27 ~ Help me Change
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Kartik's POV.
I was about to answer her.
For once, I was actually going to tell her what she had been demanding since the beginning.
That Samaira meant nothing.
That there had never been an affair.
That whatever she had seen between us had never been what she thought it was.
My lips parted but my phone vibrated.
I ignored it.
Another vibration followed.
My brows furrowed.
I pulled the phone out, to silence it instead, I saw her name.
Samaira.
Something about the message felt wrong. My gut instinct kicked in instantly, and before I could think twice, my fingers were already moving. I opened the message.
For a moment, I didn't understand what I was looking at.
It was a photograph of a handwritten letter.
My eyes moved over the first few lines. My expression changed.
It was a suicide note.
My grip tightened around the phone.
I read faster.
Her words were carefully written to make one thing clear to anyone who found that letter that I was responsible.
She had written about how much she loved me.
How I had deceived her. How she couldn't imagine her life without me.
How Kartik Singhania was the reason she had chosen to end her life.
My blood ran cold.
Then another photograph loaded.
Samaira was holding a knife against her wrist.
My entire body went rigid.
"What the hell..."
This wasn't some stupid message anymore. This could become a criminal case.
A woman's death. A suicide note bearing my name. My company, family and reputation. Everything could be dragged through the mud because this woman had decided that if she couldn't have me, she would make sure I paid for it.
I stood abruptly.
Chahat looked at me.
"Kartik?"
I barely looked at her.
I couldn't explain this now. Not here.
I walked out.
The moment I reached the car, I got inside and slammed the door shut.
My hands tightened around the steering wheel.
I immediately called Ayaan.
He answered on the second ring.
"Haan Kartik?"
(Yes Kartik?)
"Get to Samaira's place."
"What happened?"
"I'm sending you something. Don't ask questions. Just get there." My voice was clipped. "Take the police with you."
Ayaan went silent for a second. "Police?"
"Yes. And take our lawyer and the legal team." I started the engine. "I'm sending you the address right now. Reach there before me."
I hung up.
My fingers moved rapidly across the screen.
The suicide note, photographs and the messages, I forwarded everything all of it to Ayan.
Then I sent him the address.
I hadn't even put my phone down when another notification appeared.
A Video .
I stared at the screen. For a moment, I didn't open it.
Then I did.
She appeared on the screen.
She was crying. Her hair was dishevelled, her eyes red, and the camera had been positioned deliberately so the knife in her hand was clearly visible.
Her voice trembled. "Kartik..."
I clenched my jaw.
"I love you so much. Bohot bohot zyada pyaar karti hu main tumse Kartik."
(I love you so, so much, Kartik.)
She looked directly into the camera.
"I don't know why you did this to me." A tear rolled down her cheek. "Do you remember how happy we were?"
My eyes hardened.
We? There had never been a we.
She continued, deliberately building a story that had never existed.
"You told me you wouldn't leave me. You made me believe that I meant something to you."
My grip tightened around the steering wheel.
She held the knife closer to her wrist. "Then you suddenly started pushing me away and married her instead." Her voice broke. "See what you've made me do, Kartik."
I stared at the screen in disbelief.
"So maybe this is the only way I can finally stop hurting."
The video ended.
I sat there for two seconds in complete silence.
Then my expression hardened. "Psychopath."
She had fabricated an entire relationship. She had turned rejection into betrayal and now she was trying to turn her obsession into my crime.
I forwarded the video to Ayaan.
Kartik: Send this to the police too.
His reply came almost immediately.
Ayaan: Already moving.
I started driving.
I wasn't going there because I cared whether Samaira lived or died... I was going there because I would not allow her to destroy my life with a manufactured suicide attempt.
For six months, I ignored her, rejected her and told her to stay away.
She had followed me, called me with various numbers even after blocking her, sent me inappropriate photographs, invaded my privacy and threatened me.
I'd tolerated it because I didn't want to humiliate a woman publicly.
I'd assumed eventually she'd understand that there was nothing between us.
She hadn't and tonight she'd crossed every possible boundary.
She thought I would come running because she had threatened to die.
She was right about one thing. I was coming but not to become hers.
I was coming to end this for once and for all.
By the time I reached the address, the police had already arrived.
Ayaan stood near the entrance with our lawyer.
