16 ~ Heartless Monster #2
"Stay away from me." I took a step back. Then another.
My chest was heaving. My eyes were blazing. My entire body was trembling with a mixture of fear and fury.
"Why can't you leave me alone?" I whispered almost to myself before screaming, "Stay the fuck away from me."
For a long moment, he simply stared at me.
Then, without a word, he turned as though he intended to leave.
Relief washed over me.
Finally... he's leaving.
He had barely taken three steps before his balance faltered.
His body swayed violently, forcing him to steady himself against the wall. His breathing had grown heavier, his movements unsteady, but there was still an unmistakable tension in the way his jaw remained clenched.
Without looking back at me, he strode toward the door.
His hand wrapped around the doorknob and he twisted it. But nothing happened. His brows furrowed. He tried again. Harder this time.
The door refused to budge.
A low, irritated grunt escaped him.
He jerked the knob once more, this time with enough force to make the entire door rattle.
Still nothing.
His temper snapped and he yanked it violently.
Crack.
The metal knob came clean off in his hand.
I stared at the broken knob then at the door then back at him.
My eyes widened.
"Ye... ye kya kiya aapne?" I gasped. My voice rose despite myself. "Kya zaroorat thi itni zor lagane ki?"
(What have you done? What was the need to exert so much force?)
He looked at the broken knob in his hand. And then, slowly, he looked at me.
And smirked.
A slow, drunken, infuriating smirk that made my blood boil and my heart race in equal measure.
The broken doorknob lay on the floor.
I stared at it for a moment before rushing to the door, desperately trying to pull it open but it's of no use.
We were locked in.
I instinctively reached for my phone but couldn't find it anywhere.
"Oh God..."
I turned toward Kartik.
He had barely managed to take a few steps before stumbling toward the bed.
With a frustrated groan, he dropped onto the mattress, one hand clutching his throbbing head while his eyes remained shut.
Just then, his phone began to ring.
The vibration echoed through the quiet room. I felt hope. I should call someone for help.
It was still inside the pocket of his kurta.
I frowned. "Kartik... phone uthaiye."
(Kartik...pick up the phone.)
He merely shifted on the bed, mumbling something incoherent under his breath.
It rang again and again.
My anxiety only grew.
Finally, I walked over to him.
I carefully reached into the pocket of his kurta and pulled out the phone.
The screen lit up. Dadi Calling.
My fingers tightened around the device.
I hesitated. What if...
What if Dadi misunderstood everything?
No.
This wasn't the time to think.
Taking a deep breath, I answered the call.
"Hello, Kartik beta?"
"Dadi main Chahat..."
(Grandmother. I'm Chahat.)
A brief silence followed.
"Kartik kaha hai? Uska phone tumhare paas kya kar raha hai?"
(Where is Kartik? Why is his phone with you?)
"Kartik..." I shook my head, immediately correcting myself. "J...Jiju... yahan outhouse mein hain."
(Brother-in-law... he's here in the outhouse.)
I glanced nervously at the broken door before speaking.
"Hello?" Dadi's voice crackled through the speaker. "Chahat beta... awaaz nahi aa rahi."
(Chahat dear... I can't hear you.)
"Dadi..." I tried again, raising my voice. "Jiju yahan outhouse mein hain... aap sun rahi hain?"
(Brother-in-law is here in the outhouse... can you hear me?)
The next instant, he reached for the phone.
His fingers closed around it, taking it from my hand. He tossed it carelessly onto the bed.
I gritted my teeth and raised my hand to slap him but he held it then he pulled me closer.
I tumbled forward, my body colliding with his. The next thing I knew, I was beneath him, my back pressed against the soft mattress.
He hovered over me.
His body was warm above mine. His eyes were dark and hazy. His breath fanned across my face, warm and uneven, laced with the sharp scent of alcohol.
He's so close.
The call was still connected. Dadi's voice continued through the speaker.
"Chahat Beta?"
The phone vibrated again as she tried to get a response.
I stared at it helplessly. Then looked back at him.
He was much too close.
Close enough that I could feel the warmth radiating from him through the thin fabric of my yellow saree. Close enough that I could see the flecks of gold in his dark eyes. Close enough that I could feel every line of his body pressing against mine.
"Kartik..." My voice trembling. "Aap nashe mein hain."
(You're drunk.)
He didn't respond.
He just looked at me with those unfocused eyes...hungry and desperate.
I got scared. What's he doing? Dadi can come any moment.
The words hung in the air between us.
My heart pounded so loudly I could hear it in my ears.
I glanced nervously toward the closed door. Then back at him. "Kartik... Please... Chhodiye mujhe."
(Please... Let me go.)
For a brief moment, he simply looked at my face and then he leaned in.
I couldn't let this happen.
My hand came up to his chest, pressing against the warmth of him. I pushed him away gently at first, then with more force.
"Kartik..." I whispered, my voice cracking.
He didn't resist.
He just let me push him back, his body falling heavily against the mattress. His eyes were closed, his chest rising and falling with deep, even breaths.
He was already half-asleep.
I got up from the bed.
My legs were shaking. My heart was pounding. My entire body was trembling with the effort of holding myself together.
I looked down at him. At his peaceful face. At the way his lips were slightly parted. At the way his dark lashes fanned against his cheeks.
He was drunk.
Completely, utterly drunk.
I took a step back.
And then...
Click.
The sound of the door knob twisting from outside.
I froze.
My eyes went wide. My heart stopped. My entire body went rigid with panic.
The door pushed open and Dadi walked in followed by Seema Chachi.
I stood there, frozen, my eyes wide, my chest heaving. My saree was slightly disheveled. My hair was slightly messy. My cheeks were flushed with heat and embarrassment.
Dadi's eyes went to Kartik, sprawled across the bed. She rushed to him, her hands coming up to pat his cheeks.
"Kartik!" she called, her voice sharp with concern.
He stirred slightly, mumbling something incoherent. His eyes fluttered open for a moment, then closed again.
Seema Chachi wasn't looking at him. She was staring at me.
Her eyes narrowed. Her lips pressed into a thin line. Her gaze traveled over me, from my flushed cheeks to my messy hair to my slightly disheveled saree.
"Tum yahan kya kar rahi ho?" she asked, her voice cold and accusing.
(What are you doing here?)
I opened my mouth to answer but before I could say anything, mumma rushed in.
Her eyes went from Kartik, unconscious on the bed, to me, frozen in the middle of the room.
"Kya hua beta?" she asked, her voice laced with concern.
(What happened?)
"Haan, pucho kya hua," Seema Chachi said, her tone dripping with accusations. "Kya kar rahi thi ye yahan Kartik ke saath?"
(Yes, ask what happened. What was she doing here with Kartik?)
"Mumma main..." I shook my head, my voice barely a whisper. I tried to blink back my tears.
(Mom I...)
Mumma stepped forward and stood in front of seema.
"Maine bheja tha use yahan aaram karne ke liye," she said, her voice sharp and firm.
(I sent her here to rest.)
Seema Chachi was quiet now. She rolled her eyes, her lips curling into a sneer.
"To puchiye apni beti se," she said, her voice dripping with false sweetness. "Apni hone wale jijaji ke saath yahan lock kaise hogayi?"
(Then ask your daughter. How did she end up locked in here with her future brother-in-law?)