“She tried to leave, but he threatened her. Controlled her. Turned her into his puppet. And one day, when she couldn’t take it anymore, she took the only way out she thought she had.” I swallow hard. “She ended her life.”
“Sidharth…” she breathes.
I shake my head, my eyes burning. “That broke me, Nisha. It still does.” My voice drops, thick with anger and helplessness. “And you know what’s worse? The bastard still walks free. Living comfortably in London while I, her brother, couldn’t get justice for my own sister.”
Tears well in her eyes as she reaches up and cups my face. “I’m sorry.”
“I didn’t tell you this to get your sympathy,” I say, my voice hoarse. “I’m telling you because we all have our darkness within us. We all carry pain. But that doesn’t mean we shut out the people who care.” I pull in a deep breath. “Nisha, I’ve watched you fight so hard to be okay, and I admire that. But this thing youdo… where you keep pushing me away, where you think facing things alone makes you stronger, it pisses me off.”
“I just didn’t want to pull you into my mess.” Her voice is barely a whisper now.
I crouch in front of her, my hands reaching up to cradle her face.
“I chose to be pulled in,” I say quietly. “Because I care. And you don’t get to decide when I care. You don’t get to walk into fire and tell me to stay behind.”
She finally breaks down. “I’m sorry. I just… I didn’t know how to handle it.”
I finally pull her into my arms. She collapses against me and sobs uncontrollably, and my own breathing turns ragged.
“You don’t have to know. You just have to let me in.” I press a kiss to the top of her head, my hand running slowly through her hair.
She nods weakly, the fight draining out of her as her arms wrap around me. And I hold her tight, praying like hell that in my arms, she can feel even a shred of peace and safety she’s been chasing all along.
Chapter 13
Nisha
I don’t know what it is about Sidharth, but somehow, this man always manages to break through my resolve. I know I should’ve told him about meeting Prakash, but I didn’t. Not because I wanted to lie or keep things from him, but because I didn’t want to add more to the weight he already carries. He worries too much, more than he lets on.
I don’t know why he’s taking this responsibility so seriously, why he treats me like I’m something fragile he’s vowed to protect. And the scariest part? I don’t have the courage to ask him why. Maybe because I’m terrified of what his answer might be. Because maybe I already know what it is.
God, I can feel it. I’ve seen it in his eyes. It’s not loud or obvious, but it’s there, in the way his gaze lingers on me, in the way his expression softens when I speak, like I matter more than I should.
It’s something I can’t fully understand, yet can’t seem to ignore either. Nevertheless, I don’t dare to let myself believe it. Because my heart is just not ready for that kind of emotion.
Trying to push aside the swirl of confused emotions, I force myself to focus on Sidharth’s confession about his sister and the raw pain flickering in his eyes as he spoke.
And suddenly, I feel an ache in my chest that doesn’t even belong to me.
This strong, stoic man has been carrying his own demons all along. And I’ve been selfish. So consumed by my own pain, my own fears, that I failed to see his. Failed to see that behind all that strength, he was quietly hurting too. I failed to ask him about his story, too wrapped up in my own mess, giving my self-pity party more priority than his silent battles.
But now, with his truth out in the open, I finally understand the reason behind his constant worry for me. He’s not just protecting me. He’s trying to save me in the very same way he couldn’t save his sister.
Slowly, my mind starts to make sense of all the confused emotions I’ve been feeling towards him. Whatever I thought I saw in his eyes, whatever I believed I felt… it was all just me, reading too much between the lines. I’m nothing more than a painful reminder, an echo of his sister, to him. And that thought breaks me in ways I can’t even begin to explain.
I pull back from his arms, my eyes falling on the damp patch staining his crisp white shirt, soaked with my tears.
“I’m sorry… I made a mess of your shirt,” I mumble, barely able to meet his eyes.
Sidharth glances down at it for just a second, then shakes his head. “I don’t care about my shirt.”
He gets up and sits beside me on the couch. Slowly, he holds my face with both hands, guiding my tear-streaked gaze to meet his.
“You want to talk about it?” he asks softly.
I nod. I don’t want to hide anymore.
“You deserve to know. After everything you’re doing for me, keeping it a secret just isn’t right anymore.”
