IT WAS MEANT TO BE HIM

43- I feel nothing

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Kabir and Erica drove off towards home ....after an hour of driving Kabir stopped the car near a small tea place....he was having tea...Erica was also sitting taking the cup..

Suddenly, a group of children approached, their eyes sparkling with excitement. "Didi, will you join us in making clay pots?" one of them asked, hopeful.

Erica hesitated, biting her lip. "I don't know anything about it, baby," she replied, trying not to make them feel bad.

"Oh, come on, didi! It's easy! Look, so many people are trying!" they urged, gesturing enthusiastically.

Erica glanced at Kabir, who encouraged her with a nod. With a deep breath, she joined the children, kneeling beside a small wheel. Kabir leaned back, enjoying his tea while watching her from a distance. The children guided her, their laughter filling the air as the clay began to take shape under her hands. A subtle smile blossomed on Erica's face, a rare spark of joy in her expression.

A passerby approached Kabir, asking for directions by the time he Kabir turned back, he found Erica standing beside him, her smile faded, replaced by a look of sadness.

"What happened ?" he asked, concern lacing his voice.

"It broke," she murmured, her gaze averted. "Just like everything else I touch."

Kabir held her wrists and took her with him....he sat with her by the potter's wheel .

"Just like this," he instructed, guiding her hands as they shaped a lump of clay together. His fingers grazed hers as she got caged between his arms like a comforting blanket,sending a spark of warmth through her.

As the wheel spun, the clay began to rise, transforming under their combined touch. He adjusted her grip, his hands hovering close, creating a tender moment where their fingers intertwined. She glanced up at him as He leaned closer, his cheeks near her , the warmth of his body radiating to her.

"kabir! It's not breaking!" she exclaimed, happiness in her voice.

With the final flick of their fingers, they finished the pot. They looked at each other their fingers still intervinded coated in clay.

He laughed, glancing down at the pot. "We did a good job."

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Kabir and Erica stepped into the house when a deep, commanding voice cut through the air.

“Kabir!”

His father’s voice echoed through the vast mansion hall, heavy with authority.

Kabir froze for a beat before turning his head. His father stood near the staircase, expression sharp and unreadable.

“In my office. Now,” he growled.

Smriti and Anay exchanged surprised glances, sensing the sudden tension that filled the room.

Kabir gave a brief nod, his jaw tightening. Then, turning to Erica, he said quietly,
“You go and change. I’ll be right back.”

Without another word, he followed his father down the corridor.

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Kabir stood with his hands locked behind his back, his posture rigid, as if he were a soldier awaiting reprimand. He stared at the ground.

"Can I know where you were leaving our damn prestige at stake?" his father's voice boomed, slicing through the tension in the room. The anger in his tone was palpable, echoing off the walls .