79."So, You Don't Want Me To Take Care Of You?"

[KRISHNA'S POV]

The sterile scent of disinfectant lingered in the air as I sat quietly in Jhanvi's hospital room. The dim glow of a wall-mounted nightlight was the only source of illumination, casting long shadows on the white tiles. The world outside was cloaked in midnight stillness, and the usual hum of a bustling hospital had dwindled to near silence. Only the faint beeping of the heart monitor and the distant shuffle of nurses' footsteps echoed in the hallway.

I leaned forward in my chair, elbows resting on my knees, eyes fixed on Jhanvi. Her face was peaceful, too peaceful, but I knew better. Beneath that calm exterior was the storm she had been forced to endure.

It had been a few hours since my meeting with the MLAs. I'd shown them the evidence — every last crime they had tried to bury, every bribe, every betrayal. Their panic had been almost laughable. Men who strutted around like kings had folded like paper when faced with the weight of their own sins. It only took one sentence to turn them into pawns. "Do as I say, or you'll all burn together." No threats, no shouting — just cold, hard facts. They knew I wasn't bluffing. They knew I could end them with a single word.

With that, the pieces of my plan had fallen into place. Those same men who had once stood behind Jaidev now stood behind me. They'd do anything to save themselves — even crown Satyapriya as the next CM if I asked them to. Power can make men obedient. Fear can make them loyal.

But my satisfaction was short-lived. The moment Brahma's phone rang, I knew. I knew. I could hear it in the way his eyes narrowed, the way his voice dropped to that tone only reserved for family. I didn't need to hear the name to understand. Satyapriya.

Her voice must have been broken, fragile in a way I hadn't heard before. Brahma's face hardened, and he glanced at me. No words were needed. We both understood. She solved it. She finally solved the Rubik's cube.

I'd been waiting for this moment — the moment she'd see Jaidev for who he truly was. But I wasn't naive. I knew the weight of that realization would be unbearable for her. Betrayal always hurts more when it comes from someone you love.

Brahma didn't hesitate. He grabbed his coat and walked out, telling me he'd meet her. "I'll handle it," he'd said. But I knew it wasn't that simple. Satyapriya wasn't the type to sit quietly and cry. She would want answers. She would want justice.

I had no intention of sitting idle either. I walked out right after him, the cold night air biting at my face as I stepped onto the street. My mind was clear, sharp. This was the moment I'd been planning for. I made a call. My next move had to be precise — no mistakes, no miscalculations. Jaidev had played the role of a puppeteer for too long. Now it was my turn to pull the strings.

By the time I reached the hospital, I had already set everything into motion. Jaidev's empire — the one he built on deceit, treachery, and blood — was crumbling, one brick at a time. He just didn't know it yet.

I glanced at my phone. No messages. No missed calls. Good. That means they're on their way. Brahma had said he and Satyapriya would come to the hospital.

The faint glow of Jhanvi's phone screen illuminated her face as she watched the news with wide, unblinking eyes. The soft light flickered with every frame of the broadcast, but the message was clear — Jaidev's fall from grace had begun. Each of his crimes was laid bare for the world to see — his illicit affairs, backdoor dealings, and every treacherous move he'd made to climb the political ladder. The once-praised "man of the people" was now the centerpiece of a scandal that would bury him deeper than any prison cell could.

I leaned back in the chair, my gaze fixed on the screen, but my mind was already several steps ahead. This wasn't luck. This wasn't fate. This was my plan. The moment I left for the hospital, I had executed it with surgical precision. Every domino had fallen exactly as I'd expected. The bait was simple — the truth — but it was enough to set the world ablaze.

I wonder if he's realized it was me yet.

Probably not. Men like Jaidev always think they're untouchable, that they're the hunters, not the hunted. By the time they realize they're prey, it's too late. I'd sent every video, every document, every fragment of evidence to the media under anonymous sources. Journalists live for stories like this. Hungry wolves don't question where the meat comes from. They just eat.

