Page 18 of Protect my Heart
I nod, swallowing hard. Yeah, I deserve that. I really do.
But then her tone softens, her eyes a little less cold now. “You’re my son, Aarav.”
“I had so many dreams for your wedding…” Her soft, complaining tone almost breaks me.
“I know, Maa.” My voice cracks, and I hate how small I sound. “I’ve liked her since we were kids. You know that, right?” Of course she knows. I’ve never been able to hide anything from her—not really. And honestly, I never wanted to. She used to tease me nonstop when I finally admitted it myself—used to laugh and nudge me whenever Anika came over. I had to practically drag her away just so she wouldn’t blurt it out.
“I still do,” I say, voice firmer now. “I couldn’t just leave her there. I wanted to, trust me. But I couldn’t stand the thought of her getting hurt.” Not a complete lie.
I look at her, really look at her, and I feel like my heart’s about to split open. “Please, Maa,” I say, my voice low, desperate. “I need your forgiveness. I can’t breathe right with this guilt. You have to forgive me.”
She studies my face, quiet for so long I think maybe she won’t. Then she sighs, long and deep, like she’s been holding it in forever. Her expression softens, and for the first time tonight, I see something familiar to my mother—something that feels like home.
“I hate seeing you like this,” she says quietly. “Sad because of me.” I feel my throat tighten again when I hear her say that.
“I love you, Maa,” I tell her, my voice shaky. “I’ve told you a thousand times, you deserve a better son.”
She immediately swats my arm. “Ow,” I wince, more for her sake than mine. It didn’t really hurt—but I know that made her feel better.
“Don’t talk nonsense,” she says firmly. “You’re my son. And yes, I’m forgiving you. But that doesn’t mean it didn’t hurt.” I exhale, a shaky breath of relief.
“I know, Maa. I’m sorry again. I’ll do whatever it takes to make it up to you.”
There’s a beat of silence, and then I ask—though I don’t know why. Maybe I need to hear it. “Will you… will you accept her?”
My heart’s racing again. I mean, it’s not like this is a love marriage. It’s contractual, something that has a timeline. Six months. That’s it. But still, hearing her approval would mean something. To Anika. To me.
She pauses, her lips pressed together like she’s thinking hard. Then she nods slowly. “Of course. It wasn’t her fault. I was just angry… at the situation. And at you, obviously.” Her eyes soften more. “She was never to blame, idiot.”
She lifts her hand, gently placing it on my head like she used to when I was a kid, and I sigh, the kind of sigh that comes from feeling safe after a storm.
“I want to say sorry to her,” Maa says quietly. “For being so harsh. That wasn’t right. Will you bring her here?”
I nod; something warm blooms in my chest—relief, gratitude, maybe hope. “Thank you, Maa,” I murmur and get up.
As I step out of her room, it’s like a weight lifts off my shoulders. I head towards my room—our room now, I guess. Maa’s acceptance will mean the world to Anika. She’s always liked my mother and always respected her. They were close before all of this mess, so yeah… I did this for her too.
But I can’t help this tug in my chest. A small part of me doesn’t want them to get close again. Because if they do, and this ends in six months like it’s supposed to, they’ll both be hurt. And maybe, just maybe, I’ll be the one most broken.
What about me? What about my feelings?
I don’t even know anymore. All I do know is, having her here, around me, every day—it’s dangerous. For my heart. Because I already feel it pulling toward her more than it should. An insane part of me wants her here, close to me, and a sane part of me calls me an idiot for wanting this.
And I have a scary thought—what if I never let her go? What if I make her beg for forgiveness just so I can make her mine completely and keep her close forever? It’s toxic, I know. But I’m tired of missing her. I can’t do it again.
What the hell am I even thinking? I chuckle bitterly. There’s nothing funny. There's nothing remotely amusing about the idea of her crying and asking me to let her go—and me actually doing it. Because I would. I would let her go if that’s what she wanted. Even if it destroyed me.
I push open the door. She’s sitting on the bed with her laptop open, typing something. She glances up at me. “Come with me,” I say.
“Where?” she asks, brows drawing together. Of course, she won’t just listen. She never does. She wants all the details first.
I sigh. “Maa’s calling you.”
“Me?” she asks, confused.
I nod. She keeps looking at me, like she’s trying to read my face. Eventually, she shuts the laptop and stands up. She follows me slowly as we start walking back to Maa’s room.
She’s biting her nails. That hasn’t changed either. She always does that when she’s nervous. I shake my head slightly, asmall smile tugging at my lips. I wipe it off quickly, not wanting her to catch it.
