12 ~ Makeout and sweets
I looked at him in anger.
"Himmat kaise hui aapki mujhe haath lagane ki?" I snapped, my voice shaking with fury, my chest rising and falling rapidly. "Samajhte kya hain aap khud ko?"
(How dare you touch me? Who do you think you are?)
He didn't move.
For a second, he just stood there frozen. His face slightly turned from the force of the slap.
Shock flickered in his eyes because no one. no one had ever done that to him. I could see it.
The disbelief, the crack in that unshakable control he carried but it didn't last long.
Because the next second his expression changed.
His eyes turned dark. Something dangerous flickered in his gaze.
His jaw tightened slowly, the muscle ticking as his eyes lifted to meet mine again, this time not shocked, but furious and humiliated.
His ego was bruised.
Badly.
"Tumne mujhe..." his voice came out low, almost disbelieving, like he was still processing it, "How dare you!"
(You...)
But I didn't step back or flinch, if anything, I stood straighter, my chin lifting slightly despite the storm raging inside me.
"Dobara haath lagaya na..." I warned, my voice sharp, unwavering, "toh isse bhi bura hoga."
(If you touch me again...it will be much worse than this.)
That did it. In a split second he moved and before I could react, his hand gripped my arm, pulling me back, and the next thing I knew my back hit the wall.
"Aahh." A gasp left my lips as the impact knocked the breath out of me.
His hand came up beside my head, caging me in, his other gripping my arm tightly enough to still me completely.
"Himmat kaise hui tumhari kartik Singhaniya pe haath uthane ki," he hissed, his face inches away from mine, his breath warm and his anger suffocating.
(How dare you raise your hand on Kartik Singhania?)
My heart pounded violently against my ribs but I refused to let him see fear.
I looked him in the eye, my voice lower now, but just as fierce, my eyes locked with his. "kisi ko haq nahi hai ki woh mujhe touch kare bina meri marzi ke. Kartik Singhania ko bhi nahi."
(No one has the right to touch me without my consent. Not even Kartik Singhania.)
His grip tightened.
His nostrils flared slightly, his breathing heavier now.
For a moment silence hung between us but this time, it wasn't suffocating but charged.
My wrist was still in his grip, his fingers tight, almost punishing, as if he was holding me there to make me listen.
My breath came uneven, my chest rising and falling rapidly.
"Haan haath toh sirf tum laga sakti ho mujhe... haina?" he clenched his teeth, his voice low but vibrating with rage. "Tumhe mera chuna itna kharab lag raha hai... toh us din bina kisi rishte ke, bina meri marzi ke kaise haath lagaya tumne mujhe?"
(Yes, only you have the right to touch me... don't you? If my touch disgusts you so much... then that day, without any relationship and without my consent, how did you touch me?)
My lips parted slightly but no words came out.
My throat felt dry because the memory flashed in my mind without mercy.
That day.
My stupid plan.
Why the hell did I agree to her?
And in doing so I had crossed lines I hadn't thought about then.
Silence wrapped around me like a punishment because there was nothing I could say.
No excuse that would justify it.
Guilt settled heavily in my chest, sharp and suffocating.
He let out a bitter breath, his hand finally loosening before he pushed me away slightly.
I stumbled a step back, my balance faltering not from the push, but from the weight of his words.
My fingers curled into my palm because it wasn't that simple but how do I explain that to a man like him?
He dragged a hand through his hair in frustration, his chest rising sharply as he tried to contain himself.
My breath hitched.
My lashes trembled against my cheeks and for the first time since all of this started I felt the weight of what I had done from his side.
The discomfort.
The violation of space.
The humiliation.
He held my chin and forcing me to look at him.
"Bahut shaukh hai na tumhe games khelne ka?" he murmured, his thumb brushing lightly against my cheek, but there was nothing gentle about the way he held me. "Ab main tumhe batata hoon... games khelte kaise hain."
(You love playing games, don't you? Now let me show you how games are really played.)
I stayed quiet and turned to leave. I was ready to escape this suffocating space, this conversation, this man who was tearing apart every defense I had built when suddenly I heard footsteps approaching.
My heart dropped instantly.
Fear replaced everything else as soon as I heard the footsteps.
If someone saw us here everything would get out of control.
My breath quickened, panic rising fast and sharp as I froze mid-step.
"Shit..." the word slipped under my breath before I could stop it.