But there was one last piece of the plan I'd set into motion. I'd already told Vamsi to arrest Jaidev. Still, as expected, Jaidev had run. Cowards always run. I wasn't surprised. In fact, I was counting on it. I already knew where he'd go.

Now it's just a matter of time.

A soft voice pulled me out of my thoughts.

"Krishna," Jhanvi said, her voice barely above a whisper.

I turned to her, and for the first time in a while, I saw a flicker of life in her eyes. Her face still looked pale, her body fragile, but her gaze was steady. Her fingers clutched the phone tightly as if it were a lifeline. Her eyes met mine, filled with quiet hope.

"Is it true that Didi is coming?" she asked, her voice laced with uncertainty, like a child afraid to believe in something too good to be true.

Her words hit me in a way I didn't expect. For a moment, I just looked at her, letting silence fill the space between us. Then, slowly, I smiled.

"Of course," I said, my voice soft but firm. "Didn't I tell you already? Your sister knows the truth now. Do you really think she'd stay with a man like Jaidev after this?"

Her lips trembled, and her eyes welled with tears. She pressed her hands over her face, and I thought she might start sobbing. But instead, she leaned forward and hugged me. Her arms wrapped around my shoulders, tight and desperate, as if she was holding on to something she never wanted to lose.

"Thank you," she said, her voice cracking with emotion. Her tears soaked into my shirt, but I didn't care. Her body shook as she clung to me, her words muffled but clear. "Thank you for everything."

I stayed still for a moment, letting her cry it out. Slowly, I raised a hand and patted her back, gentle and steady.

"You don't have to thank me, Jhanvi," I murmured. "I just did what had to be done."

She pulled back just enough to look at me, her tear-streaked face glistening in the soft light. Her eyes held so much gratitude, so much warmth, that for a second, I felt something stir in my chest. Before I could say anything, she leaned in and kissed me on the cheek.

The warmth of Jhanvi's embrace lingered, soft and fragile, like a flower blooming after a storm. Her breathing had steadied, and the tension that had once gripped her frame had melted away. Her head rested lightly on my shoulder, and for a moment, it felt like time itself had paused.

But I knew better. Time never pauses. It just waits for the next move.

I glanced down at her, a slow, sly smile tugging at the corner of my lips. Her eyes were half-closed, tired but content. Poor girl. She has no idea what kind of man she's holding on to.

I tilted my head, letting out a soft breath, and with a gentle squeeze of her shoulder, I pulled her a little closer. My eyes met hers — wide, trusting, and filled with something dangerously close to admiration. It was time to shatter that innocence.

"You know, Sweetie," I said, my voice low, the words curling around us like smoke. "I'm a shameless man."

Her eyes lifted to meet mine, curious but unalarmed.

I tilted my head slightly, letting my gaze hold hers for just a second longer than necessary. Slowly, I continued, my tone playful but firm.

"I already have girlfriends," I said, watching for the shift in her expression. Her eyes blinked, her lips parting slightly, but she didn't pull away. Her brows furrowed for a second before she nodded, her face still resting on my chest.

"I know," she whispered softly. "I'm okay with it."

Her voice was steady, her words absolute. I felt a flicker of surprise in my chest, but I smothered it with a grin. She's tougher than she looks.

"Is that so?" I murmured, tilting my head just enough to see her face clearly. "Then I suppose I should be completely honest with you, Sweetie. I wouldn't want you to misunderstand me later."

Her gaze lifted to meet mine, her eyes filled with quiet resolve.

"Not only that," I said, letting the words hang in the air like a slow, deliberate countdown. "You didn't know, but your sister and I… we have a special connection too."

Her eyes widened instantly, her body stiffening in my arms. She pulled back just a little, far enough to see my face properly. Her gaze flickered with confusion, shock, and something more — something on the edge of disbelief.

"You're joking," she said, her voice unsteady. "Right?"

But I wasn't joking. I met her gaze with unwavering calm, my smile never faltering.

