'So sorry for keeping you wait Vansh' Kriti says while kissing him on his cheek.
He gave her a look before holding her bag.
'Kab boli thi ki nikal rahi ho ,aur abh pouche haa??' he said giving an unbelievable look.
She sighed, 'Mujhe kya bohut maza ati hain late karne mein?? Tumhe pata hain na mere ghar ka situation!!! Ek kaam khud nahi kar pata woh Sahil, breakfast bana k yaha aayi hu...!!'
Vansh lit a cigarette with his lighter and asked, "You have to make breakfast too? Are you serious?"
She rolled her eyes, 'Nahi mazak kar rahi hu.. pagal kutte ne jo kata h mujhe subah subah...naukar banak rak di h mujhe.'
He chuckled grabbing her palm to kiss her knuckles, 'Its ok my love ..calm down..ab us idiot k baare mein sochna band karo aur bolo kya khaogi?? What should I order for you?? Abhi toh bohut der hain meeting k liye'
He asked as they both went to a cafe for having breakfast.
'Uhmn kuch bhi order kar lo na.. kuch heavy sa .. bohut bhook lagi hain' she grins.
He nods his head before placing the order.
It was already midnight, and Sahil sat on the living room couch, his laptop screen still glowing faintly, though his focus had long since drifted. Instead, his eyes darted repeatedly to the clock on the wall as his fingers tapped nervously against his thigh. With every passing moment, his worry grew.
"How late is she... and on top of that, she isn't even answering her phone," he muttered under his breath, running a hand through his hair. His gaze fell back to his phone as he dialed her number yet again. Just as it started ringing, he heard the sound of the door unlocking. Kriti stepped in, looking tired but calm, her bag slung over her shoulder and spare keys still in hand.
Relief mixed with frustration as Sahil got up from the couch. "How many times did I call you, Kriti? Where is your phone?" he asked, his voice heavy with concern.
Kriti gave him a casual glance as she reached into her bag and pulled out her phone. "It was on silent, so I didn't notice. Besides, I already told you not to wait for me. So why do you always stay up waiting?" she said, slipping off her heels and heading toward the stairs.
Sahil followed her, his voice a mix of disbelief and hurt. "You're my wife, Kriti. If you're this late, shouldn't I be worried about you?"
Kriti paused on the stairs, turning to face him with a small, amused smile. "I can manage on my own, Sahil. And even if something did happen to me, what could you do about it?" she teased lightly, chuckling.
" Kabhi yaha gir jate ho toh kabhi waha.." she said taunting.
"Chodo yeh sab, mein sone Jaa rahi hu..I have already had my dinner..tumhare agar dinner ho jay toh tum bhi ajana' with that she left from there.
He stares at her distant figure and a heavy sigh escapes his lips as he turns his gaze toward the dinner table, where two plates sit neatly-meals he had carefully prepared with lots of struggle and care now left untouched. His hunger is already died long ago.
he sees her sitting on the bed, her phone pressed to her ear, a soft smile playing on her lips.
"Yes, Vansh, I've reached safely. Stop worrying so much," she says with a laugh, her voice carrying a warmth that he rarely hears anymore.
He stops in his tracks, his hand resting on the staircase railing as her words echo in his mind. Vansh. The name he had heard countless times before, spoken with such ease and familiarity. It was always Vansh-the one who called her frequently, the one she never seemed to ignore.
Who was Vansh, really? He had asked her many times before, but her answers were always the same. "He's just a colleague," she would say dismissively, as if the topic wasn't worth discussing.
But Sahil couldn't ignore the way her tone softened whenever she mentioned his name or the way her eyes lit up during those conversations. It was different and it always made him feel something unusual.
The next morning, Sahil decided to make his own tea. Balancing on his crutch, he made his way to the kitchen, each step a painful reminder of the leg he had lost. The journey from the table to the stove, once so ordinary, now felt like climbing a mountain. Yet, Sahil was determined.
He propped the crutch against the counter and leaned on it for support, his movements slow and deliberate. With one hand, he reached for the kettle, while the other gripped the counter tightly to steady himself. A bead of sweat formed on his forehead as he poured water into the kettle, the clinking sound echoing in the quiet room. Every step of the process required twice the time and triple the effort, but he refused to call for Kriti.
He cast a glance at her, sitting in the living room, speaking animatedly into her phone. Today, she had to leave for work earlier than usual. Her attention was focused entirely on her call, her face devoid of any acknowledgment of his struggle.
Sahil sighed, his heart heavy. He didn't want to risk hearing another sharp or indifferent comment from her. It was better this way, he told himself, even as his arms ached from the effort of supporting his weight.
As Sahil carefully poured the steaming tea into his cup, his focus wavered for a moment. He reached for the sugar but misjudged the angle, causing the cup to tip slightly. The hot tea splashed across the table, soaking the important papers Kriti had placed there earlier. His eyes widened in horror as the ink on the documents began to smudge and run, rendering them unreadable.
Kriti, still on her phone, froze mid-sentence. She glanced over at the table and saw the soaked papers.
She immediately rushed to the table, her hands trembling as she grabbed the now-soaked papers. The panic in her eyes turned into anger as she shouted, "Yeh kya kiya tumne, Sahil? Do you even realize what you've done?"
Sahil looked down, guilt washing over him. He shook his head helplessly. "Kriti, I didn't do it intentionally-"
But she cut him off, her voice rising. "Do you even realize how important those papers were? My entire presentation for the board meeting is ruined! Can't you do anything right on your own?"
Her words hit Sahil harder than the harshest blow. He opened his mouth to apologize, but a lump formed in his throat, making it almost impossible to speak. His voice cracked as he finally managed, "I'm sorry, Kriti. I didn't mean to-"
Ignoring him, Kriti grabbed the papers and tried wiping them off with her dress, her movements frantic. "Ab kya dikhau boss ko?" she muttered, more to herself than to Sahil. Her frustration was evident, her mind racing to find a solution.
Sahil, trying to salvage the situation, spoke up softly, "Kriti, abhi bhi time hai. Tum mujhe do. I'll take printouts for you-"
Before he could finish, Kriti snapped, "Don't! Bahut kiya tumne meherbani!" Her voice was laced with sarcasm and exhaustion. In her frustration, she pushed his arm slightly, not meaning to hurt him, but the gesture caused Sahil to lose his balance.
His crutch slipped out from under him, and his body wavered. His arms flailed as he instinctively tried to steady himself, his heart pounding with the fear of falling. For a split second, the ground seemed to rise to meet him.
But before he could hit the floor, a pair of warm hands gripped his arms firmly. The hold was steady, secure, and comforting. Sahil instinctively clung to the person, his breath ragged and his heart racing.
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