Chapter 21 #2
“You can use the bed,” Dev says quietly from its edge.
“No, thanks. I am fine here,” I reply, tugging the blanket over myself.
“You really like torturing me, don’t you?”
I meet his intense gaze, heat curling in my toes, an involuntary, traitorous reaction I can’t seem to control. Yet somehow, I still manage to slip into my best mocking tone. “Yes. I do. Love it, actually.”
His eyes darken as he pushes to his feet.
“Dev… don’t,” I warn as he steps closer, but he ignores my warning.
“Dev, I am warning you,” I repeat, my heart thudding hard. But before I can even push myself off the couch, he yanks the blanket away, bends down, slips one arm beneath my knees and another behind my back, and lifts me effortlessly.
“Dev!” I gasp, my cheeks flushing. “What are you doing?”
“I don’t like torturing you… even if you enjoy doing it to me,” he says as he walks to the bed and gently lays me down.
Before I can get up, he pulls the blanket over me and tucks it around my shoulders.
“Sleep tight, Mrs. Rathore,” he adds, then turns and settles on the couch, stretching out with a tired sigh, his long legs barely fitting along its length.
He faces the ceiling, one arm draped over his eyes.
I squeeze my eyes shut, my heart racing wildly in my chest. His pain, his honesty, the way he takes care of me… it’s all breaking down my defences, and I don’t know how much longer I can hold them up.
???
The early morning light drifts into my half-sleep. I blink awake and sit up, brushing my hair from my face, only to find Dev standing by the mirror.
He’s dressed in a simple white kurta-pyjama, sleeves rolled to his elbows, collar slightly open. His hair is damp, as if he’s just stepped out of the shower.
Oh my God… seeing him in this traditional attire for the first time makes my stomach flutter. My fingers brush over my stomach almost instinctively, as if trying to calm the riot of feelings racing inside me.
He catches my gaze in the mirror. “You’re awake.”
“Yes.” My throat tightens around the word.
He turns and walks towards me, stopping at the edge of the bed.
“The pooja will start soon.” He hesitates, his fingers raking through his hair. “If you want… you can join.”
I bite my lower lip and nod.
“I’ll wait for you,” he says, giving me a grateful smile before stepping out of the room.
Pulling in a deep breath, I push myself out of bed and quickly go through my morning routine. I get dressed in my favourite pink salwar suit, fix my hair carefully, and add a light touch of makeup to bring colour to my face.
Once ready, I make my way to the living room, where Dev’s mother’s garlanded photograph sits at the centre, surrounded by white marigolds, an oil lamp burning steadily beside it.
Dev’s father, Veer, Dev, and Panditji sit opposite the photograph, their backs to me, hands folded and eyes closed, while Panditji chants quietly.
Just as I am about to take my place beside Dev, the housekeeper approaches, holding out a small, folded slip of paper.
“Ma’am, this came for you.”
“For me?” I ask, surprised.
She nods. I take the note from her and watch as she walks away. My fingers tremble slightly as I open it and read.
Meera, meet me outside.
Samarth.
My breath catches. Samarth wants to meet me? Now?
Why didn’t he call or message? Why a note?
I bite my lip, my thoughts spinning. We’ve hardly been able to speak over these past few days. Maybe it’s something urgent, and he wasn’t able to get through to me by phone.
I glance at Dev. He’s completely absorbed in the pooja. If I disturb him now, he’ll lose his concentration in the one ritual that means everything to him.
No… I can’t do that.
I fold the note, slide it into my phone cover, and slip quietly out of the room.
Stepping outside, I don’t see Samarth anywhere. My mind immediately reasons. He wouldn’t just walk into the house. He must be waiting somewhere nearby.
I move past the gate, cross the road, and head towards the park. My gaze roams around the empty park, searching every corner. Still, there’s no sign of him.
I pull out my phone and dial his number. He picks up on the second ring.
“Samarth, where are you? I am at the park.”
There’s a pause. “The park? I didn’t know we were meeting.”
My heart starts racing. “You… you asked me to meet you.”
“What?” he sounds confused. “I didn’t, Meera.”
Now my stomach drops. “You sent me a note.”
“No, Meera. I’m at home. I didn’t send you any note?”
“Then… who sent the note? It had your name, telling me to meet outside.”
His voice sharpens instantly. “Meera, listen to me. I’m coming, and you…”
I don’t hear the rest.
The moment I feel a shift behind me, my phone slips from my hand. I turn and stumble back, my breath ripping out of my lungs as I come face to face with a masked man, a knife glinting in his fist.
I barely have a moment to react. His arm swings towards my stomach before I can even think. I squeeze my eyes shut, bracing for impact.
“How dare you!” Dev’s voice roars through the air.
I immediately open my eyes and see Dev standing between me and the attacker, one hand wrapped around the knife, blood streaking down his fingers, while the other yanks the man by the collar, keeping him pinned in place.
“Dev!” I cry, my panic rising, and start to move forward, but a sharp glance over his shoulder stops me.
“Stay back, Meera!”
The attacker takes advantage of the moment and shoves Dev aside. In a flash, he disappears into the narrow lane.
“Fuck,” Dev mutters, letting the knife fall. He stares at the lane where the attacker disappeared, clutching his bleeding hand.
I step in front of him and grip his wrist. “Dev, your hand… you need—”
“Are you okay?” he interrupts, every breath uneven, his eyes wild with panic.
“I am okay… but you’re hurt.” My gaze drops to his palm, now smeared with blood.
“I can handle getting hurt,” he says, cupping my cheek. “But I can’t handle losing you.”
His thumb trembles against my cheek as he chokes out, “God, Meera… you could’ve died if I hadn’t reached you in time.”
“I know,” I whisper, shaken. “But you saved me.”
His eyes shut tightly, then open again, flickering with pain. “I am not losing you. Not to destiny, not to fate, and definitely not to some twisted asshole.”
Tears sting my eyes as he leans closer, his thumb brushing away a stray tear I didn’t realise had slipped free, never breaking eye contact.
“Nothing will happen to you,” he promises quietly. “I’ll protect you… always. Even if it costs me everything.”
At his words, my chest aches so violently it feels like it might shatter.
This man… he has no idea how, with each passing second, he is making my heart betray me.