"I didn't want to hide it from you," I said smoothly, like I was confessing a minor mistake. "So I'm saying it clearly — I like your sister too."

Her eyes snapped open wide, her breath hitching in her throat. She stared at me like she was seeing me for the first time. Her lips quivered, caught between shock and disbelief.

"You… like Didi?" she muttered, her voice cracking as her brows knitted together. "You're serious?"

I nodded slowly, never breaking eye contact. I didn't let go of her, didn't pull away, and that was enough to keep her locked in place. She didn't run. She didn't scream. She listened.

"That's right," I said, my voice gentle but firm, like I was explaining something to a child who didn't yet understand the rules of the world. "I didn't plan for it to happen, but it did. And as far as I can tell… your sister feels the same way."

Her breath caught again, her chest rising and falling in uneven beats. Her hands gripped my shirt, unsure if she should push me away or pull me closer. Her gaze darted around, searching for something to anchor herself to.

"But… but how…?" she stammered, her words barely coherent. "You and Didi… How could you—"

I raised a hand and gently tapped her forehead with my finger, just enough to stop her spiral of thoughts. Her eyes snapped back to me, startled. I leaned in closer, my smile now sharper, my eyes locked on hers like a predator watching its prey.

"I'm not a good man, Sweetie," I said softly, the words cutting through the silence like a blade. "I can do anything to get what I want."

Her breath hitched, her fingers curling tighter around my shirt. She understands now.

"You can ask your brother if you want," I continued, my voice a low, steady hum, like a lullaby with sharp edges. "Even he couldn't stop me when I decided I wanted something. And if Brahma can't stop me… then tell me, Sweetie."

I tilted my head, my gaze unwavering.

"What's your decision?"

Her eyes didn't waver. Not once. They locked onto mine, unwavering and unblinking, like she'd made up her mind about something far more important than anything I had expected.

The silence stretched between us, thick and heavy, like the calm before a storm. I could feel the weight of her gaze, not just on my face, but deep inside me. It wasn't the gaze of a girl who was lost or afraid. No, it was the gaze of someone who had decided.

"I know you're not a good man," Jhanvi said, her voice steady as stone.

She leaned in closer, her face inches from mine, eyes still locked onto mine. Her next words came quietly, but each one was sharp, clear, and deliberate.

"I knew it when you killed those people," she said.

Her gaze didn't falter. Her voice didn't shake.

"And I'm not going to ask you anything about it," she added, her words cutting away any possibility of lies or excuses. She knew. She accepted it. Just like that.

Her fingers, which had been clutching my shirt, finally relaxed. Her shoulders, once tense, dropped. I could feel the shift in her entire being, like she'd finally let go of something heavy she'd been carrying for far too long.

"As for my answer…" she said, her voice trailing off.

I tilted my head, watching her closely. Her eyes flickered with something new — not doubt, not fear, but something far more dangerous. Conviction.

And then she moved.

Before I could process it, her hands reached up, cupping my face with surprising gentleness. Her lips pressed softly against mine — warm, soft, and lingering just long enough to carve the moment into my memory.

The world around us faded away. The faint hum of the hospital lights. The distant sound of footsteps echoing down sterile hallways. The faint beeping of machines in nearby rooms. All of it disappeared.

It was just us.

I didn't move. I didn't push forward, and I didn't pull away. I simply let her take control of the moment. Her lips lingered on mine for a single, infinite second before she pulled back. Slowly. Deliberately.

Her hands remained on my face, her fingertips cool against my skin. Her eyes locked onto mine once again, her lips curling into a slow, confident smile.

"This is my answer," she said, her voice calm, her smile unwavering.

The moment my eyes met hers, a spark ignited within me. It was an electric connection, a pull so strong I couldn't resist. My heart pounded in my chest as I leaned in, my breath catching in my throat. Her lips were so close, so inviting, and I couldn't hold back any longer.

