Page 26 of Cherish my Heart

“I wish I could, baby,” I say, trying not to sound too guilty. “But I have work.”

She scowls. “No work. Play.”

“She’s mad at you now,” Bhabhi informs apologetically. “She hasn’t stopped asking for you since last night.”

“I’ll video call again tonight,” I promise. “And next month, I’ll come home. Pinky swear.”

Rudrani holds up her little finger to the screen, and I mimic it.

Bhabhi smiles softly. “She misses you.”

“I miss you guys too.”

“She’s got your stubbornness,” Anika remarks.

“Nope,” I correct her. “That’s all, Bhai. My genes didn’t even get a chance. She’s all Bhabhi’s face and all Bhai’s temper.” But to be honest, I feel stubbornness runs in our family.

“She told Rudra to stop talking yesterday during his call,” Bhabhi says, laughing. “Because ‘I am talking now.’”

“That’s our girl.” I say proudly. I love when my brothers are put in place.

I glance at the clock on my screen. I still have twenty minutes before I reach the office. I sigh.

“Alright, I’ll talk to you all later. Love you, guys.”

“Love you,” they chorus back. Rudrani blows me a wet kiss and then tries to lick the screen. Typical. I chuckle.

The call ends, and I lean back, a little hollow in the chest now. This is the price of chasing dreams, right? You miss breakfasts and sticky hugs and impromptu dance parties with toddlers who think the world starts and ends with you.

I pull out my Kindle to distract myself. I put in my password, and the library screen opens. Physical books are better—let’s get that out of the way. The smell of paper, the satisfying weight in your hands, the way you can flip to your favorite part with muscle memory.

But I’m not about to risk being caught reading The Villain Falls First in a moving cab. Not because I’m ashamed. No, I wear my romance obsession proudly. But I’m also the kind of person who reacts… physically.

I blush. Like, full-face, skin-on-fire blushing. It’s involuntary. Kajal has teased me about it always.

It’s not the smut but the banter that gets me. The slow burns. The “we’re enemies, but our hands just brushed, and I want to die” moments. I can’t keep a straight face. Which is why Kindle exists. Black screen. No cover art. No judgment.

I tap into the book I started last night. Chapter Sixteen. The hero has just realized he might be in love, and of course, the heroine is clueless and in denial.

I smirk, leaning back into the seat. The cab rattles over a speed bump. I cradle the Kindle like it’s precious. I should call Kajal. It’s been five days. Texts don’t count. Not with her. She’s my person. My anchor. My voice of reason and sarcasm. And lately… I haven’t had the time.

Correction: I haven’t made the time.

Because someone has been working me to death. Ahem. Mr. Workaholic Grump Boss himself. Seriously. If Abhimaan sends one more file at 1 AM labeled “URGENT,” I will dropkick my own laptop.

He exhausts me. Mentally. Emotionally. Sometimes visually. I mean, let’s be real—he’s handsome. Objectively. Stupidly. But that’s beside the point.

Only if he didn’t tire me so much—

Oh my god. I pause. What the hell was that sentence in my head just now? Why am I so dirty-minded? Jeez. I roll my eyes, but I can feel heat rise on my cheek. Before I can spiral deeper into that mortifying thought, the cab jolts violently.

“What the—”

The driver yells something in Marathi. The car veers. I clutch the seat, Kindle slipping from my lap.

“Sir?” I ask, panic spiking as my breathing becomes fast. I try to understand what's happening. We swerve. Horns blare. Tires screech.

And then, the car bumps into a tree. My head slams into the window. Pain blooms behind my eyes, sharp and cold. The sound of shattering glass is deafening.