3. Marked by Him
The morning light slipped through the curtains, falling gently on Shivika's face and waking her up.
Slowly, she sat up, pressed her palms together, and closed her eyes.
"Please, Krishna… let me meet him today," she whispered, her voice trembling with hope.
She walked to the bathroom to freshen up, her heart heavy with thoughts she couldn't escape.
Guilt weighed heavily on her chest. Since that day, since those harsh words slipped out of her mouth, he hadn't stood in front of her again.
Yet, even in his silence, he cared.
Through Rashmi aunty, she had come to know he still asked about her if she had eaten, if she had taken her medicines, if she was doing fine.
He left before she woke up, came back when she was asleep, and some nights… he didn’t come home at all.
Her days passed quietly, resting, reading, and sometimes going for a walk with Rashmi aunty.
On the other side, Rakshit's mind was restless. He wanted to see her, talk to her, hear her voice. But something inside him kept holding him back.
What if his words hurt her again?
What if she misunderstood him?
He had spent his whole life in solitude, but since she entered his world, something had changed. He no longer recognized his own heart.
Shivika dressed in a red suit. Drops of water still clung to her hair, now clipped loosely in a clutcher. She stepped out of her room, her steps quick with anticipation.
Rashmi aunty had told her Rakshit usually stayed home on weekends but what if today was different? What if he left again?
Her heart pounded as she walked toward his room. The door was open. She peeked inside. Empty. The bathroom too empty.
Her throat tightened. Her eyes burned. Tears welled up, blurring her vision. She wanted to apologize, to say the words that had been choking her for days, but he wasn't there. Maybe she had lost her chance again.
She turned back, walking through the hall with her head down, guilt pressing her shoulders low.
Her tears spilled freely, and in that haze, her foot caught on the carpet. She stumbled forward, panic shooting through her veins.
But before she could fall, strong arms caught her.
Safe, steady, protective.
Her hands flew instinctively to her belly. Her teary eyes looked up straight into Rakshit’s.
For a moment, his breath had stopped. His chest tightened at the thought of her slipping, of her getting hurt.
He pulled her closer, steadying her carefully as if she were made of glass.
"Are you fine? You didn't get hurt, right?" His voice cracked with anxious urgency.
Shivika's head shook quickly.
"No," she whispered, her tears refusing to stop.
Rakshit's heart clenched watching her cry. She looked so fragile, yet something about her strength had always disarmed him.
And Shivika, seeing him finally, couldn't hold back her tears. She had missed him.
"Why are you crying? Is it hurting somewhere?" Rakshit's voice came out hurried, anxious.
His eyes scanned her from head to toe, searching for even the slightest injury.
"I… I am sorry," Shivika whispered, her voice trembling as fresh tears rolled down her cheeks.
"Huh?" Rakshit blinked, confused, his hand twitching as though it had a will of its own, desperate to wipe those tears away.
"I am sorry," she repeated, her words spilling fast, almost breaking. "I didn't mean to say something like that. I don't even know how it slipped out. I'm so sorry… you've been helping me so much, giving me shelter, care, and I...I just hurt you like that…"
Her throat closed, and her chest heaved as the guilt she had carried finally broke free.
Rakshit's lips parted, wanting to stop her, to tell her it didn't matter but before he could, the sharp ring of the doorbell echoed through the hall.
He looked toward the door, then back at her, his eyes softening with quiet reassurance.
"Wipe your eyes," he murmured gently.
"It's fine. I understand. We will talk later."
He blinked at her, a silent promise in his gaze, before turning and walking toward the door.
The moment he opened it, his face hardened into a blank mask. Standing outside was the secretary of the housing society, along with a group of elderly aunties and committee members.
Their expressions were tight, eyes heavy with something that felt more like judgment than courtesy.
"Yes?" Rakshit's voice was calm but edged, his posture tall and guarded.
The group exchanged glances, as if deciding who would speak first. Finally, the secretary cleared his throat.
"I hope we can come inside."
"Sure," Rakshit said, his voice clipped, stepping aside to give them way.
As they entered, Shivika froze where she stood.
Their eyes swept over her her red suit, her damp hair, her red eyes. The air thickened with unspoken questions. She fumbled with her dupatta, shifting uncomfortably under their gaze.
Rakshit noticed.
In two strides he was beside her, his arms crossing firmly over his chest. He stood close, as if shielding her with his presence. His jaw tightened.
