Happy reading

VEER POV

After dinner, I was in a dilemma about where to sleep. If I were in his place, I wouldn't want someone encroaching on my personal space.

"What are you waiting for?" he asked, his voice a low rumble, as he began putting utensils in the sink.

I moved to help him, my hands automatically reaching for the bowls and setting them in the fridge.

"Are you going to Madhya Pradesh?" I asked, the words a quiet question, breaking the silence.

"Yes, how did you know?" he inquired, a hint of surprise in his tone as he turned to face me.

"I heard it from your secretary," I answered.

"Veer, come here," he said, and I felt an inexplicable pull to obey, moving closer until I was standing near him as he leaned against the kitchen counter, his presence suddenly overwhelming the room.

"I have to go for two days," he continued,

"I would have taken you with me, but it's quite dangerous. Tell me immediately if something happens here." He said, his voice softer now, and then he reached out, patting my head gently. The unexpected touch sent a peculiar warmth through me, a strange mix of comfort and something else I couldn't quite name.

"I don't have your number, how will I call you?" I blurted out, realizing the practical absurdity of his request.

"Give me your phone," he said, and I instinctively handed it over, a sudden wave of sadness washing over me at the thought of being alone here. I didn't want to be alone.

"Here," he said, returning my phone. My eyes immediately fixed on the screen, his name, "OM," displayed there, accompanied by a small flower emoji.

"Why did you add an emoji with it?" I asked, even as I felt a reluctance to edit it out.

"Show me, how did you save my number," I demanded.

"It's just a simple name," he replied, but a smirk played on his lips, confirming my suspicion that he'd chosen something bizarre.

"No, show me," I insisted, leaning in, trying to peek at the screen over his shoulder. He straightened his arm, holding the phone high above his head, well out of my reach.

"Let me see, na!" I whined, rising on my tiptoes, stretching my hand, trying desperately to reach his. Is he a giraffe or something? How can he be this tall? I huffed in annoyance.

"Okay, fine," I muttered, giving up on the futile attempt.

I was about to turn away when I felt his hand on my wrist, a gentle yet firm pull drawing me towards him. I lost my balance, stumbling forward, my hands instinctively grabbing his shoulders for support, and I fell against him. His solid warmth enveloped me, and for a fleeting moment, I was keenly aware of his scent, a subtle mix of something clean and distinctly masculine.

"What are you doing?" I asked, trying to back away, my heart thrumming a frantic rhythm. But he slid his hand to my waist, pulling me even closer. What's he up to? Is this his normal behavior with everyone?

"I'll show you, but I have a condition," he said, his voice a low, teasing murmur against my ear. These businessmen are all corrupted, I thought.

"I don't want to see!" I declared, pulling free and practically bolting into the room without looking back, my cheeks burning. But even as I fled, I could hear his laugh, deep and resonant, echoing through the living room, following me.

I could still feel the sensation of his breath on my neck, a shiver running down my spine. What's happening to me?

I practically leaped onto the bed, burying myself under the blanket, seeking refuge in its comforting darkness. A perfect sleep, I hoped, would banish this unsettling feeling.

I was feeling an unnerving mix of uneasiness and nervousness around him. He was older than me, I reasoned, and, more importantly, still a stranger.

Then the bed dipped from the other side, the familiar, annoying pressure indicating his presence.

I gently pulled the blanket back a bit, just enough to glimpse him, and found him already gazing in my direction.

"What?" I whispered, a soft query in the quiet room.

"You're such a child," he murmured, his voice a low rumble, and then he began to hover closer. My eyelids fluttered shut in anticipation, my mind racing: What is he trying to do? But then, with a click, he switched off the lights and retreated. A silent breath I hadn't realized I was holding finally escaped me.

The room, though darkened, was still illuminated by the soft glow from outside, enough light to make shapes visible through it.

"Why do you live here alone? Why not with your family?" I asked, breaking the silence that had settled between us.

He sighed, a faint sound in the quiet.

"They keep insisting I get married. Every time I go home, it's their one constant request."

"You are quite old," I pointed out playfully, "Bhai already has a kid."

