MEERA'S POV

"Give me your hand," Gora Sahib said, his voice low, almost hesitant—like a question wrapped inside a whisper.

I froze.

My gaze dropped to his open palm, fingers waiting, steady and still. My heart thudded once—loud enough to echo in my ears. I looked up at his face. He wasn't demanding... just waiting. Patient. Calm. But there was something else in his eyes, something gentle—something I didn't know how to name.

My breath caught as I lifted my hand.

Ink-stained fingers—trembling slightly—slipped into his.

Warm.

Delicate.

The contact sent a shiver down my spine.

His palm closed around mine as if he was holding a feather, or a secret. As if I were something to be handled with care. And then—Gora Sahib pulled my chair closer. Closer than it had ever been. My knees brushed his. Our shoulders touched. The sudden closeness made my skin hum, every nerve alive with awareness.

My breath hitched softly.

But I didn't pull away.

I couldn't.

His other hand came up, guiding mine back to the quill. Our fingers intertwined, awkwardly at first—but securely. The feather brushed against his skin, and I could feel the soft tremble in my wrist where it met his steadiness.

The paper waited in front of us—blank, expectant. The ink shimmered like stilled water, untouched.

"Just follow my lead," Gora Sahib said softly. His voice had changed. It was quieter now, almost... intimate.

I nodded, unable to speak.

Our hands moved together.

His fingers were firm around mine—steady, sure. Mine trembled, uncertain, but he didn't rush me. The nib of the pen kissed the parchment with the gentlest pressure, leaving behind a dark trail of ink—smooth, curved, purposeful.

I tried to breathe evenly, but I could feel my chest rising too fast. My body leaned toward him, instinctively. I didn't even realize I was doing it until I felt the soft brush of his shoulder against mine again.

We were too close.

But I couldn't move away.

All I could do was follow—because I really wanted to learn things.

His breath was near—so near. I could hear it, feel it—low and even. I caught the faint scent of him again—paper, ink, and something unfamiliar but warm, like worn leather and sun-dried linen.

My eyes flickered up to his face.

Gora Sahib was focused. Not on me, but on the shape we were forming together on the page. His lashes cast faint shadows on his cheek. The lines of his jaw were tense, but not with anger. Concentration. Restraint.

And I...

I was drowning.

The way our fingers fit together. The way Gora Sahib held me—not like I was a burden, or a foolish village girl—but like I mattered.

As if I belonged here. With him. In this moment.

The quill moved again. Another letter. Another curve. My hand still trembled, but with him guiding me, it felt less like failure and more like learning to breathe again.

And then I felt it.

His hand—just a little firmer now.

His breath—warmer, closer.

My heart—louder than it had ever been.

My lips parted unconsciously, and I realized I hadn't spoken for minutes. I hadn't even blinked, I think.

Because all I could see now... was Gora Sahib.

Not the pen. Not the paper.

Just him.

His closeness felt like sunlight pressed against skin after winter. Too warm. Too kind. Too dangerous. Something that could melt me if I let it.

And I was letting it.

The lines we were drawing blurred. I forgot what letter we were on. I forgot how to move my hand. I forgot the world.

Because his touch, his warmth, his nearness—it was undoing something inside me I hadn't known existed. Peeling back something guarded. Silent. Wounded.

I didn't know if Gora Sahib felt it too.

But in that moment, with ink smudging my fingertips, my body leaning into his without permission, and his voice still echoing in my chest like a song meant only for me—I knew this wasn't just about learning to write.

It was something else.

Something far more frightening.

Something far more beautiful.

And all I could do was keep breathing and pretend that my heart wasn't shattering and rebuilding itself—all at the same time.

then i came into senses . I blinked rapidly, lowering my gaze to the parchment in front of me, as if it could somehow unravel the tangle of confusion in my mind. My hand still carried the warmth of his touch—where Gora Sahib had gently guided mine—and the ink shimmered faintly where our last letter had taken shape together.

But my mind... it had lost all sense.

"Arey sathiya gayi hai kya, Meera?"
(Have you completely lost your senses, Meera?)
I scolded myself in silence, shifting slightly in my seat—just enough to create a sliver of space between us.

"Ye kya soch rahi thi tu abhi?"
(What were you even thinking just now?)

I pressed my lips tightly together, ashamed.

He is the Gora Sahib. A British officer.
White skin. White feather. Everything about him is foreign, distant—untouchable.

And me?

I'm a widow.
A simple village woman.
Illiterate.

And yet... my heart had the audacity to flutter like that?

"Arey raam raam... kis tarah ke khayal aa rahe hain mujhe"
(Good Lord... what kind of thoughts are entering in my mind, )

I stole a hesitant glance at him.

Gora Sahib was calmly dipping the pen back into the ink, his face composed—serene. As if nothing strange had happened. As if my very soul hadn't just dissolved and reshaped itself in those fleeting moments.

How does he look so composed?
I can't even remember how to breathe properly anymore.

My fingers itched to wipe the ink from my skin—not because I disliked the stains, but because they reminded me too much of the nearness we had just shared.

"Tu pagal ho gayi hai Meera... bilkul pagal,"
(You've gone mad, Meera... completely mad,)
I muttered under my breath, the words no louder than a whisper.

I adjusted my dupatta, wrapping it more tightly around myself—as if it could protect me from the storm of my own thoughts.

He's just teaching you to write, I reminded myself.
Just ink. Just letters.

But my chest still felt unbearably full.
And my heart still beat far too loud.

************************************************************

Dear Readerlog, I know this chapter is a little short! Please adjust this time, I promise the next chapter will be a longer . 💛

If you enjoyed reading, please tap that vote button!🥰

And Do leave a comment to share your feelings about the story.

How did you find this part? I really hope you loved it!🫶

I'd love to hear your thoughts—any reviews or suggestions are most welcome.🎀

which part you liked most ??