Two officers were holding Samaira.
She was furious.
The moment she saw me, she began struggling against them. "Kartik!"
I walked toward her.
Ayaan came forward. "We reached on time."
I nodded. "Thank you."
Samaira glared at me. "My father won't spare you!"
I didn't react.
"You think you can get rid of me like this?" She tried pulling herself free. "I love you! I've done everything for you! Everything!"
I looked at her with nothing but disgust.
"Tell me what your wife has that I don't?"
I couldn't help but stare at her.
"I can change!" She was almost screaming now. "I'll become whatever you want me to become! Just give me one chance!"
I turned toward the officer. "Officer. She's been harassing me for more than six months. I have repeatedly told her to stay away from me. She refused."
"That's a lie!" she shouted.
"I have evidence of her repeated messages, threats, stalking and attempts to invade my privacy."
I glanced at Ayaan. "Send everything."
He nodded. "I already have it."
"I also want to file a formal complaint."
Her face changed. "No..."
"And a defamation complaint."
The lawyer beside Ayaan nodded. "I'll handle it."
Her expression twisted with rage. "You can't do this to me!"
I finally looked directly at her. "I've been giving you chances for six months." My voice was dangerously quiet. "That ends tonight."
The officers began taking her away.
She continued screaming. "My father will destroy you!"
I didn't even blink.
She disappeared through the gate, still shouting my name.
I stood there for a moment.
Ayaan came beside me.
"Don't worry. Everything is under control."
I nodded.
I turned toward my car.
Tonight had confirmed something I'd already suspected.
She wasn't in love with me. She was obsessed with the idea of having me, of claiming me as though I belonged to her. And I had finally decided I wasn't going to tolerate it anymore.
.
.
The house was silent when I returned.
I entered the bedroom quietly.
She was sleeping on the bed, her body curled into a soft curve. She was still wearing saree, and it had been driving me insane all day.
The fabric was slightly disheveled, the pallu slipping off her shoulder, revealing the smooth expanse of her neck.
She was beautiful.
She was always beautiful.
But this vulnerability, this softness, this peace, this was something else entirely.
I walked toward the bed, my footsteps silent.
I could see the glimpse of her waist. The delicate curve of her hip.
My breath caught.
For several seconds, I simply watched her.
There was something strangely peaceful about her when she slept.
The girl who argued with me over everything, challenged every word I said and looked at me as though I was the worst man alive was completely different in sleep.
Her breathing was slow and even.
She didn't even stir when I entered.
I changed into a comfortable lower and lay down beside her.
I reached out.
My hand cupped her face, my thumb brushing across her cheek.
She didn't stir.
She was a heavy sleeper. I knew that. I had learned that about her in the short time we had been married. Once she was asleep, nothing could wake her.
I leaned closer and pressed a kiss to her forehead.
Whatever I feel for her... I've never felt for anyone.
The thought echoed in my mind. I had met with women before. Many women. But none of them had ever made me feel like this.
None of them had made my heart race with a single glance.
None of them had made me want to protect them, cherish them, worship them.
Only her. Only my Chahat.
I looked down at her.
She had no idea what had happened tonight.
No idea why I'd left.
No idea that the woman she'd been accusing me of having an affair with had just attempted to destroy my reputation.
I pulled the blanket higher over her shoulder.
I shifted closer, my body curving around hers.
She stirred slightly, mumbling something in her sleep. And then, without waking, she shifted closer.
Her head settled on my chest.
Her hair fanned across my skin, soft and silky. Her breath was warm against my bare chest. Her body was pressed against mine, warm and perfect.
I wrapped my arm around her, pulling her closer and I closed my eyes.
I focused on the steady rhythm of her breathing. The warmth of her body against mine. The way her fingers were splayed across my bare chest, right over my heart.
I felt my body begin to relax. My muscles loosened. My mind quieted.
And then I felt it again.
Her hand had been resting on my chest, still and innocent. But now it was moving, slipping down across my abdomen, over the waistband of my lower.
Her palm settled on my hardened cock again like she does every night in her sleep.
My breath caught.
I felt the warmth of her palm through the thin fabric of my lower. Felt the pressure of her fingers. Felt the way my body responded instantly to her touch, hardening beneath her palm.
I looked at her.
She was still asleep.