Her Only Saviour

44. Acknowledgment, apology, hope.

𝕾𝖆𝖆𝖞𝖆 𝖒𝖊𝖗𝖆 𝖍𝖆𝖎 𝖙𝖊𝖗𝖎 𝖘𝖍𝖆𝖐𝖆𝖑
𝕳𝖆𝖆𝖑 𝖍𝖆𝖎 𝖆𝖎𝖘𝖆 𝖐𝖚𝖈𝖍 𝖆𝖆𝖏𝖐𝖆𝖑

𝕾𝖚𝖇𝖆𝖍 𝖒𝖆𝖎𝖓 𝖍𝖔𝖔𝖓 𝖙𝖚 𝖉𝖍𝖔𝖔𝖕 𝖍𝖆𝖎
𝕸𝖆𝖎𝖓 𝖆𝖆𝖎𝖓𝖆 𝖍𝖔𝖔𝖓 𝖙𝖚 𝖗𝖔𝖔𝖕 𝖍𝖆𝖎

𝖄𝖊𝖍 𝖙𝖊𝖗𝖆 𝖘𝖆𝖆𝖙𝖍 𝖐𝖍𝖔𝖔𝖇 𝖍𝖆𝖎
𝕳𝖚𝖒𝖘𝖆𝖋𝖆𝖗…

~~~~~~~~~~~

The morning light poured into the Oberoi mansion with golden gentleness.
The air buzzed with low chatter—house help rushing, Dadi issuing instructions, and Saisha complaining about her hair curler burning her finger again.

Nandini walked into the living room, determined to act normal.
But her eyes betrayed her—scanning the room a little too fast, just to find him.

And there he was.

Anirudh.

Sitting on the sofa, sleeves rolled up again, reading something on his tablet with the kind of intensity she wished he’d never look at her with—because that intensity made her forget how to breathe.

“Good morning,” he said, glancing up, his tone calm but his smile lazy.

Nandini blinked.
“G-Good afternoon.”

He arched a brow.
“It’s 8:30 a.m.”

“Right. Yeah. I meant... it feels like afternoon.”
She chuckled nervously and immediately wanted to slap herself.

He tilted his head, amusement dancing in those honey-brown orbs.
“You okay?”

“Me? Totally. I mean—why wouldn’t I be okay? I am always okay. I’m...okayest.”

He laughed.

She almost melted.

She quickly turned to Saisha, pretending to fix her dupatta.
“Your... um, your hair looks...unburnt today.”

Saisha narrowed her eyes.
“You alright, bhabhi? You’re acting weird.”

“I’m not acting weird,” she snapped, then cleared her throat.
“I’m just...hydrated.”

Anirudh stood up, and she immediately took two steps back—only to bump into the corner table and knock over a flower vase.

Splash.

A second later, her kurti was half-drenched, and everyone was staring at her.

Including him.

“Smooth,” he smirked, handing her a tissue.

She snatched it and looked away, cheeks burning.

But as she turned, she could feel it—his eyes still on her.

Quietly watching.

Gently reading her.

And for the first time in forever, she hated how visible her heart had become.

Later that evening, the sun dipped low, casting golden streaks across the Oberoi mansion.

Anirudh stood by the balcony, a mug of coffee in hand, half-lost in the breeze and half in his thoughts.

She was different today. Not the mysterious, composed Nandini he had come to know... but someone oddly softer, clumsier even, like her guard was no longer ironclad.

And it made something stir in his chest.

She’d laughed at his jokes today—not the polite ones, but the kind that crinkled her eyes.

She’d glanced at him when she thought he wasn’t looking.

She’d spaced out when he stood too close.

And Anirudh couldn’t stop smiling.

Just then, the sliding door creaked open and there she was—wrapped in a pale peach kurti, hair tied loosely, eyes hesitant.

“Oh... you’re here,” she said.

He raised a brow.
“Expecting someone else?”

“No. I mean yes—I mean—never mind.”

She joined him by the railing, silent for a moment.
“This view... I like it. It calms me.”

He turned to her, his voice lower now, gentler.
“It’s not the view that calms me anymore.”

She looked up at him, confused.

“It’s you,” he said simply.

Her lips parted, but no words came out.
Just the wind answering for her.

“I don’t know what’s changing, Nandini,”

He continued, not pressing her but just... being honest, “but I see it. And whatever it is—I’m glad. Because for the longest time, I was standing alone in this... feeling.”

He turned to look at the skyline again, and then murmured almost to himself, “And now... you’re finally here.”

He didn’t need a confession.

Not now.

Her presence—flustered, unsure, but warm—was enough.

For the first time in his life, Anirudh Singh Oberoi felt lucky not because of power or wealth, but because she was standing beside him.

Quiet.

Real.

His.

The cool breeze danced between them, rustling Nandini’s dupatta as she stood beside Anirudh, both watching the fading hues of dusk melt into darkness.

Neither spoke, but the silence between them wasn’t empty.
It was full—of unsaid emotions, stolen glances, and breaths held too long.

Anirudh glanced at her again.
She wasn’t looking at the sky anymore—she was looking down, her fingers fidgeting with the ring on her hand, her lashes lowered.

Her silence wasn’t discomfort; it was hesitation… the kind that comes when your heart is whispering truths your mind is still afraid to accept.

And Anirudh—he didn’t interrupt.

He just stood there, close enough for her to feel his warmth, far enough to give her space.

But his heart? It raced like a storm, wanting to pull her closer, to hold her, to tell her he saw it—that shift in her gaze, that softening of her defiance.

The wind stilled.

She finally looked up.

Their eyes met.

And in that gaze, something passed between them—acknowledgment, apology, hope.

She didn’t smile.

Neither did he.

But the weight in their chests eased just a little.

The world continued its usual rhythm.

But for those few silent seconds… their hearts beat in unison.

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Crying. Jumping. Squeaking.

And what not😭

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