Panic rushed through me as the footsteps grew louder, too close for comfort. I instinctively took a step back then another my mind racing for an escape that didn't exist.
And then I stumbled into him.
My breath hitched sharply as my back collided with his chest, his presence solid, unyielding behind me. For a second, I froze, my heartbeat thundering in my ears as I turned around abruptly only to realise the footsteps were even closer now.
I immediately pulled my duppata hiding my face and heard him scoff.
I took some steps to run away from there immediately but their laughter and voice came and now I can see some boys coming over.
Without thinking, I grabbed him.
My fingers fisting his kurta tightly as I pulled him with me into the darkest corner, the shadows swallowing us whole. And before he could react, before he could even question what I was doing I hid my face in his chest.
Completely.
Like if I couldn't see the world, it wouldn't see me.
I felt him stiffen instantly.
"Chahat..."
He was about to pull away, I could sense it, the slight shift in his body but my grip tightened instinctively, desperate and almost pleading.
"Please...Koi aa raha hai."
(Please... someone is coming.)
I whispered, my voice trembling, my eyes squeezed shut as embarrassment and fear tangled inside me.
He didn't say anything for a moment.
I was thankful that he didn't pull back. Instead, I felt it.
The subtle shift and the way he leaned closer towards me.
His body angled just enough to shield mine completely, his frame creating a barrier between me and the outside world.
My breath caught again, but this time for an entirely different reason.
His presence felt overwhelming in the confined space, his warmth seeping into me, his nearness making it impossible to think clearly.
My fingers remained curled into his kurta, gripping onto him like he was the only thing keeping me grounded, while his closeness wrapped around me in a way that felt both suffocating and strangely steady.
The footsteps passed but voices of their laughter and teasing lingered
"God...yahan kya ho raha hai." I heard a surprising masculine voice.
(God... what's going on here?)
I stiffened.
"They're making out..." Someone whispered, followed by a quiet chuckle as they walked past.
Heat rushed to my face instantly.
My grip on him tightened as if letting go now would somehow confirm what they had assumed.
My cheek pressed deeper into his chest, my breath shallow, my entire body hyper-aware of every point where we touched.
The way his chest rose steadily under my cheek. The way his presence surrounded me, grounding and unsettling me at the same time.
My fingers tightened just a little more, clutching onto him as if I needed those extra seconds before reality came crashing back in.
Before I remembered who he was.
And who I was supposed to stay away from.
.
.
.
The night had begun to settle, and with it, the noise of the function slowly started fading.
One by one, guests began to leave, the laughter softening into polite goodbyes and tired smiles. I stood a little behind my parents, quiet, watching everything like I wasn't really a part of it-like I was just standing there, present, but distant.
Kartik's family was getting ready to leave.
"Chalo, aap log apna dhyan rakhna... hum log bhi chalte hain," his father said warmly, folding his hands slightly as a gesture of respect.
(Take care of yourselves... we'll be leaving now as well.)
Mumma nodded, returning the gesture.
Then, almost instinctively, she asked, "Shaadi ki tareekh ka kya bola pandit ji ne?"
(What did the priest say about the wedding date?)
For a moment, there was a pause.
Before his dadi stepped forward, her voice calm but firm.
"Beta, humne pandit ji ko keh diya hai ki jaldi se jaldi shaadi karwani hai. Proper date mil nahi rahi hai... saari dates bohot late jaa rahi hain."
She sighed lightly before continuing, "Hum unko bolenge ki ek mahine ke andar hi shaadi karwaani hai. Jaise hi date final hoti hai, hum aapko bata denge."
(We've told the priest that we want the wedding to happen as soon as possible. We couldn't get a proper date because all the available dates are much later. We'll ask him to arrange the wedding within a month. As soon as the date is finalized, we'll let you know.)
A month.
My breath stilled.
Everything suddenly felt too fast.
Mumma nodded in agreement.
And just like that they began to leave.
His family settling into the cars, exchanging final smiles, final words.
And in the middle of it all I felt his presence again.
I didn't look at him. I didn't dare to.
My fingers curled into my dupatta unconsciously.
As the cars started moving, as the headlights faded away into the night, a strange silence settled in their absence.
By the time we reached home, the exhaustion of the entire day had finally begun to settle in.
The house, which had been buzzing with preparations and voices for days, felt quieter now. Not completely silent-but calmer. Like everything had paused for a moment after the storm of the engagement.
Mukti di walked in ahead of me, and for the first time since evening she looked relaxed.