Page 5 of Protect my Heart
Before I can even stop myself, before I can fathom what I’m about to say, the words spill out—firm and irrevocable.
“I’ll marry her.”
CHAPTER 3
ANIKA
The room falls into stunned silence. My eyes widen. Thud-thud-thud. My heart slams against my ribs. Did I hear that right? Silence engulfs me, and his words shoot straight through my head.
“I’ll marry her,” he says again, his voice steady, unwavering. The words echo in the stillness like a slap. I stare at him, wide-eyed. Why? He didn’t care to contact me all these years, and now, suddenly, he wants to marry me? It must be out of pity.
“What?” my mother stammers, disbelief written all over her face. Her hands tremble slightly as she grips the edge of the couch for support.
“I said I’ll marry her.” His voice doesn’t shake. Doesn’t falter.
I stare at him, trying to make sense of what’s happening. “Are you insane?” The words barely leave my lips, coming out as a breathless murmur.
His eyes snap to mine, sharp and furious. For a second, I see something flicker there—anger, maybe? Pain? I can't tell.But just as quickly, it vanishes, and his face returns to that calm, unreadable mask.
“I know what I’m doing,” he says coolly.
“You… you can’t be serious,” I breathe, completely thrown off.
But he doesn’t even flinch. “I am.” And then, without waiting for anyone’s response—typical him—he mutters, “I need to talk to you,” and walks away.
Of course he does. Still the same arrogant jerk. Always doing things on his own terms. Never waiting. Never explaining.
Except… once, he used to wait for me. He used to care. That part of him is definitely gone now.
I don’t want to follow him, but my mother gives me a gentle nod, urging me to go after him. I don’t want to. Despite the thundering in my chest, I follow him anyway. Something nasty churns in my gut. Maybe it’s curiosity. Maybe it’s anger. Maybe it’s the years of unresolved pain bubbling to the surface.
His broad shoulders are slightly tense as he walks ahead, cutting through the crowd like he owns the place. I hate that he looks better than ever—stronger, taller, more put together. His back is straight, his walk confident. The definition of someone who knows exactly who he is.
He’s no longer the boy I once loved. That boy is gone. In his place stands a man—handsome, distant, and infuriating. And no matter how much I try to tell myself I’m over it, over the one-sided love I had for him, the ache in my chest tells me otherwise. Even from behind, he draws attention effortlessly—there’s something about the way he moves, the quiet confidence,the raw masculinity. He leads me to a quiet corner, away from the noise and people.
He meant so much to me once. I cared deeply—maybe too deeply. But now I see it clearly: he didn’t deserve it. Maybe he never did. I was naïve to believe he’d always be there when I needed him. That he’d choose me.
How foolish of me. I shake my head, more disappointed in myself than in him. God, I was so stupid. So incredibly stupid. Lost in thought, I suddenly crash into something solid. A wall. No—wait. Not a wall.
Aarav.
He’s standing there, arms crossed, eyes burning into mine. “Still don’t know how to walk properly?” His voice is sharp, but there’s no teasing in it like before. Just tension. And anger.
“What did you want to talk about?” I ask, annoyed at myself for following him in the first place.
He turns away, eyes scanning the sky like it holds the answers. “Do you love him?”
His voice is low. Quiet. Dangerous. It takes me a second to process the question. Vikram?
My stomach turns just thinking about him. No. God, no. I close my eyes for a beat, memories flashing—Vikram’s smirk, the way he used to accidentally brush against me, the way his words always made me feel small. Uncomfortable. That disgusting night when I walked in to find him sitting next to my mother, pretending to care while feeding her lies.
Telling her that I loved him. That I wanted to marry him but didn’t because of her health.
Manipulative bastard. He made it look like my mother was a burden to me. And somehow, she believed him. No matter what I said after that, it didn’t matter. She was convinced. He’d twisted everything so perfectly.
And then one night, she came to me crying—begging me to say yes. I couldn’t take it anymore. Her helpless cries for me to not end up like her pushed me to marry him. Just for her happiness, I said I would. But love him? Not even close.
“I asked a question,” Aarav says, pulling me out of my thoughts.
