*Early update because someone like the earlier chapter too much*
CONTINUE...
Aarvi stepped out of the bathroom, fingers tightening around the towel as her eyes landed on the bed.
The stain was gone.
The sheet — changed.
And Vivan?
Nowhere.
Her pulse quickened. “Where did he—?”
She glanced at the clock — 2:45 a.m. The room felt emptier than it should have. A part of her wanted to thank him… another part just wanted to disappear from the embarrassment.
Deciding she couldn’t face him like this, she quietly slipped out of the room and padded down the corridor toward Prisha’s door.
The soft knock was answered a minute later by a sleepy, half-awake voice. “Bhabhi? Everything okay?”
Aarvi smiled faintly. “Uh— do you have pads?”
Prisha nodded and without another question she fetched a small packet from her drawer and handed it over. Aarvi mouthed a grateful “thank you” and hurried back toward her room, clutching it tightly.
But as she neared the door, she paused — peeking in through the small gap, to check whether he is there or not.
But he is not in the room.
She took a cautious step forward—
A light tap landed on her shoulder.
She froze, heart leaping.
Slowly, she turned around.
And there he was — Vivan — standing barely a step behind her, dressed in a loose black t-shirt, one hand in his pocket, the other holding a hot pack that still steamed faintly.
Her breath hitched.
He raised an eyebrow, expression calm but questioning, as if his look itself said, “Seriously? Wandering around at this hour?”
The embarrassment hit her like a wave. Aarvi’s cheeks flushed instantly as she clutched the pads tighter — the one thing she really didn’t want him to see.
But of course, he did. His eyes flickered downward briefly, noticing the packet, before returning to her face.
No reaction. No smirk. No teasing.
Just that quiet, composed voice of his.
“I see,” he said softly. His tone wasn’t mocking — if anything, it was matter-of-fact, almost gentle. “You should finish what you need to and then… use this.”
He extended the hot pack toward her.
For a moment, she couldn’t move — torn between mortification and the strange warmth curling in her chest.
He didn’t wait for a reply. Without another word, he placed the hot pack on the nightstand and turned toward the couch.
When Aarvi returned from the bathroom a few minutes later, the room was dimly lit and quiet — except for the soft rustle of the blanket as Vivan settled on the couch.
She blinked, confused. “Why are you sleeping there?”
He opened his eyes, one brow arching in faint amusement, a smirk playing on his lips. “So you want me to share bed?”
Her eyes widened instantly. “No—I mean, that’s not what I meant!” she stammered, words tumbling over each other. “I just— I thought—”
His lips curved, not quite a smile, but close enough to make her heart skip. “Relax, Mrs. Singhania. I’m not that heartless.”
She pressed her lips together, heat rushing to her cheeks. “I wasn’t saying that either.”
He exhaled softly, gaze lingering on her for a second longer than it should have. “Just go to sleep, Aarvi. It’s late.”
She nodded, clutching the hot pack and slipping under the blanket, her mind still tangled in the echo of his tone — calm, teasing, and strangely gentle.
Aarvi settled on the bed, still eyeing him stubbornly stretched out on the couch. He didn’t look her way, didn’t even move — just turned his back and pulled the blanket up, as if she didn’t exist.
She huffed softly and lay down too, but the ache in her lower abdomen began to twist sharper with every passing minute. She tried to ignore it — pressing a pillow to her stomach, biting her lip — but the pain only grew worse.
“Ugh,” she groaned under her breath, curling up on her side.
After a while, she glanced toward the couch. He was fast asleep.
“Look at him,” she muttered, glaring through the dim light, “here I am dying in pain, and he’s sleeping like Kumbakaran.”
Frustrated, she threw off the blanket and marched toward him. “Vivan,” she called softly, shaking his shoulder. Nothing.
“Vivan!” she hissed, shaking him harder.
He jolted awake with a start. “What—what happened?” he asked groggily, blinking against the dim light.
She stepped back awkwardly, clutching her stomach. “D-do you have painkillers?”
He studied her face for a moment, still half-asleep but already understanding. His voice softened. “You shouldn’t take painkillers during periods. They’re harmful.”
“I know,” she muttered, wincing, “but it’s… unbearable.”
He sighed, sitting up fully now. “Should I help you?”
Her eyes snapped up at him. “H-help? How?”
He looked right at her — calm, sincere, almost innocent. “I’ll give you a massage. It helps.”
Her mind blanked for a second. Massage? Heat rushed to her cheeks, her voice barely a whisper. “Y-you’ll—?”
Vivan watched her struggle to form words, the hesitation clear in her trembling voice.
He sighed softly, running a hand through his hair. “Sit,” he said, nodding toward the bed.
She blinked, uncertain. “W–what are you—”
“Just sit, Aarvi,” he repeated, gentler this time.
She obeyed quietly, sitting on the edge of the bed. He sat beside her, close enough that she could feel his warmth but not enough to startle her. His hand hovered for a second, as if asking silent permission. When she didn’t move away, he began to press his palm lightly against her abdomen, steady and careful — not too firm, not too soft.
Her breath caught at first — half from the pain, half from the strange calm that came with his touch. The warmth seeped in slowly, easing the dull ache.
“You know,” she murmured after a pause, trying to distract herself from how aware she suddenly was of him, “you… seem to know a lot about this.”
He glanced at her briefly, then back down. “It’s basic care. Nothing special.”
She hesitated, then asked softly, “You must have helped Kiara too, right?”
His fingers paused for the briefest moment. Then he resumed, voice even. “No. Kiara never let me. Said it made her look weak.”
Something shifted in Aarvi’s chest — something quiet, unexplainable. The ache in her stomach had eased, but another, deeper feeling replaced it — one she didn’t dare name.
For a while, neither of them spoke. The only sound was the faint ticking of the wall clock and the soft rhythm of his hand, careful and sincere.
She looked down at him, realizing for the first time… she was the first woman he’d ever cared for like this.
And that thought alone felt far too heavy for the night to hold.
He resumed the massage, more gently this time, until the tension slowly eased from her body.
When he finally stopped, he stood up quietly and handed her the hot pack from before. “Use this now,” he said, his tone soft again.
She nodded wordlessly, eyes down. As he turned toward the couch, she watched him — unsure why her chest felt oddly full.
A few minutes later, when the room had gone quiet again and he was lying on the couch with his eyes closed, Aarvi whispered into the dark,
“Thank you.”
He didn’t respond. But his fingers twitched slightly, and the faintest curve of a smile touched his lips — one he didn’t let her see.
~♥~
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