“Is that true, Uncle?” Aditi squeals beside me. “I always felt he liked Amyra di, but I didn’t know it was serious. Karan really seems like the perfect choice for her.” Her excitement makes her squeeze my arm tightly, and the urge to snap back rises dangerously in my throat.
“After hearing all this, I feel the same,” Neelima aunty says thoughtfully.
“What do you think, Reyansh?” Mom’s sudden question catches me off guard, leaving me wordless.
“Leave him out of this, Meenal,” Dad cuts in. “He’s not in the best position these days to judge what’s right or wrong as far as personal decisions are concerned, though he excels in business decisions.” Though his words spare me from answering, the judgment stings my heart badly.
The bitterness my parents carry toward me just because I failed to keep a promise reveals how deeply they once wanted Amyra as their daughter-in-law. And now, watching them genuinelywish the best for her, even if it means pairing her with another man, only highlights how long she’s been part of our family. I was a fool not to see it sooner. A fool to miss my own feelings for her until it was too late.
I need to stop this before it spirals further, before it damages everything beyond repair. Because nothing is more unsettling than watching your own family actively try to marry off the woman you love to someone else.
I wish to stand up and scream that I love her, but no. Not yet.
“Look, they’re coming this way,” Aditi squeals again. I look up to see Karan and Amyra walking toward us, broad smiles on their faces. Just then, Karan halts mid-step and turns back, as if someone had called him. He excuses himself and retraces his steps while Amyra continues toward us alone.
She walks with measured composure, soft confidence marking every stride, standing out even in a room filled with overlapping conversations and clinking glasses, everything exactly as it should be. Then something goes wrong.
A waiter stumbles near the edge of the stage, just a second of imbalance, but my eyes catch the tall crystal décor behind Amyra tilting, slipping, about to fall.
Too close. I don’t think. My legs just move.
I step straight into her space, grip her arm, and pull her back as my body turns instinctively toward the falling glass. The impact comes hard and fast. The sound is deafening.
Glass shatters violently, shards exploding across the marble floor. A collective gasp ripples through the crowd, but all I feelis her against me, her body pressed to my chest, my arm locked around her as if letting go might undo what I just prevented.
I don’t move. Not until the last shard hits the ground.
“Are you hurt?” I ask immediately, my voice low and urgent, my eyes scanning her face, her shoulders, her hands. “Did it hit you?” She shakes her head, stunned, her breathing uneven. Only then do I exhale.
The room surges back to life, security rushing in, staff apologizing, executives panicking about optics, but it all sounds distant. I loosen my hold carefully, take her wrist, and check for even the smallest scratch, my fingers steady despite the sharp sting spreading through my palm. Her gaze drops.
“Rey,” she says softly, an alarm creeping into her voice. “You’re bleeding.” I follow her eyes to my left hand. Blood drips from my palm, dark against the marble.
“It’s nothing,” I say at once, as if that settles it. My attention shifts right back to her. “You’re okay. That’s what matters.”
Someone steps closer. “Sir, you need medical attention.”
“Get her some water first,” I say without hesitation. My family rushes in, especially my mother, guiding me aside, wrapping my palm, and insisting I sit on the nearby sofa. I let them treat my injury as the venue staff brought the first-aid kit. My eyes scan to see Amyra being led away, unharmed, safe.
As my mother tends to the wound, the unexpected affection warms my chest. Then, I feel the weight of the eyes on me, of my family, Aditi and Karan. The room has fallen into a different kind of silence. I catch the shock on their faces, especially Aditi’s. Hurt and disappointment flicker in her eyes. At thesame moment, I see Amyra rushing back toward me, her eyes brimming with fresh tears, fixed on my injured hand. Her silent weeping breaks into quiet sobs as she wraps her arms around my waist from the side.
“Y-you’re hurt because of m-me,” she whispers, her voice muffled. I cup her face with my free hand, lifting it gently until she meets my gaze.
“Look at me,” I murmur. “I’m safe. I’m fine. Don’t waste your precious tears on me.” I hate the sight of her crying, especially because of me. Only then do I realize everyone is watching us, still trying to process what I did without thinking… and how Amyra is breaking into tears over my injury.
I didn’t plan it. I didn’t weigh the consequences. I just knew one thing with frightening clarity that if that glass had hit her, nothing else tonight would have mattered to me. I would never have forgiven myself. And that truth hurts far more than the cut in my hand.
Love really is a dangerous kind of magic.
Chapter 26
Reyansh
“I don’t even understand why you need to come to the office when your hand is injured in the first place.” Amyra scolds in a high-pitched, irritated tone, her face twisted into a deep frown, but for some reason, it sounds oddly pleasing to my ears.
“You know how boring it gets staying at home when my parents still aren’t on good terms with me because of my forgotten promise,” I complain, and her expression shifts to confusion.
“Is it? Surya Uncle might take time, but is Meenal Aunty still upset too?”
