7
She was in my arms... for just a second.
But that second-that second-was everything.
The way she fit... like she belonged there. Like the universe had been holding its breath for this very moment. Her scent lingered faintly on my shirt, her warmth etched into my skin, and the brush of our hands had felt like lightning through my veins.
I didn't say a word as they left. Just watched. Just... memorized her all over again.
When I finally went back inside, the mansion felt even emptier than usual. My steps echoed through the hallway as I headed to my room.
I shut the door gently and exhaled slowly. My fingers reached up to touch the spot where she'd clutched me for balance. Her touch had been light, but it was burned into my soul.
I changed slowly, almost reverently. Every fold of my shirt, every trace of her presence on it-I preserved it. Carefully, I folded the clothes and held them to my chest as I walked.
Down the hall... past the locked doors... and then into that room.
The secret one.
The one no one else knew existed.
I turned on the soft light, and immediately, her face greeted me from all directions. Dozens of portraits-each one painted by my hand. Different angles. Different expressions. All her. All my Katha.
I walked to the table in the center, placed the clothes there like they were sacred, and looked up at the largest portrait-her in that midnight blue dress, hair down, a soft but deadly gaze in her eyes.
"I touched you today," I whispered, voice low, raspy.
"My first time... holding you. Just for a second, Katha... but it felt like a lifetime."
My hand traced the curve of her painted face.
"This shirt... it has your trace. Your scent. Your warmth."
I paused.
"I'm never washing it."
A slow, almost broken smile tugged at my lips as I leaned my forehead against the canvas.
"One step closer, Katha. One step closer to you being mine. And this time..."
My eyes darkened.
"I'm not letting you go."
I still remember how yesterday, I called Bhairava for confirmation about the contract.
But to my utter surprise... it was her who picked up.
My Katha.
The moment I heard her voice on the other end of the line, the chaos in my mind just..
. stopped. Like the world went quiet so I could just listen.
Her voice-sharp, cold, clear-God, how I craved to hear it daily.
Even if she was annoyed. Even if she was mocking me.
Even if she was hating me. It was still her.
I closed my eyes, letting the memory play in my mind again like a secret I didn't want to forget.
I let out a soft sigh and turned to face her portrait again, lit softly by the dim golden light in the room. My fingers reached up and gently caressed the edge of her painted cheek.
"You shouldn't have picked up that call," I whispered with a faint smirk. "Now I won't stop imagining you answering every one of mine."
I stared at her face one last time before finally stepping back, my heart still not ready to leave-but I had work to do.
I stepped out of the secret room, locking it behind me. No one could ever know.
The mansion was quiet as always. My footsteps echoed through the hallway as I made my way to the front, slipping on my watch, fixing the cuffs of my shirt, and adjusting the ring on my finger.
Once in the car, Ojhal was already waiting, knowing better than to speak unless I asked him to.
We reached the CM office in no time.
I walked through the halls, the staff immediately straightening up as I passed. Silent, respectful. Afraid.
But none of them knew that behind all this silence, behind this blank face, I was still hearing her voice in my head.
Katha Choudhury... you've ruined me completely.
I was deep in work, scanning through a list of names tied to the recent port shipment when my phone rang. The screen lit up with a name that always brought a strange heaviness to my chest.
Pooja Agnivanshi.
I stared at the name for a long moment. My jaw clenched slightly. Why does this woman call me so much?
She took my mother's place... just a week after she died. A fresh wave of bitterness tightened in my chest.
"She was your mother's best friend." That's what they said.
My foot.
No one could replace Janaki Agnivanshi.
And certainly not her.
I picked up the phone, my face a blank slate as always, not even a flicker of emotion betraying the storm beneath.
"...Yes?" My voice was clipped, emotionless.
"Dattatriya," came her soft voice, hopeful as always. "How are you, beta? You didn't answer Athira's call yesterday. Or Garud's."
"I was busy," I replied flatly.
"You're always busy," she sighed, her voice tinged with pain. "I just wanted to check if you've eaten... and also-"
"I don't need you to check." I cut in, voice quiet but sharp. "And I've eaten."
There was a pause on the line. The same silence I always offered. She never fought it.
"I know you hate me for what I am not... but I still care. Your mother-"
"Don't," I warned, the single word like a blade.
She went quiet.
I stared ahead at the towering files on my desk, my grip on the phone tightening just slightly.
"Is that all?" I asked finally.
"I... yes. That's all," she whispered.
