𝟕. 𝐆𝐮𝐢𝐥𝐭 & 𝐓𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐬

"How can you get close to a girl you met just a day before?"

Hearing her question, something in my chest tightened until it hurt.

My heart squeezed painfully.

It was my fault - I made her feel uncomfortable. I made her ask that question.

My throat burned, and with a voice heavier than my guilt, I managed,

"It's my fault. I should've asked for your consent."

Before she could respond, I stepped away. I needed distance.

Her eyes had turned uncertain - not afraid, but unsure and guilt taking place at my words.

By the time I left the room, the silence between us had already started to echo inside my head.

Anger clawed through my chest.

Not at her,

Never at her,

But at myself.

For losing control. For forgetting the truth I swore to keep hidden.

I know her.

I've known her for so long.

But for her, I'm just a stranger - a man her family arranged for her, someone she met only yesterday.

And like a fool, I rushed everything.

I messed it all up.

"It's my fault," I whispered, pulling at my hair in frustration. The sting in my scalp felt better than the chaos inside me.

"I must keep my distance," I muttered. "I have to stay formal."

A lie I repeated, hoping I'd start believing it.

I went for a shower, letting the water crash over me, trying to drown the anger that refused to leave.

But the fire in my heart wouldn't die - it burned steady, merciless, reminding me of her voice, her eyes, her question.

By the time I got ready, I felt nothing but exhaustion and shame.

Crossing the living room, I heard Maa's gentle call,

"Beta, khana kha ke ja."

("Son, have food and go")

"Nahi, Maa," I replied quickly. "Late ho gaya hai. Baad mein kha lunga."

("No, mom, it's late, I will have it later")

I didn't wait for her answer. I couldn't stand the warmth in her voice when everything inside me felt cold.

Outside, the air was sharp against my skin. I unlocked the Rolls-Royce and slid into the driver's seat.

The engine roared to life, but my thoughts stayed stuck in that one moment - her voice, her question, and the look in her eyes that I'd put there.

I drove toward my branch office, away from the mansion -

but I knew I was only running from myself.

***********

The door clicked shut, and for a long moment, I just sat there.

The silence he left behind felt louder than his voice.

I could still feel where his hand had been - the ghost of warmth on my waist, the trace of his breath near my neck.

I hated that it lingered.

I hated that I felt it.

He left so suddenly...

No anger.

No defense.

Just guilt - deep and strange, as if he'd broken something precious.

I sat back on the edge of the couch, staring at the blank screen ahead.

My heart was still thudding - not from fear exactly, but from something I didn't understand.

I didn't mean to sound harsh. My question had slipped out before I could stop it.

I meant it as a wall, not a wound.

But the look on his face when I said it...

It wasn't anger. It was pain.

My chest tightened. Guilt overtook me, and suddenly, I felt like crying.

I pressed my palms together, trying to calm the mess in my head.

"How could I even ask that? He's going to be my life partner, and obviously we have to get close... that's all he tried to do," I whispered to myself, trying to make sense of it.

"Shit... shit, shit. I messed up everything. It's just one day and I already spoiled our start."

Tears gathered in my eyes.

The problem was - even after just one day, Deva didn't feel like someone I barely knew.

There was something unsettling about his calm, about the way his gaze always felt one step ahead - as if he was reading words I hadn't spoken yet.

I looked around the home theatre, still dim from the drawn curtains. His scent - sharp, clean, unmistakably him - lingered in the air. I pulled my dupatta closer, as if that could block it out.

The youngsters were still in deep slumber.

I gathered myself and stepped out, only to meet his mother.

"Arey baccha, uth gayi tum? Chalo, main tumhe Ananya ka room dikha deti hoon. Tum fresh ho jao, tab tak main khana laga deti hoon," she said warmly, her voice full of energy and love.

("Oh dear, you're awake? Come, I'll show you Ananya's room. Freshen up, I'll set the breakfast table in the meantime.")

"Ji," my voice came out as a whisper, but she still smiled and happily led me to the room.

She even handed me a few of Ananya's dresses to freshen up and went off to make arrangements.

But I was still trapped in my guilt.

"I must apologize," I murmured to myself. My heart felt unbearably heavy.

Despite my turmoil, I got ready and went downstairs.

"Aagayi beta, haaye nazar na lage! Chalo, aajao, khana lag gaya hai," she said affectionately, admiring me as I sat down for food.

("You're here, dear, may no evil eye fall on you! Come, breakfast is ready.")

(Her dress)

"Aunty, I'll leave after breakfast. I have some work," I informed her softly.

"Accha, thodi der aur rehti toh accha lagta. Chalo khair, tumhe bhi kaam hoga. Main driver ko bol deti hoon," she said reluctantly after a lot of convincing. She truly seemed sad that I was leaving so soon.

("Oh, it would've been nice if you stayed a little longer. Anyway, you must have work. I'll tell the driver to drop you.")

I wanted to meet him once before leaving...

But when I asked, she told me he'd already left for the office.

