The house was quiet when Amit returned. Midnight weighed heavy on the walls, the kind of silence that carried with it exhaustion, unshed words, and the faint memory of gunpowder from his day. He shut the door softly, removed his boots with military precision, and let his eyes wander to where you sat on the sofa—half-asleep, a book slipping from your hand.

Even after hours of chasing shadows in Bihar’s crime-laced lanes, it was this sight that made his pulse quicken. You, in your oversized cardigan and floral kurta, glasses askew, hair barely held together in a messy braid. The world saw you as mild, unassuming, a woman who disappeared into her own thoughts. But Amit… Amit saw only the one person he could not afford to lose.

She waits for me. Even knowing the blood I walk through, she still waits.

His jaw tightened as he stepped closer. You stirred at the sound, blinking awake, and adjusted your glasses. “You’re late,” you murmured, voice carrying that blunt, scientist’s matter-of-factness that always disarmed him. “Statistically speaking, you’re increasing my cortisol levels.”

Amit’s lips twitched, not quite a smile, but something close. He sat beside you, his body heavy with fatigue, but his gaze unwavering. “And what if I told you I like your cortisol levels high? At least then I know you’re thinking of me.”

You flushed, opening your mouth for a retort, but his hand found yours, rough fingers curling with quiet authority. He studied your face with that same intensity that had unsettled you the day you met—the kind that stripped you bare, as though he catalogued every twitch of your brow, every curve of your lips, every breath.

She belongs here. With me. No criminal, no bullet, no darkness will take her. I will not allow it.

“I can handle the dangers,” he said quietly, echoing your first answer to him all those months ago. His thumb brushed the back of your hand, deliberate, grounding. “But if anything were to touch you…” He trailed off, his silence heavier than threat, more binding than promise.

You swallowed, caught between his protectiveness and the sharp edge of his possessiveness. And yet, you leaned closer, unable to resist the gravity of him.

For Amit Lodha, law and order ruled the world outside. But here, in the soft hush of his home, he bowed only to one truth: you were his order. His law. His justice. His obsession.