I understand now. Really understand why he is the way he is. He isn’t a bad man, not at his core. But losing his mom broke something vital in him. Something that was never put back together again. God, I can’t even imagine how hard it must have been to lose his mother so young. And it’s even harder when the one parent who’s supposed to fill that gap is too lost in his own grief to hold you, to soften the fall. When, instead of comfort, he himself teaches you how to harden yourself to the world and how to survive without letting yourself feel too much.
I look into his eyes and say quietly, “You’re just a man who’s been hurting. A man who never had the chance to heal.”
He stares at me as if he can’t believe what he’s hearing. Another ragged breath escapes him as he admits hoarsely, “I miss her. I miss her every damn day. But today…” He shakes his head, his voice breaking. “Today, it kills me.”
My hand moves before I can stop it and cups his cheek. “I… I am so sorry, Dev. I can’t imagine how hard it must be, how much it must hurt. I wish I could take some of the pain away.”
“I am not telling you this so you’ll feel sorry for me,” he says, his voice cracking at the edges. “I am telling you because… with you… I want you to know all of me. Even the parts I don’t show anyone else. Even the things that tear me apart.”
My throat tightens as he continues.
“I know you hate me. I know you think I am not a good man. And you’re right about that. I hurt people. I make decisions that aren’t always right. I intimidate. I control. And I’ve done things to you…” His voice fades. “You have every reason to hate me.”
I open my mouth, but he shakes his head, stopping me.
“But even with all my flaws, even with a mind that’s always a mess… there’s a part of me that still has emotions… that still feels. A part I almost lost after Mom. And I found it again when I met you. The part that loves you, Meera.”
My heart skips a beat. I don’t know if it’s from hearing my name on his lips for the first time, or from the weight of his confession, but it’s all too much. My hands fall away from his face as he lifts his hands and cups mine. “I love you more than anything,” he whispers. “More than I’ll ever be able to put into words.”
Why does his confession twist something so deep in my heart?It should be simple to tell him I feel nothing…to shut this down. But I can’t. The words die somewhere between my throat and my lips, leaving me helpless as I stare at him.
“You’re the first girl I’ve ever fallen in love with. The first girl who hated me. The first girl who wasn’t impressed by me, who didn’t care about who I was or what I had.” His fingers brush my cheek reverently, his touch burning through me. “You’re so pure,” he murmurs. “Not selfish. Not manipulative. Not like the world I deal with. That’s what drew me to you.And believe me… from the moment my eyes landed on you, you took over every corner of my mind. You consumed my thoughts. There was no space for anyone else. There still isn’t.”
“Dev…” I breathe, too shaken to finish the sentence.
He lowers his forehead to mine, his breath mingling with my own. “I want you to feel what I feel for you. I want to ignite the same desire in your heart that burns in mine.” He inhales, straightening just enough to look into my eyes, and takes my hand in his. “And I will, Meera… no matter how many times you try to push me away.” His thumb grazes my knuckles, sending a shiver up my arm. “I am not backing down. Not when it comes to you.”
The rush of adrenaline leaves me tongue-tied and utterly helpless. I have no idea what I am supposed to say. But thankfully, he changes the subject before I even have to try.
“We keep a pooja for Mom every year,” he says, standing and helping me up. “I need to be up early for it, so let’s go to bed.” He leads me out of the bar.
The moment we step inside the bedroom, I immediately pull my hand from his and move to the couch. I need distance… space… anything to keep these overwhelming emotions from taking over before I do something unbelievably stupid, like confess I feel the same pull… or, God forbid, kiss him and let that be my answer.
“You can use the bed,” Dev says quietly from its edge.
“No, thanks. I am fine here,” I reply, tugging the blanket over myself.
“You really like torturing me, don’t you?”
I meet his intense gaze, heat curling in my toes, an involuntary, traitorous reaction I can’t seem to control. Yet somehow, I still manage to slip into my best mocking tone. “Yes. I do. Love it, actually.”
His eyes darken as he pushes to his feet.
“Dev… don’t,” I warn as he steps closer, but he ignores my warning.
“Dev, I am warning you,” I repeat, my heart thudding hard. But before I can even push myself off the couch, he yanks the blanket away, bends down, slips one arm beneath my knees and another behind my back, and lifts me effortlessly.
“Dev!” I gasp, my cheeks flushing. “What are you doing?”
“I don’t like torturing you… even if you enjoy doing it to me,” he says as he walks to the bed and gently lays me down. Before I can get up, he pulls the blanket over me and tucks it around my shoulders. “Sleep tight, Mrs. Rathore,” he adds, then turns and settles on the couch, stretching out with a tired sigh, his long legs barely fitting along its length. He faces the ceiling, one arm draped over his eyes.
I squeeze my eyes shut, my heart racing wildly in my chest. His pain, his honesty, the way he takes care of me… it’s all breaking down my defences, and I don’t know how much longer I can hold them up.
???
The early morning light drifts into my half-sleep. I blink awake and sit up, brushing my hair from my face, only to find Dev standing by the mirror.
He’s dressed in a simple white kurta-pyjama, sleeves rolled to his elbows, collar slightly open. His hair is damp, as if he’s just stepped out of the shower.
