✨Chapter 4✨

The Sarpanch of Devgarh.

The softness disappeared from Veer’s face so quickly that Meera almost thought she imagined it.

One second, he was standing close enough for her to hear the calm steadiness in his breathing.

The next—

he became the feared sarpanch again.

Cold.

Unreadable.

Dangerous.

“What happened?” Veer asked sharply.

The servant swallowed nervously. “There’s a fight near the market. Two men from the neighboring village… they brought weapons.”

Veer’s jaw tightened faintly.

“Who else is there?”

“Raghav bhai already went.”

Veer nodded once.

“Tell them nobody touches the police until I arrive.”

The servant hurried away immediately.

Meera stood frozen beneath the neem tree as Veer turned toward her briefly.

“I’ll return late.”

That was all he said before walking away.

No unnecessary explanation.

No softness.

Just authority.

And somehow…

Meera found herself watching him longer than she should have.

—

By evening, the haveli felt emptier than before.

The sky outside darkened with heavy clouds while distant thunder echoed across Devgarh.

Meera sat near the bedroom window restlessly, tracing invisible patterns against the edge of her dupatta.

She didn’t know why she felt uneasy.

Maybe because the village itself felt strange.

Beautiful during daylight.

But unsettling after sunset.

Too many whispers.

Too many secrets.

Even the haveli corridors seemed alive at night.

A knock interrupted her thoughts.

Gauri entered carrying dinner.

“You should eat, bahu sa.”

“I’m not hungry.”

The maid sighed knowingly before placing the tray down anyway.

“You’ll fall sick if you keep skipping meals.”

Meera managed a weak smile.

“Did something serious happen in the village?”

Gauri hesitated.

“When men drink and anger mixes with politics, problems happen.”

That answered absolutely nothing.

Meera frowned slightly. “And Veer?”

The maid’s expression softened strangely.

“Veer baba handles everything.”

There was enormous trust in her voice.

Not just respect.

Faith.

Before Meera could ask more, another servant appeared at the doorway looking anxious.

“Gauri, come quickly downstairs.”

The older woman nodded before turning back to Meera.

“Lock your door tonight.”

Meera blinked. “Why?”

But Gauri had already left.

A strange chill crept down Meera’s spine.

—

It started raining heavily around midnight.

The storm arrived violently.

Wind rattled the windows while thunder shook the haveli walls.

Meera couldn’t sleep.

Every flash of lightning illuminated the massive room briefly before darkness swallowed it again.

Finally, frustrated, she got out of bed and walked toward the balcony doors.

Cold wind immediately hit her face.

Rain poured endlessly over the fields surrounding the haveli.

For a moment, she simply stood there quietly.

Listening.

Then—

voices echoed faintly from downstairs.

Male voices.

Angry.

Meera frowned.

At this hour?

Curiosity slowly pulled her toward the bedroom door.

The haveli corridors outside were dimly lit by wall lamps. Rain sounds echoed through the silence as Meera walked carefully toward the staircase.

The voices became clearer.

“…cannot continue like this.”

“…you’re becoming reckless.”

“…people are already talking.”

Meera stopped near the railing upstairs.

Below, three men stood inside the main hall.

One of them was Veer.

His black kurta sleeves were rolled upward, revealing bruised knuckles.

Rainwater still dripped from his hair and shoulders.

He must have returned recently.

The sight did something strange to Meera’s heartbeat.

The other man—probably Raghav—looked furious.

“That man pulled a gun, Veer!”

“And he’s still alive,” Veer replied calmly.

Calmly.

That was the terrifying part.

Not loud anger.

Not shouting.

Just terrifying control.

Raghav ran a frustrated hand through his hair. “One day your patience will kill someone.”

Veer’s expression darkened slightly.

“One day your temper will.”

Silence fell.

Then suddenly, Veer looked up.

Directly toward the staircase.

Toward her.

Meera’s breath caught instantly.

For several seconds, nobody moved.

Then Veer spoke quietly.

“Come downstairs.”

Not harsh.

Not soft either.

Just impossible to refuse.

Meera walked down slowly, suddenly aware of her loose hair and oversized shawl.

Raghav turned toward her curiously.

He looked older than Veer by a few years, rough around the edges but warm-eyed.

“So this is bhabhi.”

Meera gave a small awkward nod.

Raghav smiled slightly. “I’m Raghav. Veer’s problem since childhood.”

“Unfortunately,” Veer said dryly.

For the first time, Meera noticed humor hidden beneath his coldness.

Tiny.

Unexpected.

Raghav laughed loudly before noticing the tension in Meera’s face.

“You shouldn’t wander around alone at night in this haveli,” he said casually.

Meera frowned. “Why does everyone keep saying that?”

The room fell silent immediately.

Too silent.

Raghav’s smile disappeared.

Veer’s eyes sharpened slightly.

Meera’s uneasiness returned instantly.

“What does that mean?” she asked slowly.

Raghav opened his mouth—

“Enough,” Veer interrupted.

The warning in his voice was subtle but clear.

Raghav sighed heavily. “Fine. I’m leaving before you throw me out.”

He glanced at Meera once more before heading toward the exit.

“Goodnight, bhabhi.”

The massive doors shut behind him.

Now only Meera and Veer remained in the hall.

Thunder echoed outside loudly.

Meera folded her arms slightly. “Everyone in this village behaves like your house is haunted.”

Veer leaned against the table calmly.

“In villages,” he said, “people create ghost stories when they cannot explain tragedy.”

Something about the sentence unsettled her deeply.

“What tragedy?”

Veer didn’t answer immediately.

Instead, he walked toward the cabinet nearby and poured himself water.

His bruised hand tightened around the glass briefly.

Only now did Meera properly notice the cut near his knuckles.

Fresh blood.

Her brows pulled together automatically.

“You’re hurt.”

Veer glanced down at his hand indifferently. “It’s nothing.”

“It doesn’t look like nothing.”

He looked mildly surprised by her response.

As if nobody usually questioned whether he was injured.

Without thinking too much, Meera stepped closer.

“Sit.”

Veer stared at her.

“I said it’s fine.”

“And I said sit.”

The words escaped before she could stop them.

Silence.

Meera instantly realized what she had done.

She had just ordered the sarpanch of Devgarh around.

Wonderful.

But instead of anger—

something unreadable flickered in Veer’s eyes.

Slowly, he sat down.

Meera blinked in surprise.

She found the first aid box nearby and knelt slightly beside him.

The moment her fingers touched his hand—

Veer went completely still.

The room suddenly felt smaller.

Too quiet.

Meera carefully cleaned the cut while trying to ignore how warm his skin felt against hers.

Veer watched her silently the entire time.

Not once looking away.

Her heartbeat became embarrassingly uneven beneath that gaze.

“You should be more careful,” she murmured softly.

Veer’s voice came low.

“Careful people don’t survive long in politics.”

Meera looked up instinctively.

Big mistake.

He was already watching her.

Closely.

Rain thundered outside while warm lamplight flickered softly across the hall.

For one dangerous second, neither moved.

Neither spoke.

Meera became painfully aware of how close she was standing between his knees.

How easily Veer could reach for her if he wanted.

The realization made heat crawl up her neck instantly.

Then suddenly—

the haveli lights went out.

Darkness swallowed the room completely.

Meera gasped softly in surprise.

And before she could react—

Veer’s hand wrapped around her wrist.

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