Chapter 11: In Fevered Silence

One Week Later…

The days dragged like half-finished scripts.

Abir kept his distance.Maholi kept her silence.

They shared the same air, the same building, the same unspoken ache — but never the same moment.They passed each other like ghosts in glass halls.

Abir watched her, quietly.

Her voice no longer rose with questions.Her eyes didn't blaze in defiance.She didn't argue, didn't meet his gaze, didn't smile.

She was folding in.

And though he told himself this was safer — that distance was mercy —the lie started to rot.

Until tonight.

When he came home, the butler waited by the door, shifting uneasily.

"Sir… Maholi Miss hasn't been eating. For two, three days now. After work, she just locks her door. Doesn't speak to anyone.Today… she didn't come down at all.I think… she has a fever."

A knot twisted beneath Abir's ribs.

He didn't speak.Didn't even nod.

But his steps were already moving before his thoughts caught up.

The Door That Spoke Volumes

He stood outside her room.

Knocked once.Twice."Maholi?"

No answer.Just silence — and the steady drip of water behind the bathroom door.

His gut tightened.

The light glowed faint under the gap.But something was wrong — the sound wasn't just a tap.It was spilling.

Water.

He gripped the handle.Locked.

"Maholi!"Nothing.

He slammed his shoulder against the door.Once.Twice.

Crash.

The wood cracked open—And there she was.

Curled on the wet tiles, skin pale and burning, lips dry, breath uneven.Hair damp.Eyes shut.

Unconscious.

The Panic Behind His Cold Eyes

Abir didn't speak.

He didn't panic.He simply moved.

Wrapped her trembling body in the nearest towel.Lifted her — featherlight and burning — into his arms.Laid her gently on the bed.

"Call the doctor," he snapped. "Now."

He changed her clothes with trembling fingers.Nothing carnal — just careful. Silent. Devoted.

He dried her hair with a soft towel.Draped fresh cotton over her shivering frame.Pulled the covers high.

And whispered—Not words, exactly,but sounds that wanted to be comfort.

When the doctor came, Abir stood still — arms crossed, jaw set, but eyes storming.

"She's dehydrated. Exhausted. Stressed.It's not just physical. Her body's reacting to something emotional."

The man left medication, instructions, and a quiet warning.

"If she keeps this in, it will keep breaking her down."

In the Quiet Glow of Night

It was past 3 a.m.

The room was soaked in amber light from a bedside lamp.Outside, the city slept beneath veils of smog and silence.

Abir sat beside her.One hand in her hair.The other on his knee.

Just watching.Breathing.

She stirred.

Lashes fluttered.Dry lips parted.

"...Abir?"

"I'm here."

Her eyes met his — hazy, confused."You're… being nice," she whispered, voice cracked from fever.

He didn't smile.Didn't deny it.

He leaned in and cupped her cheek — cool fingers against her flushed skin."You really thought I'd let you break like this alone?"

Tears pooled in her lashes.

"I didn't want to be a burden," she murmured.

His forehead dropped to hers.

"You're not," he breathed.

The Moment That Melted Walls

"I want to quit," she said suddenly.

It sliced through the silence like glass.

He pulled back, just enough to see her eyes.

"Why?"

She exhaled, bitter. "They say I got here through the backdoor. That I'm nothing. That I don't belong. Maybe they're right."

"You think strength means not breaking?" he asked quietly. "Strength is getting up after you do."

"I don't know how…"

He didn't answer with words.Instead—

He kissed her.

Not the kind of kiss that punishes.Not the kind that dominates.

It was quiet.Lingering.Slow.

His lips just brushed hers — like a breath learning to trust.She trembled. But didn't pull away.

When he kissed her again, it was deeper.Still soft. Still slow.His hand moved to the small of her back, easing her into him.

She melted into his chest — feverish, fragile, but safe.

He whispered into her hair, "You don't need to prove anything tonight. You just need to rest."

Her words dissolved against his shirt.

And when her breathing evened out — when her lashes stopped fluttering and the heat in her skin calmed —he stayed.

He didn't move.

Because for the first time in years,Abir chose to stay beside someone… simply because he couldn't leave.