Oh god. “And the part where I—”
“Don’t!” I slap a hand over his mouth. His laughter rumbles against my palm.
My face is on fire. I deserve it. “This is why I didn’t want you to read that chapter!” I groan, dragging both hands down my face. “You’re going to tease me for the rest of my life.”
He steps closer again, and his voice drops, warm and serious this time. “Shivani,” he says, touching his forehead to mine. “You’re good. Really good.”
I blink. “You’re not... weirded out?”
His brow arches. “By you writing a scene that made me blush?” He leans in, murmurs near my ear. “I’m proud. A little turned on. A lot impressed.”
I let out a shaky laugh. “It’s just one chapter.”
“No,” he says, pulling back to meet my eyes. “It’s a whole damn book. And it’s amazing.”
I bury my face in his shirt, muffling the nervous words. “I’m planning to send the book to an editor,” I mumble. “I found a publishing house too… After editing, I’ll mail them the manuscript.”
He goes still for a second, and I feel his hand settle gently on my back. Just holding. Just there. “You’ve been my number one supporter since the day I told you about this book,” I say softly. “I mean, you rarely give advice because—apparently—my husband likes everything I write. But still. I’m so grateful.” I don't think I would have ever found the courage to publish this book if Rudra hadn't pushed me.
He lets out a breath that sounds like a laugh and a sigh all at once. “Because it’s true. I do like everything you write.”
A beat of silence. Then I ask about it. The thing that’s been clawing at my ribs since the moment I typed The End. “Do you… do you think they’ll accept it?”
He pulls back just enough to look at me, still smiling. “You made a thirty-year-old man want to squeal and giggle like a teenager, darling. I’m pretty sure you’ll make it.”
43
SHIVANI
I wake up to the sound of things crashing; a gasp escapes from my mouth as I look around frantically. My heart skips a beat. I listen carefully; the noise is coming from Rudra's office. I quickly get out of bed and wince—the side of my neck aches. I must’ve dozed off while waiting for him, trying to finish that chapter.Great. Now my neck is going to be stiff all day tomorrow.
Another crash, and I hear a glass shatter. Panic grips me, and I hasten my steps.
I grab the pepper spray. Rudra bought me for safety and rushed toward his office, my steps light but fast, chest tightening with worry. What if something happened? What if someone broke in? The door is slightly ajar, and I push it open.
My mouth is wide as I see his office. It is a mess. Papers are everywhere. A shattered glass lies near the wall, the sharp pieces catching the faint light, and I find Rudra standing by his desk, his back to me. His shoulders are tense, his body rigid. His silhouette glows under the bulb light.
“Rudra?” I call out softly, cautiously, my steps slow but firm as I near him.
He turns around, with his eyes bloodshot, rage flickering in them. I freeze for a second. My breath hitches, and I try to step forward.
“Don’t, Shivani.” His voice is low, but the warning is clear. He raises his hand, stopping me in my tracks. “I need to be alone.” His voice drips with rage.
But I don’t look at the anger. I see his hand. It’s bleeding.
“Rudra,” I step closer, and he tenses.
“Not right now,” he warns again, more sternly.
“Your hand,” I whisper gently, “it’s injured. Let me see it. Please.”
He doesn’t answer. Instead, he grabs another glass from the desk and hurls it against the wall. I flinch; fear crumples my heart, but I don’t step back.
“Just go away, Shivani!” He shouts, the veins in his temple pop out, clearly conveying his rage.
I keep walking towards him regardless. He watches every move I make, like a wounded animal ready to attack or bolt. But I don’t stop until I reach him. Gently, I take his hand in mine and examine the injury—his knuckles are bruised and cut. Deep red marks are already swelling, and my throat tightens.
“Did you fight?” I whisper, not meeting his gaze.