The news made me go still.

He didn't even wait to see me.

"He didn't even wait to see you," my subconscious taunted cruelly. My eyes stung with unwanted tears, but I refused to let them fall.

I bid Aunty goodbye and asked her to inform the youngsters, who were still asleep.

The driver started the car, and the way home felt unbearable.

My mind was a storm - guilt, confusion, fear - all swirling until I could barely breathe.

What if he declines the engagement?

What if he leaves me?

What if his ego was hurt?

Each question stabbed a little deeper, each thought making my guilt grow heavier - until it felt like it would drown me completely.

The city blurred past the window, but my mind refused to stay quiet.

When the car stopped in front of my house, I let out a shaky breath I hadn't realized I was holding.

The world felt too loud - the honking outside, the ringing in my head, the echo of my own words that had hurt him.

I walked inside, greeted Maa mechanically, and went straight to my room.

The moment I shut the door, my emotions crashed over me.

The tears I had been holding back broke free, as if they had been waiting for this moment.

My legs trembled, and I sank into the bed, burying my face into the pillow.

My chest ached with guilt. I hated myself for feeling so weak, for letting my emotions betray me.

Hours passed - or maybe only minutes - until the crying had exhausted its hold. My heart felt a little lighter, but the guilt lingered, sharp and insistent.

I knew it wouldn't fade until I apologized.

Before I could think further, Maa's call came from downstairs.

"Beta, lunch ready hai!"

("Dear, the food is ready")

My appetite was gone, but still, I reluctantly went downstairs.

"Kya hua tujhe? Aankhein kyun sooji hai?" she asked, noticing the redness around my eyes.

("What happened to you? Why is your eyes swollen?")

"Kuch nahi, raat ko movie dekhke late ho gayi thi, neendh nahi poori hui isiliye," I said, the most logical lie I could think of.

("It's nothing, we stayed up late watching a movie last night, that's why I didn't get enough sleep")

She believed me.

We ate in silence. Papa must be at work, and Roohi was probably still at school.

After lunch, I retreated to my room, hoping to distract myself with a novel.

But no matter how many pages I turned, the words didn't stick.

My mind kept drifting back to him.

No matter how I tried, I couldn't escape the thoughts that refused to leave.

************

The office buzzed around me, but I didn't hear a thing. Phones rang, chairs scraped, assistants whispered - all of it drowned beneath the storm of my thoughts.

Her face. Her voice. The question she had asked... it refused to leave me.

I slammed my palm against the desk, the sharp crack silencing the assistants near me. Not that I cared.

I shouldn't have let it happen.

Guilt burned like fire through my veins - relentless, scorching.

But beneath it, something darker stirred, something that demanded more than remorse.

I rose from my chair and moved to the window, staring down at the streets below.

People moved through their little lives, blissfully unaware of the chaos consuming me.

A knock on the door broke my reverie.

"Sir, the Delhi client has arrived-"

"Cancel," I said without turning. My voice was calm, measured, but the weight behind it was enough to make the assistant falter.

"I'll... inform them?"

"No. Cancel."

The office returned to its dull hum, but my mind was elsewhere - back in that mansion, back with her.

I had already confirmed she had left for her house. My fingers moved instinctively to my laptop.

The live feed from her room flickered to life - the security camera I had installed, a secret the world would call wrong, but to me, she is my world. I would go to any lengths for her.

I watched her cross the threshold of her home, her face heavy with gloom. She didn't look around, didn't pause - she went straight to her room.

I switched the feed to her bedroom.

My heart fractured.

She was curled into herself, vulnerable, tears silently tracing her cheeks. The sight made my chest constrict, a dangerous heat spreading through me.

She carried guilt like a weight, and that thought alone made my blood boil with a fury I could barely contain.

She lingered in her room for what felt like an eternity, then reluctantly moved to the dining area.

Her lunch was scant, taken mechanically, devoid of appetite or interest. Every movement, every sigh, every distracted turn of a page in her novel stabbed me.

And then... she picked up her phone.

I didn't hesitate. I knew she would call me. The moment her name flashed across my screen, I answered. On the first ring. Call it desperation - I didn't care. I needed to hear her.

"Hello?"

Her voice was low, soft, trembling with something she refused to let break.

Vulnerable.

Broken.

And just like that, my eyes closed, absorbing every fragile sound.

"Reached safely?" I asked, my voice deep, controlled, steady - a mask I wore for the world, but she would feel the undercurrent of care, of need.

"Yes," she whispered, almost disappearing behind the words.

I watched her every movement through the feed - her palms nervously rubbing the blanket, her legs tapping lightly against the cold marble floor. Every subtle gesture pulled at me, made my chest tighten.

"Good," I said, but the word felt hollow compared to the ache I carried.

Silence stretched between us.

But it was not empty - it was heavy, laden with unspoken confessions, guilt, and longing.

"I'm sorry," she murmured at last, voice breaking, barely holding back tears.

I saw her struggle not to cry, her shoulders trembling slightly.

