The hospital ward was a sterile sanctuary, its white walls and faint antiseptic scent wrapping Charvi in a fragile cocoon. She lay propped against crisp pillows, her face pale but her eyes sharp, catching the bandage stark against Gauri's dark hair. Concern flickered in her gaze. "Gauri didi, what happened to your head?" she asked, her voice soft but laced with worry.
Gayatri, standing by the window, turned sharply, her maternal instincts flaring. "Yes, Gauri, what's this about?" she probed, her tone demanding truth.
Gauri's smile was quick, a practiced mask. "It's nothing, really," she said, her voice light, deflecting. "Just me being clumsy—slipped and banged my head on a table. Silly accident."
Her fingers brushed the bandage, a fleeting gesture to dismiss their concern.
Gayatri's eyes narrowed, unconvinced, but
Charvi spoke first, her voice gentle yet firm. "You need to take better care of yourself, Gauri. No more accidents, okay?" Her words carried sisterly love, her gaze searching for honesty.
Gauri's smile softened, genuine this time. "Okay, I promise," she said, her voice quieter, sealing the moment. The ward fell back into its rhythm, their unspoken bond lingering in the air.
Hours later, Gauri stepped into the grandeur of Kothari Mansion, the chandelier's golden light glinting off marble floors. The hospital's weight clung to her, but she pushed it aside, climbing the sweeping staircase to her room. She pushed the door open and froze, her breath catching in her throat.
Vihaan stood in the center of the room, fresh from the shower, droplets clinging to his skin under the soft glow of the bedside lamp. A towel hung loosely in his hand as he wiped his broad shoulders, his back a chiseled expanse of muscle, his bare buttocks unapologetically exposed.
Gauri's eyes widened, her pulse racing as she took in the sight—strong, sculpted, and mesmerizing. She was caught, unable to look away, a flush creeping up her neck.
Then Vihaan turned, and their eyes locked.
His face registered shock, a startled curse escaping as he fumbled with the towel.
Gauri's gaze dropped instinctively, and her breath hitched at the sight of him—his cock, strikingly large, bold in its exposure. A scream tore from her throat, sharp and flustered, as she spun around, clamping her eyes shut, her hands flying to her face.
"Vihaan!" she squeaked, her voice a mix of shock and embarrassment.
"Gauri!" Vihaan's voice was a blend of mortification and exasperation as he scrambled to wrap the towel around his waist. "Why didn't you knock?" The towel was knotted now, clinging precariously to his hips, his cheeks flushed as red as hers.
"You should've locked the door if you were going to strut out naked!" Gauri shot back, her words stumbling over her flustered nerves, still facing away. "And… God, it's huge!" The admission slipped out, her voice a mix of awe and embarrassment, her hands still covering her eyes.
Vihaan's laugh was half-nervous, half-amused. "I thought you weren't around!" he said, his tone defensive but tinged with a sheepish grin. "You can turn around now, it's safe."
Gauri hesitated, then peeked over her shoulder, her eyes meeting his for a fleeting moment. But fate had other plans. The towel slipped, gravity betraying Vihaan's hasty knot, and it fell to the floor in a soft heap, exposing him again—his impressive size impossible to ignore.
Gauri's eyes widened, a laugh bubbling up, bright and infectious, shattering the tension. "Oh my God!" she gasped, bolting for the door, her laughter echoing as she fled, leaving Vihaan scrambling to snatch the towel.
"Gauri, wait!" he called, his voice a mix of flustered amusement and exasperation as he fastened the towel tightly, his face burning. The door swung shut, her laughter lingering like a melody, leaving Vihaan alone with a sheepish grin and a racing heart, the moment etched into the quiet of the room.
Gauri stumbled into the corridor, clutching the railing for balance as laughter bubbled out of her. Her cheeks still burned from the sight of Vihaan's flustered face, but she couldn't stop giggling.
But then, like a shadow cutting through moonlight, the laughter faded from her lips.
Her mind replayed last night—the horrifying sight of Vihaan's body lifted into the air, the claw marks tearing across his chest, the blood dripping down as three arrows pierced him. The cries, the chaos… she had seen it with her own eyes.
Yet just now… when he stood before her, bare-chested, fresh from the shower… there wasn't a single scar. Not even a scratch. His skin was flawless, as if nothing had happened at all.
Her smile vanished, replaced by a knot of confusion in her chest. She whispered to herself, "Did I… see wrong? Or… were there really no wounds on Vihaan's body?"
Her fingers tightened on the railing, her brows furrowing as determination flickered in her eyes.
"No… something is hidden here. And I need to confront him."
The laughter from a moment ago was gone, replaced by the heavy weight of questions that refused to leave her mind.
To be continued…