Page 98 of No Boss
“They sat here all night. By morning, the man confessed. Made restitution. And he was allowed to live.”
She watched him absorb it.
“The family asked how. He said when there is nothing between two people and the sky… truth becomes easier than lying.”
He looked at the stars again.
At some point, he had moved closer. Not enough to name. Enough to feel. One knee angled toward her, his arm along the stone edge on her side.
The space between them had thinned. He didn’t acknowledge it. Meera did. Every inch of it. Her gaze dropped for a second.
Mistake.
She caught his profile again. The clean line of his jaw, the shadow at his throat, a stillness that suggested he was perfectly, dangerously at ease, despite being this close to her.
She looked away, too late.
“What?” His voice came soft, too soft. Not innocent in the slightest.
His head tilted a fraction, thoroughly enjoying the fact that she didn’t have a reply to that.
“Stars,” she answered, finally.
It was flawless, respectable and completely useless.
“Hmm.” The sound lingered, touched with amusement. “Of course. The stars.”
Like he was allowing her to keep her dignity.
She resisted the urge to throw something at him.
“Tell me more,” he murmured, his tone shifting enough to catch her breath. “About the Anands. About this place.”
He moved again. Barely. Which made it worse.
The last inch vanished. His shoulder came close, too close to ignore, not close enough to protest. His warmth reached her… and stayed.
Her spine went still. Her breath faltered.
This was normal for him, she told herself quickly. Men like Abhinav Kumar Anand did not measure proximity. They didn’t wake up in the morning and think, ‘today I will ruin someone’s ability to breathe by leaning two centimetres closer.’ They simply existed, and proximity… followed.
Which meant, he was used to this.
The thought came sharp.
Used to being this close. Used to other women. Used to this meaning nothing.
And she? She was sitting here like her entire nervous system had resigned.
Her jaw tightened.
Embarrassing. Deeply embarrassing.
She sent up a very quick, very sincere prayer.
‘Maa, just breathing. Okay. I am not asking for anything dramatic. Just… basic functioning.’
Air returned, uneven at first, then enough.
