He was her saviour,
She was his strength.
♡ Mira Rathore ♡
After facing twenty-five years of abuse from her own family, Mira got bitter toward emotional ties. To her, it was an illusion.
Her entire life was trapped in darkness and her pasts still h...
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SHE'S HERE. SHE'S SAFE.
SHE'S HERE. SHE'S SAFE.
SHE'S HERE. SHE'S SAFE.
SHE'S HERE. SHE'S SAFE.
I repeated the words in my head as I held Mira tight.
Stains of blood. Skin showing bruises. Eyes wide with fear.
Her small frame quivered, and she seemed delicate, like something easily shattered.
"It's fine, Dhadkan," I whispered. "You're alright. You're safe."
She hid her face in my neck, her gentle cries tugging at my heart, squeezing it like a worn-out cloth. The ache of loss was a heavy presence in the room, as if she had slipped through my fingers.
"WHO. DID. THIS. TO. YOU?" My voice hardened. Fierce protectiveness burned in my chest.
I tucked a stray strand of hair behind her ear.
"M-my p-parents..." She breathed, her voice thick with unshed tears. My eyes grew dark. The jaw clenched.
I should have guessed it when I saw Mira and her parents missing from the ball. I fucking hate myself for leaving her all alone with those bastards. My anger flared again at the sight of her cuts and bruises, but I tamped it down.
Her hands clutched tightly against my blazer while she let out a small cry.
"Sshh. I am here, Jaan." I reassured her while carrying her in my arms. I didn't need anyone asking questions, so I took us through the back entrance up to our bedroom.
"How did you find me?" she asked when we were halfway to our room. Her voice was soft and quiet.
"I didn't catch a glimpse of you in the party hall after the speech." Even though I was trying to be mad at Mira, doesn't mean I can't look at her from time to time. Especially when she was looking like a diva in that pastel color dress. "So," I continued. "when I asked some housekeepers they informed me that you had made your way toward the lavatory but when you didn't join the party hall for another half an hour, I came myself to check on you but then-" My blood boiled before I could complete my sentence.
"You found me in this condition." She finished off my remaining statement while I nodded.
We stopped at our bedroom. The click of our bedroom door closing behind us.
Carefully, I placed her at the edge of our bed.
I'd almost lost her, and I needed her close.
I needed to see her, touch her, comfort her. To reassure myself that she was there and not a figment of my imagination.
Only then I could breathe.
"Are you still mad at me?" She asked, her voice low. She looked at me, her eyes full of tears.
