HER SAFE PLACE

Justice

Shivangi's POV

As I stood in front of the mirror in our bedroom, I watched Rocky’s reflection as he gently slid the bangles onto my wrists. His fingers lingered for a moment, warm and steady, and I couldn’t help but notice how his touch felt different today—like he was holding onto something more than just the jewelry.

He didn’t say much, but his silence wasn’t empty; it was heavy, filled with emotions he wasn’t letting out. After the bangles, he picked up the box of vermilion. My heart thudded as he took a pinch of it and carefully applied it to my parting, his eyes soft but distant, like he was lost in a whirlwind of thoughts. Then, without a word, he fastened the nuptial chain around my neck, his hands lingering on the clasp as if reluctant to let go.

I took the medicine he handed me, swallowing it without protest, but my attention was solely on him. His movements were deliberate, almost mechanical, and that quiet intensity was unsettling. Something was definitely off, and I could feel it in the air between us.

“Rocky,” I said softly, but he didn’t meet my gaze. He turned to place the medicine bottle back on the table, his jaw tight and his shoulders tense.

I couldn’t take it anymore. Setting the glass aside, I turned around and faced him, cupping his cheek with my hand. “Rocky,” I said again, my voice firmer this time, “if you don’t want me to go, I won’t. I trust you, okay?”

He stilled under my touch, his eyes finally meeting mine. There was a storm in them, raw and unguarded, but instead of relief, there was something else—something that made my chest tighten.

I brushed my thumb over his cheek, trying to reassure him. “I’m not going anywhere if it hurts you. Just say the word.”

But he still didn’t look relieved. Instead, he took a step closer, resting his forehead against mine. His breathing was shallow, and I could feel the weight of whatever he was holding back. I stayed quiet, giving him the space he needed, but my heart was racing, desperate to understand what was going on inside him.

And then, just as I thought he might finally speak, he wrapped his arms around me and held me like he was afraid I’d vanish. The intensity of his embrace was almost suffocating, but I didn’t pull away. Whatever was bothering him, I was determined to face it with him—even if it scared me.

“Shivangi,” Rocky finally spoke, his voice quiet but firm. “After breakfast, we’ll go there.”

His words hung in the air like a weight pressing down on me. Before I could process what he meant, he pulled away from me, his warmth leaving a void in its place. The unease I’d been feeling twisted tighter in my chest, an ache I couldn’t quite explain. It felt like he was slipping away, and no matter how close we stood, there was a growing distance between us.

Rocky reached for my hand, his grip firm yet gentle, and began leading me toward the door. I followed for a step, my feet moving instinctively, but that gnawing feeling only grew stronger. Something wasn’t right.

I stopped abruptly, pulling back on his hand. “Rocky, wait,” I said, my voice trembling slightly. He turned to face me, his brows furrowing as if he hadn’t expected me to stop.

He turned to face me, his expression unreadable. “What’s wrong?” he asked, the faintest flicker of confusion in his eyes.

I stepped closer, my gaze fixed on him. “You tell me,” I said, my voice soft but firm. “I know something is really bothering you, Rocky. But I’m here. If you want to talk about anything, I’m here. I’m not going anywhere.”

He just shrugged, a quick, almost dismissive motion, and then his gaze flicked toward the door. “It’s nothing. Let’s just go.”

But I could see it—the way he was avoiding my eyes, the way his shoulders tensed even more with each passing second. It was clear he wasn’t fine.