Chapter 13
931 Words
Rudransh's pov
It was the first time there was someone present in this room of mine, usually i don't allow people to enter because I love my privacy and seeing her almost falling from bed while dosing off, it made me realize that now i have to share this room with someone for the rest of my life.
I still don't have those die hard love feelings and will never have them but it doesn't change the fact that she came here just for me, with me and for me. She is my responsibility a duty and from now onwards i will make sure to fullfil it.
I sighed, running a hand through my hair, feeling exhaustion settle in my bones. But as my gaze fell on her, my exhaustion turned into something else.
She was half-asleep, swaying slightly, her body tilting dangerously close to the edge of the bed. Her heavy bridal lehenga pooled around her like molten gold, her jewelry catching the dim light, making her look ethereal.
I stepped forward instinctively and caught her just before she could fall. The moment my hands touched her arms, she jolted awake, eyes wide, dark with sleep and something else—something unreadable.
"Careful," I muttered, my voice rougher than I intended.
She blinked up at me, her lips parting slightly as if to say something, but no words came out. My grip on her arms tightened involuntarily, her warmth seeping through the thin fabric of her sleeves.
"Lie down properly if you're so sleepy," I said, letting go abruptly, stepping back as if she burned me.
She hesitated, biting her lower lip—an unconscious gesture that sent a wave of frustration and desire through me. Why did she have to be like this? Why did she have to make me notice things I shouldn't?
"I was waiting," she said softly.
"For what?" I asked, my voice sharper than necessary.
She looked down, fidgeting with the embroidered edge of her dupatta. "For you."
Something in my chest twisted. This was supposed to be just a duty, just another responsibility—but why did her quiet words make my pulse unsteady?
"You don't have to wait for me," I said, turning away. "I have work."
A beat of silence. Then she spoke, her voice barely above a whisper. "Is that all I am? A duty?"
I clenched my jaw, refusing to answer. Because I didn't know the answer myself.
I heard her rustling, the soft jingle of her bangles as she moved, and then suddenly, she was standing close—too close. My eyes snapped to hers.
"You married me," she said, her voice steady despite the uncertainty in her gaze. "But you don't even look at me properly."
My breath hitched. She was right here, inches away, her scent—something soft, something intoxicating—clouding my senses.
"I do look at you," I said before I could stop myself.
A slow, unreadable expression crossed her face. "Then look at me now."
I did. And that was my mistake.
Because now, all I could think about was how beautiful she looked—how soft her lips were, how her dark, kohl-rimmed eyes were challenging yet vulnerable at the same time.
And for the first time, I felt something dangerously close to losing control.
She held my gaze, waiting for something—maybe an answer, maybe an acknowledgment of whatever was hanging thick between us. But I refused to give in.
I stepped back, forcing distance between us. “It’s late. You should rest.” My voice was clipped, controlled.
She didn’t move. Instead, she tilted her head slightly, her dark eyes scanning my face, searching for something.
“You keep doing that,” she murmured.
I frowned. “Doing what?”
“Running.”
My breath hitched. I wasn’t running—I was being rational.
I scoffed, forcing indifference. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
She took a slow step forward, closing the distance I had just created. “Don’t you?”
Her voice was softer now, the challenge in her eyes making something tighten in my gut. She was catching on. She was starting to see it—the way my body tensed around her, the way my eyes lingered a second too long, the way my breath grew heavier when she got too close.
I could feel the warmth of her body now, the faintest scent of jasmine and something undeniably hers. My fingers curled into fists at my sides, a silent attempt to steady myself.
“I don’t care for games,” I said, my voice rougher than I intended.
She let out a soft chuckle, and damn it, the sound was like silk against my skin. “Neither do I.”
Silence.
Then she reached up, just a small movement, the lightest brush of her fingers against my wrist.
It was nothing. A touch so brief it could’ve been accidental. But it sent fire coursing through my veins.
Her eyes widened slightly, as if even she hadn’t expected the reaction it would evoke. But now she knew.
And worse, she was curious.
I took another step back, cursing myself for letting her see too much. “Get some sleep,” I muttered before turning sharply toward my study.
I didn’t look back.
Because if I did, I wouldn’t be able to ignore the way she was watching me now—not with confusion, but with the slow realization that maybe, just maybe, she had the power to undo me.
And that was dangerous.
- Writer
