Vasu's POV
I let out a low, irritated groan and snapped my head toward the voice that dared to say my name.
Devishka Maaran.
Deva.
Of all people—her.
Madhu's hand instinctively pressed against my chest as she pulled back, clearing her throat. I felt the shift in her body before I even looked at her—uneasy, confused. My jaw tightened as I turned fully toward Deva.
"Detective Vasu," she said smoothly, lips curving into something that barely passed for a smile. "Long time."
She gestured to the empty chair opposite us.
"Mind if I join?"
I didn't answer immediately. I didn't need to.
Madhu lifted her head and met Deva's gaze, calm but guarded.
"Yeah… sure. You guys continue," she said softly. "I'll wait in the car."
Before she could take a single step, I grabbed her wrist.
"No," I said firmly.
I pulled her back toward me and wrapped an arm around her waist, anchoring her there.
"Sit, sweetheart. She's not important."
Then I looked at Deva—really looked at her.
"What do you want, Detective Deva?" I asked coldly.
My hand never left Madhu.
Deva's eyes flicked to Madhu, dragging over her with open contempt. A slow smirk spread across her face.
"By the way," she said lazily, "who's this fatass girl?"
Something inside me snapped.
I tightened my grip around Madhu's waist as rage surged through me—hot, violent, uncontrollable.
"You'd better watch your fucking tone when you talk about my girl, Detective," I growled.
My fist came down on the table with a sharp crack, rattling the cups. The entire cafeteria seemed to freeze.
I felt Madhu tense beside me. Her hand slid over mine, squeezing—grounding.
"Vasu," she whispered.
Her voice pulled me back just enough to breathe.
Deva stared at us, stunned.
"My girl?" she repeated, eyes narrowing. "What does that mean?"
I smiled—but there was nothing friendly in it.
"It means," I said slowly, deliberately, "she's mine."
I turned my head, pressed a protective kiss to Madhu's forehead, then looked back at Deva.
"My wife-to-be."
Madhu smiled nervously, her fingers tightening around mine.
Deva's face drained of color. She scoffed, clearly scrambling for something to say.
I didn't give her the chance.
"Nice meeting you, Detective Deva," I said flatly as I stood.
"And trust me—I don't plan on seeing you again."
I grabbed Madhu's file, my gear, my keys.
"We're leaving."
I held out my hand.
Madhu took it without hesitation.
We walked out together—no explanations, no backward glances. She didn't ask a single question, and I didn't offer answers.
Once inside the car, I started the engine and drove off.
Whatever Deva was…
Whatever she wanted…
She was no longer part of my world.
Not anymore.
While driving, she remained silent—not a single word.
Her gaze stayed fixed on the window, unreadable.
But I knew one thing: it was my responsibility to tell her who Deva was.
I slowed down and pulled the car over.
"Madhu," I called softly.
She turned her head toward me, her brown eyes piercing straight through my defenses.
"Please… just get it off your chest," I murmured, turning my face toward the window. "I can't take your silence."
She didn't respond.
When she still didn't speak, I finally turned toward her.
There was no anger.
No fear.
No confusion.
Just calm.
I sighed. "What?"
She smiled faintly. "Nothing… umm… I'm waiting for you to calm down."
She reached for my hands and held them gently.
"Listen," she continued, "if you want to talk, we will. But not here. Let's talk at home."
I nodded.
After thirty minutes, we reached home.
The moment I parked, Madhu opened the door and hurried out.
I frowned. What the hell is she doing now?
"Sweetheart," I called, raising my hands dramatically, "would you mind waiting for me?"
She stopped, turned around, and scoffed.
"No! I won't," she replied—with a wink—before running inside.
I smiled to myself.
You're teasing me now, huh? Fine. Wait for my turn.
Inside, I dumped everything onto the living-room table and pulled off my jacket. Just as I was settling down, my phone vibrated—an official NYPD number.
After the call ended, Priya walked in with bags of food.
She hugged me.
"I'm happy for you both," she whispered. "She's precious, Vasu. Promise me you'll protect her."
"I promise," I said without hesitation.
I quietly entered my mother's room.
Madhu was asleep—curled against my mother's chest, her head resting in her lap.
Peaceful. Fragile.
My fingers moved to her hair instinctively.
"You are lucky to have her," my mother said softly.
Then she added,
"She told me what happened in the cafeteria."
My breath caught.
"She's scared," my mother continued. "Not of you. Of losing you."
Later, when Madhu woke, my mother asked to speak to me alone.
"Tell her everything," she said firmly.
"If you don't," she added, "that will ruin your relationship—not Deva."
I nodded.
"I'll talk to her."
Madhu's POV
In the kitchen, I splashed cold water on my face, trying to steady my racing thoughts.
Deva's smirk.
Vasu's rage.
Then arms wrapped around my waist.
"Hi," he murmured.
"Hi," I replied softly.
He turned me around.
"Look at me, sweetheart. We need to talk."
I met his gaze.
And he told me everything.
About Deva.
About his mother.
About the threat.
I didn't pull away.
I held him tighter.
"I won't let anyone hurt you," I whispered. "Not you. Not Ma."
His confession followed—quiet, raw, honest.
"You healed parts of me I didn't know were broken," he said.
I smiled through my tears.
"I love you too," I whispered.
We stayed like that for a long time, neither of us wanting to let go.
Finally, I smiled and said softly, "We should eat… the food's getting cold."
"I don't want anything," he murmured, pulling me closer. "Let's just stay like this. Please… don't ever leave me."
The vulnerability in his voice broke me.
I pulled back just enough to cup his face. "I'm not going anywhere," I promised, wiping away the tear that slipped down his cheek.
He hugged me again, tighter this time—like he needed me to anchor him.
Later, after we calmed down and finished lunch, he went to his study to take a call while I checked on Sharadha Ma. She had already taken her medicine, so I helped her settle comfortably and tucked the blanket around her.
When I returned to the living room, I found Vasu asleep on the sofa.
A smile softened my face.
I draped a blanket over him and gently ran my fingers through his hair.
Suddenly, his arm shot out and pulled me into him.
"Vasu—" My heart skipped.
Eyes still closed, he murmured in a husky voice, "Don't mess up my hair, sweetheart."
I laughed quietly. "I have to go home."
Instead of letting me go, he buried his face in my neck and wrapped himself around me. "You're not going anywhere."
"Mamma will panic," I whispered.
"It's already taken care of," he said sleepily. "You promised. Today is my day with you."
He settled comfortably against me and drifted back to sleep.
I smiled, my heart full.
Taking out my phone, I called my mother to let her know I was staying at Vasu's place—and to share the happiest news of all: I got the job.
Joy echoed through the call.
And as I looked down at the man sleeping peacefully in my arms, I knew—
this was love.