“Doing what?”
“Don’t act clueless,” she fires back. “Sonia’s marriage. This sudden alliance. What are you planning?”
My brows knit together. “Planning? I thought you’d be happy for your friend.”
“Happy?” She laughs in disbelief. “You really think I’d trust any proposal you bring?”
“And why is that?”
“Because I know you,” she says, her eyes burning into mine. “You don’t do kindness. All you do is destroy.”
I rise to my feet and take a deliberate step towards her. “And all you do is accuse, without a shred of logic.”
Her chest rises and falls sharply, anger radiating off her. I pull in a deep breath and add, “Your friend is safe. She’s marrying into a clean family. Isn’t that what you want?”
And that’s the truth. The Mehtas are a respectable family. Their business dealings are above board, their reputation untarnished, and everyone who knows them speaks highly of their integrity. They’re loyal, disciplined, and nothing like the kind of dirt she’s imagining.
“What I want is the truth,” she bites out.
“And what truth do you think I’m hiding?” I ask, folding my arms.
“I don’t know! That’s the problem! But my gut says something is off. And I trust my gut more than anything you say.”
“Meera… this is good for her,” I try, but she shakes her head.
“No. Nothing about this feels good.” She doesn’t let go of my gaze. “And God forbid if this marriage is any kind of trap, then I swear, Mr. Dev Rathore, I will burn everything you’ve built to the ground.”
With that, she turns around and leaves without hearing me out.
My heart hammers, not with anger, but with something deeper, far more than mere attraction.
Because in that moment, I see exactly how far she’d go to protect the people she loves, and just how far my obsession has grown.
Chapter 9
Meera
Stepping out of the taxi, I stare at the guest house, my fingers tightening around my phone. The evening air bites my skin, but it’s nothing compared to the storm raging inside me. If only I could make Dev feel even a fraction of what I’m feeling—this anger, this frustration, this desperate ache to prove that he is not as almighty as he thinks, and that not everything bends to his will.
A hand settles on my shoulder, snapping me out of the vicious spiral of my thoughts.
“Meera, beta, hold this!” Sonia’s mom beams, thrusting a thali with sweets into my arms. The metal plate wobbles under its own weight, and I nearly lose my grip.
“Be careful, don’t drop it!” she warns.
“Aunty, this is so heavy.”
“Stop whining and hold it properly,” she chides, adjusting her green dupatta over her salwar suit.
“Why do we even need sweets?” I groan, staring down at what looks like a four-kilo besan laddoo. “Bet these rich people won’t touch a single bite. They’re all probably on some fancy diet.”
“Oh, hush! Today is such a big day, and I want you to be on your best behaviour, okay? No talking rudely, and where is your smile?”
I plaster on my best fake smile, irritated by the same lines she’s been repeating all through the drive.
“Is this okay, Aunty?” I ask, rather than admit that being pleasant around them is never going to be possible.
“Ah, that’s my good girl! Make sure it stays on,” she pats my cheeks and opens the car’s back door for Sonia.
