"WHAT DID YOU SAY?" my eyes burned and my face was fiery chili-pepper red, and my hands were prepared to strike and bash anything that came in my way. THIS WAS THE MOST ANGER I HAD EVER FELT IN MY LIFE! I didn't know what to say or do, it was like logical thinking and proper brain functioning was a part of my life that didn't exist anymore. I hated this. I hated, disliked, despised, detested, loathed, abhored, HATED the family, the man, the people who had the COURAGE to do this to MY Geet.
And I wasn't going to let them get away with it.
New Update
Maan was furious. The doctor didn't budge. She wouldn't tell him anything. Not a single syllable, let a word or phrase. After multiple, repeated threats that elevated with his quickly disappearing patience, the woman left the room and went to check on Geet. It made him burn in hatred. He hated the family, the men, the people who commited such sin, such bad deeds with the gentle, loving, caring, and beautiful young woman who he had come to know. He knew they did something really bad. But he had no idea what it was.
It frustrated him to no end. He had spent fifteen minutes trying to convince the doctor. He knew she knew something, hidden in her eyes and concealed beneath her friendly demeanor. She had told him she wasn't against him knowing the truth, but that it wasn't her truth to tell. It was Geet's. And if he wanted to know the truth, there was only one person he could ask.
He put his head between his legs and his hands over his ears, the ears that would have to bear the weight and bitterness of reality.
From what he had seen, the reality was horrendous, terrible, and hard to swallow. How would he ask Geet to tell him such a thing? How would he bear to listen to it?
But as history has proved, to get to the nectar, you need to be able to take the poison first.
To get his mind off the situation and solve another problem at hand, Maan called the nation's most prestigious and experienced lawyer who was known for his wit and cleverness. They talked for a few minutes and the lawyer agreed to take on his case and deal with this Rasika Rathod. He had found a loophole, a poorly written clause in her notice and assured Maan he would resolve the issue in a day's notice.
Case closed.
Maan sent him a brief of the case from a nearby Wi-Fi cafe and returned to the doctor's house to pick up Geet.
As he placed her in his black Merecedes, he couldn't help but kneel down on one knee and stare at her innocent sleeping face. He wondered what she was dreaming about.
Her eyes were shut, and the turmoil and pain within them were nowhere to be seen. Her usually arched eyebrows were relaxed, her forehead was free of worry, and her lips were angelic, beaming at something only she knew.
She was dreaming of him.
He let his gaze linger before he stood up and started the car to go back to Delhi.
Little did he know what was in store for them.
BACK IN DELHI
It was late, around 1 in the morning when Maan and Geet finally reached the lavish and sprawling Khurana mansion. His security stationed at the front gate let his car pass through, and instead of parking outside the outhouse like he usually did when dropped Geet off he stopped the black sedan near the main haveli.
Geet. Him. Him and Geet.
He didn't know what name to give to this relationship. It confused him and hurt his head when he tried to contemplate it and what depths it reached. It was something he wasn't able to explain in spite of wanting to.
But tonight, even as late as it was, he would give a definition to their bond.
She was his secretary who he couldn't do without. She handled his phone calls, appointment book, meeting times, and client relations. In terms of business, she was a good asset. But in the matters of the heart, she was even more important.
He remembered when Dev, after returning from Canada, had asked him about the latest developments in his life and how his mind instantly turned to Geet and how his eyes searched for her. Without her, what was life?
He remembered how she taught him to enjoy the little things in life like rain, dancing, flowers, and smiles and love and laughs here and there to brighten his day. He thought of all the small things she did for him, like making him his favorite black coffee with two cubes of sugar, treating his wounds, cooking him food, etc. They may have been so small, but they meant so much. Why? If another person had done these same things, he would've forgotton them in a few minutes instead of sitting in his car, outside his pwm house, staring at a sleeping girl, at one AM!
He remembered wiping her tears, her fingers on his mouth, hugging her in the rain, dancing with her at the office party, at the disco, at the dhaba, being with her in the conference hall that stormy night, breaking her fall from the ladder and from above the stairs, removing the jewelry she wore that was meant for his dulhan...
She was his fake fiancee, who he bought a one-crore diamond ring for.
She was the one who called him "suniye."
She was the one who gave him lassi when his tongue was burning.
She was the one who cared if he went to jail or not.
She was the one who cared if he lived or died.
She was...the one.
And her past didn't matter to him. Nothing else mattered.
He was always on her side and he always would be.
It was late night and he came out of his trance and unstrapped his seatbelt.
The morning would bring better things 😊
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Okay will do 😃
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