Wounded Heart ✔

Chapter - 13

The morning assembled itself with practiced civility: soft footsteps, muted conversation, the small rituals that pretend to smooth over cracks. Under that polite surface there was an electric tension — a cord pulled taut between two truths. Everyone knew Amira would arrive late after her night with friends. Everyone also understood that nothing today would be ordinary.

Aashi sat apart from the chatter, wrapped in a private, looping thought. Meher's touch brought her back.

"Bhabhi, what are you thinking so deeply? Come and take your medicines." Meher's voice was light; the urgency was not.

Aashi accepted the pills and the juice Tanya had prepared. Kiaan moved in, the gesture automatic: an arm, an embrace. She answered him plainly.

"About Amira... and your marriage."

Kiaan's reply was immediate and sharp. "I told you I will marry her," he said, the words pitched as promise and protest both. "That does not mean I will marry while you are alive and breathing. I am not prepared to marry a betrayer. I will never—"

He did not finish. Hadrian descended the stairs, the interruption a hard line of authority.

"Even Ami is not interested in marrying Mr. Kapoor," Hadrian said, voice steady, "and do refrain from using foul language regarding our sister in front of us. We will not tolerate it. We are not like Ami — we will retaliate if you harm her."

Kiaan answered with bitterness. "If you knew what type of person she is, you would see it too. You would choose hate and repulsion over whatever this is."

Luke stepped forward, the calm in his voice deliberate and uncowed. "Mr. Kapoor, if you would like to know, we do know her well enough to read truth from performance. As Hadrian said: do not touch our sister. She was alone once; she is not alone now."

Maan's voice followed, measured and final. "We will not remain silent. Should anyone harm her — by word, deed, or design — they will face us. We are known as Devils. This is not theater. It is a warning."

The room held that warning like a decision made. There was no clamor, no flamboyance — only a calibrated firmness that drew a line in the air. The family's stance was not emotional spectacle; it was a formal boundary: speak no slander, enact no harm. Defend, without appeal.

Outside, the day unfolded as it always had. Inside the living room, something else shifted: a compact, cold and unambiguous, set to govern what followed.

"Maan, Rian, shall we leave? We're getting late," Amira said softly as she descended the staircase. Her red tapeta silk palazzo suit shimmered against the evening light, her braid falling neatly over her left shoulder. She paired the outfit with black semi-heels, her elegance almost effortless.

Both men stilled for a moment, admiration flickering in their eyes—not just at her beauty, but at her strength to stand tall despite what they knew was crushing her inside.

"Yeah, sure, Shona," Maan said, his voice warm as he bent slightly, pressing a tender kiss to her cheek. "You look breathtaking tonight."

Her lips curved into a small, fragile smile—the kind that didn't quite reach her eyes. Still, the gesture was enough to make the heaviness around them ease for a moment.

"And Ami," Luke added with a half-serious frown, "next time... wear something that covers you fully."

Her brows furrowed, a shadow of irritation crossing her features. "Why?"

"Because," Hadrian cut in, his voice low but firm, "we can't stand the thought of anyone's eyes on you. We're possessive, Ami—about you, about your dignity. You're not just our sister, you're our safe place. And we'll protect that at any cost."