[FEATURED IN WATTPAD INDIA PROFILE]
❝Pioneering the art of constructing love, my Kanmani.❞
Xavier teased her skin, slowly caressing her cheeks and her lips trembled.
❝You don't dare!❞
And he kissed her.
------
When he had compromised his dreams and...
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"Krithika, hope you're feeling comfortable?" Satya's concerned voice made Krithika look up. "Dhanya's a bit adamant," she added with an apologetic smile.
"What did I do?" Dhanya, mid-conversation with her beloved Xavi, shot back, feigning offense. "Krithika looks like a princess. I just worked my magic." She fluttered her lashes dramatically.
Okay, this kid is out to embarrass me.
Xavier grinned, his dimples punching into his cheeks. "Yeah, she surely looks like a princess," he drawled, leaning on the word with maddening emphasis. Krithika felt the heat bloom in her cheeks, turning her into a human tomato. "I can't believe you did that, sweetie."
Please, for the love of all that's holy, stop grinning. Krithika wanted to scream.
After the pooja, all four of them gathered for lunch. Krithika had tried—really tried—to escape earlier, but Satya wasn't having it. And Dhanya, the master manipulator, had pulled out the puppy eyes, forcing Krithika to surrender. And here they were, chatting and eating together.
"So," Xavier leaned back casually, "you didn't go home? You know, I get that you love Satya, but at this point, it's borderline obsession."
Satya glared at him. He shrugged, unapologetic. "I'm just saying—the girl worships you."
Dhanya chortled, making Krithika squirm. This wasn't how she had expected her Happy Pongal to go. She shoved the Sambar Sadam into her mouth and realized the food tasted exquisite.
Okay, focus on the meal. The meal on your plate, not the delectable man—
Apathy!
The whole apathy mantra was an absolute joke. The attraction wasn't fading. If anything, it was tightening its grip like a boa constrictor. She wanted her tiny treasure box to be banished to some faraway land. But it was getting harder with every passing second, especially with Xavier sitting next to her like a rogue Dravidian hunk. Why was he feeding her subconscious with a new set of images? Did he have to look so hot in that elegant vesti and shirt?
The chain around his neck... that flawless caramel skin... your lips should be there...
"Remember when we went to Chettipalayam last year?" Satya asked Xavier, snapping Krithika out of her thoughts; her mind doing Bharatanatyam with Xavier and alluring him to kiss her.
"Yeah, that crazy old bast—"
"He's my father," Krithika blurted, her voice slicing through his sentence like a scalpel.
"Oh," Xavier sobered. "Sorry... I didn't know..." He trailed off, trying to gauge her reaction.
"It is what it is." Her voice was hollow, resignation pooling in every syllable. "I avoid going home unless it's a necessity or emergency. It's been three years now. Last year, he tried marrying me off to the son of some business partner... right when I joined the Xhasis."
She felt overwhelmed, her eyes focused on her plate as her fingers scribbled patterns in the Sambar and fried Vazhaka.
Did they pity her? She hated pity more than anything. She wanted to stop sharing.
"Well, at least he doesn't have to spend his precious money on me anymore," she giggled, trying to turn her pathetic father-daughter relationship into a joke.
Silence. A nerve-wracking silence. She wanted it to disappear. She wanted to hide, cocoon herself in her trauma. It was too much to share.
She dared a glance at Xavier, expecting judgment, but what she saw made her breath catch.
His eyes, a warm amber, glimmered with something tender. Concern. Genuine, unfiltered concern. His face had softened, every trace of his usual cocky smirk wiped clean. For a moment, he wasn't just Xavier, her boss or tormentor—he was someone who cared. But why?
She was just a random employee. A woman who had made a fool of herself by kissing him. He shouldn't care.
"Some fathers," he murmured, the words laced with a pain she didn't understand.
Krithika inhaled deeply, forcing herself not to read into it. Not to care about whatever ghosts haunted his past. She couldn't afford to. Thinking about him was like walking on a razor's edge—and she was already dangerously close to falling.
Apathy... apathy... apathy...
They ate in silence after that—no more hyper-excited teenager stories, no more trauma-sharing from a woman in her mid-twenties—just the quiet clatter of utensils against plates.
Until someone cleared their throat.
"I was thinking of playing chess after lunch. What do you think, Xavi?"
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Do tell me what you feel about this and the upcoming chapters, always open to positive criticism.
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