Chapter 10
Sidharth
With a brand-new MacBook in hand, I head to Nisha’s room. Earlier, on the ride back from her physio session, I’d tried to make small talk and asked her how it went. But she shot me one of those half-assed shrugs. Classic Nisha. Always shutting me out the moment she senses I’m getting too close.
But I’m not the type to take the hint and walk away. I continued to push, ignoring the daggers in her glare. And that’s when it slipped that she’d asked the doctor if she could start studying again. Apparently, the doctor had given her the green light and suggested she start with online courses.
I didn’t say much, just hummed a simple, ‘Good.’ But inside, I was bursting with pride. If she’s ready to take that first step towards putting her life back together, then I’ll make damn sure she has everything she needs to keep moving forward. And this laptop was part of that plan.
She never said it, but I knew she’d need a new laptop. The cops had taken hers as evidence, and even if they returned it someday, I doubted she’d ever want to touch it again. That’s why, after dropping her off at home, I drove straight to the store and picked up the newest MacBook they had.
I’ve never been the kind of guy who acts on impulse, especially not when it comes to picking out gifts for women. But Nisha makes me do things that don’t fit the version of myself I thought I knew. And if I’m being honest, she affects me more than I’d ever admit out loud.
It’s not just the way she looks, though God knows, she’s breathtaking even in the simplest clothes, with messy hair and those beautiful, guarded eyes.
It’s more than that. There’s something magnetic about her.
The kind of beauty that doesn’t scream for attention but haunts you slowly and steadily.
And what gets to me even more is her fire—that fierce, stubborn courage.
That quiet strength that makes me want to shake some sense into her and pull her into my arms all at once.
And damn, those walls she’s built… Every time I try to get close, they rise higher and higher.
Even now, I’m wondering if she’ll accept the MacBook I got her or throw both the gift and me out without a second thought.
And if I’m being honest, option two feels pretty likely.
But I’m here anyway, standing my ground and knocking on her door.
She opens it a moment later with that trademark eye-roll, the one she seems to save just for me. It’s becoming far too familiar, and damn it, I’m starting to love it.
“How lucky,” she drawls, her voice dripping with sarcasm. “His Highness graces me with his presence again. Should I roll out the red carpet, or will your ego settle for just applause?”
Damn, even in that sarcastic tone, her voice is sexy.
I smirk, leaning casually against the doorframe. “No red carpet needed. Just your charming hospitality will do.”
She scoffs, stepping aside just enough to let me in. “Charming hospitality went out the window the third time you hijacked my cab plans. You’re lucky I haven’t changed the locks yet.”
“That would be a total waste of time and energy for you. Because if you changed the locks, I’d pick them in under a minute. Perks of being a detective,” I reply smoothly and step into the room.
The second I’m inside, the door slams shut behind me with a force that leaves no room for doubt. That’s my answer, loud and clear.
Grinning, I turn around and see her with her arms folded, eyes sharp enough to cut through steel, shooting daggers at me. Yeah. She’s pissed. But damn me, because all I can focus on, even with that deadly glare aimed straight at me, is how fiercely gorgeous she looks in her tracksuit.
“You’ve seriously made torturing me your life’s mission,” she snaps, her eyes blazing like she might physically throw me out this time.
“Guilty,” I admit with a grin. She doesn’t realize it, but every time she tries to push me away, it only pulls me in deeper.
“Is your detective agency running in losses?” she fires back, arms still folded.
I blink, caught off guard. “What? No.”
“Did you hand it over to someone else?”
“No, of course not—”
“Then why the hell do you keep barging in here like you’ve got absolutely nothing better to do?” she cut in, her sass on full display.
I raise both brows, trying to hide my amusement. “Well, let’s just say you make my day worthwhile.”
She doesn’t even crack a smile. “This is not a joke. You keep showing up like you’ve made babysitting me your side hustle. It’s annoying as hell.”
I chuckle under my breath. “It’s not babysitting. It’s one friend looking out for another.”
She scoffs, rolling her eyes. “Friends? God, you really do have a savior complex. Newsflash, Detective, I’m not your friend or your case to fix.”
“I didn’t come here to fight.” I sigh when I see she isn’t backing down, just doubling down on how she doesn’t need me. “I just came to give you this, hoping it might earn me a break from being glared at like I’m the villain in your story.” I lift the gift-wrapped MacBook.
“What’s that?” she asks flatly, her eyes narrowing at the box in my hand.
“A time machine,” I say with a half-shrug, walking over to place the box on her bedside table. Then I turn back to her, slipping my hands into my jeans pockets. “One that gets you back to where you left off. Your new laptop.”
She stares at the box, then back at me. And for a moment, something soft flickers in her eyes. The tiniest shift in that guarded expression. But just as quickly, the walls go back up. Her defenses kick in, right on cue.
“I don’t want a handout.”
“It’s not a handout,” I shoot back.
She points at the laptop. “It feels like a handout.”
“Nisha, stop being stubborn about this,” I say, trying not to lose my patience.
She crosses her arms tighter across her chest. “Mind telling me what you’re up to?”
I tip my head to the side, not quite sure what she’s implying. “What do you mean?”
“I mean…” She hesitates, her eyes darting to the box, then back to me. “You getting me expensive gifts. You showing up here every damn day. I don’t think this is just about keeping a promise to my sister.”
