Page 34 of When Love Trespassed

“That means something happened,” Varun grinned.

Shaurya said nothing, just turned around and walked back to his villa, followed by Varun, but there was no mistaking the smile that played on his lips. Because Nandini Raichand wasn’t just under his skin anymore. She was already everywhere.

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

Next morning

Raichand Villa felt quieter than usual as Shaurya stepped through the door.

His eyes swept across the living space, then drifted instinctively towards the kitchen.

He wasn’t here to apologise for last night.

Not even close. That kiss was the most alive he had felt in two years.

If anything, he was here because he simply couldn’t stay away anymore.

But as his gaze fell on Nandini, all those smug thoughts faded away.

She stood at the kitchen counter, bent slightly over a stone mortar and pestle, grinding something urgently.

Her hair was tied up in a messy bun, a few strands loose around her face.

Her skin looked pale, and her movements were fast—too hurried.

There was a tension in her shoulders, in the way she moved from the spice rack to the stove and back again, mumbling to herself under her breath.

Shaurya stepped inside, his brows furrowing. “Nandini? What happened?”

She looked up, startled, but didn’t slow down. “Daadu is not feeling well,” she said quickly. “His stomach is upset… stomach ache. I knew it. It’s the cheese and cake from last night’s pizza. I shouldn’t have let him have the second slice.”

She turned again, tossing another herb into the mix and crushing it furiously. “You were right. I should’ve stopped him. But I didn’t want to ruin his fun, and now—” Her voice broke. “Now he’s in pain.”

Shaurya walked towards her in three long strides and caught her arm. “Hey,” he said gently. “Stop. Just… breathe.”

Her eyes finally lifted to meet his, and he saw the shimmer of tears waiting to fall. “I hate it when he’s not well. I just want him to be okay, Shaurya. He’s everything to me.”

Shaurya’s heart twisted in his chest as he watched her struggle to hold it all together. Slowly, he reached out and tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear. His thumbs brushed gently at the corners of her eyes where tears had begun to form.

“He will be okay,” he said softly. “You’re doing everything you can. And this isn’t your fault. It’s his age. Even the smallest indulgence can knock things off balance. You didn’t do anything wrong.”

She sniffled and shook her head.

“What is he doing now?” he asked.

“He’s resting in his room, trying to get some sleep. I already called the doctor. He suggested just liquids for today and some meds. Lakshmi Aunty has gone out to get them.”

Shaurya nodded and then gestured toward the mixture she was still grinding. “And this?”

Nandini offered a faint smile.

“Daadi used to make this for him. Some ayurvedic blend. He always said it worked better than any medicine. I thought... maybe it’ll help soothe him.”

He watched her for a long moment, the weight she carried so visible in the lines around her tired eyes and the droop of her shoulders.

“You’re doing so much, Nandini,” he said quietly. “He might not always say it, but I see it. Every bit of it. I wish he’d agreed to the male nurse the doctor recommended. You shouldn’t have to do all of this alone. But, as usual, his pride came in between.”

She shook her head. “It’s not about pride, Shaurya.

Not really. When people grow old… they don’t just become physically weak.

Their world becomes smaller. Their memories get louder.

And their trust? It becomes even more selective.

My grandfather doesn’t want a nurse or a stranger in his space, not because he thinks they’re incapable.

It’s because they’re not us . They’re not me.

Or Lakshmi Aunty. He wants familiar faces.

People he’s lived with, laughed with, argued with.

People who know how he takes his tea, when his back acts up, and what jokes make him forget he’s in pain for a minute. ”

She looked up at him now, her eyes still shining with tears. “When he’s sick, it’s not medicine he reaches for. It’s comfort. Familiarity. What he really wants is his home to feel like home. That’s all he’s holding on to.”

Shaurya exhaled, her words slowly sinking in.

He hadn’t thought of it that way. Not fully.

He’d only seen the stubbornness, the refusals, the unnecessary tantrums. But now, he saw the vulnerability behind it.

The fear. The need to feel safe and comforted.

And Nandini… she had been carrying that emotional weight every single day, silently and without complaint.

“You’re…” he began, then paused, as if searching for the exact words that would do justice to what he was feeling.

“You’re a good woman, Nandini. No, you’re more than good.

You’re one of the strongest women I’ve ever known.

