I pace the bedroom, my fingers brushing the bare skin of my wrist where the bandage came off this morning. I am fine now. There’s no reason for him to babysit me anymore.
Tomorrow, I am putting the distance back where it belongs. Between him and the parts of me he should never be able to reach.
A knock at the door breaks my thoughts. I turn to see the house help standing there, a small green ceramic cup of tea balanced on a tray, one that I’d asked for. I give her a nod as she steps inside, and my gaze shifts to the wall clock. It’s past midnight.
Where is Dev? Why isn’t he back yet?A strange heaviness spreads in my chest.
“Ma’am, your green tea,” she says softly, placing the tray on the bedside table.
“Thank you.”
She turns to leave, but the tightness in my chest forces the words out. “Is Dev home?”
She glances back and nods. “Yes, ma’am. Sir returned an hour ago and has been in the bar room since then. He instructed that no one disturb him.”
I tip my head in silent dismissal as she leaves.
The jerk didn’t even tell me he was home. Instead, he’s in the bar room getting drunk, and I am here, worrying about him like the idiot I apparently am.
Gosh. His hot-and-cold attitude is driving me insane. One moment, he’s this caring, possessive, award-winning husband, and the next, he turns into the arrogant jerk who knows exactly how to annoy and hurt people.
But I am so done with him.
My irritation gets the better of me, and before I know it, I am making my way towards the bar.
I push the door open without knocking, and dim yellow light greets me. My gaze sweeps the room until it falls on Dev, slumped in the recliner at the centre. His eyes are closed, his head tipped back towards the ceiling, completely still.
Panic rises in my chest. Something is wrong.
“Dev…” I step in quietly.
His head jerks towards me, as if he hadn’t heard me enter. But what steals my breath is the sadness etched across his features—a look I’ve never seen on him before.
Yes. Something is definitely wrong.
“You should be sleeping,” he murmurs, running a hand over his face as he straightens in the chair.
“You’re awake as well,” I say softly.
“Can’t sleep, and I doubt I’ll be able to,” he admits wearily.
I step closer, unsure whether he wants me here. “Why?”
He lets out a heavy, shaky breath. “I lost my mother on this day.”
My heart lurches, and my feet freeze in place. “Dev…”
He meets my gaze. “She’d been sick for years with cancer. But she was strong. So strong. She fought it till the very end, always with a smile.” He shakes his head, swallowing hard. “Even while she was fighting it, she never let go of her responsibilities. As much as she could, she took care of everything—Dad, Veer, me.” A faint, broken smile crosses his face. “She used to sit with me for hours. Teaching me the smallest things—how to tie a tie the right way, how to finish my chores properly. It was like she knew. Like she was quietly preparing me for life… for how to survive once she was gone.”
I slowly kneel beside him and place my hands gently on his thighs.
“She taught me how to survive without her, but she never taught me how to deal with what I felt inside.” He closes his eyes, a shudder running through him. “After she was gone, I tried to hold on to even a fraction of her kindness and values, hoping it might keep me from falling apart. But her absence just kept swelling inside me, filling every corner, numbing every emotion.” His jaw tightens. “Dad tried. He really did. He tried to fill that void for Veer and me, but it was never enough. Not when he was drowning in guilt, blaming himself for not having enough money to give Mom the treatment that could have saved her. And that guilt… it consumed him. It drove him to chase money any way he could, even if it meant crossing lines, bending rules, and doing things that weren’t clean. All just to make sure we’d never be powerless and at the mercy of something we couldn’t afford to fight.”
His breath catches, jagged and uneven. “Since then, Dad transformed from a simple chartered accountant into somethingelse entirely—a ruthless businessman. What started as bending the rules to survive soon crossed a line, turning into choices that were outright illegal. But by then, Dad was too shut off to care about righteousness or morality. It didn’t matter to him anymore. In a twisted way, he found comfort in the climb. In power, in control, in affording every damn thing money could buy. In fact, he even taught Veer and me to shut people out, to shut our feelings out. Because feelings were dangerous. A sign of weakness. Always too much to handle.”
He falls silent for a moment, then continues, “And I’ve lived with it ever since. Every day, I feel pieces of Mom’s kindness slipping further away from me, replaced by an uglier, colder version of myself.” A bitter, broken laugh escapes him, hollow in the silence. “God… if she could see me now… she’d be crushed. She’d hate the devil I’ve become.”
“Dev… you’re not a devil.” I take a shaky breath, swallowing the lump in my throat.
