BRIDGING HEARTS

{35}

                           JEIA

Mr. Singhania’s hand gripped Rishi’s wrist firmly, pulling it away from my shoulders with an authority that left no room for resistance.
"She is going home," he said, the finality in his tone leaving no room for argument. Rishi hesitated for a moment, the drunken boldness draining from his face as he stepped back.

Before I could react, Mr. Singhania grabbed my wrist—firm, steady, but not rough—and started walking without a word. His long strides made it impossible to keep up, forcing me to stumble slightly as my heels clicked against the floor. I didn’t dare resist. His presence alone demanded compliance, and I found myself following without question.

When we reached his car, he let go just as suddenly. Without sparing me a glance, he pulled open the door. "Get in," he said, his tone leaving no room for argument. His eyes stayed fixed ahead, his expression cold and unreadable, as if I were nothing more than an afterthought.

I sat inside the car and shifted further in, unsure of where to place myself. Mr. Singhania stood outside, his sharp gaze scanning the surroundings as he pulled out his phone and called the driver.

When the driver arrived, Mr. Singhania slid into the seat beside me, his movements smooth and precise. I watched him carefully—the way his gaze remained fixed ahead, his jaw tight, his expression unreadable. Without so much as a glance in my direction, he gave a curt nod to the driver. "Drive."

Silence settled between us, heavy and unyielding. The only sound was the low hum of the engine, a quiet reminder of the distance neither of us attempted to bridge. I shifted in my seat, my fingers fumbling with my phone as I tried calling Saniya again. The screen blinked with the same infuriating message: The number you have dialed is switched off. My grip tightened around the device, frustration curling in my chest, but I said nothing. Neither did he.

Occasionally, my gaze would shift towards Mr. Singhania. He sat there with his usual unreadable expression, his eyes fixed straight ahead, though his clenched jaw and slightly furrowed brow suggested he was a little angry. The tension in the air was palpable, and I couldn’t help but wonder what was going on in his mind.

The car slowed to a stop in front of the house. Without waiting, he stepped out, his movements smooth and practiced. I followed, my heels clicking softly against the pavement, the sound unnervingly loud in the quiet of the night. The air between us was heavy, thick with words left unsaid.

Inside, the silence deepened. I turned slightly, about to thank him—though the words felt strange after everything that had happened. But before I could speak, he was already walking away, his back to me, disappearing down the hallway without a second glance.

I stood there for a moment, the chill of his indifference settling over me. With a quiet sigh, I pulled his blazer closer around myself and made my way to my room, the stillness of the house pressing in on me.

----

The next day started like any other, but the restlessness from the night before clung to me. No matter how much I tried to shake it off, it lingered—a quiet, nagging unease. Since morning, I had been trying to reach Saniya, hoping this time the call would go through. But each attempt was met with the same automated response: "The number you have dialed is switched off."

By the time noon arrived, something changed. The call actually connected. My heart leapt at the sound of the ringing on the other end, my grip tightening around the phone. But she didn’t pick up.

I waited. Five rings. Six. Still nothing.

Frustration coiled in my chest. I tried again. And again. Each time, the result was the same—ringing, but no answer.