Chapter Borrowed Courage
Borrowed Courage
SITARA
I’m sitting cross-legged on the rug in the library, sketchbook open, pencil forgotten between my fingers as I stare at absolutely nothing. My phone vibrates next to me, and I immediately glance at the screen. It’s a call this time. My heart lifts instantly.
Meher bhabhi-sa.
I smile before I even answer. “Hi.”
Her voice comes through warm and familiar, the kind that makes you feel like you’re already halfway home. “Hi, drama queen. What are you doing?”
I snort softly. “Avoiding work. Existing. Overthinking. You know. The usual.”
She laughs, that soft laugh of hers that always feels like a hand smoothing down my back. “Good. Then you’re free to talk.”
I shift, leaning against the bookshelf, hugging the phone to my ear. “I’m always free for you.”
“Oho,” she teases. “Careful, Raja-sa might hear that.”
I grin. “He’s in a meeting. I’m safe.”
She hums knowingly. “How is married life treating you?”
The question shouldn’t make my chest warm. It still does. “It’s…” I pause, searching for the right word. “Different. In a good way. Strange, but… steady.”
“That’s great,” she says gently. “I am happy for you.”
I swallow. A lump forming in my throat for some reason. “And Dhruv?” she asks.
I smile without meaning to. “Annoying. Kind. Overbearing. Protective. Irritatingly perfect.”
She laughs again. “Ah. You like him.”
“I always liked him,” I state, the only difference is now it’s more than liking a friend. I roll my eyes even though she can’t see me. “Don’t start though.”
“I’m not,” she says, feigning innocence. “I’m just stating facts.”
There’s a beat of comfortable silence. Then her tone shifts, casual but purposeful. “By the way… Devraj and I are attending a charity event this weekend.”
My pencil stills. “Oh?” I say, trying to sound normal.
“Yes. It’s for rural education initiatives. Big turnout. A lot of familiar faces will be there.”
My heart thuds a little faster. “You’re going?”
“Unfortunately, yes,” she says dryly. “Your bhai-sa refuses to escape public appearances even when he doesn’t like them.”
I smile at that image. Then the real reason for the flutter in my chest settles in. “Devraj bhai-sa will be there?” I state thoughtfully but it comes out as a question.
“Of course,” she says. “He’s one of the main patrons.”
My grip tightens on the phone.
“You haven’t seen him since the wedding,” Bhabhi-sa says gently like she’s reading my thoughts.
“No.” I sigh. Sure, I talk to him almost every day, but it’s still not enough. I miss them. All of them.
There’s a pause. Then her voice turns playful. “Well… maybe you should come too.”
“Me?”
“Yes, you,” she says, like it’s obvious. “You’re married now, Sitara. Public appearances are part of the deal.”
The thought makes my stomach flip. Excitement and nerves tangling together. “I don’t know if Dhruv—”
“Ask him,” she cuts in smoothly. “And before you panic, yes, he’s invited too.”
That makes me smile, she knows me too well.
“I’ll ask,” I say.
“Good,” she replies. “I’ll see you there then?”
I hesitate. Then, softly, “Hopefully.”
After we hang up, I sit there for a moment, phone resting in my lap, heart doing that annoying fast-slow thing it does when something matters too much.
Public appearance.
First one after marriage.
Seeing Bhai-sa.
The thought alone makes my palms feel clammy when I hear familiar footsteps behind me.
“Why do you look like you’re about to give a speech?” Dhruv stands there, jacket off, sleeves rolled up, hair slightly disheveled in that unfair way that makes him look effortlessly put together. He watches me with mild amusement, one eyebrow raised.
“I wasn’t,” I say quickly. “I was just—thinking.”
He smiles. “Dangerous pastime.”
I roll my eyes. “Says the man who overthinks silently.”
He steps closer, leaning against the shelf beside me. “What were you thinking about?”
I hesitate. Then decide not to overthink this. “Meher bhabhi-sa called,” I say. “There’s a charity event this weekend.”
He nods. “Yes.”
I blink. “You… know?”
“I received the invitation yesterday.”
“Oh,” I say, a little deflated. “You didn’t tell me.”
He shrugs. “You have been very busy.”
I narrow my eyes. “You say that like I’m not always busy.”
He chuckles and I huff, then take a breath. “Devraj bhai-sa will be there.”
His expression softens instantly as if he knows what direction I am heading.
I look down at my sketchbook. “Are you going?”
He studies me for a second. “Do you want to?”
“It obviously depends on your schedule—”
He cuts me off as he steps closer to me, placing a finger on my lips. I hate how my breath hitches at our closeness. He looks at me expectantly.
“I want to see Bhai-sa” I finally say, correcting myself. “And… I think it would be nice. You know. To make a public appearance together.
He doesn’t answer immediately. My nerves spike. Then he smiles.
“Sitara,” he says softly, “could I ever deny you anything?”
My heart does a very embarrassing little flip.
I look up at him. “So… that’s a yes?”
“That’s a yes,” he confirms. “A very enthusiastic yes.”
I exhale, relieved. “Good.”
He tilts his head. “You sound nervous.”
“I am,” I admit. “What if I mess up? Say something stupid? Spill something on someone important?”
He chuckles. “You spill things on me all the time.” I smile at the memory of our first meeting.
“That’s different,” I argue. “You’re… you.”
“And you’re my wife,” he says simply. “No one’s going to eat you alive.”
I snort. “Bold assumption.”
He steps closer, close enough that I can see the faint crease between his brows when he’s focused on me.
“You’ll be with me. If anyone so much as sees you the wrong way,” his eyes darken, “they will face my wrath.” He says it so casually, like he’s narrating a fact.
“And you’ll see your Bhai-sa. That’s all that matters. ”
I swallow. “You don’t mind? Me wanting to go… for him?”
He looks genuinely confused. “Why would I?”
“I just—” I stop myself. “Never mind.”
He lifts a hand, gently brushing my knuckles with his thumb. “Sitara. If something matters to you, it matters to me.” My throat tightens.
“You’re flirting,” I accuse weakly.
He smiles. “Is it working?”
“Yes,” I mutter.
He laughs softly. “Good.”
I glance away, cheeks heating. “I’ll need something to wear.”
“I’ll handle it,” he says immediately.
My eyes widen. “No.”
“Yes.”
“Dhruv,” I warn.
He grins. “Relax. I promise I won’t put you in anything uncomfortable.”
I squint at him. “You better not.”
He raises both hands in surrender. “Scout’s honor.”
I snort. “You were never a boy scout.”
“Still honest.”
I shake my head, smiling despite myself.
“Thank you,” I say quietly.
He looks at me, expression soft. “For what?”
“For… letting me want things.”
He frowns slightly. “You never need permission for that.”
I smile. “Still. Thank you.”
He reaches out, hesitates for half a second, then gently tucks a loose strand of hair behind my ear. The touch is light, careful. Like he’s always checking whether I’m okay with it.
My heart stumbles.
“You’ll look beautiful,” he says, voice low.
I groan. “You’re doing it again.”
“Doing what?”
“Making me flustered.”
He smiles, unabashed. “It’s becoming a habit.”
I look down, smiling to myself, nerves still there but steadier now.
Public appearance or not.
As long as I’m not alone, I think I can do this.