Chapter 36
COLE
As I drove Stephanie back to the city, my mind kept drifting to that moment in the restaurant. To the way Jiya had fallen from the pool table. To the way she had looked at me when I caught her.
When our eyes met, a tingle spread through my chest and down my arms as I held her. The entire room had faded away. It was just the two of us—her body secure in my arms, her breath slightly uneven, her eyes locked with mine.
I had seen it then.
The disappointment in her eyes—the exact moment Stephanie’s voice called my name and shattered whatever fragile connection had formed between us.
That look had stayed with me long after we left the restaurant.
I had seen the same expression earlier at the hospital too, though she had tried to hide it. When she rushed through those triage doors and threw herself into my arms, clinging to me as if she were afraid I might disappear, something inside me twisted. Her blotchy face and teary eyes had shaken me.
I had hated seeing her like that.
More than that, I had hated knowing I was the reason for it.
Standing there in that hospital room with her trembling against me, I had realized the truth.
I loved her.
The realization didn’t hit me like a bolt. It clicked into place, like the final tiles completing a mosaic I’d been studying for months. It grew quietly, like roots spreading beneath the surface.
But that day, it had finally hit me straight in the face.
The thought of losing her—or her losing me—had forced the truth to the surface.
And once I saw it, I could not unsee it.
No matter what I was doing, I could not stop thinking about her.
When I was clicking pictures through my camera lens, I caught myself imagining how the light would fall across her face.
When I painted in the quiet of my apartment, the colours somehow reminded me of the warmth of her skin and the softness of her smile.
Even when I cooked dinner alone in my kitchen, I found myself remembering the way she moved around her house—Emma on her hip, Lucas trailing behind her, laughter filling the space around them.
Her kindness.
Her generosity.
Her strength.
The way she carried the weight of her life without ever asking anyone for help.
All of it made me want her even more.
By the time I dropped Stephanie off in the city, the decision in my mind had already been made.
Before she got out of the car, I turned to her. “Thanks again,” I said sincerely. “For helping me with… all of this.”
“Just don’t mess it up now,” Stephanie said with a small laugh before stepping out.
I watched her disappear into the building before driving away.
The road ahead was quiet.
And for the first time in days, my thoughts felt clear.
I knew what I had to do.
It was time to stop playing games—trying to make Jiya jealous, trying to push her into confronting her feelings—had gone on long enough.
Tomorrow, I will talk to her.
And this time, I was not walking away without the truth.
The next day, I got up early and headed toward Jiya’s house.
The morning air was cool, carrying the faint scent of the ocean that always drifted over the village.
I reached her house, got out of the car, and walked inside, immediately greeted by the familiar sounds of the morning routine.
Geeta was in the kitchen with Lucas and Emma, who were both sitting at the table, eating their breakfast.
Lucas looked up first and grinned. “Cole!” he said excitedly.
I smiled and walked over, ruffling his hair before leaning down to kiss the top of Emma’s head. She giggled softly and grabbed my finger with her tiny hand.
After giving the children hugs and kisses, I bent down to pet Oreo, who wagged his tail enthusiastically at my feet.
“Morning, Bhaiya,” Geeta said with a small smile.
“Morning,” I replied, my gaze already drifting toward the staircase.
I walked upstairs toward Jiya’s room, my heartbeat picking up slightly with each step.
When I reached the door, I knocked gently.
No answer.
But I could hear soft music playing inside.
I hesitated for a moment before slowly turning the handle and stepping in.
Jiya stood next to the chest of drawers, her back toward me.
She had just come out of the shower and was wrapped in a soft yellow towel that hugged the curves of her body. Her damp hair hung loosely over her shoulders, droplets of water glistening along her skin as she leaned slightly forward to look inside a drawer.
My heart began to pound harder in my chest as shivers of pleasure and a growing need for her spread through my body.
I stood there, watching her.
It felt almost unreal that this woman—beautiful, stubborn, complicated—was standing only a few steps away from me.
Then I took a step closer.
The floor creaked faintly beneath my foot.
She turned around.
I walked directly in front of her.
Our eyes met.
Everything inside me went completely still.
Her breathing quickened, and I could see the subtle rise and fall of her chest. I could not look away from her.
My skin tightened with the effort of holding myself back. My hands ached with the sudden, overwhelming urge to reach for her… to touch her… to pull her closer.
I wet my lips.
“I knocked,” I said quietly. “But you didn’t answer.”
“Sorry,” she said softly, her voice husky and breathless. “I didn’t hear you.” Her eyes flickered briefly toward the door before returning to mine. “Did you want something?”
I stepped closer.
Then I slowly stretched both arms outward and placed my hands on the dresser behind her, trapping her between them.
The space between us shrank instantly… close enough to feel the softness of her skin, close enough for the faint scent of her floral shampoo and soap to wrap around me completely.
I leaned slightly closer, my eyes never leaving hers. Looking deep into them, I murmured, “I’m looking exactly at what I want.”
Her breath caught.
Time slowed.
Neither of us moved.
Sunlight streamed through the thin white curtains, illuminating the tiny water droplets still clinging to her shoulders. Everything around us blurred. It was just her and me—her breath brushing softly against my skin, and the sound of our breathing filling the room.
The space between us purred with everything we had been holding back for so long—the unspoken words, the tension, the pull that had been building between us for months.
My gaze dropped briefly to her lips before lifting back to her eyes again. I could feel the moment tipping toward something neither of us would be able to take back.
And then her phone rang.
The sound sliced through the silence, ruining the moment between us. The device buzzed loudly against the dresser beside her, pulling us both abruptly back to reality.
I closed my eyes and exhaled.
Damn it.