Part 22

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He still thought and cared about that incident, about her, and his love? Asmita sat appalled in her seat, looking at him pensively. Would he have been serious that day when he professed his love to her? But he let her go, didn't he? How hard would it be for a man who forcibly married her to ensure she is with him, to stop her from leaving him?

Back then, she had told herself that he did not want to invest so much of himself into her. The minute he realized she would not yield to him, he had let her go and his confession was a tactic he had used to win her. But now, facing him as his therapist as he asked for professional help from her to reduce his guilt at hurting her, she knew she was wrong. The way they transferred his case to her showed the seriousness of his case, but her heart didn't want to trust him. Ever.

"Asmita, yo-you remarried?" questioned Daksh, snapping Asmita out of her thoughts. The question had caught her off-guard as she found herself unable to answer the question, at least under the scrutinizing gaze. Mentally scolding herself for losing concentration, Asmita sighed deeply in disappointment and tried to compose herself, putting her training into practice.

"I thought we were here on professional terms, Mr. Malhotra."

"I have a right to know, Asmita. We had a relationship in the past and you know you have to answer this."

"No, I don't. I am not answerable to you, remember?"

Asmita immediately regretted her statement as the guilt look on his face grew even more intense than it already was. As she noticed the changes her statement had brought upon, she also chanced to notice the physical changes in him from the past eight years. He definitely looked older, but he lost his chiseled features.

His dark circles almost appeared like scars, while Asmita could see some grey hairs amidst his thick and black hair. Fine lines adorned his face like the scars of a fighter. A fighter who fought his internal conflicts.

Daksh stood up with a force that his chair fell onto the ground, making Asmita jump to her feet.

"If you don't want to answer me, then I don't want the therapy session, Asmita. I will either go back to Sangeeta or I will go away from here. I don't want to know anything else, just if you.. married Vikas or not."

Asmita rolled her eyes. Some things never change, like Daksh Malhotra's attitude, she thought, and decided that there could be no potential harm in letting the truth out to him.

"If that is what you seek, then so be it, Mr. Malhotra. Yes, I am married to Vikas, very much like you speculated."

Daksh looked dumbfounded and appeared as if someone kicked him in his guts. Empathy was a feeling which came automatically to Asmita and it did not change, even with Daksh Malhotra in front of her. She tried to shrug away the empathy, but it was of no avail. She ignored it to avoid becoming a tangled mess of emotions in front of the man who broke her from within and completely changed her.

"When?" asked Daksh. He supported himself by resting his hands on the desk.

"Seven years back. 22nd of November."

Daksh closed his eyes shut in an attempt of stopping the tears which flooded his eyes. The thought that she had moved on was hard for him to accept, but he knew he was wrong in doing so. He had been a monster to her and it would even more monstrous of him to expect her to not have moved on from him.

"Congratulations are in order then. Congratulations to you and Vikas, Asmita. I hope you get a lot of love from Vikas, which I couldn't give you."

Daksh turned around to leave while Asmita stared at his back in shock. Her attempts to stop him from leaving had fallen on deaf ears. His entire body was trembling like a leaf in a storm which threatened to snatch his existence. Dizziness clouded his actions, and it was not long before he had fallen into the embrace of the carpeted ground, making Asmita rush to him in panic. She dropped to the ground and reached out to him.

"Mr. Malhotra? Can you hear me?"

Asmita pulled him up and patted him roughly on his cheeks to help him regain his consciousness.

"Oh God, he is having a panic attack! Mr. Malhotra, please breathe. Concentrate on my voice. You are going to be fine! Please relax!"

Her panic heightened to its peak when she found his breaths growing shallower every second.

"Please relax! Daksh! Concentrate on my voice."

Asmita tried searching in his pockets for the medicine, which he would probably take while muttering whatever she could think so that he could concentrate on her voice instead of losing himself to the panic attack.

Daksh, in a sudden move, pressed himself against Asmita, trying to imitate her breathing pattern to breathe. Asmita stilled for a moment, in undeniable shock as she felt familiar and fearful emotions shake her from within after eight long years, but she regained the control, realizing what he was trying to do.

She could not help but feel terrorized by his proximity to her and let those emotions locked deep in her to control her thoughts, but not her actions. Her training had taught her enough to not let her own emotions control her actions and not mix personal life with the professional one.

However, the training can never teach her to refrain from feeling disgust and terror at his proximity. It could never acquaint her with the possibility of being in the same room as him without the painful memories ripping her apart from inside.

"Calm down! Breathe! You will be fine, Daksh. Relax."

Asmita caressed his back, hesitantly and half-heartedly, to bring him back to a composed state and she had found success soon enough. She could hear and feel his breath becoming more stable before he grew completely limp on her, after muttering in an extremely weak voice, a mere whisper, just enough to be audible to her because his lips were near her ears.

"I love you, Asmita.."

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