"What age do you consider perfect for marriage?" he asked, his tone shifting, becoming more serious.

"Twenty-five, twenty-six, I guess," I replied, considering the question.

"Then will you get married at those specific ages, or do you already have someone in your life?" he pressed, his voice now entirely earnest, almost intense, about this marriage topic.

Bro, I'm just twenty-one! Why is he asking such typical uncle-type questions? I thought.

"I don't want any relationship right now, and I'm certainly not as old as you are for marriage," I retorted playfully.

"Hey! I'm not that old!" he protested, but I met his gaze with a raised eyebrow, a silent challenge.

"If you don't believe me, then let's compete," he proposed, shifting to sit up on the bed.

"Kya competition itni raat ko? Aap pagal ho gaye ho lagta hai," I muttered.

(What competition at this hour? I think you've gone mad.)

"The one who does more push-ups wins. And if I win, you have to accept I'm not old," he declared, a childish glint in his eyes. Such a childish man, I mused. I thought Vishal was childish, but he's even worse.

"No, I don't want to do it," I said, shaking my head.

"Are you afraid of losing?" he taunted, and then, without warning, he reached out and took my hand, gently trying to pull me towards him.

"Kya?" I said, startled by his sudden action.

( What?)

"Let's do it," he repeated, his grip firm yet gentle on my hand.

"No, you're injured. I don't want to have to take you to the hospital at this hour," I insisted.

"Okay," he finally conceded, releasing my hand and giving up on his eccentric idea.

He then began to struggle with his shirt, trying to remove it, but it caught awkwardly on his forearm due to his injury. I instinctively sat up and moved closer to him.

"Ruko, you'll hurt yourself," I said, reaching out when I saw him aggressively struggling with the fabric. I knelt on the bed to reach his level and gently, carefully, slid the shirt down from both his hands.

"Do you want to wear another one?" I asked, my voice soft.

"No, I'll sleep like this," he replied, his gaze meeting mine for a brief, intense moment before I pulled back.

I retreated to my side of the bed and lay down. Then I noticed him getting off the bed and heading into the washroom. A comfortable drowsiness began to settle over me, and after a while, when he still hadn't returned to the room, I drifted off to sleep.

In the morning, a  weight pressed down on me. My eyes fluttered open and immediately fell upon the man who was literally sleeping over me. His leg, dangerously close, could at any moment brush against my 'member,' and oh my God, why was it up in the morning? This morning wood would be utterly embarrassing if he saw it. I tried to gently shift his leg and hand, but he only snuggled closer, his knees bumping subtly against my morning-hard 'member.'

"Ah..." A soft, involuntary sound escaped my lips before I could stop it. It was truly mortifying. What should I do? Why isn't he moving away? Finally, after summoning all my strength, I managed to carefully nudge him to his side. Then, in a flurry of movement, I scrambled off the bed and practically ran into the washroom to attend to my urgent business. After taking care of it, I quickly bathed and emerged wrapped in a towel, having forgotten to bring my clothes with me.

With silent steps, I re-entered the room, not wanting to disturb him. As I rummaged through my bag, searching for clothes, I heard his voice, sharp and sudden.

"Why didn't you put these clothes in the almirah?" he asked, and the unexpected sound made me jump, startling me so much that I recoiled until my back hit the wall.

"You scared me," I managed to say, one hand instinctively going to my chest, patting my rapidly beating heart.

"Answer my question!" he commanded, his voice dead serious, devoid of any of the playful teasing from before.

"I didn't find it necessary," I replied, my voice a little shaky from the surprise.

"Why?" he pressed, taking a step closer. He stood there, shirtless, dangerously near. A strange unease coiled in my stomach. Is it right for two men to be this close? I'd never been this physically close to anyone outside my family, except Naina. A confusing  emotions I couldn't quite decipher began to churn within me. I felt his fingers gently brush my chin, tilting my face up, compelling me to meet his gaze.

"I'm here for a short period, that's why," I explained, but the next moment, all my belongings were scattered across the floor.

"Why did you do that?" I questioned, my voice rising in disbelief at his sudden, outrageous act.

