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Now, let’s dive back into the latest chapter… 👇

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Chapter 35 Let me Do it

The room carried the lingering scent of sandalwood and turmeric—gentle echoes of Rajeev’s hands tending to her wounds. Morning sunlight filtered through the open window, warming the space.

Nandini sat by the small mirror, one hand clumsily trying to twist her damp hair into a braid. Her bandaged palms trembled with each movement. Every tug of the comb sent sharp stings through her skin.

“Let me do it,” Rajeev said quietly from behind her.

“I can manage,” she whispered, her voice tight with stubbornness. “I’ve done it all my life.”

She gritted her teeth as the comb slipped again, catching painfully on a knot.

Rajeev took a step closer. His voice lost its softness now, replaced with a quiet firmness. “Nandini. Enough.”

She froze. The comb slipped from her fingers and clattered onto the floor, the sharp sound too loud in the quiet room. She blinked fast, hating the sting behind her eyes.

“You’re hurting yourself,” he said, kneeling beside her. “You don’t have to prove anything to me.”

Her shoulders stiffened, pride flaring for a heartbeat. But the warmth in his voice—not demanding, not pitying—softened something brittle inside her. She let him take the comb. And as Rajeev dipped his finger in the coconut oil, he gently massaged her scalp. Her shoulders relaxed under his touch.

Slowly, patiently, he began to untangle her hair, each stroke deliberate, careful not to pull. The pain in her scalp eased under his touch.

Tears burned behind her eyelids—not from the comb, but from something else. From being seen. From being allowed to not be strong, just for this moment. For so long she had held herself together. But here, in his hands, she no longer needed to.

When her hair was smooth, he began braiding it with the same steady hands. But failed terribly at keeping the strands even. She couldn't help but smile at his attempt, feeling a warmth in her chest that she hadn't felt in a long time. "You don't know how to do hair, do you?" she teased.

For the first time in what felt like forever, her lips curved into something close to a smile. The simple act of his clumsy hands in her hair made the heaviness inside her chest ease, if only for a moment.

"Never thought I'd be doing this, but I'm willing to learn for you," he said with a grin, making her heart swell with gratitude for his willingness to try something new for her.

“You don’t have to take care of me like this,” she whispered.

Rajeev’s voice remained steady. “I’m not doing this because you need me. I’m doing it because I want to.”

She lowered her gaze, her bandaged fingers curling in her lap.

After finishing the braid, Rajeev stared at the saree awkwardly tied around his wrist. Not like the expertly draped ones he had seen on her.

“Come,” he said gently. “Let me help you fix your saree; it looks a bit messy."

“No… I can manage—” she started, trying to stand, but her knees wobbled beneath her weight. The exhaustion of the past days still clung to her like a heavy blanket.

And to make things worse, her front pleats fall open, falling on the ground and wrapping around her ankles. Making her lose her balance and her saree unravel even more.

Rajeev lunged forward, catching her around the waist. For a moment, her breath hitched as his arms encircled her, steady and strong. His scent—warm sandalwood and soap—wrapped around her like a shield.

"Let me help you," he insisted, gently guiding her to sit back down and fixing the saree with practiced ease.

There was a finality to his voice—not harsh, but unyielding. She had no strength left to argue.

She guided his hands, teaching him to fold the pleats, feeling his careful touch settle each fold against her waist.

His knuckles brushed her waist as he tucked the final pleat in place.
And for one fleeting second, she allowed herself to lean into that warmth. To imagine what it would feel like... if shame wasn't always between them.

But like a nightmare, the thought of her carrying Vikrant's child lingered in her mind, overshadowing the moment of intimacy with the tailor. She closed her eyes, trying to push the intrusive thought away as she focused on the feel of the soft fabric against her skin. But no matter how hard she tried, the image of Vikrant's smug face haunted her.

“How can you even touch me? I carry his child inside me.”
The words burned like bitter neem on an open wound. “I feel… tainted.”
Rajeev met her gaze, steady as stone. “Because you are mine. Entirely. And nothing he did can change that.”

Her lip trembled. “But I carry another man’s child.”

“You carry life, Nandini. That is not a sin. This child is not your shame.”
His voice grew firmer. “And you are my wife. Every part of you is mine to cherish—not to judge.”

“But—” she choked, struggling to find the words.

Rajeev took her face gently in his hands. “You are not responsible for his sins. I see you, Nandini. You—not this wound, not this child, not this pain. Only you.”

Her tears finally spilled, but she made no attempt to pull away. She let him hold her, allowing the warmth of his embrace to seep into her aching bones.

"Shhh…no more crying," he whispered, brushing away her tears with his thumb. "We will face this together, as husband and wife." Nandini closed her eyes, feeling a sense of peace wash over her at his words.

A few minutes later, Rajeev lifted a small thali of soft rice and dal to her lips.

“Just a few bites,” he coaxed gently.

She shook her head. “I don’t feel hungry.”

“You need strength. For yourself. For what’s coming.”

Still she hesitated.

Rajeev’s tone shifted again, this time like steel wrapped in velvet. “Eat, Nandini.” His voice was velvet wrapped around steel.
She hesitated, her lip quivering. But the calm certainty in his eyes melted the last brittle shard of resistance.
She nodded and opened her mouth, letting him feed her one small bite at a time from his hand. The warmth of the food spread through her, comforting her in a way she hadn't felt in a long time. With each bite, she felt a glimmer of hope that maybe, just maybe, she could face what was coming with Rajeev by her side.

The courtyard beyond the window hummed with life as the morning wore on. And inside, a quiet vow was being stitched together—fragile as silk but strong like each pleat he folded across her waist.

It was not yet love.
Not yet healed.
But it was trust.
And it was growing.

"Rajeev….Raghav is here," Rajeev's mother's voice echoed from the hallway, breaking the moment of peace between them. Rajeev looked up, his eyes meeting hers with a mix of concern and determination.

"Bhai is here,” he repeated softly.
His thumb traced the edge of her bandaged hand, as if silently promising her:
Whatever shadows Vikrant dares cast, I will be your light, your shield, your shelter. He has stolen enough from you. He will take nothing more.

*******

✨ Author’s Note ✨

Hello my dearest readers 💖,

Breathe. That’s what I kept reminding myself while writing this chapter. Because this one is all about breathing through pain, fear… and letting someone in. 🩵

In “Let Me Do It”, we see a different kind of love bloom — not fiery passion, but quiet tenderness. 🌿

Rajeev doesn’t just braid Nandini’s hair or drape her saree — he’s slowly weaving back her broken sense of safety. 🌸 The simple acts of care, of allowing her to lean on him, are sometimes far more powerful than any grand declaration.

And yet… the shadow of Vikrant still lingers like an unwanted guest in their most intimate moments. 💔 Nandini’s shame is heavy. But Rajeev? He refuses to let her drown in it. 🔥

I know this chapter might’ve made some of you tear up (I definitely did while writing 🥹). But that tiny flicker of trust? It’s growing. 🌱

💭 Tell me in the comments:
— Were you as proud of Nandini for letting him help?
— And isn’t Rajeev quietly stealing hearts one gentle act at a time? 😍

The storm outside is growing stronger... but so is their bond. 💪⚓

Stay with me, lovelies — the most intense moments are yet to come! 👀🔥

With tenderness, hope, and fire,
— Shaar Shree ✨