sigh, leaning into her touch. "I’m sorry. I was just... thinking. You know what? I'm taking you to my villa. I can't let you stay at your place alone tonight."
Ira didn’t argue. Usually, she was fiercely independent, but tonight she felt hollowed out.
The thought of being alone in her dark house, with only the echoes of the storm and the memory of Devraj’s for company, was more than she could bear. She needed the safety he provided.
Kunal offered a small, reassuring smile and put the car in gear.
As they pulled back onto the road, Ira let her head fall sideways, resting it against his shoulder. He adjusted his arm to hold her closer, steering with one hand while the other provided a steady, warm weight on her lap.
As the rain lashed against the windows, Ira stared out at the blurred world outside.
I was so blind, she thought, the guilt gnawing at her. If I could just turn back time, I’d stop myself from ever taking that job. I should have walked away the moment Mrs. Rathore said it was her son, the moment I felt his eyes on me. I should have just left.