The storm had raged all night long. Raman awoke with a start the next morning, wincing as his back protested at the long stint in the easy chair.

He looked over at his sleeping nemesis.

She was scrunched up beneath her duvet, her face screwed up in some silent protest, her feet peeking out of the covers. He got up slowly, noting with dismay his discarded laptop.

He had intended to do so much work last night, but her proximity had distracted him. Time and time again he had abandoned his work to glance at the woman sleeping mere feet away from him.

What was it about her, he wondered for the umpteenth time. He had been with far more beautiful women, far wittier, far sexier - sophisticated women who could converse with him about anything under the sun; sex goddesses who had fallen at his feet and begged for his attention; professional women who considered it a challenge to bed him and the socialites who pursued him endlessly.

So what was it about her that had made the great Raman Kumar Bhalla forget his work and his commitments, to gaze at her endlessly through the night?

Well, whatever it was, he wasn't going to give in to it, he decided. She was his neighbour, his Ruhi adored her, and she ...she loved his daughter too. She was too good for a fling to assuage his raging libido; too honest for him to lie to her, and too gentle to withstand the truth.

He gathered his laptop and his cynical soul and walked out of her room.

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

Ishita glanced at the bedside clock as she woke up. 8.00 am

"Aiyo Murugan" she exclaimed, flinging aside the duvet as she sat up. She touched her head cautiously, but apart from a slight ache at the site of her injury, she felt fine. The lethargy and dizziness of the previous night had dissipated.

As she stood up to go to the bathroom, she noticed an easy chair pulled up to the bed. It's cushions were wrinkled, as if someone had sat up for a long time in it. Her foggy memory of the night before came back to her in glimpses. She had woken once or twice in the night she recalled, but a caring hand had soothed her and sent her back into her dreams.

She sat down again abruptly.

He stayed here with her all night, to make sure she was fine? Raman Bhalla? Who was this man? Was he the same man who had had her parents arrested when she took Ruhi to the hospital; the same man who had tried to offer her money in a drunken state after the CEO party; the same man who never said a polite word where rudeness would do; who accused her of trying to trap rich men into marriage; the same man who told her she did not deserve a child? This man?

She had spent the past three months since meeting him in a fit of righteous indignation about how uncouth, how rude, how obnoxious he was.

And yet, she had to admit, something had drawn her to him like a moth to a flame.

He had turned up at the most unexpected junctures of her life to infuriate and annoy her, but none more so unexpected than this. Her accident yesterday and his behaviour in its aftermath had taught her one thing - this man was more complicated than she had given him credit for. He had a caring heart, and if he had a caring heart, than why did he dislike his beautiful little daughter? Was he really as indifferent towards Ruhi as she thought, or had she truly misjudged him?

Well, she had the next few days to find out.

But ... all these days here, together with him, only with him... why did the thought of their isolation send that frisson of fear and delight through her?

"Stop it Ishita" she told herself firmly. "Just because he was nice for a day doesn't mean you forget all that he has done in the past. He's still the same akdhu Raman Kumar Bhalla. He.. He's a ..a Raavan."

And having given her rescuer his correct designation in her mind, Ishita stalked off into the bathroom.