Page 59

“How are your bruises?” I ask, thinking of the marks from yesterday’s car chase, the ones I’d tended to with such care, fighting the urge to let my touch linger over them.

She straightens, meeting my eyes with that characteristic mix of challenge and heat that never fails to get under my skin.

“Better than how you left them yesterday,” she says. The slight bite in her tone surprises me.

I watch her movements as she pours orange juice into our glasses, my mind still reeling from the loaded meaning behind her mockery. The morning sunlight streams through the French windows of her dining area, casting a warm glow that catches the subtle tension in her shoulders and her tight grip on the juice pitcher. Everything about her screams controlled chaos—just like the storm brewing between us.

“I thought that, if nothing else,” she continues, “we could at least share meals together.” Her words again hold a deliberate edge, one that cuts deep enough this time to pull my attention.

“Don’t think I haven’t noticed the jibes you’re throwing my way with your mocking statements,” I finally break the charged silence. “If I recall correctly, just yesterday, you weren’t even willing to share a bed with me, and now you want us to share meals? What’s brought about this sudden change?”

The juice pitcher hits the counter with a decisive thud as she turns to face me, her eyes blazing with that familiar fire that both draws and warns me.

“Even you were the one who insisted on keeping a distance from me. Indulging in any kind of intimacy shouldn’t have even crossed your mind. So, what happened last night? You seemed ready to bridge every distance between us. Or was that just a momentary slip in your control?” she says with a lift of her brow, again goading me to answer.

Her accusation hangs in the air, heavy and searing. Neither of us looks away. My hands itch to reach for her, to close this maddening gap, but I hold myself still.

“But of course...” She’s the first to break eye contact, her shoulders lifting in a shrug that’s far too casual, though the hurt in her eyes betrays her indifference. “At the right moment, you remembered how you shouldn’t give in to your desires and backed off. Isn’t that right? So, fair enough!”

She turns to arrange the plates, but I can’t let her walk away with this misconception. My hand shoots out, gripping her elbow, and I spin her around to face me. Her breath hitches, but her fiery gaze doesn’t waver.

“That’s right. I backed off because I remembered the bitterness of yourdeceit.”

I purposely stress the word ‘deceit’ because that’s what has distanced us despite living under the same roof.Her Deceit. My admission dims the fire in her eyes.

Taking a deep breath, I continue, “You know my thoughts are old school. I broke those shackles holding me at the club eighteen months ago and we had spent a night together, which obviously neither of us regrets. But getting intimate again with the woman I haven’t forgiven yet—that’s a red flag for me.” I pause, searching her face. “I lost my control for a few moments last night, but thankfully, I pulled back in time.”

Her lips part, and for a fleeting moment, I see the vulnerability she tries so hard to mask. But she recovers quickly, her walls snapping back into place.

“You can’t forgive me that easily, and you won’t touch me again until you do that either. But you can marry me without my consent? What kind of hypocrite old-school logic is that, Vishnu? All moulded to fit your convenience.”

She steps closer, her fingers suddenly clutching my t-shirt, her eyes boring into mine with an intensity that steals my breath.

“If you come from old-school values, then let me tell you something,” she says with fire in her eyes. “I’ve never compromised on my dreams, and I won’t start now, especially not with the man I’m supposed to marry. I don’t need just chemistry in bed, Vishnu. I want that maddening connection in every part of our lives. I want more than just respect, more than just being someone’s responsibility.”

Her anger burns hot, but so does the electricity coursing between us.

“What do you even know about me?” she demands. “The real Simran Thakkar? All you know is that I am your sister’s friend who runs her own fashion business and is a successful businesswoman. Have you ever tried to know the real me?”

The pain in her voice cuts through my senses. I’m unable to answer her, because I can’t—not in the way she needs, at least. And she sees that. Her next words come out in a rush, like a dam breaking.

“I know, in the past, we didn’t have much opportunity to get to know each other beyond the basics. But now, when you’ve taken such a huge decision like marriage, have you ever tried to know the real me? Or have you given me a chance to know the real you?”

Her grip on my t-shirt tightens.

“Apart from your steadfast love and loyalty towards the Walia family, I don’t know anything about you. I’ve heard some bits about your past, about the reasons you’re so determined to give Veer your legal name, but apart from that, what else do I truly know about you, Vishnu?”

Her words hit me like physical blows, each one more accurate than the last.

“You’re still a mystery to me, a mystery I’ve always been intrigued by, but never got the real chance to uncover. I want to know what makes you tick, what makes you laugh, what brings a smile to your face. I want to know the real Vishnu Pratap Walia—just as you should know the real me.”

She releases my shirt and steps back, a gesture of defeat that wounds me more than her anger. I see her fighting back tears, and my hands ache to hold her, but I stay put, curbing the urge to reach out to her.

“I don’t have a problem with marriage or commitment,” she continues, her voice thick with unshed tears. “I just want to know the man I’m marrying—the real him—before I enter into this sacred relationship. To date him, understand his highs and lows, mould myself into his life and vice versa in such a way that we’re inseparable. So that we live the rest of our lives together, not because we’re bound by our son’s responsibility, but because we can’t think of taking the next breath without each other. Is it too much to ask?”

Her words hit me like a ton of bricks, rendering me momentarily speechless.

“You’re trying to tie us together with legality, Vishnu. But you don’t even know when you’ll forgive me for what happened. How are we supposed to live like that together? It feels like a compromise, and that’s why I’m not ready for it. That’s not how a marriage works.”