I closed the distance between us, my lips brushing against hers. It was a soft, gentle kiss at first, a tentative exploration. But as our lips met, a firestorm erupted within me. I deepened the kiss, my tongue darting out to taste her sweetness. She responded with equal fervor, her hands finding their way to my hair, pulling me closer.

Her taste was divine, a perfect blend of sweetness and spice. I ran my tongue along her lower lip, teasing her. She parted her lips, inviting me in. Our tongues danced together, a passionate, sensual ballet. I could feel her excitement growing, her body trembling beneath my touch.

My hands roamed her body, tracing the curves of her hips, the softness of her skin. I reached for her breasts, cupping them gently in my palms. They were full and firm, begging to be squeezed. I pressed my thumbs into her nipples, eliciting a soft moan from her lips.

Her hands tightened on my hair, pulling me closer as she arched her back, pressing her body against mine. I could feel the heat radiating from her, a warmth that spread through me.

I wanted to lose myself in her, to explore every inch of her body. I knew we had to slow down, to savor the moment. We broke the kiss, our foreheads resting together. We were both panting, our hearts racing.

Jhanvi's arms wrapped around me tightly, her warmth pressing against me like she never wanted to let go. Her breathing was steady but light, and I could feel the faint tremble in her shoulders. I raised a hand and gently stroked her head, fingers threading softly through her hair.

"Now you should take some rest," I said softly, my voice low but firm.

To my surprise, she tilted her head up, her eyes carrying a playful glint. "I don't want to sleep," she replied, her lips curving into a mischievous smile. "Let's play something."

This girl…

I sighed, shaking my head in mild disbelief. It's already past midnight, and she wants to play games? But when I saw her eyes — innocent, stubborn, and full of that childlike glow — I couldn't say no.

"Alright, alright," I muttered, rubbing the back of my neck. "What do you want to play?"

"Ludo!" she said with the enthusiasm of a kid on summer vacation.

I sighed again, longer this time, but there was a faint smile tugging at the corner of my lips. Ludo at midnight in a hospital room... Only this girl.

We set up the game on the hospital bed, and as the minutes ticked by, the quiet, sterile atmosphere of the hospital slowly shifted. Laughter echoed softly as Jhanvi celebrated every time her token reached "home," her grin infectious.

"Cheater," I muttered when she took down one of my tokens.

"It's not cheating if you don't see it coming," she said with a smirk.

Time flowed unnoticed. Each roll of the dice chipped away at the weight of everything that had happened. The world outside felt far away — just for a little while. It was just me, Jhanvi, and the game board between us.

Then, the soft click of the door opening broke the moment.

The mood shifted. Instinctively, I glanced toward the door, and there they were — Brahma and Satyapriya. Brahma's eyes scanned the room with the sharpness of a man who never lets his guard down. Satyapriya, however, had only one focus.

Her eyes met mine.

For a brief moment, there was no need for words. Her gaze lingered on me longer than it should have, and I didn't look away.

But I didn't say a word. I silently stood up, stepping aside to give her and Jhanvi space. This moment belongs to them.

Satyapriya didn't hesitate. She crossed the room in two strides, crouched, and pulled Jhanvi into a fierce hug. Her fingers curled tightly around her sister's back, and her eyes shut tight, her face pressing into Jhanvi's hair. It wasn't just a hug — it was a reunion.

"I'm here," Satyapriya whispered, her voice breaking. "I'm here, Jhanvi. I'm here now."

Brahma stepped forward as well, kneeling beside them. His large hand rested gently on Jhanvi's head, ruffling her hair like he always did when they were kids. The three of them stayed like that for a while — siblings, finally together again after all the chaos.

I stayed to the side, watching them. I didn't say anything. I didn't need to.

Sometimes, silence says more than words ever could.

Jhanvi cried. It wasn't loud or dramatic — just soft hiccups and the quiet sniffles of someone who'd finally let go of their pain. The tension in her body melted away in her sister's arms. Satyapriya wiped her tears away, her fingers tender and gentle.