I meet her gaze head-on. “Well, I’d love to tell you, but I don’t think you’re quite ready for that kind of honesty yet. So let’s save that conversation for another day. For now, just accept this as a peace offering.”
She blinks, her eyes searching mine like she’s trying to decode the meaning behind my words. For a moment, I brace myself, half-expecting her to demand answers, to challenge whatever I’m not saying. But instead, her shoulders drop, just slightly.
“Fine. I’ll accept the damn gift,” she says tightly.
“That easy?”
“Not easy. There’s a condition,” she says, and I lift a brow, prompting her to continue.
“I get to pay you for it,” she adds firmly. “Every single rupee.”
“No.”
“No?”
“Not happening,” I repeat, trying not to lose my patience.
She looks like she might actually combust. “Then I’m not accepting this charity.”
“It’s not charity, Nisha!” I say, closing the distance between us, frustration rising in my voice.
“I hate people swooping in and acting like I can’t handle my own life.”
“I know you can handle everything, Nisha. Hell, you’ve been doing it on your own longer than most could,” I say, softer this time, my eyes locked on hers. “And I’m not doing this out of pity. And not because you need saving. But because somewhere along the way, you have started to matter to me.”
She blinks at me, her breath hitching just slightly, her chest rising and falling at my words.
I exhale slowly, choosing my words with care. I don’t want her to overthink it, but I need to be honest with her. “You can push me away, glare at me, slam every door you want, but it won’t change the fact that I care about you. And I’m not going anywhere, whether you like it or not.”
She looks at me for a long beat. The walls are still up, but I can see them shaking.
“You don’t understand,” she says finally. “I hate being this version of me. I hate needing help. I hate that every time I look in the mirror, I don’t recognize myself.”
My chest tightens, and before I can stop myself, my hands gently cup her cheeks. “Then let the people who care about you help you find that version again, Nisha,” I say softly, my thumbs brushing her skin. “You don’t have to do this alone.”
She swallows hard. “You’re exhausting, you know that?”
I grin. “So I’ve been told.”
She takes a step back, and my hands drop. “Fine, I’ll keep it. But if you think this means I’m suddenly going to go all soft on you, think again.”
“Wouldn’t dream of it,” I say, raising my hands in mock surrender. “But maybe… just consider not arguing with me.”
“No promises,” she mutters, but her tone isn’t as sharp anymore.
Giving me a small smile, she walks past me. I turn to look as she sits on her bed, her fingers brushing over the laptop box. Then she glances back at me, her voice softer this time.
“Thank you.”
I shrug and sit down next to her. “You’re welcome.”
“Don’t make it a habit,” she warns.
“No promises,” I reply, tossing her words right back at her, and just like that, we burst out laughing.
After a few seconds, her laughter fades, and she looks at me.
“I’m sorry,” she says quietly.
I frown, watching her closely. “What for?”
“For being difficult. For making everything ten times harder than it needed to be when all you are doing is trying to help.” Her voice is tired but honest.
My gaze softens, the vulnerability in her voice hitting harder than any argument we’ve had.
I shake my head. “You’ve been through too much, Nisha. However, you survived all of that. You don’t owe anyone an apology. Least of all me.”
“I just…” she swallows, her voice cracking slightly. “I just want you to know it’s not you. It’s just that… after everything that’s happened, everything in my past… trusting people isn’t easy anymore.”
This time, I stay silent. I just sit there and let her speak, because I know how important it is for her to let it all out, to finally give voice to her fears.
“My life flipped upside down in seconds, Sidharth,” she whispers.
“And the people I thought would be there… well, most of them aren’t in my life anymore.
So when you started showing concern, I didn’t know what to do with it.
I pushed. I snapped. Because I was scared that the moment I let my guard down, it would all fall apart again and I’d lose this…
whatever this is. And worse, maybe once you saw my scars, you’d hightail it out.
Realize what an emotional mess I really am.
” Her lip trembles slightly, but she turns her face away before I can see her tears.
My heart pounds like a war drum at her words. I reach out, cup her face, and gently tilt her chin up, forcing her eyes to meet mine.
“Look at me,” I say, my voice low and rough.
“I’m not afraid of your scars, Nisha.” I lean in just a little, keeping my gaze locked on hers.
“And you can push, you can run… hell, you can throw up every damn wall you’ve got, but I’ll still be right here.
You don’t scare me. Nothing about you ever will. ”
Her eyes glisten, and she quickly blinks it away. “Don’t say things like that.”
“Why not?”
“Because it makes it harder to keep you out,” she admits, almost in a whisper.
“Good,” I murmur. “Because I don’t want a way out, Nisha,” I say, leaving no room for doubt. “Now get some rest, but before that,” I nod towards the MacBook. “Go ahead and check it out. Set it up. Break it in. It’s all yours.”
She nods, nibbling her lower lip.
“You’re safe, Nisha,” I say, pressing a gentle kiss to her forehead. The moment my lips brush her skin, a jolt runs through me, but I ignore the pull and straighten up.
I head towards the door when her voice calls out quietly behind me.
“Good night and thank you.”
I glance over my shoulder and offer her a soft smile. “Good night, Miss Always Stubborn.”
Then I step out, my strides steady, but my mind lingers. There’s been a shift between us tonight. And damn if I’m not hoping it stays that way… hoping she doesn’t pull away again.