BEDIL SHERGILL || ✔ ||

[27]: Horrors Of The Heart

NEXT DAY

The early morning rays filtered through the curtains of the Shergill mansion, casting a soft glow across the room. Drishti stood in front of the large, ornate mirror in her room, trying to get ready for the Ganesh Chaturthi puja. Dressed in a vibrant yellow saree with a red border, she looked every bit the traditional bride, but there was one problem—her blouse’s buttons refused to cooperate.

"Ugh, of all days" Drishti muttered under her breath, her fingers fumbling with the tiny hooks at the back of her blouse. Despite her best efforts, the stubborn buttons remained unfastened, slipping out of her grip each time she tried to hook them. She felt a flush of frustration rise up in her cheeks. "Why does this always happen to me?" she whispered, biting her lower lip in annoyance.

Just then, she heard a rustle behind her, and before she could react, Rakshit stepped out from the closet area. He was shirtless, wearing only his tailored pants, and the sight made Drishti’s heart skip a beat. The lean muscles of his chest and arms flexed slightly as he moved, the morning light casting shadows that emphasized his toned physique. For a moment, she forgot to breathe, but then the reality of the situation struck her like a bolt.

Her eyes widened in shock, and she immediately turned her back to the mirror, pressing herself against the glass in a futile attempt to hide her unbuttoned blouse. "Mr. Shergill! Can’t you knock before entering?" she shouted, her voice laced with a mix of irritation and panic.

Rakshit stopped in his tracks, his lips curving into a knowing smirk as he took in the situation. He could see the flustered expression on her face, her wide eyes filled with a mixture of anger and embarrassment. His gaze dropped to her exposed back, where the buttons of her blouse remained stubbornly undone. His smirk deepened.

"Well, well" he drawled, his voice teasing and low as he slowly approached her. "Looks like someone’s having a bit of trouble, Mrs. Shergill. Need a hand?"

Drishti’s heart raced as he neared, her body instinctively tensing. "No, I don’t!" she snapped, her tone more defensive than she intended. "I can manage just fine on my own." But the quiver in her voice betrayed her uncertainty, and she knew he could sense it.

Rakshit ignored her protest, continuing to close the distance between them. He stopped just behind her, so close that she could feel the heat radiating from his body. His presence was overwhelming, his scent—a mix of sandalwood and fresh citrus—filling her senses. She pressed herself harder against the mirror, but there was nowhere to go.

His eyes met hers in the reflection, a playful glint in them as he leaned in, his breath warm against her ear. "Are you sure?" he murmured, his voice a seductive whisper that sent a shiver down her spine. "Because it seems to me like you could use some help."

Drishti’s heart pounded in her chest, her mind a chaotic mess. She wanted to push him away, to regain some semblance of control, but her body refused to cooperate. Instead, she stood frozen, her breaths coming in short, shallow bursts as his fingers gently touched the unbuttoned blouse.

"Mr. Shergill-" she tried to sound firm, but his name came out as a breathless plea. Her resolve was crumbling, and he knew it.

Rakshit didn’t wait for another word. With a slow, deliberate motion, he turned her around, positioning her back to him. The cold air brushed against her exposed skin, making her shiver involuntarily. She looked up into the mirror, meeting his gaze through the reflection. There was an intensity in his eyes that she couldn’t decipher—a mix of amusement, challenge, and something else that made her pulse quicken.

"Hold still" he instructed softly, his voice carrying a commanding yet gentle tone that sent another wave of shivers through her. Drishti didn’t move, her body tense as his fingers worked on the first button.