Chapter 15 A Crash Course in Caring Jungle Edition
Ivikaa arrived once again, this time with a lantern in one hand and a bag of packed food in the other. There were lights in the forest, yes-but she brought the lantern just in case something decided to go wrong. The forest didn't always play fair with light.
When she reached the usual clearing, she spotted him fast asleep on the swing. The rhythmic creaking stopped as soon as he heard footsteps approaching. Startled, he jumped off the swing and blinked at her in disbelief.
"Aap yaha kya kar rahi hain?", he asked, his voice tinged with both surprise and concern. Even with the scattered lights, it was still the forest. Still night.
(What are you doing here?)
She didn't respond immediately. Instead, she sat calmly on a nearby rock, putting lantern on ground and extended the bag toward him.
"Had to pay off an old debt," she said flatly.
He raised an eyebrow. "Old debt?"
She nodded. "Yeah. Someone gave me food once. Thought I'd return the favor so we could be... even."
Her tone was lined with dry sarcasm, but the weight underneath was unmistakable.
Adwait sighed softly and unzipped the bag. Inside were a plate, a fork, and two containers-one filled with pasta, the other with salad. Tucked between them was a folded note.
Compelled by a force greater than myself (Miss Ambani), I have prepared this meal.
She insisted. I complied. You eat. Everyone survives.
P.S. She thinks you hate pasta. Haha.
- Martin (reluctant accomplice)
A laugh escaped Adwait's lips. Ivikaa, on the other hand, narrowed her eyes suspiciously.
"He sent you a note? Give it to me," she said, snatching it from his hands.
She read it. Then rolled her eyes.
"Fucking Martin," she muttered, half under her breath-but not without a trace of amusement.
Adwait was about to open the container when Ivikaa swiftly snatched it from him.
"Old debt," she muttered through gritted teeth, opening the lid and neatly serving pasta and salad onto his plate.
She shot him a look.
"So you don't hate pasta? I thought you only eat food that smells like ghee and nostalgia."
Adwait raised an eyebrow, amused. "Issi liye aapne Martin ko bola pasta banane ko?"
(Is that why you told Martin to make pasta?)
"Yeah, you and Martin both love laughing at my expense," she snapped.
"Yes, I told him to cook pasta. I thought you were some kind of forest-dwelling caveman who'd never even heard of it. You're too... Indian, right?"
"Aur aapko Indian pasand nahi," he taunted back.
(And you don't like Indian.)
That hit something.
Suddenly, it clicked.
She had never truly been bothered by Adwait being a caveman, or Indian, or religious.
Not his Hindi, not even his Gujarati. But when Maya spoke in Hindi, she would flinch.
She avoided Indian food since she'd moved to France.
She spoke only English and French. Somewhere along the way, she hadn't just left India-she had started resenting it. And the people who reminded her of it.
He was about to eat, fork halfway to his mouth, when he paused.
"Aapne khana khaya?" he asked gently-no sarcasm, no judgment. Just concern.
(You ate something?)
She didn't reply. Silence was her shield.
He pushed the plate toward her.
"Have it."
She shook her head. "I don't want to start another debt cycle."
"Please," he said quietly.
She sighed.
"Fine. One condition-I'm sleeping on your swing tonight." She pointed a dramatic index finger at him.
Adwait looked horrified.
"You can't sleep here. You're not made for this place. It's a forest. That swing is barely comfortable. There's no bed, no heater, no luxury. You should stay in the villa. This isn't... you."
"Great. Then enjoy your dinner alone." She crossed her arms and turned her face away, victorious.
He exhaled. "Okay."
Defeated.
"Good. Now get your fork and sit properly." she said, getting up from the rock and settling down on a mattress nearby. She pulled a water bottle from the bag and sat cross-legged.He came back with his fork and sat across from her.
"Adwait," she called. He hummed in response.
"If you can't come to my world... I can come to yours," she said softly, echoing his own words.
"Until it harms you or your reputation," he added, reminding her of the unwritten clause.
Ivikaa never worked on conditions-especially not the ones someone else wrote for her. That wasn't her way.
They began eating in silence.
After a while, she said again, "Adwait." He looked up while chewing.
"Why do you care?" The question lingered. One she'd been burying for too long.
He looked at her with a small, calm smile. "Because, end of the day, we're all just walking each other home."