The hospital air, once cold and sterile, now felt warmer. Lighter. More human.

Eventually, Jhanvi's body grew heavy with exhaustion. The tears, the emotions, and the weight of everything she'd been through caught up to her. Her eyelids fluttered, her breathing grew slow and steady, and soon, she was asleep.

Brahma and Satyapriya both glanced at her, then at each other. Their faces shared an unspoken relief.

Finally, she could rest.

We all sat in silence for a while, the only sound being the soft hum of the hospital equipment and the distant beep of a heart monitor. Brahma sat on one side, arms folded, his brows furrowed in thought. Satyapriya sat near Jhanvi's bed, her fingers brushing through Jhanvi's hair with quiet affection.

I leaned against the wall, arms crossed, eyes half-closed but fully aware of everything around me.

After a while, Satyapriya broke the silence. Her voice was firm but low.

"What are we going to do about Jaidev now?" she asked, her eyes still fixed on Jhanvi. "He's already run away."

I didn't answer. I stayed still, eyes closed, pretending I hadn't heard.

Brahma, however, responded. "We already know where he is," he said, his voice rough but steady. "He's in Mumbai. We'll take care of him there."

Satyapriya nodded, her face hardening. Not afraid. Not hesitant. Just resolved.

Brahma glanced at me from across the room. No words were exchanged, but the meaning was clear. You ready?

I met his gaze and gave him a single nod.

He stood and with a sharp exhale, he walked toward the door. Always moving forward. Always the soldier.

Now, it was just me, Satyapriya, and Jhanvi's soft breathing.

The air grew quiet again, but this time, it wasn't comfortable. It was a tense, waiting silence. One where both sides knew something was coming, but neither side wanted to be the first to acknowledge it.

"Krishna," Satyapriya said after a moment. Her voice was quieter than before, but somehow, it was heavier.

I glanced at her.

"Come with me," she said, already walking toward the door.

She didn't wait for me to answer.

I watched her for a second, letting her take a few steps ahead. Her back was straight, her movements sharp and precise. This isn't a casual conversation she's planning.

I sighed softly, my eyes flicking once toward Jhanvi. She was still sound asleep, safe for now.

Guess I'm not getting any sleep tonight either.

Pushing off the wall, I followed Satyapriya out the door.

We stepped out of the room, our footsteps muffled by the soft padding of the hospital's clean white floors. The corridor stretched out before us, dimly lit by the faint glow of a single fluorescent light above Jhanvi's room. Shadows danced along the walls, stretching and shifting with each step we took.

The silence was thick. Not the calm, peaceful kind. No, this was the kind of silence that makes you aware of every breath, every movement, every unspoken word.

There was no one else around. No nurses. No doctors. No distant sound of hurried footsteps. Just us.

We stopped a little way from Jhanvi's room, far enough to avoid her hearing us but close enough that I could still glance back and see the faint glow of light spilling from the room.

For a moment, neither of us spoke. The stillness between us grew heavier with each passing second. I could feel it — the weight of something unsaid hanging in the air.

Satyapriya stood beside me, her eyes fixed on the ground, arms crossed as if trying to shield herself from the cold. Her gaze was sharp, focused, but I could tell she was thinking — no, struggling. Her lips pressed together tightly, and her fingers gripped her arms a little too hard.

Then, without warning, she broke the silence.

"You knew about Jaidev from the start." Her voice was low, steady, but there was an edge to it. Like she'd been holding those words back for too long. Her eyes stayed fixed on the ground, refusing to meet mine. "Why didn't you tell me?"

I glanced at her, tilting my head slightly. So that's what's been eating at her.

A small smile tugged at my lips. Not one of amusement, but of quiet understanding. I leaned my back against the cold wall, folding my arms casually.

"Even if I told you," I said calmly, "would you have believed me?"

She flinched. Hit the mark, huh?

