Page 73 of The Redemption
The next few shots blur into something else entirely. He keeps guiding me, not always touching, but always there. Adjusting my stance. Correcting my aim. Instructing me like he has all the patience in the world, even though I know he doesn’t. There are moments when our bodies brush against each other as I lean over the table to aim. It’s accidental. We both know that. Then why do our eyes lock afterwards, making the contact feel like it meant so much more?
At one point, I glance back and realise how close we are. Close enough for me to feel his warm breath caressing my lips.
Raghav’s gaze holds mine, and even though neither of us is looking at the table anymore, his hand still moves somehow. The cue strikes, and the ball drops into the pocket again.He’s that perfect.Even standing this close to me, with the air between us charged with something unspoken, he still manages to play the perfect shot without even looking. He doesn’t lose focus, even when he’s this close to losing control.
All this is so wrong. I’m not supposed to feel like this for Raghav, but it’s difficult to break an eye lock like that. Maybe hefeels it too. Because the next second, he steps back. The space between us returns, but it doesn’t feel the same anymore.
I clear my throat and try to focus on the table again. I take a shot on my own this time, but my concentration is already slipping. A few loose strands of hair fall into my face, blocking my view. Annoyed, I try to shake it off, push them back again and again, but they keep falling.
Before I can fix it again, Raghav’s hand closes around my right wrist. Without even turning me around, his fingers find the hair tie looped around it and slides it free from my wrist, his fingers grazing my skin and making my breath hitch.
Before I can even gather my thoughts, he gently straightens me, my back still facing him. Then, his hands move to my hair and gather it carefully behind me, pulling it away from my face. His fingers move through the strands with surprising patienceas he ties it into a ponytail, like he’s done it a hundred times before.
The image of a man like him, tying a woman’s hair into a ponytail, doesn’t sit right, yet somehow it does. And it feels strangely intimate. No one has touched me like that without my permission, not even for something as simple as tying my hair. I don’t move. I don’t speak. I just stand there, feeling every second of it, praying he doesn’t hear the frantic beating of my heart.
When he’s done, his hands linger for just a fraction longer before he lets go. I turn around, still standing so close to him, when my phone buzzes. The screen lights up, and my gaze drops to the phone lying on the edge of the pool table. So does Raghav’s.
At first, I don’t even register what’s on the screen. I’m still distracted by the feeling of his hands in my hair. But then, I see his expression change. It happens in an instant. That softness on his face disappears. His jaw tightens, and his eyes turn cold. My stomach drops before I even look at the phone again, realising he must have read another crude message notification from Parag.The kind I’ve repeatedly told him to stop sending. The kind that reads‘Every time you ignore me, sweetheart, I just keep imagining how loudly I’ll have you screaming my name when you’re finally mine.’
My stomach sinks, knowing Raghav just read that too. And before I can react, he reaches forward and snatches my phone straight off the table.
“Raghav—”
I step forward immediately, glaring at him. “How dare you—”
But the words die halfway because he unlocks my phone. Just like that. My eyes widen as his fingers move across the screen, tracing my pattern lock without the slightest hesitation.
“What the hell!” I stare at him in shock. “How do you know my password?”
He doesn’t respond. Doesn’t even glance at me. His attention is fully on the screen as he opens Parag’s chat and begins scrolling rapidly through the chats. Message after message. Days’ worth of almost single sided conversations.
The more he reads, the darker his expression becomes. My heartbeat starts pounding hard inside my chest. This feels like a complete invasion of privacy. No one touches my phone. Not even Samarjeet has ever dared to snatch it from my hands or go through my messages, despite controlling almost every other part of my life. My phone has always remained mine. Private and untouched.
And yet this man walks straight into my space, as though he has every right over me and everything I own. I finally snap out of my shock and yank the phone from his hand. “Have you completely lost your mind?”
His head jerks up, and he looks furious now.
“What kind of messages is he sending you?” he demands. “And why the f*ck are you still replying to him?”
I tighten my grip around the phone. My heartbeat is still uneven from the sheer audacity of what he just did.
“In case you failed to notice,” I shoot back, “I don’t respond to all his messages. At least not to such vulgar ones.”
Raghav’s jaw clenches so hard that I can actually see a muscle tick near his cheek. His entire face looks dark with anger now. He turns away abruptly and begins pacing, then stops, exhaling harshly before looking back at me.
There’s this intensity in his gaze, like he wants to drag me closer and shake some sense into me at the same time.
“Don’t encourage him,” he says sharply. “Shut him down completely. Block him. Right away. Do you hear me?”
For a second, I just stare at him in disbelief.Who the hell does he think he is?
My brows pull together instantly. “And who are you to tell me that?” I fire back. “You’re forgetting something, RK. Parag is my fiancé.”
Fiancé.
That word does something to him.Before I can react, he suddenly grabs my arm and pulls me towards him, hard enough that I stumble straight into his chest.
“But you don’t want to marry him, right?” he bites out through clenched teeth. “Then why the f*ck are you even entertaining this?”
