13. Soothing Touch
Rakshit's eyes moved between the two people sitting opposite each other, both frozen, simply staring.
Rahul looked as if he'd seen a ghost—shocked to the core to discover that his boss was not only married, but that the woman in front of him was his wife.
Shivika was the one who finally broke the silence.
"You were right…"
Without another word, she turned and walked to her room. Rakshit frowned, watching her retreating back.
He then looked at Rahul, who immediately stiffened under his boss's intense stare.
"Explain," Rakshit said, his voice flat.
"Sir… actually… actually I met her some months ago, when we went to Delhi," Rahul began, hesitant and nervous.
Rakshit's expression didn't change, but the shock in his eyes was unmistakable.
Still, he let Rahul continue.
"I saw her with her boyfriend—"
"Ex-boyfriend," Rakshit corrected sharply.
The tone made Rahul swallow hard. The message was clear: he was talking about Rakshit's wife, not just any woman.
"Sorry, sir. I mean… I saw her with her ex-boyfriend at a café I visited. He behaved really rudely with her. He didn't even ask what she wanted to eat, just ordered for them. And when she questioned him, he said he knew what she should eat."
Rahul paused before continuing.
"When he went to give the order, I… couldn't hold myself back. I walked up to her and said, 'I have a free advice. If you want to take it, take it. If not, leave it.' She frowned at first, but then told me to speak."
He sighed, the memory still irritating him.
"So I told her, 'This man is not good for you. Leave him.' But she replied, 'Who are you to tell me to leave him?' And I said, 'It's just advice. Forget it, I'm going.' And as I walked away, I heard her murmuring 'idiot.' "
He finished with a small look of complaint, as if still offended by that last word.
"Hmm… you sit, I'll be back," Rakshit said, getting up to check on Shivika.
"Sir—" Rahul called out.
Rakshit turned.
"Sir, please tell ma'am that I'm sorry if I hurt her with my words," Rahul said nervously.
"You can tell her yourself," Rakshit replied, turning again, only to be stopped once more.
"If you don't mind… can I ask something?" Rahul asked cautiously.
"Ask," Rakshit said.
"Is ma'am… pregnant?" Rahul hesitated.
A slow smile appeared on Rakshit’s face—so unexpected that Rahul nearly got a heart attack.
"She is," Rakshit said, still smiling.
Rahul's jaw dropped. He had never seen this man smile, not even once since the day he joined.
And today, just mentioning ma'am brought a softness to his boss's face.
"Really… love can change anyone," Rahul whispered as Rakshit walked toward Shivika’s room.
"Ika," Rakshit called as he entered, only to find the room empty.
"I'm here, Aksh," her voice came from the balcony.
He walked out and found her sitting quietly, staring ahead. He placed his hand gently on her head, making her look up.
"I'm fine," she smiled.
Rakshit wasn't convinced. Her smile was real, but her words… not entirely. Still, he just kept looking at her.
He held her hand and helped her stand.
"Come. Rahul wants to say something to you," he said, guiding her.
“Aksh,” she called again.
"Hm?" he looked at her.
She was smiling mischievously.
"Is it okay if I threaten him a little? Just a little, for fun? But if you say no, I won—"
He placed his finger on her lips, stopping her.
"You can, Ika. And I'll be there to handle everything. Every time. Do whatever you want, okay?" Rakshit said.
She gulped as he removed his finger. Neither of them looked at the other for a moment.
"Come," he said.
Shivika wrapped her hand around his arm, and he couldn't help but smile.
Rahul stood up immediately when he saw them enter, clearing his throat.
"Sorry, ma'am. I didn't mean to interfere in your life. I'm really sorry," Rahul said.
Rakshit helped Shivika sit.
"I don't want your sorry. You'll get your transfer letter soon. Right, Aksh?" she said, giving Rakshit a mischievous look.
Rakshit, seeing this playful and bold side of her, felt strangely delighted.
"Yes," he said, picking up the papers to sign.
Rahul's face drained of every trace of colour.
"I'm sorry, ma'am, I really didn't mean it like that! Please don't transfer me! Please, ma'am!"
"So you're saying your advice was wrong?" Shivika raised an eyebrow.
Rakshit continued signing, but he didn't miss a single word.
