Ahar's POV
Watching her sit there—small, pale, still shaken—while someone else held her hand did something ugly to my insides.
I didn’t like it.
I didn’t like how close they were.
I didn’t like how easily she leaned into someone else for comfort.
I had no right.
And yet—jealousy burned quietly, controlled but sharp.
She looked at Isha with trust.
With ease.
Something I hadn’t earned yet.
I reminded myself to breathe.
“She’s strong,” Isha said, glancing at me. “But she’s been through a lot.”
“I know,” I replied without thinking.
Both of them looked at me.
I shouldn’t have said that.
I straightened. “I’ll walk you both out,” I added. “That’s all.”
Adhi looked up at me then, eyes soft, tired—but calm.
“Thank you,” she said again.
Not dramatic.
Just real.
And that was enough.
The jealousy didn’t disappear.
But it changed.
From wanting to claim—
Wanting to protect.
Even if it meant standing a little farther away.
Author's POV
he car ride was quiet.
Not awkward. Not uncomfortable.
Just… calm.
I sat in the back seat with Isha beside me, my hands resting in my lap. The city lights passed by the window, blurred and distant, like my thoughts. Every time the car slowed, my body tensed without permission. Trauma does that—it stays even when danger leaves.
Ahar noticed.
He didn’t ask. He didn’t turn around.
But he slowed the car gently, as if the night itself needed care.
When we reached my house, the familiar gate made my chest feel lighter. Home. Safe. Predictable.
Ahar parked and stepped out first.
“I’ll walk you in,” he said quietly.
Isha looked at me. I nodded.
The front door opened before we knocked.
“Adhi?” My mother’s worried voice filled the space.
She rushed toward me, her eyes scanning my face like she was counting breaths. “You’re late. Are you okay?”
“I’m fine, maa,” I said softly, hugging her. “Just tired.”
Her gaze shifted to Him.
“And you are?” she asked, polite but alert.
“Ahar,” he replied respectfully. “A friend.”
Friend.
The word felt strange, but not wrong.
Before my mother could say more, Sudhanshu appeared from behind her, sleepy-eyed and curious.
“Didi?” he asked. “You okay?”
I smiled and ruffled his hair. “Haan, bilkul.”
Ahar nodded at both of them. “She wasn’t well at the club. I just wanted to make sure she got home safely.”
My mother studied him for a moment—then nodded. “Thank you,” she said. “That means a lot.”
He didn’t stay long.
Just a quiet goodbye.
Just one last look.
And then he left.
But something stayed behind with me.
Ahar’s POV
Driving away from her house felt heavier than I expected.
Seeing her in that small space—her mother’s concern, her brother’s trust—it told me everything. She wasn’t just strong. She was carrying an entire world quietly on her shoulders.
And someone dared to scare her.
My jaw tightened as I drove.
I parked outside my place, but didn’t go in immediately. The night was silent, but my mind wasn’t.
Her face kept appearing.
The way she said “I’m okay” when she wasn’t.
The way she trusted me without knowing why.
I leaned my head back and exhaled slowly.
“You’re dangerous to my control, buttercup,” I muttered to the empty car.
Not because she tempted me.
But because she mattered.
And that scared me more.
Adhi’s POV
I lay in bed staring at the ceiling.
The room was dark, quiet—but my mind replayed everything.
The touch.
The fear.
Then his arms were around me.
Firm. Safe. Real.
I turned on my side and hugged the pillow, trying to steady my breathing.
Why did I feel calm thinking about him?
Why didn’t his presence scare me like the others?
I didn’t want to think about love.
I didn’t want to need anyone.
But somewhere deep inside, a small voice whispered—
Maybe safety doesn’t always come alone.
I closed my eyes, letting exhaustion finally pull me under.
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