Only then did Karan open his eyes.
He rose from the couch in one smooth movement, feeling much more relaxed before reaching for his suit jacket. He didn’tlook at her, just slipped the jacket over his arm as if the last few minutes had meant nothing at all.
There was no acknowledgement. No thanks.
Not that she had expected him to.
“I hope this helps,” she said softly, unable to stop herself. “My mother used to do this for my dad whenever he came home exhausted.”
The change in him was instant.
“Do not talk aboutthemin my house. Ever!” he shouted so loud that his voice almost echoed into the entire house.
Mishti almost jumped at her spot, staring at him, stunned by the raw fury on his face. This was not just irritation or annoyance. This was rage, deep and personal, as though she had mentioned not her parents but somebody whom he loathed.
Before she could speak, Karan shouted for Maria, who appeared almost immediately, her expression falling when she saw the look on his face.
“I askedyouto give me the massage,” he snapped. “Why did you allow her to do it?”
Maria lowered her gaze as he continued. “If you cannot follow instructions, Maria, you are free to leave.”
Maria was stunned at his words. She had served this house for years, managing everything efficiently, catering to every demand without complaint. To threaten her position over something so small, so human, was not right.
She still murmured a soft apology, looking down.
That was when Mishti broke.
“Maria is not going anywhere,” she said. “She just did whatIasked her to do.”
Karan turned on her, his expression darkening further.
“And what exactly did I do wrong?” she continued, her voice trembling now with hurt more than anger. “I only spoke about my parents.”
In two quick steps, he was in front of her.
His hand came around her upper arms, gripping tight enough to pull her flush against him. The impact knocked the breath from her lungs as she collided with his chest.
“One more word about them in this house, and I swear, Mishti, I will make every living Goel in your family regret it.”
Mishti felt the pain immediately.
His fingers dug into her skin with a force that would surely leave marks by morning. Yet she did not flinch or look away. If anything, she lifted her chin, refusing to give him the satisfaction of seeing her break.
“I am a Goel too,” she said, despite the ache spreading through her arms. “If you had so many problems with our family, why did you marry a Goel?”
That did it.
He pulled her closer, his body hard against hers, anger rolling off him in waves. With his face inches from hers now, and his jaw clenched tightly, she could see the muscle twitch beneath his skin.
“Stop asking me the same questions. You are a Wadhwa now,” he said sharply. “And I am not going to say this again.”
“But why can’t I talk about them?” she demanded. “What is your problem?” Her eyes burned with tears. “You cannot erase who I am, Karan. You cannot crush my real identity. Iama Goel, and I will not tolerate anyone, not even my husband, disrespecting my parents.”
For a moment, Karan did nothing. His chest rose and fell rapidly, his grip tightening once more before he seemed to realise it himself. It was as though he did not know what he might do next if he stayed that close to her.
Then, suddenly, he released her arms as if touching her burned him. He stepped back sharply, his hands curling into fists at his sides.
“If you cannot handle me disrespecting your family, then you can pack your bags and leave too. Go back to where you came from. I do not care.”
