My Ruination

Chapter 16.

In the last chapter, Maahira and Zaeden shared a partially intimate moment after he avenged her and killed the goon who threatened her.

~Maahira~

I declined the call for the 2nd time at 9 am in the morning as I rushed down the stairs, my Mary Jane's horribly slapping the marble staircase and echoing around the mansion. I cannot deal with anyone so early in the morning and especially when I haven't had my tea yet. It's like inviting my own migraine with a red carpet and an award. Trying to juggle my phone, a thick book, my purse and the slipping sunglasses on my head, I entered the open kitchen and paused near the countertop. The glass carafe with the orange liquid was on the flame, simmering but Neerja wasn't really focused on that.

Her eyes were glowering at someone through the giant archway-like doors straight to the dining room. Darsh was locked in his high-chair, looking as destroyed as I do whenever I have to wake up early, the remnants of his breakfast sticking to his face and the tabletop. He pushed away his milk tumbler away from himself with a frown on his face but I don't think the person sitting on the either side will bend to his little tantrums.

Zaeden sat on one of the dining table chairs in a black tank and black trousers, patiently watching Darsh. His hair was ruffled and sticky with sweat as sweat drenched his heavily-tattooed biceps and his tank. I was holding a 1000-page book in my hand but the thickness was nothing if compared to his muscular biceps. He just looked deliciously ravageable and it was concerning how I was salivating for him. "Daddy, plain milk is borinnggg. I don't like it." Darsh whined.

"You said the same thing last night and I let you go. That will not be happening everytime, Rayn. You need to drink milk if you want to be strong." Zaeden reprimanded in a baritone so gently authoritative, I was left baffled for a second. It was always wonderful to watch him transform into the most level-headed, soft-spoken father whenever his son was in vicinity. I couldn't picture him as the man who had blood on his hands right now, man who did not care about being unfair. He looked like Darsh could throw a tantrum all day and he would stay put in his place all day and deal with it without raising even a decibel of his voice.

Neerja strained my tea into a teacup and said, "Zaeden is usually at the gym when Darsh drinks his milk. So I mix flavored milk powders or cereals in his milk. But somehow he caught whiff of my schemes and chose to torchure him like this." She slid the cup towards me and shot another stingy-eyed look towards Zaeden. "I promised that I will make sure he gets proper nutrition without too much sugar intake but something about toughening him up."

I took a sip of my tea and watched the struggle between the father and son. I couldn't exactly disagree with Zaeden's methods but I couldn't agree with him either. Having flavored milk regularly wasn't healthy and it was difficult to monitor sugar intake of kid's because practically all of them are dessert monsters. But I don't think making him sit with that tumbler was very beneficial either.

My phone rang again and I looked down at it. Again? I pressed the lock key, silencing the call for the 3rd time. But this got Zaeden's attention as he finally noticed my presence and his eyes crashed against mine. A slight shiver racks my spine as I tried to hide it by continuing to sip on my tea. Every single moment from that night came rushing back to my mind and disappearing wound on my neck prickles with the heat. The scrutiny of his gaze was sharp and even from afar, it made me feel like I was pinned under him, at his mercy.

His gaze became slightly hazy as it slowly and sultrily travelled down my body and drunk in the sight of my legs. I was wearing white shirt under my black blazer and black short skirt. A black bow was pinned at the collar of my shirt and my hair was brushed neatly. But the way he stared at me, it made me feel like every inch of me was exposed and not just my legs. He looked back up to meet my eyes and a moment of something flirtatious passed over his look. He leaned back slightly and this time, shamelessly stared down my legs. I bit my inner lower lip to hold back a grin as I moved over, so the counter completely hid my legs. The lighthearted charm immediately disappeared from his face as he glared at me just like his son was glaring at him. I smiled in victory and raised one brow in challenge.

Neerja cleared her throat. My trance was washed off immediately and my smile drowned as I twisted my lips in a straight line. Since when did we reach a teasing, playful camaraderie like this?

"Maahiiiiii." Darsh whined and this time, a lone tear gathered in his eyes, threatening to fall down any moment. Neerja slapped the dust cloth she was holding on the counter loudly and I jolted in surprise. "That's it. Zaeden, can I talk to you for a moment about something in the kitchen?" She said through her clenched teeth but Zaeden ignored her completely, watching me.

"Zaeden, please. Come here for a minute." Neerja stressed the importance of each and every word as if she would detonate if disobeyed. Zaeden gave up. He rose off his chair and walked towards the kitchen but I quickly grabbed my phone and teacup and walked out of the kitchen, in the pretense of giving them privacy and headed towards Darsh. My phone rang in my pocket again but I paid no attention to it as I stopped near Darsh's chair and placed my teacup on the dining table.

Zaeden partially had his back at us and Neerja was facing us, locked in a heated argument with him. Darsh gazed up at me hopefully as I took a fresh spoon from the holder and opened his milk bottle. I scooped up a tablespoon full of tea from my cup and poured it into his bottle, mixing it quickly and closing it back, handing the bottle to him. I pressed a finger on my lips for Darsh to keep this a secret who giggled so gleefully, almost like he knew I would come through for his rescue. I sat down on the chair Zaeden was previously on, crossing my legs and sipping on my tea.

"DADDYYYY." Darsh called out for his father and Zaeden and Neerja walked out of the kitchen together. "What is it, Darsh? Is everything alright?" Neerja questioned, looking ready to throw hands and legs if he so much complained about his milk. "It's okay. I will drink my milk. I want to be strong like you." He raised his arms to show his chubby little biceps and brought the milk bottle closer, sipping on it and gulping it down in one go. He slammed the empty bottle on the table proudly and wiped his mouth at the back of his hand and grinned at me.

I winked at him from the corner of my eyes and pretended to be as clueless as the next person entering this room. Zaeden crossed his arms at his chest, glaring down between us, making the ridges of his bicep more prominent. Neerja covered her mouth in surprise but was equally happy for him. This was something my father used to do when me and my siblings were about Darsh's age. Even though he did it because he did not have the time to deal with our tantrums and crying children was a sign of poor upbringing, this is how we learnt to choose tea over coffee. The amount of tea was just enough to give it slight flavor and aroma but not enough to change the colour of milk. And Darsh clearly appreciated this trick.

My phone rang up for the 5th time and I turned it upside down. Zaeden narrowed his eyes at me and my phone suspiciously like he would just like to rip the phone and check who is it. It's not my fault that the person calling is relentless and does not know when to give up. I finished my tea and I moved to retrieve my purse when one of Zaeden's security detail walked in and announced, "Sir, there is a Mr Damani here to meet...Mrs Kaushal. He is adamant and says he will not leave unless he meets her."

Zaeden sighed heavily in resignation and ordered him to let him in. Rudra was here to meet me? I headed towards the entrance, controlling myself from jumping to hug and impaling Rudra as soon as he entered. But the person who entered was not Rudra but he was sure Mr Damani. He was the person who had been relentlessly calling me, the person who had been ashamed of my existence for as long as I can remember and the first person to break my heart.

He walked in, looking polished as ever in his Brioni suit, headed straight for me. My body refused to greet him or show any excitement as he wrapped me in a formal hug, kissing my cheek. "Maahi, baby, I've taught you better than this. Our differences are not for other people to watch." My father said, with a slight hint of threat in his tone.