They say the heart fears what it cannot understand, but hers leaned into him without fear. And he, against his own restraint, let her closer than he should have allowed.
~~~~~
Outside the door, Stanzin's words echo in KaanKuwar's mind: "He could be dangerous."
The sound coils through Kaankuwar, stirring old memories he never wishes to face. He knows the truth of it—knows he can be dangerous to the ones he vows to protect.
He turn away from the door and steps out.
Inside, Shaamvi is in her own thoughts. His moments with her flood back—the caterpillar he helped, the owl he almost cried for, the countless times he shielded her when she was fragile. Could danger wear such tenderness?
"God sent him into my life," she whispers to Stanzin. "Meeting him was never my plan, but if God sends someone… it cannot be wrong. Even if he brings danger, I will accept it as God's command."
"Have you spent enough time with him to know that? To trust that he is God's answer?" Stanzin demands.
"Yes," she breathes. "I feel it."
Stanzin exhales sharply, defeated. "Whatever…. I will prepare for the ritual to lift your curse."
He strides out, only to find Kaankuwar waiting outside.
"Oh… you came back?" Stanzin asks warily.
"Just now," Kaankuwar replies.
"Who…Who are you really?" Stanzin presses.
"You don't need to know." Kaankuwar lays a hand on his shoulder with a smile—too calm, too unreadable—and walks inside.
He turns towards Shaamvi's room, but before he can enter, she appears in the doorway, pale, drawn, her face etched with fatigue.
"Oh…. you," she murmurs.
"I was… worried. How are you feeling now?" Kaankuwar asks.
"Bad," she admits with a weak smile. "I was lying down, but I felt uneasy. I thought I'd walk to the kitchen. I… feel a little hungry."
Her steps are frail, yet she moves toward the kitchen, Kaankuwar following at a careful distance. She searches the shelves, opening cupboards, the clatter of jars filling the space. He only watches her.
"I'm sorry," Shaamvi says suddenly, her voice soft. "You came all the way here with me, and I haven't even offered you food."
"It's fine. Just… please take care of yourself." He says, his eyes soft, holding a depth that unsettles her, as if every word carries more than he admits.
This simplest words cuts straight through her. 'Just take care'—from his lips, does not sound like a passing courtesy; it feels like a quiet command. He says as if her well-being were a treasure worth guarding.
"Did you… find a good place for the owl?" she asks, still searching.
"Yes," he answers. "I even saw her soul descend."
Shaamvi's eyes brighten. "That's beautiful."
At last she finds a bottle of peach juice and smiles faintly. "Here, some peach juice, I'll pour you some too."
"No, you have it. I'm all right," Kaankuwar says.
"Please… I'll feel better if you drink with me."
She pour a glass and turns back to him—but then a sharp pain sears her chest. Her breath catches. The room tilts. She feels dizzy. The glass nearly slips from her hand as she staggers forward.
Kaankuwar moves before thought. One hand grips her shoulders, the other steadies the glass she nearly drops.
She collapse into his arms , her cheek against the rise and fall of his chest. Each breath he takes lifts her slightly, lowering her again, as though she rests upon a living tide. The warmth of him surround her, and she feel the closeness of his body against hers—so near she cannot tell where her trembling ends and his begins.
Slowly she lifts her face….their breaths mingle, warm against each other's lips. The space between them dissolves.
Kaankuwar sets the glass aside, his hand rising to her face. With a touch both hesitant and tender, His thumb brushes the blood on her lips and chin, wiping it softly away.
Her eyes do not leave his.
He cannot be a monster when his touch carries such care. Shaamvi thinks.
These hands, these eyes, this silence—nothing in them speaks of cruelty. If the world fears him, let it. I can only see the man before me, the one who steadies me when I break.
And in Kaankuwar's mind, another thought coils, heavy with ache, What if I hurt her—this fragile, luminous woman? Can I hold such beauty without breaking it? What if I fail her? What if the strength that shields her now becomes the force that shatters her later? She is too radiant for the shadows I carry…..and yet she is already in my care, closer than I should ever allow.