& Then They Wed (Ampersand Love #2)

26. Shelter

26

Shelter

Rian

I t was no surprise to him that he ended up standing outside Aditi’s clinic at Sanjog General a few hours later, watching the gorgeous woman inside deal with her patients. Rian would have been there earlier, but he had not wanted to seem like an obsessive stalker. He also had his restaurants to check in on. The minute a viable excuse had presented itself, he had wasted no time to rush to the hospital, work be damned.

With a packed lunch that he was sure she’d love, and a very good reason to meet, he had shown up at reception, glad to catch Nina there. He’d wanted to surprise Aditi, and Nina had readily agreed to sign him in as her guest.

Which had led him to this moment, where finally, after months of knowing what she did, he was getting a little glimpse of her professional life.

He caught sight of pictures on the wall, outlining the results of an outreach program on the west coast of India. His lips curved automatically when his eyes landed on a photo of Aditi in her doctor’s coat, sitting with a group of local village women, teaching them something from a chart. Their faces were rapt with attention, some watching her with the same awe he often felt himself.

He moved back, sighting yet another photo of her, her face dusty and serious as she spoke with a heavily pregnant woman, a hand of assurance draped over her patient.

This side of her never failed to leave him impressed. As carefree, silly, and vivacious she could be in her personal life, this truly was the part of her that people gravitated to. The part that showed care to another human, exuding confidence and humanity in equal measure. It made them want to rely on her for help and comfort. The longer he stayed with Aditi, the more it made sense why she had chosen this profession.

She was capable of empathy and kindness in a way that left him spellbound. Her intelligence and her drive to help people made her a good doctor but more importantly, a darn good human.

Eager to learn more of her, he stepped to the side and back, searching every corner of the massive board. He grinned when he spotted a picture of Aditi on her bike, in a place he recognized as Velas. From meeting her there to having her live in his home, he couldn’t believe how far life had brought him. He recalled chastising her because of her honesty at their first meeting, wishing that he’d never cross paths with her again.

He was beyond thankful that this particular wish had not been fulfilled.

“Why won’t you listen? You stupid moron.”

Brows knit, Rian turned, his gaze falling immediately upon a man in a brown linen shirt struggling with a young boy. The child could not have been more than five, but was putting up a fight, unwilling to get up.

“We have to go, idiot!” the man yelled. The little child reached for some crayons on the table near him again, clearly not wanting to leave his colouring behind. “Listen to me! Leave that stupid paper alone, you good for nothing fool!” He yanked him by the arm, getting worked up by the boy’s defiance.

The child made gurgling sounds, trying to get loose even as the man, presumably his father, shook his tiny body. He twisted with a wail, his small eyes meeting Rian’s and it became clear. The child had Down syndrome.

The older man ripped the crayon from the boy’s unwilling fingers with a force that made the other parents in the room wince. No one said a word however, unwilling to interact with someone who was so aggressive.

Rian broke out in a cold sweat, his peripheral vision dimming until all he could see was the child’s distressed face. Suddenly, it was him there. No one to tend to his wounds. Huddling in the cold. Feeling disgraced and unwanted.

“Leave him alone,” Rian called out, unable to stop himself. The father looked up, bristling at the unwelcome order.

“Whoever you are, stay out of this,” he snarled, throwing a look of disgust at his son. “My bad luck that I have a stupid child to deal with.”

“Don’t insult him like that,” Rian warned, taking a step towards them both.

“What’s it to you? Shut up and mind your business. When you have a mentally retarded son yourself, give me your advice then.” His grip visibly tightened over bony arms when the little guy tried to wiggle away, his one pointed attention still upon the art supplies he was being forced to desert.

With an impatient curse, the man unceremoniously smacked the back of the boy’s head. A thump resounded across the waiting room. Rian’s stomach lurched at the child’s cry when he fell, huddling into himself, expecting another blow.

The defensive stance was enough for Rian to guess that this boy had known abuse before. He couldn’t recollect when he’d moved towards them but within the next few seconds, he’d thrown a sideways punch at the father, knocking him into the row of chairs behind.

The commotion around them grew; children crying, someone screeching in fear of the impending fight. The blood rushing through his veins pounded in his ears, drowning out every other sound except the pitiful whimpers of the little child beside him. Furious, Rian grabbed the man and hurled him against the wall before he could escape.

