Page 20 of Protect my Heart
“Of course, beta. We’ll come shopping another day,” Maa says instantly, smiling at her.
“No, no! You guys continue, please!” Bhabhi protests, looking genuinely guilty as Maa helps her.
"It’s okay, Bhabhi. We should go home," I say quickly before Maa can argue. Bhabhi shouldn’t feel guilty over this. Plus I don't want to continue either.
Maa nods in agreement. Bhabhi’s eyes immediately well up with tears. “I’m so sorry,” she sniffles, looking like a scolded child.
Maa sighs dramatically and facepalms. "You idiot, we’re not going back because of you! We’re tired too!" she exclaims, shaking her head.
I can’t help but laugh softly. Maa’s reactions are so genuine, so full of life. It’s impossible not to feel comfortable around her. Bhabhi still looks unconvinced, though, her pout deepening like a child being told they can’t have ice cream.
Maa rolls her eyes with mock exasperation. "Come on, Anika. I’m seriously pitying Raksh right now. Poor guy!" she says, chuckling.
"Hawww, Chachi! I’m the one who’s suffering!" Bhabhi says dramatically, clutching her chest.
Their playful bickering makes me smile wider than I have in days. I walk behind them quietly, watching them laugh and tease each other like family should. And yet... despite thewarmth curling in my chest, there’s a sharp, aching edge to it every time I think I want this or I want to fit in.
But how can I? Knowing my time here is running out? Knowing that I’m just... temporary?
I swallow hard, keeping my face neutral, hiding every emotion that threatens to spill over. I can’t afford to get attached. Not again. I survived heartbreak once. I’m not sure I can survive it a second time.
CHAPTER 12
AARAV
I have been given the responsibility of driving Anika to her mother's house for thepagh pheraritual. I shifted her mother here, to this city, so Anika could visit whenever she wanted. Especially because she's been worried sick about her mother’s health. No matter how angry I get at her, no matter how much she tests my patience, I can't stand seeing her sad. It makes my chest tighten in a way I don't know how to explain. But she doesn't need to know that.
Of course, she fought with me the moment I told her. Picked a full-blown argument over it, accusing me of making decisions for her like she’s some puppet. I had to shut her up by reminding her why we even got married in the first place. For her mother's health. That was the deal. That was the only reason. But instead of thanking me like a normal person, she taunted me. Said I shifted her mother here just so she could leave me alone and not have to deal with me. I let her think whatever the hell she wants. I’m done justifying myself.
I've been standing here for ten minutes now, leaning against the car, arms crossed, waiting as my finger drums against my arm. God knows what’s taking her so long. Then finally, the door creaks open. And there she is.
The moment my eyes land on her, my breath stumbles somewhere in my chest as if I am not a grown adult but a teenager with hormonal imbalance.Get a grip, Aarav.
The black kurti she’s wearing hugs her figure perfectly, outlining every curve, every dip, every inch that drives me insane. For a few seconds, I forget how to breathe, how to be mad, and how to do anything except stare. I force myself to snap out of it quickly, swallowing down the rush of emotions threatening to take over. I clench my fists, jaw tightening as I look away. She wasted my six hundred seconds and came out dressed like this, like a goddamn dream.
“You're finally here,” I say, keeping my tone flat and disinterested—even though my pulse hasn’t settled.
She frowns, annoyed and confused. “What are you doing here?” she snaps.
“Why do you think I’m here?” I reply, matching her tone. “To drive you to your mother’s.”
She stomps toward me, tiny and furious. For someone so much smaller, she somehow fills all the space between us. She jabs a finger into my chest.
“I can go by myself. I don’t need you,” she says, chin high.
I catch her wrist—gently, but firmly. “Don’t push me, Anika,” I mutter, pulling her a little closer. Her chest brushes mine, and for a second, my thoughts short-circuit. She drives me crazy. She always has. And yet, even when she’s impossible, she’s still the only person who’s ever made me feel anything real.
“I didn’t ask if you needed me,” I say, holding her gaze. “I’m here. I’m taking you. That’s it.”
She yanks at her wrist, but I don’t let go. I don’t hurt her—just remind her I’m not backing down.
“You’re my responsibility now,” I say, quieter. “Whether you like it or not.”
“Just for six months,” she snaps. “Then you’ll be free.”
Her words land harder than they should. I don’t respond. I just walk around the car and open the passenger-side door.
“Get in,” I say.
