Chapter 23 #2
“You think I wanted this?” Jay continued, softer now, but no less cruel. “I had to choose between saving my empire or standing by a daughter who’s done nothing but bring disgrace since the day she was born. You already killed your mother—don’t destroy everything she helped me build.”
Kiara flinched like he’d slapped her. Tears welled in her eyes, but she said nothing. No protests. No arguments. Just silence—the kind that breaks a person from the inside.
I couldn’t breathe.
“Sign it,” he said.
She looked at the pen, then at him. Her hand trembled violently as she held it over the page.
And then—she signed.
Each stroke felt like watching someone carve away a part of their soul.
The moment the ink dried, the lawyers snapped the file shut and exited. Mr. Randhawa stood, fixing his cufflinks with the calm satisfaction of a man who had just completed a business deal—not destroyed his daughter.
He paused at the door. “And Kiara…” he said without looking back, “… don’t bother showing up at your grandmother’s birthday. It’s for family only.”
Then he left—Just like that.
The door closed behind him with a brutal finality.
And all I could do was grip the chair, my knuckles white, jaw clenched, holding back every instinct to chase after the man who had just broken her.
Kiara sat still as if her body had forgotten how to move. Her shoulders trembled, her eyes hollow and unfocused, staring at where her father used to sit, as if hoping it had all been a nightmare.
But it wasn’t.
I took a step toward her, but she stood up, her movements rigid, like she was holding herself together by sheer force of will. “Can we have dinner some other day?”
“Kiara,” I called softly, as I stepped closer, my heart breaking at the sight of her. “Look at me.”
She hesitated, her shoulders stiff, and slowly turned. Her eyes met mine—shattered and distant. “I am sorry…I need to leave…” She whispered, her voice cracking.
I shook my head firmly and closed the remaining distance between us. “You are coming with me.”
She didn’t resist as I guided her out of the room. She kept her gaze fixed on the floor. I led her through the quiet hallway and into the elevator.
“Where are we going?” She finally asked.
“Somewhere you can breathe.” I helped her into the passenger seat of my car and buckled her seatbelt when I noticed her hands were still trembling. She didn’t protest, just watched me with an unreadable expression as I settled into the driver’s seat and started the engine.
We drove in silence for a while, the city lights blurring past us. I stole glances at her from the corner of my eye. She stared out the window, her fingers fidgeting with the hem of her dress.
Since the day I met her, I’ve noticed it—her instinct to shut down whenever emotions overwhelm her. It’s like she’s built walls so high and strong that no one could possibly get through. She either goes silent or walks away altogether.
But tonight… I didn't let her leave. Still, I want more—I want her to talk, to let it out, to trust me enough to share the parts of her she keeps locked away. I want her to know she’s not alone anymore. I wanted to pull her into my arms. Instead, I kept driving.
I’ll wait. I’ll wait until she’s ready to let me in. Until she realizes I’m not going anywhere, no matter how high those walls are or how long it takes for her to bring them down. But tonight, she stayed. That was enough. For now.
____________
“Everything is ready for tomorrow’s event. You have to leave for Mumbai early. The schedule has been mailed to you, and the guest list is in the folder you received.” Sasha’s voice rattled on through the speaker.
Meanwhile, I stood at the stove, absently stirring the pan, my gaze constantly flickering to Kiara. She was perched on the stool, silent, her fingers fidgeting endlessly with the same tiny pea she’d picked up almost an hour ago.
Since we came back to my place, she hasn’t spoken a word. I want her to talk—I need her to say something. Anything. But more than that, I just want to pull her into my arms and hold her until every shattered piece of her feels whole again.
“Are you even listening?” Sasha’s voice jolted me back to reality.
“Yeah… I heard you. I’ll check the mail and schedule,” I replied, cutting the call before she could say anything else.
I dimmed the lights, letting the soft melody of calming music fill the room, and carried two plates to the table.
Kiara hadn’t moved an inch, still twirling that single pea between her fingers as if it held the answers to the universe.
I set the plates down gently. “Bread or rice with the chickpeas?”
The only response was the faint hum of the music and the weight of her silence. Finally, after what felt like an eternity, she murmured, “I’m not hungry.”
“Sometimes,” I said, scooping rice onto her plate anyway, “you need to eat, even when you’re not hungry.”
I sat beside her, waiting. Five minutes passed, and the spoon in her hand remained untouched. Her eyes were distant, her gaze fixed somewhere I couldn’t reach.
