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Chapter Twenty
"Kripa, Angad is here." Aaliyah spoke from the doorway to Kripa's bedroom.
An arrow of pleasure swept through Kripa, but it left a spasm of pain in its wake. She didn't want to see Angad, didn't want to have the same arguments about marriage that had so often marked their days spent together.
"Kripa?"
"Yes, I'll speak with him," she said. She at least owed him that, she told herself.
She found him waiting for her in the living room. When she stepped into the room, he advanced toward her, arms outstretched as if to embrace her.
She held up her hands to halt his progress. "Why are you here? What do you want, Angad?"
Drat him for looking so achingly handsome and drat him for renewing her heartache with his mere presence.
"I want you," he replied.
"We've been through all that," Kripa replied wearily. "We've talked this subject to death and there is nothing left to say. Nothing is going to change my mind. You have four days you should be making arrangements for your wedding." Each and every word shot painful arrows through her heart. "Please go."
Before she could protest, he grabbed her by the shoulders. "I can't go yet. Not until I tell you I love you. I love you, Kripa. Now, please marry me."
The heartache that had claimed Kripa's heart dissipated as a near-blinding anger ripped through her. "How dare you!" she said unsteadily.
She jerked away from him, her anger building with each second that passed. "How dare you tell me you love me just to get your own way."
"But ?"
"You spent enough time with me, we talked enough that you discovered that love is what I want and I won't settle for less. How convenient of you to tell me now that you love me."
"But it's the truth," he exclaimed with a touch of indignation.
"No, it's a shrewd manipulation to get what you want. Flowers didn't buy me, jewelry didn't move me, so now you pull out the big guns."
"Kripa, please this isn't any sort of manipulation." He gazed at her, his bewilderment radiating from his eyes. "I thought you'd be pleased. How can I make you believe me? I love you."
He tried to reach for her again, but she evaded his attempt. "You can't make me believe you," she retorted, appalled to feel the burning of tears.
If only she could believe him. But she didn't dare. He didn't know the first thing about love.
She drew a deep breath. " Just go. I don't ever want to see you or talk to you again." She turned and fled the room.
.+shabina+.
"Kripa, Angad is here." Aaliyah spoke from the doorway to Kripa's bedroom.
An arrow of pleasure swept through Kripa, but it left a spasm of pain in its wake. She didn't want to see Angad, didn't want to have the same arguments about marriage that had so often marked their days spent together.
"Kripa?"
"Yes, I'll speak with him," she said. She at least owed him that, she told herself.
She found him waiting for her in the living room. When she stepped into the room, he advanced toward her, arms outstretched as if to embrace her.
She held up her hands to halt his progress. "Why are you here? What do you want, Angad?"
Drat him for looking so achingly handsome and drat him for renewing her heartache with his mere presence.
"I want you," he replied.
"We've been through all that," Kripa replied wearily. "We've talked this subject to death and there is nothing left to say. Nothing is going to change my mind. You have four days you should be making arrangements for your wedding." Each and every word shot painful arrows through her heart. "Please go."
Before she could protest, he grabbed her by the shoulders. "I can't go yet. Not until I tell you I love you. I love you, Kripa. Now, please marry me."
The heartache that had claimed Kripa's heart dissipated as a near-blinding anger ripped through her. "How dare you!" she said unsteadily.
She jerked away from him, her anger building with each second that passed. "How dare you tell me you love me just to get your own way."
"But ?"
"You spent enough time with me, we talked enough that you discovered that love is what I want and I won't settle for less. How convenient of you to tell me now that you love me."
"But it's the truth," he exclaimed with a touch of indignation.
"No, it's a shrewd manipulation to get what you want. Flowers didn't buy me, jewelry didn't move me, so now you pull out the big guns."
"Kripa, please this isn't any sort of manipulation." He gazed at her, his bewilderment radiating from his eyes. "I thought you'd be pleased. How can I make you believe me? I love you."
He tried to reach for her again, but she evaded his attempt. "You can't make me believe you," she retorted, appalled to feel the burning of tears.
If only she could believe him. But she didn't dare. He didn't know the first thing about love.
She drew a deep breath. " Just go. I don't ever want to see you or talk to you again." She turned and fled the room.
.+shabina+.
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