"Think about it," I continued, my tone light but firm. "Why would you believe a stranger like me? A man you'd never met before, walking into your life and telling you that the person you trusted most was the one tearing it apart?" I chuckled softly, shaking my head. "You wouldn't. No one would."

Her hands clenched tighter, her nails digging into her arms. She lowered her head, her long hair falling forward like a curtain. Her breathing was slow but uneven, like she was forcing herself to stay composed.

Her silence spoke louder than words.

She knew I was right.

Her shoulders shook, and when she finally lifted her head, I saw it. Her eyes — always sharp and confident — were now glassy with unshed tears. Her gaze wasn't fierce anymore. It was vulnerable.

"I… I know," she said, her voice cracking. She blinked quickly, as if trying to fight back the tears threatening to fall. Her lips quivered for a moment before she bit down on them, forcing herself to stay in control. "I should have seen it. I should have known, but I didn't. I let him..." Her voice trailed off, and she glanced away, her expression filled with regret and self-loathing.

So that's it. Guilt.

For a second, I considered saying something to comfort her. But I knew better. Words of comfort wouldn't help her right now. She's too proud for that.

Silence lingered between us again. I watched her, letting her sort through the storm of emotions she was feeling. People like Satyapriya — people who always try to carry everything on their own shoulders — need time to process it. They don't want someone to tell them it's "not their fault." They need to come to terms with it themselves.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, she spoke again.

"Jhanvi likes you," she muttered, her voice soft but steady. She glanced at me briefly before lowering her gaze again. "Please… take care of her."

I didn't react at first. I wasn't surprised. I had expected her to say this. People like Satyapriya are always thinking about others before themselves — always thinking about their family.

I smiled faintly, tilting my head toward her.

"Of course," I said easily, my voice low but firm. "But… what about you?"

Her eyes shot up, wide with shock. She looked at me like I'd said something she wasn't prepared to hear. Her lips parted slightly, but no words came out. Caught her off guard, huh?

I took a slow step forward, my eyes locked onto hers. My gaze was steady — unwavering.

The silence between us felt like it would never end, broken only by the quiet hum of the hospital lights. Satyapriya's eyes darted away from mine, her arms folding tighter around herself as if she could shield her heart from the weight of my words.

"You don't have to worry about me," she said, her voice shaking despite her attempt to sound firm. "I… I can handle myself."

Her words were strong, but her voice betrayed her. The tremble in her tone was as clear as day. She's lying — not to me, but to herself.

I tilted my head, watching her closely. Her eyes wouldn't meet mine. Her breathing was shallow, her chest rising and falling like she was holding something in.

A small smile crept onto my face, but it wasn't one of amusement. It was the smile of someone who knew a secret the other person hadn't realized yet.

"But your father told me to take care of you," I said quietly, watching for her reaction.

Her head snapped toward me so fast I thought she might have hurt herself. Her wide eyes locked onto mine, filled with shock and confusion. Her lips parted as if she wanted to say something but didn't know how to form the words.

"Ho… how?" she stammered, her voice barely above a whisper. Her fingers dug into her arms as if bracing herself. She shook her head quickly, as if dismissing the thought. "Anyway, it doesn't matter. I'm not going to ask you about it. Just… just take care of Jhanvi. That's all I want."

Her words were rushed, like she was desperate to push me away, to avoid the conversation. Avoid me.

I leaned forward slightly, peering into her eyes with that same steady gaze. "So, you don't want me to take care of you?" I asked, my voice calm but sharp enough to cut through her defenses.

Her lips pressed into a thin line. She opened her mouth but closed it again, her breathing uneven. I could see it — the doubt, the fear, the storm swirling inside her.

"I… I…" she stuttered, her eyes darting around like she was searching for an escape.

Before she could finish, I moved. Quickly. Decisively.

In one fluid motion, I reached out, gripping her waist firmly but gently. Her body tensed under my touch, her breath hitching in her throat. I pulled her closer, so close I could feel the warmth of her body against mine. Her eyes went wide, her lips parting in shock.

"Krishna, wait—"

I didn't wait. I kissed her.

