The Fierce Flame

39||defy you

a little mature content

|A U T H O R|

The melodious chime of her phone interrupts her as she prepares Reyansh's plate. Juggling the plate in one hand, she retrieves her phone from her skirt pocket. Her lips form a subtle frown upon seeing Kaveri's incoming call, knowing the old lady only rings when something needs attention, which is a rare occurrence.

With a resigned sigh, thinking that Veer has once again has proved himself as Reyansh's son, she swipes to answer, bringing the phone to her ear with a chuckle, skipping formalities. "What mischief has Veer been up to now?"

Kaveri's lips twitch with a smile she tries to suppress, pressing them against each other. "Hush," she says, attempting to scold Kiraz.

Kiraz laughs at Kaveri's playful reprimand.

A smile tugs at Kiraz's lips as she balances her phone between her ear and shoulder, pouring orange juice into a glass. "My bad," she mutters, rolling her eyes. "So, what's going on?"

A look of concern crosses Kaveri's face as she walks towards her room, peeking through the gap in her door. "Veer is unusually quiet," she whispers.

"What?" Kiraz sets the jar down, taking the phone in hand. "Veer is quiet?"

Kaveri confirms, "Yes, he is." She watches as Veer lies on his stomach, doodling in his drawing book with a dreamy look in his eyes. His innocent mind replaying the conversation he had with Varun. Is his Papa never going to come to him?

"Since he came back from playing outside, he's been like this," Kaveri explains. "What worries me is that he's quiet, washed up, and even drank his milk."

Kiraz chokes slightly. "He did all that?"

"That's why I called you." Veer causing mischief is one thing, but his unusual silence signals something deeper. He's not even this reserved when up to some mischief.

"What should I do?" Kaveri asks, concern evident in her voice.

Kiraz sighs, rubbing her forehead. "I'll come home early."

"Okay, hurry."

With a humph, Kiraz ends the call, tapping her feet anxiously. Something is definitely off. Veer is normally reserved, and coaxing him to share his thoughts is always a challenge. The comfort a child gets in his mother's presence can never be compared to anybody. She knows her absence in his life has contributed to this. If she hadn't been so focused on building Rayer, maybe Veer wouldn't be like this.

She lifted the plate with a heavy heart, a lump forming in her throat. Should she ask Reyansh to talk to Veer? She recalls how her father and brother used to have their "men's talk." But Veer is only five years old, and Reyansh already has a lot on his plate.

Entering her cabin, she sees him seated on the couch, his muscular thighs spreading out, the tight trousers emphasizing his legs. She swallows nervously, averting her gaze. Reyansh has always exuded a magnetic aura; even when you try to avoid looking at him, you can't help but be drawn to him. Is it just her, or does everyone feel this way?

"Here," she murmurs, placing the plate before him. Taking a seat on the adjacent couch, she settles herself.

"Reyansh," she begins, only to roll her eyes as he snaps his head towards her, giving her an icy glare.

"What should I call you?" she blurts out. What else could she call him if not his name?

"Anything but my name," he warns her, his demeanor serious as he takes a piece of bread from the plate.