Collar held in large firsts, Rian pulled him up, higher and higher until the man’s toes barely grazed the floor, pinning him in place like a wayward pup.

“Did you feel powerful using your strength against a kid?” he snarled, his eyes red, the rage in his belly screaming for justice. “Do you like being held by the cuff of your neck and thrown about like the worthless pig you are?”

His opponent’s eyes bulged, fear evident in them. Desperate nails dug into Rian’s wrist, clawing for release, but he barely felt the scratch.

He could count on one hand how many times in his adult life he’d been driven to physical violence. His size had always made him extra cautious of using it as an advantage against others. This worm deserved no such consideration.

“Why are you doing this?” said worm croaked, the bruise on his cheek turning a dull shade of purple.

Rian’s grip tightened, his knuckles pushing into the man’s throat where his pulse throbbed rapidly, making it harder for him to breath.

“Because you are a piece of shit who deserves to have his fingers cut off for hitting a defenceless child.”

He leaned in, maintaining eye contact when he dropped his voice so that only the two of them would hear it.

“Listen to me and listen well. I’ve seen your face. Someone related to you must be a patient here. Finding out your identity and where you live will not be a problem for me. If you think I will not be sending the police to check on your family regularly after this, you are wrong. And if I ever find that you have raised your hand to this child, you will not be left in a capacity to raise your body off the hospital bed. Do you understand me?”

The man’s nostrils flared, torn between false ego and pride.

“I asked, do you understand me?!” Rian thundered, shaking him hard enough that his skull connected with the wall.

“Yes. Yes,” he groaned. “I won’t hit him again.”

The rush of feet behind them announced the arrival of security.

Rian thrust the man away, staggering back, unable to keep his hands from shaking now that he had nothing left to hold. Little tremors pulsed through him, spreading before he could stop them. His body trembled like it was going into shock. The beat of his heart transformed into a speedy gallop, threatening to rip right out of his chest. He turned, stiffening when saw Aditi watching him, her clear brown eyes muddied with emotions he was too afraid to guess.

His stomach plummeted. For a second, he wondered if she would hate him now that she’d seen how violent he could get. Would she fear him? Would she let him explain?

“Doc,” he gulped, barely choking the word out.

“Come with me,” she ordered, taking his hand in hers.

Rian didn’t know whether she was going to show him the way out of the hospital or elsewhere. All he could do was follow her, each step heavier than the last. A minute or so later, he found himself being pulled into an empty hospital room. The click of the door felt absolute and he waited for judgement, like a criminal about to be sentenced for his crimes.

“Are you okay?” Aditi stepped closer, one hand brushing up his forearm and it took everything in him not to grab her.

His vision went blurry. “I couldn’t help it, Doc. I didn’t mean. . . ”

He gasped, struggling to take another breath in. His voice was barely above a whisper but even that had been too trying an attempt.

“Hey,” she cupped his face, bringing her attention to him. “Breathe, Rian.”

“What you saw–,” he tried again, unable to continue. To his horror, the burn in his throat shot up and the pressure behind his eyes increased. “Aditi,” he whimpered, his wheezing loud and hollow in the otherwise silent room.

She directed him to sit on the clean bed nearby, standing between his spread knees.

“I saw, Rian. I know it must have been hard for you. I’ve had problems with that man before. I understand.”

He raised a trembling hand to wipe the sweat that had collected above his lips. The air in his lungs seemed trapped, and he could feel his panic rising.

“Don’t hate me,” he choked out, the knot within him tightening with each passing moment.

A split second later, Aditi threw her arms about his shoulders, gathering him close.

Before he could hold it in, an agonised sob erupted from his throat, hot tears leaving a damp trail down his cheeks. Maybe he wept for five minutes, or perhaps it was fifteen. Eyes shut, he buried his face in her chest, letting her scent, the steady rhythm of her heart, and the gentle strokes of her hand against his head and back calm him.

“Feel better?” she asked kindly when his body finally stopped shuddering. She cupped his cheek to look at him. Her thumbs swiped in a delicate arc over his cheekbones, flicking away the remnant dampness.

“My chest hurts,” he croaked, fisting her coat on either side of her waist. He wasn’t ready to let her go .

