Page 92 of The Defiant Wife

"They hid my clothes."

"They called me horrible names."

Her voice breaks."Sometimes . . . "

She closes her eyes."Even the adults there locked me inside the storage room under the stairs."I feel every muscle in my body go rigid."There were days when they forgot I was in there."Her breathing trembles again."I stayed inside for two . . . sometimes three days."

"No food."

"No light."

"I screamed until my throat hurt."

She laughs softly.It's the saddest sound I've ever heard."No one came."

"No one ever came."

For a long moment . . . I can't speak. My jaw locks so tightly it hurts.A hot wave of anger crashes through me.Not the controlled irritation I'm used to.Something far uglier.

Far more dangerous.

All I can picture is a little girl sitting alone in a dark room.

Hungry.

Terrified.

Waiting for someone who never comes.

I want to find every single person who allowed that to happen.Every child who laughed.Every adult who ignored her.Every person who failed her.

Diya looks up at me. She notices the anger on my face. Before I realize what she's doing, her fingers reach for my wrist. They lightly touch my palm. "Veeraj . . . "

Her voice is small."Can you . . . hold me?"

She hesitates before finishing."Just tonight."

"I don't want to sleep alone."

My heart stumbles.She isn't asking because she's teasing me.She isn't trying to win an argument.She's asking because she's frightened.Because tonight she simply doesn't want to be alone.

I don't answer with words.Instead, I pull the quilt back and open my arms.

She doesn't hesitate.She moves closer until she's tucked safely against my chest.Her knees curl toward mine.Her hands gather the front of my T-shirt, right above my heart.

She buries her face against my neck with a quiet sigh that sounds almost like relief.

I wrap my arms around her.One hand rests against the middle of her back.

The other slips around her waist, holding her close.She fits there so naturally that it almost scares me.

I rest my chin lightly on top of her head. Slowly, I run my hand up and down her back in quiet, reassuring circles.

Little by little, her breathing evens out. Within minutes, she's asleep again. This time peacefully.

I don't sleep.

I lie awake listening to the steady rhythm of her breathing against my chest.