The days blurred into a tense routine. Divit’s absences became harder to explain, and his bruises more difficult to hide. Kirti noticed how his mother eyed him suspiciously every time he walked into the house late, his face marked by the evidence of yet another fight. His father grew quiet, and even the usually cheerful moments at the dinner table were tainted with unspoken tension.
One night, after a particularly brutal fight, Divit limped into their bedroom. Kirti stood by the bed, her eyes widening as she saw the deep purple bruise forming on his jaw, his knuckles raw and swollen.
"Divit," she gasped, rushing to his side, "you’re hurt again. How much longer can this go on?"
He winced but waved her off, dropping heavily onto the edge of the bed. "It’s nothing. I’m fine."
"You are not fine," Kirti insisted, kneeling before him and gently reaching for his hand. "Look at you. How long are you going to keep hiding this from your family?"
Divit’s eyes softened as he watched her fuss over him, the warmth in her touch soothing the ache in his body. "I don’t want to drag them into this mess. It’s better if they don’t know."
"They already suspect something, Divit. Your mother... she keeps asking me questions, and I don’t know how long I can keep lying to her." Kirti’s voice cracked as she looked up at him, her worry etched into every word. "I don’t want this life for us. I don’t want to see you come home broken every night."
Divit sighed, pulling her onto the bed beside him. His fingers stroked her hair, a small gesture that had become a comfort between them. "I hate putting you through this," he murmured. "You don’t deserve it, Kirti."
"And yet, here we are," she whispered, resting her head against his chest, listening to the steady beat of his heart. "I chose to stay, Divit. I chose to be with you, knowing what this would mean."
His grip tightened around her, the tension in his muscles evident. "I don’t know what I’d do without you," he admitted softly. "You’re the only thing that keeps me sane in all of this."
Kirti looked up at him, her heart swelling with the love she now felt so deeply for him. The man who had once been cold and distant was now hers in every way. Their bond had grown stronger with each passing day, each shared secret, and each tender moment.
"I’m not going anywhere," she promised, brushing her fingers gently along his jaw. "But you have to stop pushing yourself like this. Your family is starting to ask questions, and I... I don’t want to see you get hurt any more than you already are."
Divit leaned down, pressing a soft kiss to her lips. It wasn’t the desperate, fiery kiss they had shared after their arguments or the one fueled by frustration and need. This one was gentle, filled with the unspoken emotions they both carried.
When he pulled back, his eyes searched hers. "I’ll figure it out," he said quietly. "I’ll find a way out of this, I promise."
Kirti nodded, though doubt still gnawed at the edges of her mind. She believed in him—she had to. But the longer Divit stayed in the underground world, the more she feared that the danger would one day catch up to them.
The following week, tensions in the house rose. Nandini cornered Kirti in the kitchen one evening, her eyes sharp with suspicion.
"Kirti," she began cautiously, "is something wrong with Divit? I’ve noticed the bruises, the late nights... he says he’s just working, but I can’t shake the feeling that there’s more to it."
Kirti froze, her hands gripping the edge of the counter. She had been dreading this moment, the questions she had no good answers for. "Mummy ji, I—"
Before she could finish, Divit appeared in the doorway, his expression unreadable. "Mom, it’s nothing," he said firmly, his voice calm but authoritative. "I’m just dealing with some business matters. There’s no need to worry."
Meera frowned, her gaze shifting between her son and daughter-in-law. "Divit, I’m your mother. I know when something’s off. You’ve been keeping secrets, and this family doesn’t function on secrets."
Divit walked over, placing a reassuring hand on her shoulder. "I’m handling it, Mom. Trust me."
Kirti watched the exchange, her heart racing as the weight of the situation pressed down on them. She knew that Nandini wasn’t easily convinced, and soon, the rest of the family would start asking questions too.
Later that night, after the house had gone quiet, Kirti found Divit standing by the window in their room, staring out into the night. His shoulders were tense, and his hands clenched at his sides.
"You’re thinking about what your mother said," she said softly, coming to stand beside him.
He nodded, his jaw tight. "I hate lying to them. I hate what this is doing to all of us."
Kirti slipped her hand into his, lacing their fingers together. "Then let’s find a way out, Divit. We’ll figure it out together."
He turned to her, his eyes filled with gratitude and something deeper—a love that he hadn’t always known how to show. "I don’t deserve you," he whispered.
Kirti smiled up at him, cupping his cheek. "You deserve happiness, Divit. We both do."
He leaned down, capturing her lips in a kiss that was both tender and desperate as if he was trying to hold on to the one thing in his life that felt right. Kirti melted into him, her hands wrapping around his neck as the kiss deepened, their emotions pouring out in the silence of the room.
When they finally pulled away, Divit rested his forehead against hers. "No matter what happens," he murmured, "I’m going to protect you, Kirti. I’ll protect this family, and I’ll protect us."
"I believe you," she whispered back, though the shadow of doubt still lingered.
But for now, in this moment, they had each other. And that was enough.
As the weeks passed, Kirti became Divit’s anchor in the chaos. His bruises became more frequent, and his absences longer, but in the rare moments they shared, their bond only deepened. Late at night, when he would return battered and bruised, she would tend to his wounds, offering him comfort with gentle hands and soothing words.
Each time they lay together, wrapped in the warmth of each other’s embrace, Kirti felt the weight of the outside world slip away, even if just for a little while.
"I love you," he had whispered one night, his voice rough with exhaustion, his body heavy against hers.
Kirti’s heart swelled, the words sinking deep into her soul. She had waited so long to hear them. "I love you too," she whispered back, pressing a kiss to his temple.
And in that quiet, intimate space they had carved out for themselves, Kirti knew that no matter what came next, she wasn’t going to let go of the man she had fallen in love with. Not now. Not ever.
