Her Only Saviour

56. Fire in her eyes

𝕭𝖊 𝖎𝖓𝖙𝖊𝖍𝖆𝖆𝖓 𝖙𝖊𝖗𝖎 𝖜𝖆𝖋𝖆𝖆𝖔𝖓 𝖐𝖆
𝕸𝖆𝖎𝖓 𝖇𝖊𝖜𝖆𝖋𝖆, 𝖙𝖊𝖗𝖆 𝖓𝖆𝖆𝖒 𝖑𝖊𝖐𝖊

𝕯𝖎𝖑 𝖐𝖔 𝖉𝖆𝖗𝖉 𝖉𝖊𝖐𝖊, 𝖒𝖆𝖎𝖓 𝖇𝖊𝖜𝖆𝖋𝖆
𝕿𝖊𝖗𝖎 𝖐𝖆𝖘𝖆𝖒, 𝖉𝖎𝖑 𝖐𝖔 𝖉𝖆𝖗𝖉 𝖉𝖊𝖐𝖊

𝕮𝖍𝖍𝖚𝖕𝖆 𝖐𝖊 𝖉𝖎𝖑 𝖒𝖊𝖎𝖓 𝖆𝖕𝖓𝖊
𝕵𝖆𝖟𝖇𝖆𝖆𝖙 𝖐𝖔, 𝖈𝖍𝖍𝖚𝖕𝖆 𝖐𝖊 𝖉𝖎𝖑 𝖒𝖊𝖎𝖓 𝖆𝖕𝖓𝖊

𝕵𝖆𝖟𝖇𝖆𝖆𝖙 𝖐𝖔
𝕶𝖞𝖚𝖓 𝖐𝖎𝖞𝖆 𝖍𝖆𝖎 𝖞𝖊𝖍 𝖙𝖚

~~~~~~~~~

𝘽𝙖𝙘𝙠 𝙞𝙣 𝙤𝙗𝙚𝙧𝙤𝙞 𝙢𝙖𝙣𝙨𝙞𝙤𝙣—

The morning light had no warmth.

Anirudh sat on the edge of his bed, still dressed in yesterday’s clothes, his fingers digging into his palms, his jaw clenched so tightly it ached.
His eyes were red-rimmed, the whites streaked with blood, but not from lack of sleep.

From crying.

The kind of crying that came in silence, when the rest of the world was asleep—when even your shadows stop pretending to care.

He didn’t shed a single tear in front of anyone. Wouldn’t let himself. He’d learned long ago that men like him couldn’t afford to fall apart where anyone could see.

So he masked it.
Every crack.
Every flicker of pain.

When the family asked about Nandini over breakfast, concern knitting their brows, he forced a smile that didn’t reach his eyes.

“She’s gone out,” he said, voice steady but hollow.
“Had something urgent to handle for her dance academy.”

It tasted like lies. Because it was.

It wasn’t even his excuse. She made him say it.

And he did.

Because even now, she didn't come though he was the one who told her not to but… and he was still covering for her.

They didn’t believe him—not really.
Their eyes lingered a little too long, their nods a little too slow. But no one pushed further.

He didn’t touch his breakfast.
He couldn’t stomach it.

By the time he reached the office, the city was alive, but he was dead inside.

The staff greeted him, nervous and hopeful, sensing something was off. He didn’t respond—just walked straight ahead, his presence still commanding, but his aura dimmed.

His handsome face—usually calm, composed, powerful—was worn today. Every line etched deeper, every blink slower. The man who could move mountains with his voice didn’t say a word.

He opened the door to his cabin and stepped inside, finally alone with the storm that never stopped roaring in his chest.

The door clicked shut behind him.

He didn’t even take off his coat.

He stood there in the center of the room, breathing heavily.

A lone tear slipped down his cheek before he could stop it.

He didn’t wipe it away.

Because in this room, no one could see him fall apart.

He moved to the edge of his desk, bracing his hands against the surface, trying to steady the storm inside him. But the silence was too loud.
Deafening.
Every tick of the clock reminded him she wasn’t here.