𝑨𝑵𝑰𝑫𝑰𝑻𝑨: 𝐓𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐇𝐚𝐰𝐚𝐥𝐞 - Yours With All My Heart

{65}•ᴀᴇssɪsᴛᴀɴᴛ-ɴᴏ ᴡᴀʏ•

BONDITA

He kissed my neck, his lips pressing against my skin in a way that sent shivers down my spine. The warmth of his breath lingered there, melting away my anger, my sadness, every ounce of resistance I had been holding onto. My back was firmly against his chest, his strong arms caging me in. I wiggled, tried to break free, but his grip on my wrist tightened, not allowing me to move.

"Chodiye mujh!" (Leave me!) I demanded, my voice trembling with frustration.

But he didn’t let go.

Instead, he slowly turned me to face him, his movements deliberate, calculated. I lowered my gaze instantly, unable—no, unwilling—to meet his eyes.

Then his voice came, firm and distant.

"Get your things and come to my office, Bondita... Das."

For a moment, my mind went blank.

Das?

I felt the name like a slap, like something sharp piercing through my chest.

I lifted my head abruptly, staring at him with wide, disbelieving eyes.

"Aap-aap?... Main toh.." (You-you?... I-I’m...)

I couldn’t complete my sentence. I couldn't form the words. He had called me by my surname—Das. But I wasn’t Das anymore. I was Roy Choudhury. I was his!

He looked at me, his expression unreadable, then gently cupped my face with both hands. His touch was warm, but his eyes carried a hint of regret.

"Sorry, Bondita... Galti se bolne se pehle maine socha nahi!" (Sorry, Bondita… I didn’t think before saying it!)

Oh...!!

So this was how it felt.

This was how he had felt every time I had spoken carelessly, every time I had hurt him without realizing it.

This was how his heart ached.

The pain was unbearable—it clawed at my chest, made my throat tighten. It felt like something inside me had cracked, broken beyond repair.

This was how he felt!

Oh, Bondita!!

What have you done?

What have you done, Bondita!!!

A sob broke past my lips before I could stop it. A single tear slipped down my cheek, then another, and another, until I was crying without restraint.

I had hurt him.

I had hurt my Pati Babu so much.

I felt his fingers brush my tears away, his touch unbearably tender.

"Dard hua?" (Does it hurt?) he asked, his voice quiet but laced with something deeper.

I couldn’t speak. I just nodded slightly, my shoulders shaking with the force of my silent cries.

His fingers tilted my chin up, forcing me to look at him.

"Hona bhi chahiye... Yehi dard se main guzar raha hoon, Meri Jaan!" (It should hurt... This is the same pain I’m going through, my love!)

His words struck me like lightning. My heart clenched, guilt washing over me in waves. I had been so foolish, so blind... I had never thought about how deeply my words had wounded him.

I lowered my gaze again, unable to face him.

He sighed, then pressed a lingering kiss to my forehead, his lips warm against my skin.