𝐁𝐎𝐎𝐊 𝟏: 𝐉𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐧𝐞𝐲 𝐟𝐫𝐨𝐦 𝐋𝐔𝐒𝐓 𝐓𝐎 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄
[UNDER EDITING]
.·:*¨༺ ༻¨*:·.
"What?" she said, she couldn't believe her ears, that her Kabir ji would say something like that when he had been showering his whole life at her feet.
"Kabir...
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The clock on the wall mocked me with its relentless ticking. It was already eleven, and Kabir ji still wasn't home. Every chime echoed a beat of worry in my chest, a cold dread slithering into my stomach. Images of Malishka, her hand possessively linked with his, replayed in my mind, fueled by the weird vibes she'd thrown our way earlier.
Finally, I couldn't take the suffocating silence anymore. My hand trembled slightly as I reached for my phone. Kabir's name stared back at me, a silent plea forming on my lips. With a deep breath, I pressed the call.
The ringing stretched into an eternity before his familiar voice answered, rough around the edges. "Han Jaan?" Relief flooded me, a wave washing away some of the tension.
"Kabir ji?" I forced a smile into my voice, the sound hollow even to my own ears. "Hello?"
"Jaan," he repeated, his voice laced with fatigue that gnawed at my newly found peace. "There's a lot of traffic. I'll be a bit late."
Through the phone, I could hear the chaotic symphony of the city - honking horns, the rumble of engines. It was a stark contrast to the quiet solitude that had settled over our house. Still, a tiny, persistent seed of doubt burrowed deeper. Why was it taking so long?
"When will you be back?" I managed, the question heavy with a worry I couldn't quite quash.
"It'll take some time, baby," he apologized. "Crazy traffic."
"Okay," I whispered, the single word feeling like a weight on my tongue. As I hung up, sadness washed over me like a cold wave. I hadn't wanted him to drop Malishka home, but with no driver and a house full of guests, there wasn't a choice.
Sinking into the plush couch, I felt oddly adrift in the once-vibrant living room. The weight of the evening, the unsettling encounter with Malishka, and now Kabir's unexplained delay, pressed down on me like a suffocating blanket. I clutched the phone tightly, a silent beacon in the growing darkness, willing him to come home soon.
"Bhabhi, ye dekho meri..." Akshat's voice trailed off as his eyes landed on my downcast face. "What happened, Bhabhi?" He rushed to my side, concern etched on his youthful face.
(Bhabhi look at this)
I forced a smile, the gesture feeling brittle. "Nothing, Akshu, I'll be fine." But my voice betrayed my composure, a tremor hinting at the worry gnawing at me.
Akshat, despite being two years my senior, had always insisted I call him by the more casual "Akshu." My gaze drifted back towards the main door. A sigh escaped my lips. "Just waiting for your bhai," I explained, tapping my phone on my lap in a futile attempt to appear nonchalant.
"Haan, Bhabhi," Akshat said, settling down beside me on the couch. "Are you worried about Malishka?"
The name felt like a bitter pill on my tongue. "Kind of, I don't know" I admitted. "She seems nice." Or at least, she tried to be.
