Page 224 of One Hellish Passion

Ranveer crossed his arms. “Stop making excuses, Adira. Just get back to your room or stay quiet. I'm working.”

“I'm not lying,” she protested, rubbing her ankle. “I need help. Please, help me.”

Ranveer gritted his teeth. He wouldn’t entertain her antics and give her any false hope about them.

“I will help her, Sir,” came a voice from behind him. He turned to see his wife and Martha returning. Martha hurried to assist Adira, who looked shocked and disappointed at the intrusion.

“Come, little girl,” Martha said, lifting her in her arms and carrying her to the guest room.

Ranveer breathed a sigh of relief. “Perfect timing,” he murmured, before pulling his wife into a passionate kiss. When they broke apart, she smiled, caressing his cheek teasingly.

“You should have helped her. What if her ankle really was sprained?” she teased, knowing full well he was only focused on her.

“You know what, Mrs. Maya Malhotra? I was married. And I would only give that pleasure to my wife. I could only tend to her needs. No other woman could be that lucky anymore,” Ranveer declared.

Pride swelled in her chest, and she decided to play along.

“My ankle hurts too,” she pouted.

Without a fuss, Ranveer carried her in his arms, making her giggle.

“At your service, baby,” he said as he began walking.

“Our room is on the other side,” she reminded him.

“For a change, let’s put the drawing room to better use,” she suggested.

She patted his chest for being so choosy right then and leaned her head on his shoulder as he shut the door of the drawing room once they got inside.

Adira fumed with jealousy as she witnessed the scene. The couple was inseparable, and she knew she would have to fight harder next time. Her childish antics would not yield the results she desired.

*****************

The dinner was served. Daadi and Garima were out for Satsang. Maya prepared her husband’s plate while Adira’s eyes followed her every move, observing how carefully Maya selected each dish and served Ranveer, ensuring it aligned with his diet plan.

“He likes broccoli too,” Adira interjected as Maya omitted serving the broccoli soup to Ranveer.

“Oh, really?” Maya responded. “How do you know?”

“I read his interviews in the food magazine last year. His diet plans were a major inspiration for many,” Adira remarked.

Maya acknowledged Adira's knowledge, finding it wise of her to read such articles. But it seemed Adira's interest was solely fueled by her crush on Ranveer.

“I bet you don’t even know his favorite drink and how he likes it,” Adira taunted. “But I do. I remember everything he prefers.”

Ranveer clenched his fists, feeling uncomfortable with anyone disparaging his wife. Yet, Maya discreetly gripped his arm beneath the table, signaling that she could handle the situation.

“Will you teach me how to make broccoli soup then? I mean, the exact ingredients?” Maya inquired.

Adira was taken aback. She didn’t have that knowledge. In fact, she had never set foot in the kitchen, not even to make instant noodles for herself.

“What’s wrong? You know his favorite dish but not how to cook it?” Adira retorted.

“I don’t waste my time cooking. I have chefs for that,” Adira added defensively.

Maya sighed. “That’s the difference, Adira, between having a crush on someone and truly loving them. You may know his preferences, but you don’t know what he genuinely loves. You may know his favorite drinks, but not the medications he takes or their schedule. You might be aware he's diabetic, but you wouldn’t bother to cook sugar-free dishes for him to satisfy his sweet cravings. You may admire his dominant exterior, but not the vulnerable man inside whose heart aches when his loved ones suffer. You may desire to touch his body, but you’ll be the first to flee when he reveals his inner fears. That’s the difference. Falling for someone's external appearance is easy, but loving and accepting them for who they are is infinitely harder.”

Adira seethed with anger. Maya’s words struck a nerve, each one piercing her heart. She pounded her fist on the table.