Chapter 14
Sidharth
Hell doesn’t come close to what these past few minutes have felt like since she confessed the truth.
We’ve been sitting in the same spot on the couch for forty minutes now.
It didn’t take long for my detective instincts to kick in.
When I asked to see the email, she handed me her phone.
And the moment I read it, a fierce protectiveness hit me at the thought that someone out there wants to hurt her again.
What that bastard doesn’t realize is that threatening her is the same as declaring war on me. Not a single strand of her hair will be touched. Hell, he won’t even get the chance to breathe in her direction. I’ll fucking make sure of it.
“Sidharth…” Nisha whispers, her voice barely a thread, just enough to snap me out of the storm in my head.
But I don’t look at her. My eyes stay locked on her phone screen. My jaw clenches so hard it hurts as I reread the message.
“It might just be an empty threat,” I hear her say, and this time, I look up at her, ready to snap at how she could be so stupid to brush this off. But the moment my eyes take in her vulnerable state, all the rage drains out of me, and is replaced by quiet concern.
“This is not an empty threat, Nisha. But even if it were, I’d rather be cautious than sorry,” I say as I place her phone on the coffee table. “Like I said, from now on, I’m your shadow till I track that bastard down.”
She bites her lower lip, doubt flickering in her eyes. “I don’t need you to go that extreme.”
“Then what do you want me to do? Sit back and wait for that asshole to turn his threat into action?” I snap, fed up with her stubbornness, fed up with the way she’s downplaying it like it’s not worth worrying about.
“The email clearly says he wants you gone, and you really think doing nothing is the smart move?”
Her gaze lowers. “I know you want to help. And I know… after your sister, you feel this need to—”
I cut her off sharply. “This has nothing to do with my sister.” I rake a hand through my hair. “Why the hell does everyone think it has to be about her? Why does no one believe I can care about someone without it being tied to my past?”
She doesn’t respond. Just stares at me with that tortured look on her face that hits me hard.
I take a breath, then another, forcing the storm inside me to settle before I finally reach for her. My hands find her face, holding it gently, my thumbs brushing her cheekbones as I make her meet my eyes.
“Listen to me, Nisha.” My voice softens, but it loses none of its conviction.
“This isn’t about my sister. It’s not guilt or some reflex to fix what I couldn’t back then.
My instinct to protect you comes from something real.
Something I feel for you. And if I’m being completely honest, it’s even more than that. ”
She blinks up at me, her voice barely a whisper. “You hardly know me.”
“I know enough,” I say quietly. “Enough to make space for you in my heart without overthinking it or needing logic to justify it.”
“I… I…” she stammers.
I place a finger gently against her lips.
“Shhh. You don’t have to say anything right now.
I know you need time, and I’m not rushing it.
We’ll get there.” I tighten my grip on her cheek.
“For now, all you need to know is that I’m not about to let any asshole lay a finger on you, not on my watch. Do you get that?”
She nods slowly, her glassy eyes fixed on mine.
“Good.”
“I… I need you to promise me something,” she says hesitantly, like she’s afraid the promise might be too much to ask.
“You can ask me anything.” I lean back just a little, letting my hands fall from her face, my palm brushing over her arms. “It’s yours, whatever it is. Except for two things: don’t ask me to let go of you, and don’t ask me to let that bastard off the hook. Anything else, just name it. It’s a yes.”
“Please don’t tell Kavya about the email,” she says quietly, almost pleading. “She’s already been through enough, and now that she’s pregnant, she doesn’t need any more stress.”
“Kavya doesn’t need this right now.” I agree. “And she won’t hear it from me, I promise you that.”
“Sunita Aunty?”
“I won’t tell her either. It’ll be our secret,” I promise softly.
“Thank you,” she says, looking down, her fingers nervously picking at the hem of her sleeve.
I reach for her hand and wrap mine around it firmly.
“You don’t have to thank me,” I say, giving it a gentle squeeze.
“You just have to let me handle this my way, without fighting me.” I lean in just a little, coaxing her eyes to meet mine.
“And as much as I get your instinct to protect Kavya and Sunita Aunty, don’t ever lump me into that same list. I don’t need your protection.
What I need is for you to understand that I’m the one standing between you and whatever the hell’s coming. ”
She lets out a tired huff. “I hate to sound weak, but I’m tired of fighting everything on my own. I need you more than I’m willing to admit.”
Her words hit me like a jolt. I go still, my hands trembling just enough for her to feel it.
I want to pull her close, kiss those lips, and show her she’s anything but weak.
That I need her just as much as she needs me.
Damn, how desperately I want to help her forget, even if it’s just for a while.
To take her mind to a place where only peace exists…
where none of this darkness can ever reach her.
Don’t be a fucking idiot, Sidharth. Don’t dress up your need to claim her as some noble act of comfort. Own it. Control it. I bark at myself internally. She doesn’t need this. She needs a friend.
But can I just… just once?
Before I can yell at myself again, my body moves on its own as my hand finds the back of her neck, brushing against her skin.
Her breath hitches, her chest rising sharply against mine, and something tells me she feels it too.
I can see it in her eyes, the reflection of everything that’s burning in me—the ache, the pull, the unspoken want.
Her tongue darts out, wetting her lips, and that single motion becomes the final nail in the coffin of my restraint.
