Chapter 8: The Midnight Barrier
[System Notification:
Level of Frustration: 100%
| Romantic Tension: 99%]
The rain wasn't just falling; it was performing a dramatic monsoon symphony against the glass walls of the suite.
I was tucked into the far left edge of the King-sized bed, clutching the duvet like a shield. On the far right, separated by a literal 'no-man's land' of white pillows, lay Ishaan.
The silence was louder than the thunder.
"Meera?" his voice cut through the dark. It wasn't the playful doctor's voice. It was low, raspy, and dangerously intimate.
"Go to sleep, Ishaan. You have to 'scout land' tomorrow."
"I can hear your brain whirring from here. It's louder than the rain. What are you thinking about?"
I'm thinking about how your hand is only twelve inches away from mine. I'm thinking about why you haven't mentioned Ananya once since we got into this room.
"I'm thinking about my structural design for the Sharma villa," I lied through my teeth. "The load-bearing walls are... problematic."
I heard a soft rustle of sheets. He shifted, turning on his side to face my back. I could feel the heat radiating from him.
"You always talk about architecture when you're scared," he murmured. "In 12th grade, before the chemistry boards, you explained the entire molecular structure of cement to me for three hours."
I squeezed my eyes shut. "I wasn't scared. I was prepared."
"Meeru." He reached out. I felt his fingertips hover—just hover—over the fabric of my sleeve. He didn't touch me. The 'Almost-Touch' was a thousand times worse than an actual one. "Why did you stop writing to me when I moved to Delhi?"
The air in the room vanished. This was it. The real reason for the walls between us.
"I didn't stop," I whispered, my voice cracking. "I sent three letters. You never replied. Then I saw a picture of you on Instagram at a medical gala with... with that girl in the red dress. You looked happy. I didn't want to be the 'annoying neighbor' holding you back."
I heard a sharp intake of breath. The bed shifted as he moved closer—close enough that I could feel his breath on my shoulder.
"Meera, look at me."
"No."
"Meera, please."
I turned my head slowly. In the dim light of the lightning, his eyes were burning with an intensity that made my lungs ache. He reached into the space between us, his hand finally closing over mine. His palm was calloused and warm.
"I never got those letters," he said, his voice a jagged edge of regret. "And that girl? She was my senior's sister. I was miserable that night. I spent the whole gala wondering if you'd finally passed your drawing exam."
He leaned in. The world tilted. His face was inches from mine. This was it.The K-Drama freeze-frame.
C-R-A-C-K!
A massive bolt of lightning struck nearby, and the entire farmhouse plunged into pitch-black darkness.
"AH!" A high-pitched scream echoed from the next room.
Ananya.
I scrambled out of bed, the spell broken instantly. "Ananya! She's terrified of the dark!"
Ishaan let out a long, shaky sigh that sounded like a groan of pure agony. He threw his head back against the headboard. "Of course. Of course she is."
He sat up, rubbing his face. The "Confession" was gone, swept away by the monsoon.
"Go to her," he said, his voice returning to that professional, guarded tone. "I'll find the emergency flashlights."
As I ran toward the door, I didn't see Ishaan punch a pillow in silent frustration.
[System Notification: Quest Failed. Relationship Status: Still "Just" Childhood Friends (with 10 years of baggage).]
[Author's Corner]
GASP! The power outage trope! 🕯️ Just when he was about to explain the letters! Why does Ananya have the worst timing? Or is she doing it on purpose?