"No! My advice was right!" Rahul blurted.
Both Rakshit and Shivika stared at him, equally shocked.
Shivika looked at Rakshit, whose expression remained still but his ears were red.
The words hit him unexpectedly—like warm butterflies exploding softly in his chest.
His heart skipped, then stumbled, then settled into a strange flutter he wasn't used to.
A warmth spread through him, embarrassing and comforting at the same time, making him look down quickly, pretending to focus on the papers just so she wouldn't see the slight redness on his ears.
He hid it well… but she saw his every expression.
Rakshit lowered his gaze and continued reading the papers as if nothing had happened.
"Okay, I was just joking. You're safe," Shivika said, laughing softly.
"You're not getting transferred. Sit."
"Oh, thank you!" Rahul nearly collapsed from relief.
Rakshit handed him the signed papers silently.
Rakshit finally looked up, his expression returning to that calm, controlled professionalism he was known for.
"Rahul," he said in a firm voice.
"Yes, sir?" Rahul straightened immediately.
Rakshit leaned back slightly, crossing one leg, completely composed.
"In Delhi, you saw something that wasn't your concern. Yet you acted because you believed someone was being treated wrongly."
Rahul swallowed.
"Yes, sir…"
Rakshit nodded once.
Rahul blinked, surprised.
Praise? From him?
"You acted impulsively," Rakshit continued, "but for the right intention. Don't let it interfere with private boundaries again."
"Yes, sir."
Rakshit's voice softened just a little.
"But don't lose that instinct to stand up for what's right. It's rare."
Rahul's eyes widened.
Rakshit closed the file, looked him straight in the eye, and said,
"And one more thing."
Rahul stiffened.
"Yes… sir?"
His tone was calm, but the protective edge cut sharp and clear.
Shivika, who was seated quietly, felt a sudden warmth bloom in her chest.
Her fingers curled softly against her lap, her eyes lifting to him with a slow, proud, tender smile.
She wasn't expecting that… yet it felt like her heart was being held in gentle hands.
For a moment, she just stared at him,
soft, emotional, and a little breathless.
Rahul nodded so fast it almost hurt.
"N-never, sir! Never again!"
Rakshit picked up the last document, signed it, and handed it over.
"That will be all."
Rahul bowed slightly and hurried out.
The door clicked shut.
The door closed behind Rahul, and the silence that followed was calm… almost warm.
Shivika looked at Rakshit from where she sat, her chin resting lightly on her knee.
A small smile tugged her lips.
She stood up slowly and walked toward him, her steps quiet.
She simply said, voice barely above a whisper,
Shivika blinked, the words hitting deeper than she expected.
"Aksh…" she whispered, her eyes softening.
For a moment, neither of them moved.
Then, slowly, very slowly, she reached and straightened the collar of his shirt — nothing dramatic, just a small, familiar gesture that felt warm.
He looked at her, surprised.
"Which version is that?"
Rakshit's heartbeat skipped — just once — loud enough for him to feel it.
He didn't answer.
Instead, his hand moved up on its own, brushing a loose strand of hair behind her ear.
It was a simple touch… but his fingers lingered for a heartbeat longer than necessary.
Shivika's breath caught not because it was romantic, but because it was careful.
Like he was touching something precious.
"Ika…" he said softly, almost hesitantly,
"…are you okay now?"
She nodded slowly.
"More than okay."
"Sure?"
She smiled at the concern in his voice.
"100% sure."
He placed his palm on her head, the same protective touch he had given her earlier on the balcony.
She leaned into it instantly, eyes fluttering shut.
A soft moment.
Quiet.
Pure.
Enough to make a heart skip… without a single dramatic line.
After a few seconds, she opened her eyes and whispered,
"Come, Aksh. Sit with me for a while."
He didn't hesitate.
They walked out to the balcony, the evening breeze brushing past them.
Without speaking, they both sat down close enough that their shoulders touched in the softest way.
Rakshit let his arm rest lazily behind her, mind arguing with itself.
Should I wrap it around her? Should I ask? What if she moves away?
He wasn't afraid of anyone in this world—yet when it came to her, he second-guessed every little thing.
But before he could decide, Shivika quietly understood.