All rational thought vanishes in a breath.
My head dips, slow but certain, and I press my lips to hers, driven by everything I’ve been holding back, and everything I shouldn’t do, yet can’t resist.
She gasps softly, her fingers clutching at my shirt. But she doesn’t pull away, not even a little. That’s all the permission I need. I deepen the kiss, my lips tracing hers slowly, trying to memorize the shape of her mouth and the way it fits perfectly against mine.
My other hand slides to her waist, pulling her closer, needing her closer. Her breath quickens, but I keep kissing her, devouring her like I’ve been starving for this. Her taste, her softness… it floods my senses.
I’m completely lost in her. But then, suddenly, she jerks back, her hands dropping from my shirt as if I’ve burned her. Her breathing is uneven, her eyes wide, caught somewhere between panic and confusion.
Damn. I rushed the kiss. It must’ve caught her off guard.
I should’ve eased her into it, not gone at it with reckless, teenage urgency.
I owe her an explanation, not for the kiss itself, but for how fast I crossed the line.
But one look in her eyes tells me she’s not yet ready for that conversation, and that’s okay. We’ll get there… just not now.
“I… I need to go,” she whispers, standing quickly, looking anywhere but at me.
“I’ll take you,” I say, keeping my voice calm as I stand too. Every nerve in me is coiled tight, like I’m holding myself back from reaching for her again.
She shakes her head and brushing the strands of hair from her face. “I can go on my own.”
“I’m dropping you,” I say flatly. This isn’t up for debate, it’s a decision. She’s not walking out. Not after what just happened.
She stiffens but doesn’t argue. Just nods.
Without a word, she turns around and starts walking towards the door. Grabbing my car keys and tucking my phone into my pocket, I follow her.
Outside, I step ahead and open the passenger door for her. She hesitates for a beat, then slides in without meeting my eyes. I close the door, walk around to the driver’s side, and pull the car out of the parking spot.
The drive to her house is silent. She stares out the window, her eyes distant, and I let her have that space. I don’t push. I don’t even glance at her. Not because I don’t want to, but because I know she needs this.
When I finally pull up outside her house, she moves to open the door. But before she can step out, I speak.
“Nisha, until I figure out what the hell that mail meant, you’re not going anywhere without telling me. You got that?”
She pauses, her hand frozen on the door handle. Then, she gives a small nod, still avoiding my gaze. She opens the door and steps out, and I watch her as she walks all the way to her house, never once looking back at me.
When I see her disappear inside safely, I finally let out a breath I didn’t realize I was holding.
I don’t start the car right away. My hands stay clenched around the steering wheel, knuckles white, as my mind races miles ahead, replaying everything that just happened. The kiss. Her discomfort. The line I crossed.
And through all the chaos, one thing cuts through with brutal clarity. Whatever this is between us, it’s only just begun.
The ring of my phone jolts me back. I reach down and pull it from my pocket, my brows furrowing when I see Viraj’s name flashing on the screen.
I was about to call him, but seeing his name there first twists something in my gut.
Instinct kicks in hard. This isn’t good.
Still, I swipe my finger across the screen.
“What’s wrong?” I ask the moment I answer, my voice already edgy.
There’s a beat of hesitation on the other end, just long enough to make my chest tighten, before he drops the bomb. “Prakash has escaped from jail.”
“What?” I snap, sitting up straighter in my seat, the blood draining from my face only to be replaced by a rush of white-hot fury. “How the hell did that happen?”
Viraj exhales, and I can hear the tension in his voice. “We believe one of the constables helped him. It was a clean break. Someone from the inside gave him everything he needed. And now he’s gone.”
I slam my palm against the steering wheel, the sharp thud of impact echoing through the car. My jaw locks as rage crawls up my spine. Of course. Of fucking course. That email wasn’t a random warning.
“Not a word of this gets out,” I growl into the phone. “No leaks. Not to Reyansh. Not to Kavya. No one. Especially not Nisha. I’ll be the one to tell her. You hear me?”
“Understood,” Viraj replies.
“This case is ours now. No bureaucratic bullshit. No chains of command. We handle this our way.”
I hear him go quiet, then reply with steel in his tone. “Alright. What’s the plan?”
I glance once more towards the house.
“We tighten the circle. I want backgrounds on every officer who had access to Prakash in the last few days—logs, transfers, shifts, the works. Someone helped him walk out, and we’re going to find out who first.”
“Got it.”
My throat tightens as the words leave me. “Nisha got a threatening email.”
There’s a sharp intake of breath on the other end before he mutters. “When did she get it?”
“Today. The asshole’s timing is too damn perfect. He escapes, and she gets that mail the same day.”
His voice shifts, calculated, focused. “That means someone is working with Prakash.”
“It doesn’t matter how many rats he’s got helping him,” I say, my tone fiery. “The only thing that matters is this time, he won’t get to harm Nisha.”
He must’ve caught the weight behind my words, because Viraj doesn’t say a damn thing after that.
“Keep me updated.” I end the call without waiting for a reply.
I drop the phone onto the passenger seat and stare back at her house, her tortured eyes still burning in my mind as the words echo relentlessly: Prakash is out.
And that means the storm she barely survived is coming back in full force. Only this time, it doesn’t get to touch her.