Sensing his distress, Aditi adjusted his arms to loop around her waist, giving him full control of how close or far he allowed her to go. “Breathe for me,” she coached him, blowing cool air on his forehead.

She glanced down into the tense face of the man she adored, her heart breaking for him. She knew the history of the little boy with Down syndrome very well. Seeing him being mistreated would have brought back a lot of unresolved trauma for Rian. His burst of violence, and his subsequent breakdown confirmed her suspicion. To keep him from dwelling on it, she asked him something that had been on her mind for a while.

“Bugs, why do you never speak about your dyslexia?”

As suspected, the change in topic and the unexpected question had him glancing up.

“How did you know?”

Aditi shrugged, letting her hands smooth the jacket at his shoulders. She brought one hand up and gently sifted through his hair, twirling a finger around a wavy lock. The action was as calming for her as it was for him.

“You said school was tough. I noticed that you take a lot of voice notes, tons of reminders also. You also asked me to read for you. You’re constantly using speech apps. I saw you using a dyslexia font on the computer in your home office. Wasn’t hard to put two and two together.”

“Yeah.”

Her brows met in the middle, confused by that answer. She peered down at him, lips pursed.

“Yeah? I want to know how you’ve coped.”

Rian sighed, leaning into her palm in a quiet demand for her to continue stroking his hair, one with which she complied without delay.

He picked his words judiciously.

“There were a lot of attempts made to ‘fix’ me when I was young. Tutors came and gave up. I was angry for a lot of it because I felt stupid. I didn’t know how to make my brain work. I felt like I wasn’t capable of the most basic things for a long time. Nanamma started doing art with me to see if that would help me concentrate. Muggu. First with chalk, then with rice powder.”

“Muggu?”

“Like, rangoli, but plain,” he explained.

“Oh,” Aditi exclaimed, nodding in understanding. “We have that too. Kolam, in Tamil. We have it on the ground, just outside the threshold of our house.”

Rian acknowledged that with a tilt of his chin.

“The geometric nature of the designs helped me figure out patterns,” he admitted, his mind going back to the days when, as a young boy, he would sit in the backyard with his grandmother for hours, drawing intricate motifs on the cool earth. It was the first time he had made something beautiful that had given him a sense of accomplishment. “That made it better. For a while.”

“What happened after?”

“My mother happened. She sent Nanamma away.”

Maybe it was just in his head, but he thought he felt Aditi stiffen.

“Then?” she asked.

“I was left to fend for myself for long periods. Eventually, I found myself in the kitchen. Nanamma would give me instructions over the phone sometimes to get me started, but I didn’t have to follow any specific rules. I could create things however I wanted. I’d watch our chef and retain things I didn’t think I would. I felt free. Like being me wasn’t so bad.”

Aditi’s thumb kept stroking his forehead, his nose, wherever she could reach, wordlessly comforting him.

“It took me a while to figure out how to work with dyslexia,” he confessed. “But I did. I found people to help me as I got older, worked through what I could and found alternatives when possible. Technology helped. Having a PA who knows how particular I am about reminders, who understands my need to be obsessively organised with my schedule—that helped too. My mother was surprised that I amounted to anything at all.”

“Let’s not talk about your mother,” Aditi requested, her smile tight. “I feel the urgent need to introduce my fist to her nose every time you mention her.“

“I didn’t think you were a violent person.”

Small palms cradled his jaw, lifting his face to hers.

“When someone hurts the people I care about,” she announced, her tone utterly serious, “I tend to not like them very much.”

Rian couldn’t think of a response, feeling the warmth of her words flush out the toxins from his altercation at the clinic.

“Do you know I admire you a lot?” Aditi said, one tiny finger casually tracing his eyebrows and pressing along pressure points that made him close his eyes in relief. “Especially after what you told me, my admiration has only grown.”

The gentle ministrations of her fingers along the edges of his temple had him feeling like she was pouring a soothing balm over his hurt. “I hope you’re not pitying me, Doc,” he murmured, wanting her to never stop touching him.

“Of course not! Look at you. You have a flourishing career and a bright future. You’re one of the most desirable men on this side of the country. I don’t pity successful people. But I do appreciate how hard you must have worked to overcome the challenges you had.”

His lips quirked automatically. “You called me desirable,” he said, lashes fluttering open to see that she was smiling.