It wasn't rough or forceful. It was slow, deliberate, and soft. Her lips were warm and soft, like the petals of a freshly bloomed rose. For a moment, she froze, her body stiff in my arms. I half-expected her to push me away, to resist.

But she didn't.

Her eyes fluttered shut, and slowly — so slowly — her body eased. The tension in her shoulders melted, and I felt her relax against me. For a brief, fleeting moment, the world around us disappeared. The cold air of the hospital, the sterile smell of antiseptic, the distant hum of machines — all of it vanished.

It was just us. Just me and her.

After a moment, I pulled away, watching her reaction. Her eyes stayed closed for a heartbeat longer, her lips still parted like she was chasing the feeling that had just disappeared. When her eyes finally opened, they were wide, filled with confusion, warmth, and… something else.

But reality hit her hard. Her hands pressed against my chest, and she pushed me away. Not with force, but with the kind of reluctance that comes when you know you're doing something you don't want to do.

Tears welled up in her eyes. Her face twisted into a mixture of pain and disbelief as she wiped at her face with the back of her hand. Her fingers trembled as if she couldn't control them.

"Wh… why did you do that?" she asked, her voice cracking as tears streamed down her face. Her breaths were shallow, her chest rising and falling as if she'd just run a marathon. "I don't deserve this, Krishna. I… I don't deserve love."

Her hands pressed against her heart like it physically hurt her. Her eyes clenched shut as if she were trying to block out everything around her. "I made so many mistakes. So many wrong decisions. I trusted Jaidev. I believed in him, and because of that, my family suffered. My father… my father died because of me." Her voice broke at that last word, and a fresh wave of tears streamed down her cheeks. "I don't deserve love, Krishna. I don't."

Her words hit like daggers, sharp and painful.

But I didn't flinch.

I stepped forward, closing the distance between us. This time, slower.

Her head shot up, her tear-filled eyes glaring at me like she was daring me to come closer. But she didn't move away.

I reached out, cupping her face gently with both hands. Her breath hitched, and she froze under my touch. Her lips quivered, her eyes darting between mine, searching for something. Doubt. Hesitation. Fear. I saw them all.

But I didn't hesitate.

I kissed her again.

The air between us crackled with tension. Her breath, a soft, warm mist against my lips, fueled the fire within me. I leaned in, our foreheads brushing. The anticipation was almost unbearable.

I sealed our lips, this time with a fierce intensity. I wanted to devour her, to claim her as mine. My tongue darted out, demanding entrance. She met my aggression with equal force, our tongues wrestling in a sensual dance. Her grip tightened on my face, pulling me closer.

I traced the curve of her waist with my fingertips, the soft fabric of her salwar suit barely concealing her skin. I yearned to touch her bare flesh, to feel the heat of her body against mine. My hand drifted lower, finding its way to the fullness of her hips. I squeezed gently, feeling her tense in response.

I lifted her, her legs wrapping around my waist like a second skin. The intimacy was overwhelming. I pressed her against the wall, our bodies melding together. The friction ignited a spark, a primal desire that consumed us both. Every breath, every touch, was a promise of more.

My hands found their way to the generous swell of her breasts, the soft fabric of her salwar suit offering little resistance. I cupped them, the weight surprisingly heavy in my palms. I kneaded gently, feeling the firm mounds beneath my fingertips. As I intensified the pressure, her moans grew louder, a sweet melody to my ears.

I pressed my lower body against hers, the heat between us palpable. The anticipation was almost unbearable. With a final, desperate kiss, I pulled away, our breaths ragged. Her eyes, filled with desire, met mine. She leaned in, her lips trailing a path down my jawline to my neck.

I held her head, guiding her deeper into the kiss. My hands wandered to her hips, squeezing them firmly. Every nerve in my body was on fire, every sense heightened. I wanted to devour her, to claim her as my own. But I knew I had to hold back, to savor the moment.

