But tonight… I didn't let her leave. Still, I want more—I want her to talk, to let it out, to trust me enough to share the parts of her she keeps locked away. I want her to know she’s not alone anymore. I wanted to pull her into my arms. Instead, I kept driving.
I’ll wait. I’ll wait until she’s ready to let me in. Until she realizes I’m not going anywhere, no matter how high those walls are or how long it takes for her to bring them down. But tonight, she stayed. That was enough. For now.
____________
“Everything is ready for tomorrow’s event. You have to leave for Mumbai early. The schedule has been mailed to you, and the guest list is in the folder you received.” Sasha’s voice rattled on through the speaker.
Meanwhile, I stood at the stove, absently stirring the pan, my gaze constantly flickering to Kiara. She was perched on the stool, silent, her fingers fidgeting endlessly with the same tiny pea she’d picked up almost an hour ago.
Since we came back to my place, she hasn’t spoken a word. I want her to talk—I need her to say something. Anything. But more than that, I just want to pull her into my arms and hold her until every shattered piece of her feels whole again.
“Are you even listening?” Sasha’s voice jolted me back to reality.
“Yeah… I heard you. I’ll check the mail and schedule,” I replied, cutting the call before she could say anything else.
I dimmed the lights, letting the soft melody of calming music fill the room, and carried two plates to the table. Kiara hadn’t moved an inch, still twirling that single pea between her fingers as if it held the answers to the universe. I set the plates down gently. “Bread or rice with the chickpeas?”
The only response was the faint hum of the music and the weight of her silence. Finally, after what felt like an eternity, she murmured, “I’m not hungry.”
“Sometimes,” I said, scooping rice onto her plate anyway, “you need to eat, even when you’re not hungry.”
I sat beside her, waiting. Five minutes passed, and the spoon in her hand remained untouched. Her eyes were distant, her gaze fixed somewhere I couldn’t reach.
“Kiara…” I said softly, turning my body toward her. Gently, I reached for her hand, encasing it in mine.
She blinked, her clouded eyes slowly lifting to meet mine. A single shaky breath escaped her lips as she closed her eyes for a moment, as though trying to steady herself.
I picked up her spoon, scooped a bite of food, and brought it to her lips. Her brows furrowed in confusion, her hand flinching slightly in mine, but I held it firm, steady, unwavering.
For a long moment, she simply stared at me, wide-eyed, searching my face, trying to make sense of what I was doing. Then, with a deep breath, she leaned forward and took the bite. But then, as if the dam had been waiting for this exact moment to break, her tears came—silently, steadily, unrelenting.
With my free hand, I reached up and softly brushed away her tears. “You don’t have to pretend you’re okay when you’re not,” I said quietly, though seeing her like this was tearing me apart.
Her gaze flickered up to meet mine—wide, vulnerable, and filled with raw pain. “Everything he said… it's true. My mother… the wedding… everything I touch falls apart.”
“No.” I shook my head firmly, my grip on her hand tightening ever so slightly. “Don’t do this to yourself. None of this is your fault.”
“Then why does it feel like that?” Her breath shuddered, and she blinked up at me, the tears still falling freely. “I’m tired, Manav. Tired of pretending everything will be okay. Tired of lying to myself.” She drew in a shaky breath. “Dad will never forgive me. What if Mom’s angry at me too, for pissing everyone off?”
“She’s not,” I said, though my voice wavered. “She wouldn’t be.”
Her tears came harder now, unrestrained and unfiltered. Sometimes, the only way to begin healing is to let it all spill out, to break open the cracks so the light can finally seep through.
“I couldn’t marry Vihaan,” she confessed, her voice trembling. “I ignored so many red flags… but… The night we were kidnapped, we were at a party on his cruise. Everyone was celebrating; his friends took him off somewhere, and when I tried to call him, he never picked up. So, I decided to head back to my suite when I saw—”
I tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear.
Her eyes squeezed shut as if trying to block out the memory. “He was drunk, kissing a girl in the lobby.”
I felt a surge of anger twist through my stomach.
“He didn’t see me, so I left. A few minutes later, we were both kidnapped. After the ransom was paid, he left. And I never met him again.” She swallowed hard.
“He shouldn’t have left you alone.”
She let out a shaky breath, “It doesn’t matter. I’d already made up my mind when I saw him in that lobby with that girl.”
And as her walls began to crumble, I stayed—unmoving, unwavering, steady as ever. If this was the moment she needed to fall apart, I would catch every piece.