"Arrange them in this closet, and only after that  we can leave for the office," he literally commanded, his tone leaving no room for argument.

"Don't you dare to order me around!" I snapped, a fierce surge of defiance running through me. I couldn't let anyone walk all over me.

"You know I can do that," he countered, his eyes holding a challenging glint.

"You have a choice: do it yourself, or I'll do it," he said, his voice calmer now, but the underlying threat was clear.

"Why are you doing this?" I asked, frustration bubbling up inside me.

"I want you to feel at home," he replied, and the unexpected tenderness in his voice caught me completely off guard. My defiance crumbled. I had no immediate response to that; perhaps I had been misunderstanding him all along.

He bent down, as if to pick up the scattered clothes. Instinctively, I reached out and gently held his hand. He looked up at me, his gaze questioning.

"I'll do it," I said, my voice softer now, the earlier anger disappeared.

"Okay," he agreed, and then, to my surprise, he offered a soft, almost shy smile. What a bipolar human being, I thought, a hint of amusement replacing my confusion.

I started to gather the scattered pieces, and he turned to walk away. But just as I began to collect my clothes, he reappeared directly behind me.

"The mole on your chest is beautiful," he murmured, his voice a low whisper right by my ear. The unexpected intimacy of his words made me take a startled step back, and my foot slipped. I lost my balance, but in a swift movement, he slid his hand onto my bare waist, catching me before I could fall.

"Are you some kind of pervert?" I blurted out, quickly pulling away from him, the situation suddenly intensely awkward between us.

"Bhalai ka to koi zamana hi nahin! I helped you, and you're saying this to me?" he exclaimed dramatically, a wounded expression on his face.

(There's no appreciation for goodness these days! I helped you, and you're saying this to me?)

Without waiting for my response, he vanished into the washroom, leaving me standing there, a mix of confusion, embarrassment, and a strange flutter in my chest.

His hair was still disheveled from the bandage on his head.

He approached me with calculative steps,  decreasing the distance between us, and then forwarded his hand towards me. I instinctively backed off a bit. "What?" I asked, my voice a little guarded.

He signaled me with a finger to come closer, and my feet with a will of their own, found their way towards him, without my acknowledgment. He settled his hand on my tie.

"Oh, it became a little messy," he murmured, bending down to my level to correct it.

Once he was done, I stated, "Let's finish breakfast, I'm hungry." It was a childish behaviour that revealed itself automatically in front of him, and even I didn't know the reason for it.

After finishing our breakfast, he placed the utensils in the sink just as I opened the door for the nurse who had arrived. "Omkar sir," I called him.

"Yes," he answered, coming into the living area.

The nurse did her work, but his hair still wasn't quite right.

"Your hair," I said, my hand reaching out to correct it, but I quickly pulled it back as consciousness hit me. Why was I being this liberal with him?

"What happened?" he asked, tilting his head so I could fix them. I was struggling with my thoughts and emotions, a whirlwind of confusion.

He took my hand in his and gently placed it on his head. With a strange sense of ease, I set his hair neatly.

"Let's go, we're getting late. You're the boss, but I'm not," I said, a hint of urgency in my voice. There were already so many statements circulating in the office about me being there because of my brother—which was basically true, though I hadn't come here on my own will. This man, who was grinning right now, was the reason for that.

"Command accepted, Mr. Yaduvanshi," he said dramatically, and I rolled my eyes in annoyance, though a small smile tugged at my lips.

Reaching the office, I settled into my usual spot and started working on the remaining documents. His assistant came towards me and said, "Sir, the office is having a party among colleagues right now, and you are invited."

"Is it compulsory for everyone?" I asked, because I wasn't really close with anyone here, being new. "Yes," he replied.

"Okay," I agreed, and followed him until we reached the spot.

I greeted everyone and settled among them.

"Veer, are you close with the boss?" a man in his forties asked. "Not really," I replied.

"Does he have a girlfriend?" a girl asked, her voice laced with curiosity.

"I don't know, it's his personal matter," I replied, feeling a slight irritation at the line of questioning.

"Is he rude with you also?" another man asked.

"No," I replied, a simple truth.