"Don't you think the world's too cruel to be this nice?" she asked, her voice edged with cynicism.
"Maybe in your world. But in mine... there's God, Dadi, Raha, Martin, and Maria. None of them are cruel. They're just... nice."
"Martin is anything but nice," she scoffed.
"He's a little different. Doesn't get along with many people."
"Yeah, it felt more like you're his wife and I'm the homewrecker," she said with a dramatic flair.
"He's easy-once he trusts. But he trusts no one."
"But you," she finished his sentence for him.
He nodded. The words "walking each other home" echoed in her chest.
"So... who am I then? Because you definitely don't think I'm part of your world," she said, finishing her food and sipping water.
Adwait didn't reply.
When silence stretched too long, Ivikaa got up and walked toward the fire. She knelt, extended her hand close to the flames, and let the heat lick her skin until it stung. A hiss escaped her lips and she quickly pulled back.
"Ivikaa," he called sharply, rushing to her side. He grabbed her hand to inspect it.
"You don't need to answer, Adwait," she said calmly, looking at him. "I know who I am to you. Sometimes words aren't enough. Actions... actions scream."
He stared at her, unmoving.
"Phir se dard mila na?" he whispered, brushing his thumb gently over the red spot on her skin. She smiled.
(You felt the pain again, didn't you?)
"Adwait," she said, her voice softer now.
"I don't work on conditions. And you won't come to my world.
But there's a middle ground-where you hold my hand, I rest my head on your shoulder, you feed me, I listen to your flute.
A world where we exist. A quiet, shared space.
With a side of Martin's sarcasm, of course. " She chuckled, and so did he.
"I'll wash the dishes," he offered, gathering everything and walking toward the river.
Ivikaa climbed onto the giant swing and made herself comfortable.
Later, when he returned, drying his hands, she was lying there with a small white comforter over her stomach.
"Come here, my feet are killing me," she patted the space beside her. The swing was big enough for two.
He lay opposite her, and she casually rested her foot on his stomach. Adwait sighed, shifted, and began massaging her foot.
When she reached for his foot in return, he muttered, "No, don't. Don't touch."
She rolled her eyes and dragged his foot and beginning to massage. He sighed in defeat.
"Adwait," she said again. He hummed.
"Why don't you say you care? You clearly do."
"I told you-I never needed words," he said softly.
His actions had always spoken.
"You know what's the difference between you and Rudra?" she asked.
"That he's Abhay Agnivanshi's son and I'm not?" Adwait deadpanned.
"No. He always says, 'Iva, don't do this'-like a command. You say, 'You shouldn't do this.' You let me choose. You don't control me."
"Everyone has their own way of showing care," he said quietly.
"You don't hate him? He deleted your entire online existence."
"Does it matter?"
"You don't hate him for erasing you?"
"You love, hate or care for people who belong to your world. Rudra doesn't belong to mine."
"I hate him for what he did to you. But why did he do it?"
"Reputation," Adwait replied. "A reporter once threw dirt at him. He's spent years building that empire. Easier to erase what people can't find. Simple."
"How can you be so... chill about it?"
"You and I have different experiences with him. If he cares for you, then maybe he's good for you. What he does with me... that's a separate story."
"He doesn't care. He sleeps around," she whispered.
Adwait glanced at her. "Isn't that normal in your world?" The taunt landed like a slap. Ivikaa froze for a second.
Then her lips curled into a wicked smile. Revenge mode: on.
"Oh, totally. In my world, hugging, kissing, and having sex-it's as normal as breathing," she said seductively, slowly caressing her finger along the sole of his foot while gripping his ankle.
"Don't-don't do that. Friends don't do that," he said in a single panicked breath.
"In my world, 'friends with benefits' is a completely normal concept," she smirked.
Adwait yanked his foot back, startled, and tried to jump off the swing, but she caught his forearm, laughing.
"Relax. Just messing with you. I didn't like you taking his side. You're not allowed to do that. You always have to be on my side."
He nodded obediently, settling back into position and resuming the foot massage.
"Are you sure you're comfortable?" he asked again.
Ivikaa shifted, placed her head on his feet, and tossed a cushion at him.
"Equal share. You get the cushion, I get the comforter. I'm good now." She pulled the blanket to her chest, turned sideways, and placed her hand gently on his knee.
