Page 90 of Protect my Heart
I blink, staring at the screen. What the hell just happened? I stare at her name on my call log and redial once. Twice. Four times. No response. My phone sits next to my laptopas I keep trying, irritation creeping into my chest. But also… concern. She’s not someone who shuts down like this unless—
My gaze flicks to the date on the tiny corner of my screen.
Ah. A slow smile tugs at the corner of my lips. So that’s what it is.
Of course. Periods. I close my laptop and stretch, my mind shifting gears from work to emergency mode. I have deadlines; I’m supposed to finish reviewing a contract and send in a few pending edits on a campaign pitch. But nothing feels more urgent right now than pampering my wife.
I grab a pen and a notepad from the drawer—yes, I’m old school like that—and scribble down a few things. I pick up my phone and dial. “Samarth,” I say the moment he picks up, “I’m texting you a list. Order everything—express delivery. Let me know the second it gets here.”
He tsks. “What did you do now, Dude?” He asks, a hint of a smile audible in his voice.
“None of your concerns, man,” I smile and roll my eyes.
I hang up and try to focus on my laptop screen. There’s an investor deck open and some analytics I’m supposed to go through, but my mind’s half with her. Wondering if she’s curled up in bed, hot water bottle on her stomach, eyes red from crying, or just glaring at rom-coms with a heat pad thrown at the screen.
Samarth calls back in under thirty minutes. I grab my keys and head straight to the car.
The roads are empty, the kind of stillness that only late nights can offer. Her lane is quiet when I pull in, except for the soft glow from the corner window on the first floor—her room. I smile. She’s awake. Of course she is.
But I can’t ring the bell. Aunty will wake up, and then tomorrow I’ll be dealing with double trouble—Maa’s lecture and Anika’s embarrassment. Not worth the risk.
I call her once more. No answer.
Typical. My eyes shift toward the pipe. That old rusty thing that runs right up to the ledge outside her window. I’ve climbed worse.
Without giving myself time to overthink, I pocket my phone and scale it like a lovesick idiot. I knock lightly on the window, whisper-yelling, “It’s me, Anika. Open up.”
The curtains shift. Then the window creaks open and her face appears, wide-eyed and angry. “Are youmad? What the hell are you doing? Oh my god, did you climb up the—”
Before she says more, I shut her up, my lips pressing on hers. I kiss her. Hard. Urgent. Because I know she needs it more than anything else right now. She goes completely still for a second and then responds passionately. I pull back to see her breathing fast, lips parted, and eyes glassy.
“You were saying something?” I murmur.
She doesn’t answer. Her lips tremble, and I know it’s coming. That wall she tries so hard to keep up during this time—it’s cracking.
“Hey…” I cup her cheeks, stepping into her room as she steps back. “It’s okay.”
“I hate this,” she sobs, burying her face in my chest, her hands fisting the fabric of my shirt. My heart cracks a little hearing her sniff like that, helpless and small.
“Second day?” I ask, stroking her hair.
She nods against me, her voice muffled. “The worst.”
“I wish I could take all your pain, Anu.” I genuinely mean it. Anika had always had pain during her periods; when we were kids, I got a bit awkward because this is something guys don’t talk about apparently, but when I used to see her suffer, I couldn’t not do something, so I used to get her chocolates and get-well-soon cards every month.
She pulls back just enough to look at me, eyes narrowed. “You’d pass out in the first five minutes.”
I laugh. “Ah, so the sass is still there. Good.”
We stand there in silence for a minute before she breaks it. “You came here for me?” she whispers, and that softness in her voice... it undoes me every time.
“Obviously. I knew my personal toofan needed pampering.”
She chuckles through her tears and smacks my chest weakly. “You’re so dramatic.”
“You say that now. Wait till you see what I brought.”
I reach for the bag I climbed up with. “Pav bhaji. Noodles. Heating pad. And you’ll never guess—”