My chest squeezed painfully.

I wanted to be there.

To hold her.

To tell her she had done nothing wrong. That no matter what, she belonged to me - in ways she could not yet understand.

And at that moment,I did the first thing that came to my mind.

********

I apologized, my voice trembling, my tears threatening to spill, but I waited.

Waited for him to say something - anything.

To get angry. To scold me. To console me. To reach through the distance and tell me it was okay.

But nothing happened.

The line went silent.

The call ended.

My chest felt as if it had been ripped open. A loud, ragged sob escaped me, shaking my body from the inside out.

I had never imagined that a man - a stranger I had met only a day ago - could make me feel so unsteady, so raw.

I had read about these moments in novels, wept over characters who experienced the kind of tension and longing that now gripped me, and yet... nothing had prepared me for this.

Experiencing it firsthand felt like a stone pressing down on my heart.

Crying made it harder to breathe, harder to think.

Only one thought repeated itself relentlessly in my mind:

"In just one day... in just one day, we're already like this. How can we ever spend a lifetime together?"

I never imagined I would feel attached to someone I barely knew.

But I couldn't... I couldn't turn away now.

Not after realizing - maybe - it was something more than mere familiarity. Maybe I feel something for him.

Maybe it was something dangerously close to love.

Love. A word too big, too heavy to claim.

I wasn't sure I could call it that... not yet.

But the pull I felt toward him from the first sight was undeniable, inescapable, and terrifying.

My thoughts were a storm, each one slicing through me, making the tears flow faster, heavier.

And then -

The door burst open.

Startled, I jerked upright, my heart hammering violently in my chest.

***********

I ended the call.

And then I ran.

Out of the office, into my car, and pressed the accelerator to its limit.

The city blurred past me in streaks of steel and sunlight, but I didn't care. Nothing existed except her.

I knew she would go crazy with crying.

I knew she could get breathless if she let it out too long.

And I cannot risk that.

My hands gripped the steering wheel so hard that my knuckles went white, veins standing out like cords. Every second that ticked by was a torment.

I opened up the feed again.

She was still crying.

Her small frame shaking, her face flushed, eyes swollen and red, her body trembling.

Darkness settled over my chest. My heart twisted in ways I didn't know possible.

I never wanted this.

I never wanted to see her like this.

It was just one day - one day - and she was already this broken.

A burning shame surged through me. I had always imagined taking care of her, pampering her, making her feel safe, loved, cherished.

Never like this.

The city's roads blurred as I pushed the car faster, every red light a knife in my chest. I had to get to her.

I had to.

Finally, I reached her house.

Without hesitation, I dashed inside.

"Areyy Deva beta, kya baat hai, itni jaldbaazi mein kyu aaye ho?" her mother called, concern and curiosity mixing in her voice.

("Oh Deva, son, what's the matter, why did you come in such a hurry?")

I didn't answer. I didn't care. Not for anyone, not for anything. My world existed only in that room, in her.

I sprinted down the hall, my heart hammering, and reached her door. I threw it open and locked it behind me.

And there she was.

Her figure small, trembling, vulnerable. Her face flushed, eyes swollen and red, nose pink, her breaths coming in uneven, shaky bursts.

The sight twisted something deep inside me, something I didn't even know had a name.

My chest ached. My hands trembled. My face was a mask of raw, unfiltered emotion - desire, guilt, rage, and unbearable need all tangled together.

Before I could take a step toward her, she ran.

And leapt into me.

Her body pressed against mine, her legs around my torso, tears soaking into my shirt, arms clinging, shivering.

(Their hug)

Her cry tore through me, a raw, jagged sound that made my chest constrict and my control shatter.

I caught her instinctively, my hands cradling her as if I could shield her from every pain, every fear in the world.

She was mine. Only mine.

And no one - not the world, not fate, not time itself - would make me see her like this again.

I buried my face in her hair, inhaling her scent, feeling the tremors of her sobs against me, and whispered through the ache in my chest,

"Shh... Shhh, it's okay baccha. I'm here."

The words slipped from my lips softer than I had ever imagined, tender, almost foreign to me.

Yet for her, for her alone, I could bend every limit, break every rule - even the impossible seemed attainable.

My hands glided over her back, soothing, steadying, grounding her trembling body.

Her fingers tightened around my neck at my touch, clutching as if afraid to let go.

I moved slowly with her in my arms, careful, deliberate, until I settled onto the bed.

Her face remained buried in the crook of my neck, fragile, unguarded, and it ignited something dangerous deep within me.

Gently, I detached her from me and made her sit upright on the bed. Every movement was measured, careful not to disturb the fragile c

alm we had built.

I lowered myself to retrieve a glass of water from the table, my eyes never leaving hers.

"Baby, drink some water," I murmured, extending the glass to her, my movements fluid, tender, deliberate - a silent promise that I would never let her fall again.

But in the next instant, as if the fragile thread of calm had snapped, the glass was scattered on the floor.

Crashhhhhhh!

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