Without a word, I ended the call. Tossed the phone on the table. And leaned back in my chair, eyes fixed on the ceiling.
Everyone keeps calling me Dattatriya Agnivanshi, the cold, untouchable Chief Minister.
But they never knew the child inside me who was still standing next to a hospital bed, waiting for his real mother to wake up-knowing she never would.
I sat alone by the still waters of Pichola Lake.
The sun was dipping behind the distant Aravalli hills, painting the water in hues of gold and crimson. The breeze carried a faint chill, but I didn't mind. My gaze remained blank, unmoving, locked on the gentle ripples.
This lake...
My mother used to bring me here when I was a boy. She'd hold my hand tightly and tell me stories about warriors and kings. This place used to echo with her laughter.
Now, it was just silence.
After she fell ill, everything changed. Everything.
My father didn't even wait. A week. Just one week after we cremated her, he married that woman. Pooja Agnivanshi. He claimed it was for stability, for me, for the family.
Lies.
And then... Athira. Garud. His new children. A new family. One I never wanted to be a part of.
I hated them all.
I didn't realize I had curled my fingers into fists until I felt the numbness. I blinked and loosened my hands, letting out a long, silent breath.
And just as I was drowning in the ocean of old pain, a gentle hand settled on my shoulder.
I turned, expecting to see Ojhal.
But it wasn't.
It was her.
Katha.
My Katha.
She stood there in a simple top and jeans, her hair brushing against the breeze, holding Sheraa, her snow leopard cub curled sleepily in her arms.
Her eyes met mine-concerned, warm, curious.
"Are you okay, Mr. Agnivanshi?" she asked softly, taking a cautious step forward. "You looked... lost."
I didn't say anything.
She looked around, recognizing the place, the energy. "I... come here often too. My mom used to bring me here when I was small."
Something flickered in my chest.
She sat beside me, still holding Sheraa who nuzzled into her coat. "I lost her. Not like others... I saw her die when she gave birth to Utsav she was the best mother. I still hear her voice sometimes in the breeze."
I turned sharply toward her, something raw flashing in my eyes.
She sighed. "Pain never leaves, does it?"
I looked at her, really looked at her. My voice barely came out, rough, jagged, low. "I lost my mother too. She was all I had."
Her eyes widened a bit, realizing now why I had been staring at the lake with such emptiness.
"I didn't know..." she whispered.
I simply nodded, not trusting myself to speak further.
And then... without warning, she reached forward and wrapped her arms around me.
I froze.
Her arms were warm. Gentle. Real.
I was shocked. My mind screamed to move back, to question her, to resist this closeness I wasn't used to.
But I didn't.
Because for the first time in so many years... the cold in my chest melted.
I let my arms move around her slowly, pulling her close.
Then, without realizing, I shifted-gently lifting her and settling her on my lap. She didn't resist.
I buried my face into the crook of her neck, eyes fluttering shut as a deep breath escaped me.
So many thoughts rushed in-of my mother, of betrayal, of loneliness... of Katha.
But in this moment, in her arms... I felt something I never thought I would find again.
Peace.
And it had her name.
I held her tightly.
So tightly, as if letting go would make her vanish like everything else in my life once did.
My hands trembled against her back, my breath hitched - and for the first time in years, I dropped every wall I had built around myself.
Every layer of anger... coldness... pain... collapsed in that single moment.
I buried my face deeper into the curve of her neck, and her soft scent wrapped around me like a memory I had been chasing in my dreams.
My shoulders shook silently.
And then-
I cried.
Tears I didn't even know I still had spilled from my eyes, soaking into her skin. They weren't loud or dramatic - just quiet, aching tears of a boy who lost his world too soon and had to become a monster to survive.
She didn't speak.
She didn't move.
She just held me tighter, her arms wrapped around my back protectively, as if shielding the shattered pieces of me.
Her palm moved slowly up and down my back, soothing me the way only a mother would know - but this wasn't maternal.
It was hers. It was Katha's. Gentle, fierce, and healing.
Her fingers brushed my hair and she whispered softly, "Let it out... just let it go, Dattatriya..."
Hearing my full name from her lips-it didn't sound like a title, or a warning.
It sounded like home.
I clung to her, the great Dattatriya Agnivanshi-ruthless ruler, feared CM, feared mafia head-reduced to a broken man in the arms of the woman he never stopped loving.
And for once, I wasn't ashamed.
Because in her arms, I was no longer alone.
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