“I also called you successful.”

“Good way to balance the compliment."

A huff of laughter escaped her. “It may seem silly, but I’m proud of you.”

“That’s not silly.”

“No?” she confirmed, biting her lower lip, looking surprisingly unsure. “I didn’t want to come across as patronising you.”

His hold on her waist tightened. “It felt good to hear it. ”

“I’m glad. I meant it, by the way.”

“So, it’s not just because you’ve been trying to distract me from remembering that I almost broke a man’s face?”

Aditi gasped loudly, looking about the room in an exaggerated action before glancing at him again.

“You did?” she asked in an affected voice, eyes glittering with mischief. “I didn’t see that. I thought we were just hanging out. Like friends do.”

If he hadn’t been won over by her before, her charming attempt to make him smile, ignoring that he’d misbehaved in her place of work, had him wanting to go down on his knees for her.

“Why do you insist that we’re friends?” he asked instead.

“Because I like you, of course.”

It was that easy and she was unafraid to say it.

“Doc?” he called, his voice soft, his affection for her evident in the way he uttered her nickname.

“Hmm?”

“I like you, too.”

It may have felt like a big step for him, but all she did was giggle.

“I suspected it,” she teased him, shaking her head like he was silly to think this would remain hidden from her. Like he could remain hidden.

“Hug me a little longer? I think I need it to be calm.”

The look she bestowed upon him, full of gentleness and understanding, had him leaning in and nuzzling into the nook of her neck.

“You don’t ever need a reason to ask me for a hug,” she whispered, embracing him. She stroked his head like he was a young boy she was protecting instead of an adult man who generally towered over her and outweighed her by at least thirty kilos.

He thought she would talk even more to occupy him, but apparently, she knew exactly when to say something to calm him, and when he needed the comfort of silence. The comfort of being held. The comfort of just. . .her. God, she was so easy to love.

His breath halted and his heart skipped a beat, the revelation hitting him with the force of an avalanche.

L. . .love?

The absolute shock that ripped through him had him breaking out of her embrace, shooting up to a standing position. He looked down into her concerned face, and he saw his future.

Every moment of every day belonged to her.

All of him belonged to Aditi.

She’d claimed him so thoroughly that he had no way of escaping it.

This was it, he realised, cupping her face so that his large hands covered her soft cheeks. His sights roamed over features like he was seeing her for the first time, the seed of hope within him germinating in her warmth.

This was what he’d thought he could avoid.

But how did one avoid the sun when it shone so brightly?

How did one avoid the rainbow that dominated their sky after a rainstorm?

How could Rian have ever avoided Aditi, when she was the shelter he’d been missing all his life?

In awe, he bent towards her. He wasn’t certain if he kissed her or if she raised her lips to meet his. All he knew was that a pack of bloodthirsty wolves licking at his feet couldn’t have pulled him away from her at that time. He brushed his lips against hers in a slow, long caress, going back again and again to place the sweetest kisses across her mouth, like she was the most delicate and precious thing he’d ever held.

For him, she was.

“What was that for?” Aditi murmured when they broke apart, bemused .

He said the only thing that came to mind. “That’s how they say thanks in France.”

“We’re in India.”

“I know. Just trying to broaden your horizon. Nothing wrong with adopting good things from different cultures.” He kissed her again, as if giving her proof of the benefit of said culture. He felt her smile against his mouth.

“Bugs?”

“Hmm?”

“As much as I love being thanked by you, I need to get back to work. Do you know your way out?”

Rian gulped, nodding at her, his mind still whirling with the newness of his discovery.

“I’ll see you at home?” he managed to ask, her hand clasped in his.

“Yes. I'll be back in time for the Diwali party.”

“Good.” He tried to smile. “I don't think Kaya will let me enter her house without you.”

“You won't have to find out,” she promised.

It was quiet once more, and all Rian could do was stare at her like a complete muttonhead. She probably chalked his weird behaviour up to his panic attack, because she was far more patient than he would have expected her to be.

“Rian?” she prompted eventually, when the silence got too long.

“Yeah?”

“Are you going to let go of my hand?”

Cheeks aflame, Rian dropped his hold on her.

“Bye, Doc,” he replied, already counting down the minutes until he would see her again.