I was driving to the library.
To get her.
Shivank told me she went there to pick up some books.
My little pie⦠a bookworm, huh? Makes sense. Every time she made an excuse to avoid me, it was always about reading.
Shivank once mentioned she had an entire bookshelf in the corner of her room, stacked with books. A beanbag she loved curling into. Always lost in her own world.
But what kind of books?
That, I didnât know.
And fuck, I wanted to.
---
I was pulling up to the library entrance when I saw it.
And my blood turned ice fucking cold.
My grip on the wheel tightened, the leather creaking under my fingers.
My chest felt tight. My vision blurred at the edges.
Because there she was.
And some fucking bastard had his hands on her.
Tears in her eyes.
A panicked expression on her face.
And his handsâ
On.
Her.
My foot slammed on the brakes so fucking hard that the car jerked, throwing me back in my seat.
I didnât even register getting out.
One second, I was in the car. The next, I was marching toward them, every step pulsing with rage.
Who the fuck does he think he is?
Touching whatâs mine?
Hurting whatâs mine?
Making her cry?
I was going to break every fucking bone in his body.
It took me ten seconds to reach him.
Not a word. Not a warning.
Just my fist crashing into his fucking jaw.
His body hit the pavement with a thud.
She gasped. Her hands flew to her mouth, shock and disbelief flooding her wide, teary eyes.
And thenâ
She did something that made my vision turn black with fury.
She rushed to him.
Crouched down.
Fucking helped him.
"Are you okay?" she asked, voice trembling with concern.
I saw red.
What. The. Fuck.
I grabbed her elbow, yanking her away from him before I fucking lost it.
Took a deep breath, tried to keep myself calm.
Because if I scared her nowâif I let my anger showâsheâd only hate me more.
And that was the last fucking thing I wanted.
"Why were you crying?" My voice was low, rough. "Why the fuck are you worried about him? He hurt you, didn't he?"
She looked at me like I was a goddamn monster.
Shook her head aggressively.
Then why?
Why was he touching her?
Why was he so close?
Why was she trying to calm him down instead of crying in my fucking arms?
Before I could demand answers, the bastard got up, clutching his jaw.
"She was having trouble breathing," he said, voice tight with pain. "She was crying, rubbing her chestâI thought she was having a panic attack. I was trying to help her, man. I wasnât hurting her."
â¦What?
My head snapped toward her.
She was still shaking.
Still clutching her chest.
And thenâ
She did something that fucking shattered me.
She stepped forwardâ
And hugged me.
Her arms wrapped around my torso, her face buried in my chest.
I froze.
Breath caught.
Heart stopped.
Thenâ
It started pounding.
Like a fucking bullet train.
Loud. Fast. Desperate.
She must have heard it.
Because she tensed.
But she didnât move away.
I swallowed hard.
Didnât move.
Didnât dare touch her back.
Didnât dare ruin this.
I just placed a hand on her head, fingers brushing through her hair, slow and careful.
The one thing I didnât want was to make her uncomfortable.
Or worseâscared.
Hug her, you fucking coward.
Take her in your arms.
Donât fucking waste this.
My conscience was laughing at me. Mocking me.
But I just stood there.
Because I knewâ
The second I held her back, I wouldnât let her go.
---
After a few seconds, she pulled away.
Didnât meet my eyes.
Didnât look at me once.
"Why are you here?" she asked softly.
"Shivank told me to pick you up."
She nodded.
Still didnât look at me.
And that was good.
Because if she didâif I saw hate in her eyesâ
I think itâd fucking kill me.