Chapter 26

The afternoon had started like any other—quiet, uneventful, and consumed by work. I was reviewing documents in my office when Naman walked in, his expression unusually tense.

"Sir," he began, his voice cautious. "There's something you need to know."

"What is it?" I asked, not looking up from my papers.

"madam's bodyguard reported seeing Siya talking to her earlier today."

The words hit me like a freight train, my pen slipping from my fingers. I looked up sharply, the calm I'd been holding onto shattering in an instant.

"Siya? Talking to Tara?" I repeated, my voice colder than I intended.

"Yes, sir," Naman said, his tone steady but uneasy. "It happened this morning, outside the school."

A surge of panic and anger coursed through me, and I leaned back in my chair, trying to steady my breathing. My mind raced, flashing back to the night when Tara had told me she wanted to run away during the early days of our marriage.

What if Siya had used that against me? What if she had persuaded Tara that I wasn't worth it?

The idea of losing Tara was unbearable. I had come to rely on her presence in ways I hadn't realized until now. She was my anchor, my calm in the chaos of my life.

But Siya... Siya was manipulative, cunning, and knew exactly how to twist words to her advantage. If she had planted doubts in Tara's mind, there was no telling what might happen.

What if she leaves?

The thought hit me like a punch to the gut.

Anger bubbled beneath the surface, raw and unrelenting. My hands clenched into fists, and before I could stop myself, I swept everything off my desk in one furious motion. Papers, files, and my coffee mug crashed to the floor, the sound echoing in the room.

The realization of how much I loved Tara hit me with brutal clarity. It wasn't just affection or comfort—I loved her with an intensity that frightened me. The thought of her leaving, of her not being here, was enough to drive me mad.

I grabbed my phone, my hands shaking slightly as I dialed her number. The line rang endlessly before going to voicemail. I tried again and again, but there was no answer.

"Tara, please call me back," I said, my voice tight with desperation as I left a message.

I slammed the phone onto the desk, my frustration mounting. "Naman!" I barked, and he appeared almost instantly.

"Where is she?" I demanded.

"The bodyguard reported that she went to her grandfather's house, sir," he replied. "She hasn't left since then."

For a moment, I considered driving straight there, but fear held me back. What if she told me she was leaving? What if she said the same words Siya had once said—that I wasn't worth it?

Instead of going to her, I went home, the hours stretching into an agonizing eternity. I paced the living room, glancing at the clock every few minutes. The silence of the house was deafening, and with each tick of the clock, my frustration and anger grew.

The staff moved cautiously around me, their nervous glances only fueling my irritation. I could feel the anger simmering beneath my skin, a volcano on the verge of eruption.

Finally, I couldn't take it anymore. My control snapped.

In a fit of rage, I grabbed the nearest vase and hurled it across the room, watching it shatter against the wall. The staff flinched but said nothing, retreating to a safe distance.

I overturned a chair, the crash echoing in the space. My hands found another object—a lamp this time—and it too met the same fate as the vase.

The mess around me grew, but it did nothing to quiet the storm raging inside. My love for Tara, my fear of losing her, and my anger at Siya's interference all blended into a chaotic whirlwind of emotions.

The mess around me felt like an extension of the chaos inside my mind. Broken glass, shattered vases, and overturned furniture littered the living room, but none of it mattered. My thoughts were consumed by one thing: Tara.

Why hadn't she called? Why hadn't she come home yet? The questions twisted in my mind, feeding my frustration and fear.

And then the door opened.

"Madam," a staff member called out hesitantly.

I turned sharply, my breath catching in my throat as I saw her standing there. Her eyes widened in shock as she took in the scene—the broken objects, the mess, and me, standing in the center of it all. Her wide eyes moved over the destruction in the room before finally landing on me.

Her lips parted as if to speak, but no words came out.

And in that moment, I couldn't tell what scared me more: the idea that she might leave, or the look of hurt and confusion on her face as she stared at me.

"Tara," I said, my voice rough and trembling. Relief surged through me, but it was quickly followed by a flood of anger and fear.

She stepped carefully over the broken objects, her movements slow and cautious, until she was close enough for me to grab her.

"Why are you so late?" I demanded, my hands gripping her arms tightly as I shook her slightly. My voice rose, the fear spilling out as anger. "Why didn't you call me? Do you know how worried I was?"

Her eyes softened, her calmness a stark contrast to the storm raging inside me.

"I'm sorry, Veer," she said gently, her voice steady and soothing. "I should have called. I didn't mean to worry you."

Her words disarmed me, and my grip on her arms loosened.

She reached up, cupping my face with her hands. "I'm here now," she said softly. "Let's go upstairs, okay?"

I let her guide me to our bedroom, her calm presence grounding me in a way I couldn't explain. She stopped briefly to instruct the staff to clean up the mess downstairs, her voice gentle but firm.

Once we were in the room, she made me sit on the edge of the bed. I sat there in silence, my hands still trembling slightly as the weight of the evening settled over me.

I hadn't even noticed the cuts on my hands until Tara knelt in front of me, gently taking my hands in hers.

"You're hurt," she said, her brows furrowed in concern.

"It's nothing," I muttered, but she ignored me, reaching for the first aid kit on the nightstand.

She worked quietly, her touch careful as she cleaned the small cuts on my knuckles. The sting of the antiseptic was nothing compared to the ache in my chest, but I didn't say a word.

As Tara finished cleaning the last of the cuts on my knuckles, she stood up, her quiet strength filling the space between us. But before she could take a step back, I reached out and wrapped my arms around her waist, pulling her close.

I buried my face in her stomach, holding onto her as if letting go would shatter me completely. My emotions, which I had tried so hard to suppress, poured out in that moment—fear, anger, and a desperate kind of relief.

"Tara," I murmured, my voice muffled against her.

She didn't push me away. Instead, her hands cameto rest on my head, her fingers threading gently through my hair. The soothingmotion calmed the storm raging inside me, her quiet presence grounding me in away I hadn't thought possible.