She slid closer, rested her head lightly on his shoulder, and without a word, took his hand from behind and gently placed it around herself settling his arm over her like it belonged there.
Rakshit froze for a heartbeat.
Then he smiled…the kind that touched the eyes and softened the heart.
He let out a small breath he didn't know he was holding and pressed a soft kiss into her hair.
Warm. Gentle.
Not claiming her… just cherishing.
And in that moment he realised something he hadn't noticed before—
In this month, so much had changed.
They talked more.
They understood each other without word.
She had become… a calm place inside the chaos of his life.
He didn't know if this was what care felt like.
But ever since she came, he found himself doing everything for her instinctively like his hands, his heart, his entire being already knew what she needed before he did.
He wasn't trying to take care of her.
He simply was.
After dinner, Shivika sat in front of the mirror, the small oil bottle resting in her hands.
Her eyes softened as memories filled her mind. She missed her mother every single day, every single moment.
She had simply trained her heart to accept that she would never receive that warmth again.
Rakshit walked in with a water bottle, but stopped when he saw her staring blankly at the bottle.
He placed the water beside the lamp and walked toward her, gently placing his hand on her shoulder, pulling her out of her trance.
"Ika?" he whispered.
Shivika blinked and looked up.
"Nothing… just missing my mother. She used to do oil massage in my hair every weekend. But now…" she sighed softly.
Rakshit didn't say anything.
He simply took the oil bottle from her hands, poured a little into his palm, and stepped behind her.
Shivika watched him, confused, until his warm fingers touched her scalp.
He began massaging her hair gently—slow, soft, comforting movements.
Shivika closed her eyes.
"Aksh… you don't have to."
"But I need to, Ika," Rakshit murmured, his tone as gentle as his hands.
He knew how much she missed her family.
He knew she didn’t cry anymore.
And he just wanted to stay beside her… become the part of her life that didn't let her feel alone.
After a while, Shivika held his hand, stopping him.
"Now it's your turn. Come, sit," she said, slowly getting up.
But Rakshit shook his head and made her sit back down.
Then he picked up the small bottle of oil he had specially ordered for her feet, sat down near her, and gently lifted her foot.
"Aksh…" she said softly, telling him not to do it.
He looked up at her, eyes warm.
"See, Ika… they're swollen. You massage them every day but today… let me do it. Please?"
He said it so cutely that for a moment, she genuinely wanted to kiss him.
But she shook her head lightly.
"Aksh… don't say please. Okay, do it," she sighed.
Rakshit smiled—an honest, happy smile—and placed her foot on his thigh, sitting cross-legged on the floor.
Then he began massaging her feet with so much care that Shivika's heart softened all over again.
"Aksh…" Shivika said softly after a few quiet moments.
Rakshit hummed, fully focused, his fingers moving gently over her swollen foot as if she were made of glass.
"Don't you think… you shouldn't touch my feet?" she asked quietly, almost teasing but also wanting to hear his thinking — his heart.
Rakshit blinked, genuinely confused.
"Why? Is there anything wrong?"
Shivika smiled at his innocence.
"No. But people think a husband shouldn't touch his wife's feet."
Rakshit scoffed under his breath, brushing off the thought without even pausing his massage.
Shivika's smile widened — soft, warm, touched.
After a moment, she asked suddenly, "Rakshit… do you think we will ever fall in love with each other?"
His hand froze.
He looked up at her slowly, as if making sure she meant the question, as if searching her eyes for the courage behind it.
When he finally spoke, his voice was low — honest in a way he rarely allowed himself to be.
A simple word, but it landed heavy between them.
He paused, thumb brushing her ankle gently.
Shivika's heart clenched painfully, beautifully.
She quickly wiped the lone tear that slipped down her cheek.
Rakshit swallowed hard, pretending he didn't hear — but she saw the way his shoulders stiffened, the way his breath hitched.
He looked down, focusing on her foot again, but this time his hands were trembling just a little.
Shivika watched him with a tender smile, and slowly, silently, placed her other hand on his hair, caressing softly, as if giving him the answer he was too scared to ask for.
And in that small quiet room, two people one who had never asked for love…and one who thought love wasn't for her
were slowly learning what it felt like to be chosen.