“Kiara…” I said softly, turning my body toward her. Gently, I reached for her hand, encasing it in mine.
She blinked, her clouded eyes slowly lifting to meet mine. A single shaky breath escaped her lips as she closed her eyes for a moment, as though trying to steady herself.
I picked up her spoon, scooped a bite of food, and brought it to her lips. Her brows furrowed in confusion, her hand flinching slightly in mine, but I held it firm, steady, unwavering.
For a long moment, she simply stared at me, wide-eyed, searching my face, trying to make sense of what I was doing.
Then, with a deep breath, she leaned forward and took the bite.
But then, as if the dam had been waiting for this exact moment to break, her tears came—silently, steadily, unrelenting.
With my free hand, I reached up and softly brushed away her tears. “You don’t have to pretend you’re okay when you’re not,” I said quietly, though seeing her like this was tearing me apart.
Her gaze flickered up to meet mine—wide, vulnerable, and filled with raw pain. “Everything he said… it's true. My mother… the wedding… everything I touch falls apart.”
“No.” I shook my head firmly, my grip on her hand tightening ever so slightly. “Don’t do this to yourself. None of this is your fault.”
“Then why does it feel like that?” Her breath shuddered, and she blinked up at me, the tears still falling freely.
“I’m tired, Manav. Tired of pretending everything will be okay.
Tired of lying to myself.” She drew in a shaky breath.
“Dad will never forgive me. What if Mom’s angry at me too, for pissing everyone off? ”
“She’s not,” I said, though my voice wavered. “She wouldn’t be.”
Her tears came harder now, unrestrained and unfiltered. Sometimes, the only way to begin healing is to let it all spill out, to break open the cracks so the light can finally seep through.
“I couldn’t marry Vihaan,” she confessed, her voice trembling.
“I ignored so many red flags… but… The night we were kidnapped, we were at a party on his cruise. Everyone was celebrating; his friends took him off somewhere, and when I tried to call him, he never picked up. So, I decided to head back to my suite when I saw—”
I tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear.
Her eyes squeezed shut as if trying to block out the memory. “He was drunk, kissing a girl in the lobby.”
I felt a surge of anger twist through my stomach.
“He didn’t see me, so I left. A few minutes later, we were both kidnapped. After the ransom was paid, he left. And I never met him again.” She swallowed hard.
“He shouldn’t have left you alone.”
She let out a shaky breath, “It doesn’t matter. I’d already made up my mind when I saw him in that lobby with that girl.”
And as her walls began to crumble, I stayed—unmoving, unwavering, steady as ever. If this was the moment she needed to fall apart, I would catch every piece.
All I cared about in this moment was her—the woman who had walked into my life and turned it completely upside down. The woman who didn’t even realize that, piece by piece, she was becoming the only thing holding me together. And now, I was determined to do the same for her.
I am in love with her.
Honestly.
Hopelessly.
Helplessly.
This isn’t the kind of love that sneaks up on you gently, like the first light of dawn. No, it’s the kind that crashes in like a storm—violent, consuming, and entirely beyond my control. It’s chaos and clarity all at once, leaving me undone and yet somehow more whole than I’ve ever been.
She doesn’t even realize the hold she has on me.
I can’t pinpoint when it started, and maybe it doesn’t even matter.
All I know is that there’s no way out of this.
And truthfully? I don’t want one. Her head finally dropped onto my shoulder, her soft sobs muffled against my chest as I wrapped my arms around her.
For a long moment, neither of us moved. Her breath against my skin was uneven but slowing. When she finally opened her eyes, they locked onto mine, still glassy with tears but steadier now.
“Come on,” I murmured, reaching for her plate again. “Just a few more bites.”
Her brows knitted slightly, her voice low and hesitant. “You don’t have to—”
“I know,” I interrupted, lifting the spoon to her lips, my voice unshakable. “I want to.”
She reached up, her fingers wrapping softly around my wrist—not to stop me, but to hold on.
For the first time that evening, her lips curved into something that resembled a smile—small, tentative, but real. It was the kind of smile that felt like watching the first rays of sunlight after a storm, fragile yet filled with quiet hope.
Reluctantly, she opened her mouth, letting me feed her another bite.
After dinner, I coaxed her into bed. It took some gentle persuading—she insisted she wasn’t tired—but the moment her head hit the pillow, sleep dragged her under. I hovered by the bedside for a while, watching her breathe, softly brushing my hand over her forehead in a slow, comforting rhythm.