Little Master
Vera
Every night, for thenext couple weeks, Vera tried to find reasons to remain annoyed and distant with Vihaan. And every morning, she woke up plastered against him. She was beyond frustrated with herself because her body seemed to have a mind of its own. Vihaan, to give him credit, had done absolutelyeverythingto drive her completely stark raving mad.
He’d refused to entertain the idea of maintaining separate bedrooms, making it impossible for her to control her subconscious need to sleepily rub against him like a cat in heat. He’d walk around shirtless, distracting her from any argument she’d try to make about the benefits of him crashing on the couch. He’d flirt outrageously with her, flustering her thoroughly until she’d snap back. He was completely undeterred by her barbs, accepting them with a grin so sunny that one would think she’d confessed her love.
He’d bullied her into coming to work with him every day and when it looked like he was transitioning back to Stork’s head offices,he’d insisted on getting her a car of her own. Unsurprisingly, she’d refused. Two days later, a shiny, red, luxury sedan with her initials on the nameplate had stood in the driveway of the home she now shared with him, with a driver to boot.
She’d retaliated by staying late at work and leaving well after the sky had darkened so that people didn’t see her using her fancy new vehicle. It wasn’t as if there hadn’t been enough gossip about her to fill the pages of a tome, she wanted to avoid giving people any more ammunition. On the third evening, her irate husband-turned-torturer had shown up at Ethos to haul her back home for dinner.
When she’d petulantly argued with him about his controlling ways, he’d pinned her with a hard look. “Nanaji has been waiting for you at the dinner table with me, refusing to eat till he sees your face. I didn’t realise your need to hate me stumped spending time with him.”
His reprimand had left her feeling like the spoiled brat she’d once claimed him to be. Needless to say, she was always on time for dinner after that.
Every attempt she’d made at keeping a distance between them, Vihaan erased with an endless source of tenacity and patience. In turn, Vera could feel her resolve to keep him at bay crumbling every single day.
It terrified her. It terrified her that when she woke up every morning in his arms to find him looking at her like she was his world, she liked it. It infuriated her that every time he was close to her, she wanted to sink into him for comfort. It frustrated her that his flirtatious winks and teasing innuendos were finding their mark and making her crave him and the intimacy he offered.
He called her his wife at every given opportunity and still, it washard for her to believe that he was her husband.
It was ridiculous and an impossible situation to be in.
But the worst had been today. She got stuck at some research she’d been conducting and had walked into Vihaan’s office without thinking about it, wanting to discuss it with him to see if he had any ideas she should consider. His empty seat had brought her up short, and she’d stood there, staring as the many memories of them in his office taunted her in that silence.
And out of nowhere, she figured out why that emptiness bothered her.
She missed him.
Shemissedhim.
They’d achieved a camaraderie before he’d brought up their past, before she’d found out why he’d broken her heart. And in those months, she’d become accustomed to having access to Vihaan without the need to hold herself back. The loss of that freedom and ease in communication had been weighing heavily on her, tormenting her with their emotional distance even though they lived together. This realisation had stunned her so thoroughly that she’d wobbled out to her desk and slumped into her chair, only snapping out of it when a concerned Jay found her, demanding to know why she looked like she was descending into a shock-based coma.
Close enough, considering she’d realised she was in love with her husband. Had they not fought, she’d have probably accepted this a lot sooner. Had she not let her anger cloud her judgement, she’d have confessed it also.
Which brought her to this moment, lying down in her bed in the massive bungalow she now called home, trying to take a nap on sheets that smelled like the man she could no longer run from.
She shut her eyes quickly, keeping her back turned when she heard footsteps enter the room. It was Vihaan. If she was home, he made it a point to be home as well. The closer he came, the warmer she got.
Seconds later, she felt him brush her hair back from her forehead. Slowly, with the care one would use to stroke a newborn kitten, hedrew the back of his knuckles along her cheekbone and down the side of her jaw.
All too soon, his touch lifted, and she heard his footsteps recede. It was only then that she opened her eyes again. Almost as if he’d cast a spell on her, she raised her fingers to trace the path he had traversed. His gentle caress held such power over her, her skin seemed to come alive where he’d touched her.
She would have kept thinking about this moment had the angry buzz of her phone not jolted her back to the present. A motion camera notification popped up when she checked it. Vihaan had recently installed monitors around the house, especially in Nanaji’s room, so that Vera could check in on him without having to call or disturb him in case he was sleeping.
It was yet another thing he’d done that had wiggled its way past Vera’s steely armour and made a home in her heart. She sighed when she saw Nanaji getting agitated, knowing that she’d need to go and intervene now. Some days, she was his only tether to reality as his memories deteriorated, affecting his previously gentle personality. She sat up, fortifying herself to face Nanu’s anger if the need arose. One eye on her phone, she approached the bedroom door when the arrival of a broad-shouldered man on screen caused her to halt.
Vihaan
“I heard noises.”
Vihaan had just returned to his home office when he’d heard the sudden crash of glass. With Nanaji’s bedroom being in the same wing as his office, it was easy enough for him to pinpoint the sourceof the raised voices that had interrupted his work. His concern grew at the worried faces of the two nurses there. “What’s the matter?”
“We were about to go get Mrs. Oberoi,” the younger nurse told him.
“No, don’t do that. She’s resting. Tell me what’s happening.”
“D-don’t come near m-me!” Ambernath yelled, his eyes downcast, his face scrunched. He didn’t look angry—he looked traumatised.