UNWILLINGLY HIS

The calm after storm

*Samaira's POV*

The drive back was silent. The hum of the engine filled the void between us, but neither of us spoke a word. I couldn’t bring myself to say anything, my mind still reeling from the chaos of the night. The gunshots. The bloodless bodies. The danger that lurked around every corner. It was all too much, and I felt like I was drowning in it.

The city lights outside the car window flickered by, casting brief moments of illumination on Advait's face as he focused on the road, his jaw clenched tightly. He was calm, controlled, like nothing had happened, like everything was still under his command. But I could feel the tension in his every movement. I could see it in the way his hands gripped the wheel, the tightness around his eyes, the guarded expression he wore.

And yet, he didn’t say a word to me. He didn’t ask if I was okay, didn’t offer any kind of reassurance. He didn’t have to. I already knew. I could feel his unspoken protection surrounding me like an invisible shield.

The drive seemed endless, but when we finally arrived, I didn’t even look at the mansion. I didn’t care for the grandeur or the lavishness of the place. All I wanted was to retreat to a place where I could breathe without fear, without the noise of gunshots ringing in my ears.

I didn’t even bother to acknowledge Advait as I walked straight to my room, my body too exhausted to think. The weight of everything that had happened pressed down on me, too much to bear. I felt like I was living in a nightmare, one that I couldn’t wake up from.

As soon as I entered my room, I closed the door behind me and collapsed onto the bed, burying my face in the pillows. My body ached, my mind too overwhelmed by everything that had happened. The events of the night replayed in my head over and over again, the fear, the violence, the rawness of it all.

It didn’t take long before sleep finally claimed me, though it wasn’t the peaceful rest I longed for. The gunshots came back in my dreams, echoing through the silence, sharp and loud, rattling me awake with every blast.

I woke up with a start, my heart racing, my breath coming in short gasps. My eyes shot open, only to find myself alone in the room. My body was trembling, my mind disoriented. The nightmares still lingered in the back of my head, but there was something else too. Something that felt different.

The door to my room creaked open softly, and Advait’s figure appeared in the doorway, silhouetted against the dim light from the hallway. His face was unreadable, but I could tell he was worried.

“Samaira,” he said softly, his voice steady but gentle. “It’s okay. You’re safe.”

I didn’t respond immediately. My throat felt tight, my mind clouded. I didn’t know what to say. The emotions were too much. But before I could even think of a response, Advait was by my side, sitting on the bed and gently pulling me into his arms.

I tensed at first, but then I felt the comfort of his warmth. His hands, strong yet tender, rubbed soothing circles on my back as he held me close. The sound of his heartbeat was steady against my ear, and I found myself clinging to him, trying to chase away the fear that still gripped me.

“You’re okay. You’re safe here,” he murmured, his voice low, almost as if he were trying to reassure himself as much as me.

I didn’t want to speak, didn’t want to give voice to the overwhelming emotions that threatened to spill over. But his presence, his touch—it grounded me in a way nothing else could.

Slowly, he eased me back onto the bed, tucking the blankets around me carefully. I felt his hand linger on mine, a silent promise that he wasn’t going anywhere.

“Sleep,” he whispered softly. “You need rest.”

But I couldn’t. Not yet. I kept my eyes open, watching him as he sat by my side, never letting go of my hand. I was too afraid to fall asleep again, afraid that the nightmares would come back and pull me under.

But as the minutes ticked by, I felt my exhaustion win. Slowly, my grip on his hand relaxed, my body giving in to the pull of sleep. His presence beside me was the only thing that kept me anchored.

And in the quiet of the night, I finally drifted back into a restless slumber, still holding onto his hand, as if it were the only thing that could keep me safe.

When I woke up again, the morning light had just begun to filter through the curtains, casting a soft glow across the room. My body felt stiff, and my hand was still curled around Advait’s, but there was something different about the way I felt.

I opened my eyes slowly, blinking in the dim light, and that’s when I saw him. Advait had not moved. He was still sitting in the same position, his head leaning slightly against the bed’s edge, his body frozen in an unnatural, uncomfortable pose.

His hand was still holding mine, as if he hadn’t let go for a second.

I stared at him for a moment, confusion and something else swirling inside me. Had he really stayed here all night? Had he not moved from this position? I couldn’t believe it. I had expected him to leave, to go back to his own room, but there he was, his body tense and rigid, his hand still holding mine.

I swallowed hard, feeling a strange warmth in my chest. The man who had once broken my heart, the man who had seemed so cold and distant, was sitting here—for me.

My hand tightened around his, and I felt him stir slightly, but he didn’t wake up. He just sat there, unmoving, his presence steady. And in that moment, I realized something.

Advait had stayed. He had stayed with me all night, never once leaving my side.

I didn’t know how to feel about it. A part of me wanted to pull away, to distance myself from the man who had hurt me. But another part, the part that was still scared and vulnerable, clung to him, needing him in a way I couldn’t explain.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, Advait stirred. His eyes slowly opened, locking with mine, and for a moment, neither of us spoke.

His gaze softened as he saw me looking at him, his lips curving into a small, tired smile.

“How do you feel?” he asked quietly, his voice low and rough with sleep.

I didn’t answer immediately. I just looked at him, still processing the fact that he hadn’t moved from this spot all night. That he had stayed. For me.

“I’m okay,” I whispered, finally finding my voice. “Thank you.”

Advait didn’t say anything in return. He just nodded, his eyes never leaving mine, his fingers gently squeezing my hand.

And in that moment, I knew. No matter how complicated, how painful, how broken everything was between us—he was here.