He had been living here for years, and no one from the society had ever stepped into his house.
Not once.
Yet today, they had come together uninvited, unexpected. And from the weight in the air, he knew.
This wasn't a courtesy visit.
Finally, the secretary straightened his shoulders and spoke, his tone calm but heavy with judgment.
"Who is she, Mr.Mahajan?"
Rakshit's gaze was cold, unflinching. "That doesn't concern you."
"It does," the secretary pressed, his words firmer.
"People are talking… saying many things. Some are even saying she is pregnant."
Shivika froze where she stood, her heart slamming against her ribs. Her trembling hands clutched her dupatta tighter, tears burning her eyes.
Rakshit's jaw tightened. His voice came out sharp, resolute.
He was about to continue, his anger simmering close to the surface when suddenly, Rashmi aunty entered the house, smiling warmly.
"Shivika beta, look, I brought you some ladoos" she lifted the small box in her hands, her voice cheerful, "it's very good during pregnancy."
The words rang like a thunderclap in the hall.
Rashmi aunty stopped short the moment her eyes landed on the group of society members standing stiffly in the living room.
The color drained from her face, her smile fading instantly.
"Oh…" she whispered, realizing too late what she had revealed.
Shivika's tears spilled over, her head lowering in humiliation. Her hands instinctively moved to her stomach, as though to hide the truth already laid bare.
Rakshit closed his eyes for a moment, his fists curling at his sides. He knew now exactly where this conversation was heading, exactly what storms these people would stir.
His chest burned with rage not at Shivika, not at Rashmi aunty but at the society that thrived on tearing down someone already fragile.
The whispers began, sharp and poisonous, rising like a tide.
"She is pregnant…"
"My God…"
"And staying with him like this…"
"Don't you dare continue," Rakshit's cold voice sliced through the air, his jaw tightening as his eyes burned into the committee members.
"Is this your child, Mr. Mahajan?" one of them suddenly asked, the words dropping like a bomb in the silent room.
Rakshit froze. His fists clenched by his side, veins hardening on his arms.
He didn't answer immediately, his gaze shifting towards Shivika who stood trembling, clutching the edge of her dupatta as if her life depended on it.
"If not…" the secretary stepped forward, his tone sharp and accusing, "…then she can't live here. She doesn't have that right. What will our children learn, watching such a woman under the same roof?"
Murmurs broke among the others.
"A woman carrying a child with no husband… what lesson is this?" one aunty whispered loudly enough for Shivika to hear.
"Shameless girl," another spat, glaring at Shivika.
"She must have trapped him, poor Rakshit. Otherwise why would a respected man like him keep such a woman here?"
Shivika's eyes welled with tears, her lips quivering, but no words left her mouth. She lowered her gaze, humiliation washing over her like a storm. She wanted the ground to swallow her whole.
Rakshit's chest rose and fell heavily, his face unreadable but his silence deafening.
He could hear their every venomous word, each one stabbing him deeper than the last. His hand twitched, itching to silence them all.
"Throw her out, Rakshit," one of the men said firmly.
"If she's nothing to you, let her go. Save your reputation."
Shivika's throat tightened. She dared not look at Rakshit, afraid of what his answer might be.
Her heart screamed with fear- would he… abandon her too?
That was it. The final straw.
Without uttering a word, Rakshit's eyes darkened. He marched towards the dining table, his footsteps echoing like thunder in the tense silence.
Everyone stared, confused. His hand gripped the knife lying there.
Gasps filled the room.
But before anyone could stop him, he dragged the sharp edge across his thumb, a drop of crimson blooming instantly.
His face didn't flinch. He turned, walking straight back to Shivika with unshaken resolve.
Shivika's breath hitched, her tears blurring his figure as he stopped in front of her. The world felt like it had stopped spinning.
His bleeding thumb reached for her forehead. And with one swift, deliberate motion, he filled her hairline with his blood.
A stunned silence fell across the room.
Shivika's eyes widened, tears streaming freely, her lips parting as she gasped at what just happened. Her hand instinctively touched her hairline, her body trembling.
Rakshit looked at the committee members, his voice a mix of fire and steel,
"She is mine. From this moment, before your eyes, before this society you dare question her now, you question me. And I don't answer to anyone."
Shivika broke, sobbing silently, her heart shattering and healing at once.
"Now get out everyone!" Rakshit's voice thundered, echoing through the walls.