Gritting her teeth, Mishti tried again, standing before the dressing mirror. Her fingers fumbled with the knots, trying to loosen them one by one,but the satin strings had only tightened around each other, forming a stubborn, impossible knot. How on earth was she supposed to get out of this now? Her arm throbbed as she tried again, desperation clouding her face.
That’s when the door clicked open, and Karan stepped inside, reeking faintly of whiskey and scotch. Despite all the alcohol, his steps were steady. For just a fleeting second, his gaze locked with hers in the mirror, before it slid downward to where her shaking fingers fought the tangled doris of her shimmering black blouse. It didn’t take him long to realise the doris had twisted helplessly from her struggle. Besides, this was definitely not the kind of welcome he’d expected when Rajat had mentioned they would be staying in the same bedroom tonight.
Something hot fluttered in his chest as he realised he would have to share the bed with her. This was exactly why he had never given her Rajat’s birthday invite. He knew that in front of his friends, he wouldn’t have the luxury of keeping her in a separate room if she came along. But no matter how much he created distance between them, Mishti had always found her way to erase it. And the mess she was in right now was far beyond the simple problem of being forced to share a room.
The sight of her struggling silently with those tangled doris… her fingers shaking… her uneven breath… it clawed at something inside him. He could’ve ignored it. He should have.
But maybe it was the alcohol.
Maybe it was the way she looked so helpless yet so determined not to ask for his help.
Maybe it was something else entirely.
Whatever it was, it pushed him forward, one slow step at a time, before he even realised he’d moved.
Mishti froze the moment she saw him step inside the room. Her fingers stilled immediately on the tangled doris, and she spun around, breath catching in her throat. He was walking toward her, with a look in his eyes that sent every alarm in her body ringing. Something about the way he looked at her right now screamed danger to Mishti’s mind. Words choked in her throat, making her wonder where she should start.
Should she explain again that she hadn’t meant to overstep by arriving on Rajat’s invitation without informing him?
Should she apologise for the fact that he would have to share a room with her tonight, something he clearly despised?
Or should she do the unthinkable and ask for his help with the tangled knot on her blouse?
The thoughts came too fast, too jumbled. She couldn’t pick one before he reached her. Without a word, Karan gripped her shoulders and turned her around, gently, but firm enough to steal her breath again. Confusion and fear tangled inside her chest. But once again her questions died before they could form. She let him turn her around, their eyes now locking in the reflection of the mirror.
His intense gaze in the reflection held her trapped more than his hands ever could. She curled her fingers around the edge of her saree to steady herself, to keep those erratic heartbeats in check when slowly, Karan’s gaze dropped to her back. His fingers grazed against her skin, sliding along the satin ties, teasing, gliding, tracing the lines of her bare back as if punishing her with how gently he could touch.Gentle and Karan? Never matched.
A soft gasp slipped from her lips.What was he doing?
Her eyes fluttered shut, desperate to block the heat that rushed through her veins. His touch wasn’t angry. It wasn’t cold.It wasn’t even detached. It was the most subtle one, the kind which made her body ache with warm feelings, right in the pit of her stomach. Holding her still, he untangled the knots one by one, his touch almost punishingly gentle.
When Mishti felt the warm brush of his breath against her neck, her knees turned weak in an instant. The knots loosened slowly. When the final knot came undone, she instinctively clutched the blouse to her chest, holding it in place and lifted her gaze to the mirror again. His eyes were still on her, hungry and completely intense.
His Adam’s apple bobbed hard, as if restraining something he had no right to feel… the ache to close the distance, the torment of denying the urge to pull his wife into his arms, to kiss every inch of her bare skin, to claim what he had vowed never to touch.
The next second, his gaze dropped slowly to her trembling grip on the blouse at the front. The fabric had slipped dangerously from her shoulder, hanging by mere inches, ready to fall if she relaxed even slightly. The moment he registered how close she was to being bare before him, his eyes darkened. Even Mishti shut her eyes tight, unable to process what the next second might bring.
Karan stepped in, erasing the distance between them in a single movement. His chest met her bare back. The sudden and intimate contact made her breath stutter. And in that very charged second, Mishti realised she wasn’t the only one struggling to breathe. His heartbeat thudded just as wildly, just as chaotically as hers.
Before she could react, his arm slid around her from behind and came to rest just above where she clutched her blouse. His palm hovered protectively over her hands, preventing the fabric from slipping even an inch.
For a single second, Karan forgot everything: his anger, his bitterness, even the reason why he had married her. His fingers just lingered close to her skin, wanting to touch… aching to touch… but he stopped himself just in time and leaned toward her ear instead.
“You’re not as innocent as you pretend to be, Mishti. I see through you… and your act.”
Her eyes flew open. Their gazes locked in the mirror again. They were so close that it felt suffocating, yet so far that it hurt.
“You thought that just because we’re here, in Rajat’s house, I’d be forced to let you into my room. You wore this saree thinking it would affect me. And this whole tangled-blouse drama… You really believed it wouldseduceme?”
His words slashed through her. He thought she was acting? Seducing him? A lone tear even escaped her eye. Just a moment ago, he had been gentle, almost tender and caring, and now he had turned into the ruthless man she kept colliding with.
Karan leaned further, his lips brushing the outer shell of her ear, as he whispered, “No matter how much you try to lure me, MishtiGoel… I’m never going to touch you. Not the way a husband should. So stop dreaming.”
Tears rolled freely from her eyes as he stepped back, putting distance between their bodies as abruptly as he had closed it. Without a second glance, he walked out of the room.
Mishti stood there, clutching the loose blouse to her chest, trembling, feeling humiliated, heartbroken, and alone, unsure if he would return that night… or if he ever intended to.
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