Adwait placed the cushion beneath his head and resumed massaging her other foot.
Silence fell. Forest noises hummed in the background as their breathing slowed.
Soon, both of them drifted into sleep-peaceful, tangled in the strange, tender middle ground that was now theirs.
The Next Morning -
Ivikaa stirred as a hushed voice broke the morning stillness.
Her lashes fluttered open to soft sunlight peeking through the dense forest canopy.
For a moment, she forgot where she was-but the sway of the swing beneath her, the crisp scent of trees, and the comforter tucked over her told her exactly where: Forest.
A sleepy smile curved her lips when she noticed the cushion was now under her head, and the comforter securely wrapped around her. He must've adjusted them sometime during the night.
She turned to glance behind and spotted Martin murmuring something to Adwait. They looked serious-until Adwait noticed her movement.
The moment his eyes landed on her, his expression tightened.
"Good morning, Miss Ambani," he said in clipped sarcasm.
"Hope the headache's gone, and you're finally ready to come out of your bedroom."
Then, without waiting for a reply, he turned on his heel and walked away.
Ivikaa blinked after him, one brow arching.
Still salty about the lie. Cute.
A small smirk played on her lips.
"I'll wash my face," she announced, more to herself than anyone, slipping into her flip-flops and heading toward the river.
The soft murmur of the flowing water instantly calmed something in her. Kneeling at the edge, she tried to gather water in her palms, but it kept slipping through. Her fingers weren't cooperating.
Adwait appeared beside her like a quiet shadow. Without a word, he gently positioned her hands the right way. She managed to hold the water now-and with a little splash, flung it on her face once, twice, thrice.
She opened her eyes, refreshed-
And froze.
Across the river, barely ten feet away, stood a lion.
A lion.
She let out a piercing scream.
"ADWAIT!"
Startled, Adwait turned-and instead of panicking, smiled.
Smiled!
The lion-clearly offended by her dramatic shriek-let out a deep, thunderous roar that shook the forest air.
Panic exploded inside Ivikaa.
She grabbed Adwait's hand and tried to bolt, but he was trying to hold her back.
"Let me GO! ADWAIT!"
Realizing she wasn't stopping, he pulled her behind a nearby tree, shielding her with his body.
She clutched him tightly, nearly trembling.
"Lion! Adwait, he's going to kill me!" Her voice cracked.
He wrapped his arms around her protectively, gently resting his chin near her temple.
"She's a lioness. Her name is Bandi," he murmured calmly. "She won't kill you."
Ivikaa clutched him tighter, nearly climbing into his torso.
"She will definitely kill us. I'm telling you. I saw it in her eyes."
"She just said good morning," he said, stroking her hair softly. "You're not supposed to scream near them. That's... kind of a trigger."
"She will kill me," Ivikaa mumbled into his chest, unsure whether it was a question or a prophecy.
"No, she won't."
His tone was soothing, his hand still gently running along her shoulder. "Just... stay still."
Ivikaa didn't respond, just pressed her face deeper into his chest.
"Come" he whispered after a moment. "I'll take you to the villa."
But she refused to move, gripping his torso tighter like a lifeline. So he waited, letting her breathe, letting her calm.
Eventually, after several deep breaths, she gave a small nod.
Adwait took her hand-firmly but gently-and began leading her back toward the villa. His touch grounded her.
Once they reached the villa boundary wall, he jumped up and perched on it easily, motioning with a tilt of his head for her to go inside.
Ivikaa obeyed, walking to the backdoor, but at the threshold, she paused.
She turned, looked back at him, and silently mouthed:
"Don't go back there, please."
Adwait read her lips, smiled softly, and replied in kind:
"Don't worry."
She nodded and stepped inside.
Only after she disappeared behind the door did Adwait hop down from the wall and walk away-heading back into the forest, where Bandi still waited.
As the door clicked shut behind her, Ivikaa leaned against it, heart still thudding. A lioness named Bandi. A man who smiled at death. And a forest that apparently handed out panic attacks with the morning dew.
"Fine. Forest 1, Ivikaa 0. But I swear, if a tiger shows up tomorrow, I'm booking the next flight to Paris.
She rolled her eyes and marched toward the bathroom-because nothing screamed luxury vacation like near-death and river water skincare.
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