“Look at you… still clinging to your pathetic arrogance,” she sneers.
Before I can say anything else, there’s a shift in the air. I look up to see Dev standing at the doorway, taking in the scene before him. Esha’s face drains of colour as I struggle to rise, but the pain pins me down. In a heartbeat, he’s at my side, dropping to his knees, and pulling me into his arms. My heart skips, then thunders wildly in my chest.
“Sweetheart… are you okay?” His voice is taut with fear as his eyes scan my face for every flicker of pain.
“I—I’m okay… just a little pain,” I manage, even though the throbbing in my wrist says otherwise.
“Where does it hurt?” he asks instantly.
“My wrist… I think I landed wrong.”
The moment the words leave my mouth, his fingers slide gently along the tender skin in reverence. He lifts my wrist just a little, testing it with careful precision, and the pain shoots through me again. Sharp, hot, blinding. A wince slips out before I can stop it.
“Shh…” he murmurs as he cradles my wrist carefully. “We’ll get this checked. You’re not going to be in pain for long, I promise.”
Then his gaze cuts to Esha. “Get an ice pack.”
She flinches at his voice but obeys without a word, scrambling out of the room.
With his free hand, he pulls out his phone, the other still steadying my wrist. He speaks to the doctor with clipped urgency, ordering him to come immediately. When he ends the call and slips the phone back into his pocket, his gaze drops to me again, filled with a worry he isn’t even trying to hide.
“The doctor will be here soon,” he assures me softly, his thumb brushing lightly over my palm.
All I can do is nod, trying and failing to hide the rush of heat that floods my face under the weight of his concern. Seeing this side of him… the gentleness, the care, strikes me harder than the pain itself. It’s so different from the man who hurt Samarth, from the man who forced me into this marriage with threats.
And in that instant, I’m torn between a swirl of emotions—anger, confusion, and an undeniable ache that pulses with a strange, reluctant warmth I can’t seem to push away.
Esha walks back in with the ice pack, her hands trembling.
Dev doesn’t even look at her. He just snatches it from her hands and presses it gently against my swollen wrist. The cold burns at first, then settles into a numbing calm.
“How did you fall?” he asks, his eyes never leaving my face.
Before I can reply, Esha blurts out, panic flooding her face.
“Dev, I—I didn’t—she slipped—”
Dev doesn’t acknowledge her. His entire focus is on me.
“How?” he asks again, his voice low, intense.
“Esha,” I breathe out. “She… she pushed me.”
Dev’s expression changes in an instant, a shadow of pure, lethal fury sweeping across his face.
Esha opens her mouth, panicked. “S—she’s lying, Dev! I didn’t—”
His glare cuts her off mid-sentence. “Esha, you’re lucky I have to tend to my wife right now.” He pulls me protectively against him, his body taut with restrained rage. “If I didn’t, I’d show you exactly what it means to lay a hand on her.”
Esha stumbles back a step, her lips trembling. “I—I… Dev, listen—”
“Get the fuck out of my house.” His tone drops even further, almost a growl. “Before I forget I am trying to stay civilised.”
Her face pales, and without another word, she turns around and rushes out of the room.
Dev then turns to me, his eyes softening as he gathers me into his arms and rises to his feet. The movement sends a sharp jolt of pain through my wrist, and I bite back a gasp. His hold steadies instantly.
“I’ve got you,” he murmurs, and without thinking, my head drops against his chest, my cheek pressing into his shirt. His heartbeat thuds steadily beneath my ear. It shouldn’t calm me… but it does.
