The Blazing Heiress

45|| Siren of his Dreams

"There's something between us; a sort of pull. Something you always do to me. And I to you." — F. Scott Fitzgerald.

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Avni found herself captivated by the unbarred ring box cradled delicately in her palm. Encased within was the ring she'd chosen for him. The round-cut diamond, nestled in a broad band of gold and punctuated with miniature diamonds, emanated a light of its own, like effulgent glimmers in his eyes when he smiled. With sacred care, she extracted the ring from its plush confines, her artistic fingers caressed it softly, committing every detail of the jewel to her memory—the very same way she'd done in the jewellery boutique while selecting it for him after he whined, exclaiming to be confused amidst the sea of glittering rings. In his words, their dazzling brilliance bewildered him, blinding his poor eyes. This was his excuse. A pretext. She knew he wanted her to select the ring on his behalf, to sport a ring of her choice.

A sly trickster, he was.

Smiling, she shook her head and set the velvet box back in the cool interior of her closet before walking off to the bathroom. Hiding the flush of her cheeks until the heat in them resided, she strolled up to the washbasin and looked herself in the mirror. This was so unlike her. When did she start feeling this happy and giddy at the modest efforts of a man?

Embroiled in her musings, she reached for her toothbrush in the holder and squeezed out an ample amount of toothpaste on the soft bristles. A memory of late evening struck back.

Avni cleared her throat, drawing his attention from the ring to her anticipatory face. "Now should we select my ring?"

Viransh opened his mouth and closed it again. Then, summoning courage, he retrieved something from the pocket of his tailored blazer. A box. She did not have to guess twice to comprehend what lay underneath the small, square box in black velvet. He reached for her hand and carefully placed it on her upturned palm.

Avni felt the searing burn on her hand and she was nearly compelled to cast it back to him. Yet, she held onto it desperately, like a spirit tenaciously clinging to its mortal form in the fleeting moments following demise. She looked back at him.

The change in his expression was instantaneous.

The pleats between his brows flattened, his jaw clenched, and his eyes shuttered away any emotion as he answered her silent inquiry, "I had it with me for a while. Have a look. If you don't like this, we'll trade it with the one of your preference."

With her heart in her throat, she pushed the lid up.

The Asscher cut diamond sat solitary on an ornate filigree band, glinting brightly against the soft lighting of the room, mocking her with the possible meaning of its existence. A thousand thoughts raced in her head, yet none made the slightest sense even as an inevitable conclusion formed itself against her will.

"You did not like it?" he asked and she sensed a hint of panic in his tenor.

"No, it's not that. It's gorgeous." She licked her suddenly parched lips. "Since when?"

"The very next day after our confession."

"What held you back from dropping to your knee and proposing to me?" she asked in a rough voice, even though she knew the answer.

"You needed time," he responded quickly. "And I promised to wait for you, even if it would take eternity and more."

Always putting her first, that was him.