"You are lucky to have a wealthy background; that's why the boss doesn't shout at you, but don't tell this to the boss or my job will be in danger," one of them again commented on my family background, a familiar jab.

"Okay, Veer sir, do you have a girlfriend or girlfriends?" a girl asked, and the whole table erupted in laughter.

"It must be easy for you to get a girl," a man said near my ear.

"Tell me, the boss must have some 'chicks' beside him, right?" another girl asked in desperation, her eyes wide with a thirst for gossip.

They just wanted to know about Omkar Sir and comment on me; that's why they had invited me here, not because they wanted to befriend me.

"I really don't know," I replied, my patience wearing thin.

"Excuse me," I said, pretending to attend a call, wanting desperately to get away from these nosy people who were only interested in gossiping about their boss.

"Bade baap ki aulad h hamare sath kyu baithega,

Iski to table bhi boss ke cabin ke pas h,

Hum kaha barabari kr payenge ,

He is much younger than us still ordered by boss to calll him sir." I could still hear their comments, the words cutting through the air.

(Why would the child of a rich father sit with us? His table is even next to the boss's cabin. How can we compare? He is much younger than us, yet the boss ordered us to call him 'sir.')

It was nothing new for me. People rarely tried to understand me beyond this facade of money and power. But it was still good, I reasoned; they could just talk and couldn't do anything about it. The constant judgment, the assumption that my life was effortlessly easy because of my background, weighed heavily on my spirit, leaving me feeling isolated amidst the crowd.

I returned, having regained my composure, determined not to lash out. After all, I carried Yaduvanshi blood, and disrespect was something I simply couldn't tolerate. They fell into an awkward silence as they sensed my presence, though a low murmur of voices still lingered. Someone offered me a glass of juice; getting drunk was, of course, strictly prohibited in the office.

"Veer!" Omkar Sir's voice boomed from the corridor, startling me.

I reached him, almost running. "Why are you shouting like that?" I whispered, hoping to avoid attracting any more attention.

"Oh, I didn't see you at your table. You're my responsibility, Veer. Your brother would literally kill me if anything happened to you," he murmured near my ear. I instinctively backed off, creating a bit of distance between us.

"I'm not a child, and are you that afraid of Bhai?" I asked, a hint of irritation in my tone at his overly dramatic, and frankly, untrue behavior. I knew, with absolute certainty, that he wasn't afraid of anyone or anything in this world—not even death or loss. His reputation in the business world spoke volumes.

"You know the answer to that," he said, his voice softening, "but I'm genuinely worried about you." His declaration caught me completely off guard.

"What could possibly happen to me in this office, your office?" I countered.

"I don't know," he simply stated, his voice suddenly loud enough for everyone to hear. "Just get back to your seat." At his command, everyone else also snapped back to their work.

I walked ahead of him and settled at my desk; he followed close behind.

"Sir," I began, looking at him pointedly, "I think you need to re-examine your brain. There's definitely something wrong with it."

"Then accompany me to the hospital," he retorted, successfully getting on my nerves.

"Aapko sahi mein koi kaam nahin hai?" I asked, exasperated.

(You truly have no work, do you?)

"Okay, I won't disturb you anymore. Do your work properly," he said, his tone suddenly serious, and then he vanished into his office room.

The entire day passed buried in files, save for lunch, which I ate alone. Omkar Sir had a string of meetings to attend.

Finally, the workday drew to a close. I arrived at his house first; he was a workaholic, just like Vardhaan Bhai, and had told me to go ahead as he would come later. I slumped onto the sofa and dialed Naina's number. After a few rings, she finally picked up.

"Finally, Yaduvanshi ji remembered me!" she said, her voice dripping with sarcasm because I hadn't called her back.

"Naina, yaar, you know I was busy," I replied, a sigh escaping my lips.

"I know, I know. Busy with a hot man," she teased, and I shook my head, wondering what on earth went through that girl's mind.

"Busy with work," I corrected firmly. I then proceeded to tell her about the incident of him being injured and all the other office gossip that had unfolded throughout the day.

Happy reading

Your author

Keya 💛