He looked at her, his golden-brown eyes darker in the shadows.
The air between them felt charged, taut with something unspoken.
The kitten sneezed again.
Bharat Jogra’s entire body flinched.
It was subtle, but Yamini saw it.
Her anger faltered, confusion cutting through it. Why did he behave as though she was holding a poisonous snake instead of a helpless kitten?
He exhaled slowly. “Animals disrupt routine,” he said, voice low and measured. “They require schedules. Feeding intervals. Unpredictable variables.”
“So do babies,” she countered. “And we are planning to have two children someday,” she reminded.
There was a stillness as his gaze fell to her abdomen, as though he was imagining her carrying his baby. Then his eyes met hers again. His golden-brown eyes had darkened.
She raised her chin higher, refusing to back away.
Silence stretched between them.
She felt the moment his composure cracked, not in his expression, which was still carved from marble, but in the slow release of his breath.
“Fine,” he said.
Her breath remained caught.
“The animal will remain,” he continued curtly. “But not in this room.”
Relief rushed through her so fast she almost sagged.
“It will be kept downstairs,” he added. “In a separate space. Away from the main corridors.”
She nodded quickly. “That’s fine. I promise it’ll stay away.”
He didn’t acknowledge her promise. “You will not name it,” he commanded.
Oops. Too late for that.
“He is Sheru,” she said, biting her lip.
She had named the kitten Sher Bahadur that afternoon. She had chosen the name because the kitten had bravely survived the freezing cold.
Bharat Jogra’s nostrils flared for a moment. But then his gaze snapped to her mouth as though mesmerized by the way her teeth bit into her lip.
She released her bottom lip, but his eyes remained on her mouth.
The kitten mewled again, but Bharat Jogra didn’t blink, his stare locked onto her lips.
She held her breath, her heart racing in anticipation.
She waited, but he didn’t move, and neither did his head lower towards her.
Several charged moments passed, and then his chest rose in a slow, measured inhale before his eyes left her mouth, and he turned back toward the connecting door.
“Go to sleep,” he commanded softly. “I’ll see you at sharp 9.”
She watched his back as he left, the door closing softly behind him.