Especially at your age. And believe me, I am not someone who hands out compliments easily. ”

She blinked, caught off guard, her lips parting to respond, but before she could say anything, he stepped closer.

His hand reached up gently, and he leaned down to press a soft kiss to her forehead.

His lips lingered longer than necessary, like he was pouring quiet reassurance and comfort into that one touch.

Then he wrapped his arms around her, slowly, purposefully. A grounding hug. No rush. No urgency. Just warmth and quiet strength.

Nandini didn’t resist. Instead, she melted into it.

Her arms slipped around his waist, her cheek resting against his chest as if that was exactly where her restless heart needed to be.

And somehow, the walls she’d built to stay strong for her grandfather began to crumble.

In that one embrace, her breath steadied.

Her panic softened. Her exhaustion finally eased.

For the first time in days, she didn’t feel like she had to carry everything alone.

Shaurya closed his eyes for a second, feeling her heart beat against his chest. He wasn’t used to this quiet comfort of simply being there for someone without words. And yet, in this moment, nothing had ever felt more natural. More right.

He didn’t speak. He didn’t need to.

And for Nandini, that silence... was everything.

Just then, a voice rang out from the living room.

“Nandini beta, I got the medicine!” Lakshmi Aunty’s voice carried through the hallway.

Startled, Nandini pulled away almost instantly, stepping back to create a respectable distance between them. Her cheeks flushed with the awareness of where they were and who might walk in next.

Shaurya nodded, understanding her retreat without taking it personally.

“You make the medicine,” he said, stepping back. “I’ll go check on your grandfather.”

He started towards the hallway, but just as he reached the doorway, she called softly after him. He turned back, curious.

She gave him a soft smile. “Thank you... for everything.”

His answering smile was slow, but it reached his eyes. He didn’t need to say anything else. With a nod, he disappeared down the hall.

Shaurya stepped into Grandpa’s bedroom, his eyes immediately going to the older man.

Keshav Raichand lay propped up on his bed, a hot water bag pressed to his stomach and a stubborn scowl on his face.

He looked grumpier than usual, not because of the pain—no, that was manageable.

What irked him probably was being caught in this vulnerable state, where he was stuck between the ankle fracture limiting his mobility and now this stomach upset.

“I told you not to eat that extra cheese,” Shaurya said as he entered. “You should’ve listened.”

Grandpa let out a long, theatrical sigh and attempted to sit up, but before he could complain, Shaurya was already at his side, one hand steadying his shoulder, the other gently adjusting the pillow behind his back.

For someone who always seemed annoyed by the older man’s antics, his touch was surprisingly tender.

“If I don’t eat now, when will I?” Grandpa muttered, settling into a sitting position with a grunt. “I don’t have much time left to enjoy these little perks, you know.”

Shaurya paused mid-adjustment. “Don’t say that,” he said, more serious than usual. “You’re not going anywhere. You’re going to live long enough to see your great-grandkids. Nandini needs you more than you think.”

For a beat, Grandpa said nothing. Then, slowly, his lips lifted in a rare soft smile. “I didn’t think you had it in you to say something so… emotionally mature,” he mused. “Consider me impressed.”

Shaurya chuckled, lowering himself to sit at the edge of the bed.

“I always thought you were shallow,” Grandpa went on. “A man with a fancy phone, a cold heart, and a bank account that talks louder than his emotions. Just like my son.” His face darkened slightly at the mention of his estranged child.

“But you’re not like him,” he continued, shaking his head. “You’ve got a heart. You’ve got depth.”

Before Shaurya could respond, the door opened again. Nandini entered the room, carrying a small steel bowl with a brownish paste that smelled faintly of cloves, cumin, and something unmistakably bitter.

“Here,” she said, approaching the bed. “Daadi used to make this for you whenever you got sick, remember?”

Grandpa grunted in displeasure. “How could I forget that taste?”

He looked between Nandini and Shaurya, his smile broadening into something sly. “You’re right,” he said to Shaurya. “I will live till I see Nandu’s kids. At least two—one boy, one girl. After that, I’m done. But don’t expect me to settle for anything less, Nandu.”

The bowl in her hand nearly slipped. Her cheeks flamed instantly. She looked from her grandfather to Shaurya, who was looking right back at her with raised eyebrows and the faintest smirk tugging at his lips.