CHAPTER 251: CHAPTER-251.

From a short distance away, Veer’s father had been watching silently. His usual stern expression faltered. For a long moment, he seemed frozen, as though he couldn’t believe what he was seeing. Then, slowly—almost against his will—a faint, bright smile curved his lips.

Suddenly, a shiver crawled down Kaya’s spine. But it wasn’t fear—it was that sharp, uncanny twinge she always felt when a bad premonition pressed at her chest. Slowly, she turned her head, and her eyes landed on Veer’s father.

He was smiling. Brightly.

Kaya’s breath caught. Her hand instinctively pressed against her chest, her face paling further. What the hell... is this person about to die? That was the only thought that struck her, absurd yet chilling. How could he... how could he smile at me like that?

Her throat burned raw from vomiting, her chest ached, and her body felt weak. She didn’t have the strength to think deeper—or speak.

Veer, worried sick, helped her rinse her mouth, gently tilting the water for her to gargle. He carefully wiped her lips and cheeks, then scooped her into his arms without hesitation. With a tenderness that almost annoyed her, he carried her back inside the cave.

He laid her onto the bed, pulling a blanket over her. "Rest, sweetheart," he murmured, brushing her hair back.

Kaya, too drained to argue properly, still managed to push him away with a weak kick under the blanket. Her stubbornness made Veer sigh, but he respected it. With a small, helpless smile, he stepped out and quietly closed the door behind him.

Left alone, Kaya let her body sink into the bedding. Her head was heavy, her stomach still uneasy, but exhaustion soon tugged her into sleep.

That night, Kaya refused to eat anything, no matter how many times Veer tried to coax her. Whether it was from the nausea, the vomiting earlier, or simply her body giving in after days of pushing itself too hard, she looked pale and drained. Maybe the climate of this world didn’t suit her, or maybe it was all catching up at once.

Even Kaya herself grew irritated. She was a soldier—her mentor had always called her the woman of steel, the one who never bent, never broke, never fell sick no matter how harsh the battlefield. And yet here she was, lying weak on a bed like some fragile woman from a melodrama, struck down again and again. The thought alone made her grit her teeth.

Veer sat at her side, placing a cool towel on her burning forehead. He studied her with worried amber eyes. "How do you feel?" he asked softly.

Kaya tried to answer, opening her mouth, but only a hoarse cough came out. Her throat felt raw, swollen, every swallow burning like fire. She frowned, frustrated at her own weakness.

Veer sighed, brushing a damp strand of hair from her cheek. "Who told you to push yourself so hard?" His voice was low but firm, scolding and tender at once. "Just rest here."

He patted her head gently. And then, without warning, his wings unfurled, stretching into the dim light of the cave. Kaya blinked in surprise, her lips parting as if to ask why—but before she could, the soft whump of feathers began.

Slow, steady, measured. Veer flapped his wings with precise rhythm, not too strong, not too weak, sending cool streams of air washing over her feverish body.

Kaya’s eyelids fluttered. She hadn’t even told him she felt hot, but somehow he knew. It was as though he could read her mind.

The breeze was soothing, like being wrapped in a calm night wind, and before long, her tense body loosened. Her breathing evened.

Veer kept at it until she drifted into a deep, peaceful sleep. Only then did he still his wings, folding them back in silence, his gaze lingering on her face with a quiet, unspoken vow.

Veer placed a small kiss on her forehead, lingering just long enough to steady his own heart, before patting her head softly—once, twice, thrice. Then, with the quiet care of someone afraid to wake her, he rose and walked out.

Kaya’s lashes fluttered open just in time to catch the sight of his back as he slipped through the doorway. She lay still, watching his figure fade into the dimness, and felt the thundering beat of her chest.

People said falling in love was like magic. Sometimes even like a thief—creeping in when you least expect it, knocking softly at first, then slipping past the door without ever asking permission. And now, Kaya knew.

She had fallen. For this idiot. Deeper and deeper, as though the more she tried to resist, the more she sank.

All her life, she had scoffed at the notion that a man in love would set aside his pride, his ego. What kind of man does not cling to his pride? she had thought. What kind of man lowers his head willingly? She had never believed such things.

But after meeting him, after seeing the way Veer looked after her with no hesitation, no care for dignity or ego, she could no longer deny it. Whoever had said those words had spoken the truth.

And it hurt—God, it hurt—because the deeper she fell, the more painful it became to realize just how much of herself she was giving away to this man.

Kaya slowly reached up and tugged the damp cloth from her forehead, setting it aside. The bed felt too heavy, too warm, and her chest still thudded with that restless beat Veer had left behind. With a quiet sigh, she pushed herself up and sat at the edge of the bed.

Her hand fumbled for the candle on the bedside table. With a flick of flint and trembling fingers, the wick caught, its soft glow spilling into the dim room. Shadows danced lazily along the cave wall, flickering like ghosts that refused to rest.

Kaya’s gaze fell on the worn leather-bound diary resting near her pillow—Veer’s mother’s diary.