“My brother will not apologise for something he hasn’t done.” My fists clench at my sides, the restraint in my muscles tighter than steel. “And if you think you can drag our name through the mud, then you’ve picked the wrong family to provoke. Try to expose us, and we’ll see who pays the price.”
The woman who’s been standing silently all this while finally steps forward. “Please, let’s go. I don’t want any apology, Meera. Please.”
Meera turns towards her, eyes softening for a moment. But before she can say anything, the woman gives her a small, pleading shake of her head.
“Let’s go, Meera,” Samarth adds quietly.
Meera glares at me one last time, then walks past me. Samarth follows close behind, and the other woman trails after them, her shoulders hunched.
I turn as they retreat, expecting that familiar rush, the satisfaction, the cold triumph that usually follows after I’ve handled a situation well. But it doesn’t hit. Instead, watching her walk away fills me with a hollow ache I can’t shake.
“You handled that well, bro,” Veer says from beside me.
I whip around so fast he almost flinches, the cocky smirk slipping right off his face.
I hold his gaze, my voice dropping low enough to scrape bone. “I hope you’ve told me the truth. I trusted you when you said you didn’t get her pregnant. Don’t make me regret that. Because if you’re lying, if there’s even a grain of truth in what she said, I swear to God, Veer, I’ll tear you apart myself.”
“I didn’t lie, bro,” he says quickly, his hands coming up in defence. “I swear, I didn’t get her pregnant. She knew what it was. I used protection. She’s just trying to squeeze money out of me. You know how these women are. And you know me better than that, bro.”
“I do,” I nod after a beat, my eyes still on him. “Let’s go home.”
Veer exhales, his shoulders sagging in relief as he moves towards the door. I follow a step behind, but my mind, and my fucking heart, aren’t done. A tide of desire, dark and uncontrollable, churns inside me, and I can’t stop it from consuming every thought, every beat of my pulse.
Every part of me is fixed on her.Meera.
Chapter 3
Meera
The notification flashes across my laptop screen, making my heartbeat stutter. I draw in a slow breath before clicking it open. A slow, triumphant smile spreads across my lips when I read the email.
Yes. Got it.
It had been two days since the guest house incident, and since then, I’ve been tearing at every loose thread I could find, desperate to dig up anything against the Rathores.
And now, finally, I have something.
Last night, when I walked into one of their pubs, I had no expectations. I was already worn down by one failed attempt after another. This was just another shot in the dark. But it seems luck finally took pity on me when I crossed paths with a waiter who recognised me as a journalist and had seen me asking questions. On the pretext of wiping my table, he asked me to quietly meet him outside, saying he could give me the truth I had been searching for.
When I met him after his shift, he told me about the back room, the one used for late-night drug exchanges. He even spoke of his sister, of how she’d fallen victim to the very drugsbeing pushed through that pub. I had known the Rathores were involved in questionable dealings, but this came as a complete surprise. It proved just how right I was about the kind of criminals they truly are.
The waiter even promised that he would send me the proof soon, as long as his name never came out. I gave him my word.
And now, the photograph attached to the email stares back at me. Dimly lit and slightly blurred. Small packets lined up on a table, and a man’s gloved hand reaching for them.
“Meera?”
I shut the laptop just as the door creaks open. My head snaps up to see my father step inside, his grey hair slightly mussed, evidence of another long dinner meeting. His warm brown eyes find mine instantly, carrying that familiar fatherly concern he never bothers to hide.
“You’re still awake, beta?” he asks, stepping into the room.
“Yeah, Papa. Just… working.”
He looks at me for a long second. “Your mom said you didn’t have your dinner.”
“I wasn’t hungry.” I just shrug.
He sits on the edge of my bed and exhales, a deep, tired sound.
