One of my hands moves down his back, rubbing slow circles between his shoulder blades. “Stop punishing yourself for somebody else’s sins.”
His arms tighten around my waist until there is barely any space left between us. For the first time since I’ve known Raghav... the man who has always stood before the world like an unshakable mountain feels impossibly fragile in my arms. Without even realising it, I tilt my head and press the softest kiss to his forehead. My lips linger there until another deep breathleaves him, and his trembling eases little by little beneath my hands.
“You’ve punished yourself long enough. No more.”
His breathing steadies further. Neither of us says a word. We simply remain there, holding each other beneath the freezing shower.
Everything suddenly makes sense.
His redemption. Why he walked away from the underworld. Why he never picked up another gun after killing his father.
He hadn’t merely left the mafia. He’d spent years trying to become worthy of forgiving himself. And then, because of me, he stepped back into that darkness. He revealed his identity, picked up a gun again, and killed again. Raghav risked everything he had spent years trying to leave behind…just for me.
This isn’t obsession anymore. This isn’t possessiveness either. Because no man destroys years of his own redemption for a stranger. It’s more than he realises, and more than I’m willing to acknowledge. Something inside me softens even further. My lips brush against the rough stubble covering his cheek. It’s a featherlight kiss, a silent promise thatI’m here.
His entire body stills. Then, slowly, Raghav brushes a damp strand of hair away from my face before resting his fingers against my cheek. His thumb gently wipes away my tears.
“You cried...” he murmurs.
“So did you.” My voice is barely audible.
He swallows hard before resting his forehead against mine. Our noses almost touch, and for several seconds, we simply breathe the same air before his lips brush against mine so softly that I almost wonder if I imagined it.
The kiss lasts barely a heartbeat before he pulls away. Neither of us says anything. Some moments lose their meaning the moment words are spoken. As soon as the warmth of theembrace disappears, I start shivering. Raghav notices it too, and his vulnerability gives way to concern.
Reaching past me, he turns off the shower, then quietly pulls his soaked T-shirt over his head and drops it into the laundry basket. I immediately lower my gaze. Somehow this suddenly feels too intimate. When he reaches for the waistband of his sweatpants, I turn around so quickly that my wet ponytail slaps against my back.
Behind me, I hear the rustle of wet fabric, followed by the soft thud of clothes landing in the laundry basket.
“Done,” he finally says.
Only then do I glance back over my shoulder. He’s already tying the sash of his dark robe, droplets of water still trailing through his damp hair.
“Change your clothes, Siya,” he says. “You will fall sick otherwise.”
I give him a nod. Raghav opens the bathroom door and walks out, silently giving me the privacy to change.
I remain standing where I am, my soaked nightdress still clinging to my skin. My mind keeps replaying the past few minutes. Somewhere between trying to calm him, listening to the shattered little boy still hidden inside the man everyone fears, and holding him while he fell apart... something within me changed too.
Tonight, as Raghav lost himself to a nightmare he has lived with for years, I lost another piece of my heart to my husband. I don’t know whether it’s his pain, his vulnerability, or simply the fact that, for the first time, he let me see the wounds he never shows anyone else. But I know one thing with absolute certainty now. I want to be there for every nightmare, every scar, every memory that still haunts him. If I can take away even a fraction of that pain, if I can become the place where he finally finds peace... then perhaps that is exactly where I’m meant to be.
Because somewhere along the way, without either of us realising it, this marriage has stopped being something I merely accepted. It has quietly become the life I would choose, every single time.
CHAPTER 41
RAGHAV
Next Morning
I ride Rogan through the familiar trails winding through RK Estate. For a change, Zephyr stays back at the stable while I take Rogan out across the hills. The stallion moves with an ease I haven’t seen in him before, responding to the slightest touch on the reins. It’s almost as though the restlessness that usually passes from me into him has disappeared overnight. I absently run my palm along his neck as he slows to a comfortable walk. He’s unusually calm today. Or perhaps...it’s me.
As I return to the villa nearly an hour later, memories of last night replay in my mind. How the nightmare consumed me once again, but this time, I wasn’t alone to face it.I had Siya. I finally spoke about the darkest chapter of my life to her, and we even shared our first real hug.
For the first time in all these years, I felt as though I had someone willing to carry a part of that pain with me. Yes, Baba, Ayaan, and even Haider know about my past and the nightmares that still haunt me. But, somehow, talking about it with Siya felt different. She could’ve kept her distance last night, could have let me deal with it on my own without getting involved, and I wouldn’t have blamed her.
But she stayed, listened, and held me together when I couldn’t do it myself anymore. It definitely meant something to both of us. Suddenly, Ayaan’s smug face flashes before my eyes. He’d warned me that love would soon come knocking on my heart’s door. Back then, I’d scoffed at him, calling him delusional and accusing him of having a hangover. But today, I realise my brother wasn’t entirely wrong. I smile at the thought and push open the front door of the villa.
The aroma of freshly prepared breakfast greets me as soon as I enter. Siya’s mother has stubbornly put an end to my habit of eating every meal at the resort. She believes in Baba’s philosophy that a family should eat together under one roof. It doesn’t matter that there are enough chefs here to feed an army. She still cooks for us herself and feeds us, refusing to let me argue anymore.
