Chapter Thirty Six
Aansh's POV;
I woke up to a noise that drilled straight through my skull. A low, persistent sound - water dripping, fabric and jewellery rustling, something soft hitting the floor. My body felt like it had been carved open and stitched with fire. Every muscle screamed when I tried to move.
I turned my head, slowly, painfully to where the noise was coming from, and the breath punched out of me.
There she was.
Ria stood near the dresser, back turned, her long hair dripping wet as she dried it with a small towel.
Strands clung to her skin, gleaming under the morning light that seeped through the curtains.
The laces of her kurti hung loose, revealing the pale, smooth, milky expanse of her back - soft, unguarded, unaware of my possessive stare.
She looked completely lost in her own world. And I hated how my mind reacted to that-how it dragged up last night's memories like a wave hitting stone.
I shoved the memories away and tried to sit up. A sharp bolt of pain shot through me.
She froze at the sound of my wince, then turned around.
"You're awake," she whispered, as if afraid even the air might break.
Her voice should've irritated me. So why didn't it?
"The doctor said you can't move your body for twenty-four hours," she added, stepping closer when she saw me struggling.
"What the hell," I snapped, the frustration boiling instantly. "I have work. I can't lie here like some helpless-"
A pair of cold, soft hands landed on my shoulder cutting me off. I jerked my head toward her. She stood right beside the bed now, eyes wide, worried.
"Please, Aansh... you're going to hurt yourself," she whispered.
Something unfamiliar twisted in my chest at her plea - something I did not ask for and did not want.
"I'm not a damn child, Ria. I can handle myself."
"Even adults need care from time to time," she said quietly, then walked out before I could react.
And that... that annoyed me more than anything.
I grabbed my phone and texted my assistant to cancel all my meetings. When the message sent, I threw the phone aside, my irritation building with no outlet.
A soft knock, then she entered again.
She was carrying a bowl this time. She moved carefully as she set it aside, my eyes never leaving her figure.
"I prepared soup for you," she said softly, eyes flickering downwards, shoulders drawing in like she was bracing for me to yell.
Her fear always did something to me - something I didn't want to look too closely at.
"Why?" I asked, the annoyance there, but curiosity mixed in.
"It will help with your recovery," she murmured, fingers tugging at her dupatta.
I smirked at her reasoning despite myself.
She turned as if to leave.
But I caught her wrist.
She stopped instantly, breath hitching. Her face flushed a deep shade of red, and the sight tugged something sharp inside me.
"Feed me the soup," I ordered, my voice leaving no room for question.
She coughed at my order. My smirk grew wider at her reaction. She slowly sat at the edge of the bed, as far from me as she could manage without falling off. Her hands trembled as she lifted the spoon to my lips.
The soup touched my tongue just as she bit her lower lip.
Heat shot through me. My muscles tensed. I felt the loss of control like a frayed wire snapping. I felt an urge to take control of her lips.
I grabbed her wrist again.
"Stop."
She blinked, confused. "Stop what?"
My jaw tightened. "Stop biting your lip."
Her eyes widened a little, but she nodded obediently. She didn't even understand what she was doing-how something so small could pull me apart from the inside.
God, her naive personality was a weapon, and she had no idea.
She fed me another spoon, then seemed to drift into her thoughts, eyes distant.
"What is it?" I asked curiosity taking the better of me. She looked at me coming out of her thoughts.
"N-nothing," she whispered, shrinking in on herself.
I hummed, not believing her but not wanting to push her.
Then she stuttered, "Umm... how did you get... shot?"
Of course she asked. Of course.
"Curiosity kills the cat," I said with a smirk. "It's better you don't know."
Silence fell again. She looked down at the bowl, shoulders tense, fingers trembling.
She bit her lip again.
I didn't think. I moved.
I grabbed her arm and yanked her closer, her breath catching in pure shock. She didn't even fight - just stared at me, wide-eyed, frightened.
"Bite your lip again," I whispered, voice like a blade, "and I will punish you so hard you won't forget it for years."
She swallowed, hard, fear radiating from her in waves.
Good.
At least she understood that much.
Her scent reached me - soft, warm, maddening - and it made me shove her away before I did something I'd regret.
"I'm not hungry," I muttered.
She stood too fast, nearly stumbling, and rushed out of the room like she needed to breathe again.
Good.
Because if she had stayed...
She would've regretted it.
And so would I.
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