Chapter 42 Her Burning Curiosity
Karan tilts his head slightly, his voice ice-cold.
“Maybe… but I can do it. I will do it, to anyone who dares to annoy me.”
Riya’s hands shake. Beads of sweat form on her forehead as fear washes over her. Her voice comes out small, scared. “F-Fine… I’ll do everything you say…”
Karan’s smirk widens. He has successfully scared her. It’s all a game, a joke for him. He never means to harm her, only to test her limits.
Karan notices Riya’s fear-stricken face, and the anxiety hiding behind her eyes feels like a small victory for him. A cold smirk plays on his lips, the kind of smile no one can easily understand—but Riya feels it. This man isn’t just dangerous; he’s completely unpredictable.
For a few moments, silence hangs between them. Then Karan turns toward his desk and casually says, “Relax, Miss Junior Doctor. I’m not going to harvest your organs… not today.”
Riya glares at him, making a disgusted face, though a trace of fear still lingers in her eyes. Without saying more, Karan picks up a thick file, flips through a few pages, and pulls out a report. He extends it toward Riya. “You’ll compile these patient reports. Every detail must be in a final summary. And yes, no mistakes. These reports must be ready before tomorrow’s morning rounds. Also, you’re not allowed to leave this cabin. Work here.”
Riya takes the file, her expression clearly annoyed. She walks to the desk and sits down without a word, masking her growing irritation. Karan watches her closely for a moment her tense expressions, the frustration written on her face and then a faint smile curves his lips again.
Riya opens the file and starts working, but inside, she fumes. Her thoughts race. What kind of man is this? First, he threatened me, now he’s making me do paperwork like some assistant. And the biggest shock I have to work in his cabin, under his watchful eyes!
Karan leans back in his chair, takes a sip of coffee, and says casually, “I could’ve sent you to work with the interns, but no. You’re special. You’ll assist me personally. Anytime, anywhere.”
Riya doesn’t respond. She just shoots him a look full of hatred, then drops her eyes and focuses on the reports.
Karan continues observing her the way her fingers work quickly on the paperwork, her pale face still stiff with tension.
A smirk stays on Karan’s face as he silently watches her, clearly enjoying her discomfort. Riya, deeply irritated by his constant gaze, clenches her jaw but says nothing, burying herself in the work, determined not to give him the satisfaction of seeing her flinch again.
Vihan sits quietly in the car. The roads outside are empty, silent, and the car moves at high speed along the desolate path. He is on his way to Mehergaon for business for a meeting and the opening of a new factory but his mind is elsewhere, completely lost in a storm of thoughts.
His eyes keep staring out the window, but his thoughts are miles away. His face is cold, expressionless, almost lifeless, as if he is drowning in deep, silent turmoil.
Yes, he is traveling for work, but not for a single moment can he focus on it.
Again and again, he tries to force himself to think about the tasks ahead, to stay present. He picks up his phone, scrolls through emails, tries to read, but the words blur before his eyes. He desperately wants to escape his own thoughts, to free himself from the weight inside but every thought, every breath only pulls him deeper into the shadow of his own guilt.
Cold night in Scotland. The sky is blanketed with countless stars, and a glowing moon bathes everything in its soft, silver light.
I sit on a wooden swing on the terrace. The swing moves gently back and forth, but it isn’t the breeze it’s Samar, standing behind me, lightly pushing the swing with both hands, his touch careful, almost protective.
My face looks ethereal in the moonlight, or at least that’s how it feels. My eyes get lost in the depth of the sky, trying to find answers in the glowing stars above.
After a long silence, I speak softly, my voice laced with confusion and curiosity, “I don’t understand anything I want to know everything about this side of you, this world of yours…”
Samar’s hands, still holding the swing, freeze mid-motion. His face turns serious, and his eyes drift down to the ground, as if weighed by memories too heavy to carry.
I turn to look at him, searching his eyes, and gently ask, “Won’t you tell me? Who are you… What is all this? I can’t make sense of anything…”
He replies in a quiet tone, “It’s better if you don’t know…”
I’m startled, but my expression quickly shifts to one of determination. I stand up from the swing and face him directly, looking into his eyes with unwavering resolve. “No… I have to know. I’m your wife, and I have a right to every truth you carry. I want the truth, no matter how bitter it is.”
Samar sees the fire in my eyes the same fire that makes me different. But his own eyes harden with anger, lines of frustration forming on his face.
He raises his voice, “Ishani! I told you it’s not for you to know. Not every truth needs to be uncovered. Some truths only bring pain.”
I flinch, stunned by his outburst. My eyes well with tears, but I don’t say a word. I quietly walk back to the swing and sit down, my gaze returning to the moon. A storm rages silently within me.
Samar sees how quiet I’ve become. Slowly, the storm within him calms too.
He walks toward me, kneels in front of the swing, and gently takes my hands into his. “I’m sorry… I didn’t mean to yell at you.”
I look at him, tears glistening in my eyes, but not a single complaint escapes my lips. Holding my hands tightly, Samar whispers, “I will tell you everything… when the time is right.”
I ask softly, “Is it something dangerous?”
He gently pulls me into his chest, holding me close, and says in a low voice, “Just know this who I am, I don’t belong to this world. And where I’m from… no one ever comes back.”
Samar sits on the swing, and I melt into his arms like a small, innocent child seeking refuge. I know in my heart that if Samar says he won’t tell, he won’t. So I let myself find peace in his embrace.
As he strokes my hair, I let myself feel the sweetness of the moment, the rare calm I can only feel with him. For in his world, there is nothing but death, bullets, and war. But here, in this quiet swing under the moonlit sky, he is the only thing that feels real. The only thing that makes him feel alive.