I pulled her close, her head resting on my chest. Her heart pounded against my skin, a rhythm that mirrored my own. I stroked her hair, whispering words of comfort and love.

Satyapriya's breaths came in shallow, uneven gasps as she leaned against me, her head resting on my chest. Her body felt fragile, like she might break if I held her too tightly. Her warmth seeped into me, and I could hear the rapid thumping of her heart against my ribs.

Her breathing was heavy, but she didn't pull away. I felt her fingers gripping the sides of my shirt, clutching it like it was the only thing anchoring her to the world. Her tears had soaked a small patch of my chest, but I didn't care.

Gently, I placed my hand on her head, my fingers threading through her soft hair. I ran my fingers slowly, tenderly, down to the back of her neck, letting her feel every ounce of the care I wanted to give her. She deserved this. Even if she didn't believe it herself.

"That's enough for now," I said softly, letting out a small, breathy chuckle to lighten the moment. "If we keep going, I might lose control."

Her breathing slowed but remained heavy. She didn't say a word. She didn't move. She stayed there, pressed against me, her cheek resting on my chest. No protests. No denials. Just quiet acceptance.

The silence wasn't uncomfortable. It was the kind of silence where two people finally understand each other.

I gently tilted her head up, cupping her face with both hands. Her tear-streaked face looked up at me, her eyes filled with so many emotions it was hard to name them all. Pain. Doubt. Fear. But most of all… hope.

Her eyes met mine. They didn't look away this time. No running. No hiding.

"Hey, Priya," I said, my voice barely above a whisper. My thumbs wiped away the streaks of tears on her cheeks, lingering there for just a moment longer than necessary. I took a deep breath, my heart pounding louder than it had before. This wasn't a moment to hesitate. I had to be clear. Honest.

"Will you be one of my life partner?" I asked, my gaze locked on hers. My voice was steady, firm, but gentle. I let each word sink in. "I promise… I'll never make you feel hurt again. Never."

Her eyes widened, her lips parting in a silent gasp. Her whole body froze like she'd stopped breathing. I could feel her staring at me, searching my face for doubt, for hesitation — for anything that might suggest I didn't mean it.

But there was none.

Her lips quivered, and tears welled up again. But this time, she didn't look away. Slowly, so slowly it felt like the world had come to a stop, she nodded. Just once.

Her lips pressed together as a fresh wave of tears spilled down her cheeks. Her shoulders shook, and a soft sob escaped her lips. But she nodded again, firmer this time.

"Yes," she choked out, her voice cracking. Her fingers tightened on my shirt, holding me like she was afraid I'd vanish if she let go. "Yes, Krishna. I… I will."

I smiled, not the sly smile I'd given her earlier, but a real one. A smile that came from the bottom of my heart.

"Good," I said softly. "That's all I needed to hear."

I leaned in slowly this time, giving her the chance to stop me. But she didn't. Her eyes stayed on mine until the very last moment, and just before our lips met, she closed her eyes.

This kiss was different.

There was no rush. No need to prove anything. It was soft, gentle, and slow. A kiss not of passion, but of promise. Our lips moved in sync, her warmth blending with mine in a way that felt… complete. It wasn't the world-shattering, heart-racing kind of kiss you see in the movies. No, it was the kind of kiss that repaired broken pieces.

Her hands slowly moved up from my chest to my shoulders. Her fingers curled against the back of my neck, pulling me in just a little closer.

When we finally pulled away, she rested her forehead against mine. Her breaths were still shaky, her eyes still misty with tears, but her lips curled into the faintest, softest smile.

(A/N: If any of you are wondering why there hasn't been any R18 scene for so long, here's the answer: it's going to happen soon. As you know, Krishna is still a virgin, so the question is whether it will be Raji or Anu first. Since the girls have decided, it's going to be Raji, and it's going to happen soon.)

(A/N: If you'd like to support me, please use this UPI: omgadekar29@oksbi "Om Gadekar". If you do, please let me know your webnovel name so I can recognize you.)

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