Darsh Vardhan - ruthless, composed, heir to a multigenerational empire, every inch the man who never lets impulse rule. That night at the elite city club, he'd just wrapped a high‑stakes deal and turned to leave - until a firm, warm grip dragged him...
First off - if Chapter 9 didn't leave you sitting with your hand over your chest, whispering "oh... so that's why they are the way they are"... I didn't do my job properly. That chapter was never just about plot twists or big moments. It was about the quiet, messy, beautiful work of growing into yourself - the parts no one claps for: admitting you were wrong, letting go of a version of someone you loved, forgiving the part of yourself that froze when you should've spoken. I hope you saw a little of your own journey in there.
Now - I need you.
Drop every single thought in the comments. Did a line stick with you? Did a character's choice make you want to yell (affectionately... or not)? Is there a quiet scene you're craving - a late-night conversation, a small apology, a moment of softness after all the noise? Is there something you need to happen before this arc closes? I read every single one. Some of my favorite lines in this whole story came from things you said.
And now...
Chapter 10.
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I lay there for what felt like hours, numb, staring at the ceiling, every word the doctor had said looping slow and cold in my head-pregnant... four weeks and four days... high risk... your body has been fighting alone. And then-it all landed at once.
I sat up so fast the room spun for a second.
Every single ache vanished. The throbbing in my bruised knuckles, the burn of my split lip, the dull drag in my lower back, the nausea that had lived in my throat for a month-gone. Erased, swallowed whole by something so huge, so loud, so overwhelmingly big that my body simply forgot how to hurt. My hands flew to my stomach-still flat, still soft, still mine-and my chest felt like it was splitting open.
Too much. Everything was too much.
The sudden marriage. Leaving my home. The month of silence, of Darsh leaving before I woke and returning after I slept, of walking past each other like strangers bound only by paper. The constant, unexplained sickness I'd hidden from everyone. The six negative tests that had tricked me into thinking I was just breaking. Today-the fight, the shouting, the principal's office, the blood tests, the needles, the cold gel of the ultrasound. And now... this. A tiny, growing life I'd carried unknowing, while I'd been busy being angry, and sad, and alone.
I couldn't breathe.
My throat closed. My shoulders started shaking first, slow and violent, and then the tears came-hot, fast, endless, heaving sobs that tore right out of my chest. I didn't care that my lip split open a little more and started bleeding. I didn't care that the IV line tugged at my arm. I curled forward, hands fisted in the sheets, and cried like I hadn't cried since I was a small child-ugly, unstopping, completely undone. It wasn't happiness. It wasn't fear. It was just... everything. All the feelings I'd swallowed for thirty days, all the words I'd never said, all the nights I'd lain awake wondering what is wrong with me-pouring out at once.
