Protect My Big Puppy: The Billionaire Who Waited In the Rain

Chapter 2 – The Fevered Apology

The morning light broke through the clouds like a shy confession after a stormy night. Drops of rain still clung to the balcony railing, dripping one by one onto the street below, echoing faintly against the quiet hum of the city awakening.

I stood by the window, wrapped in a thin shawl, staring at the man who had once been my whole world—and now, just a shadow outside my door.

Aarav Malhotra. The name that made boardrooms go silent, journalists chase for headlines, and women whisper in awe.

To the world, he was the ruthless billionaire, the youngest CEO in Mumbai’s cutthroat corporate jungle—cold, commanding, and dangerously intelligent.

To me, he had been something entirely different once. My warmth. My chaos. My “big puppy,” as I used to tease him when he tried to act tough but would sulk if I ignored him.

And now, there he was—soaked to the bone, his designer suit plastered against his skin, hair dripping rainwater, lips pale, and eyes red-rimmed from the night’s vigil. He hadn’t left.

I opened the door quietly, the hinges creaking as if to warn me not to. The chill rushed in instantly. Aarav swayed slightly but managed a faint smile.

“Good morning,” he rasped, voice hoarse, barely more than a whisper.

I wanted to slam the door shut. I wanted to forget the ache in my chest, the guilt, the longing. But his next step forward shattered every wall I’d rebuilt.

He stumbled.

“Aarav!” I caught his arm instinctively, feeling his skin burning beneath the cold rain. Fever. A bad one.

He looked up at me through half-lidded eyes, and that proud, intimidating man who had broken my heart only weeks ago suddenly looked small, lost, human.

“I… won’t be mean anymore,” he murmured, breath shallow. “Please… don’t leave me.”

Something inside me cracked.

I pulled him in before my mind could argue. His body trembled as I guided him to the couch, my heart racing in a rhythm I had sworn to forget. I fetched a towel, then hot water and medicine, every movement mechanical yet trembling with emotion.

When I touched his forehead with the damp cloth, his hand shot up, gripping mine tightly.

“Stay,” he whispered. “Don’t… disappear again.”

His voice was weak, but it held that same commanding tone—the one that used to make my pulse quicken in both anger and desire.

I tried to speak calmly. “Aarav, you need to rest. You’re burning with fever.”

But he only smiled faintly, eyes glassy. “I thought maybe… if I waited long enough, you’d open the door.”

He wasn’t joking. He had actually stood there all night—in the rain, in November cold—just for this.

A wave of conflicting emotions crashed inside me: anger, pity, love, exhaustion. I had left him for a reason. His obsession with control, his need to dominate every situation, even love—it had suffocated me. Yet now, as I watched him shiver beneath my blanket, I couldn’t deny that I still cared.

I sat beside him quietly, staring at the city skyline.

For the first time, the mighty Aarav Malhotra looked breakable.

“Why now?” I whispered. “Why come back when I finally learned to breathe without you?”

He turned his head slowly, eyes meeting mine. “Because without you… I forgot how to.”

My throat tightened. I hated that he still knew the exact words that could undo me.

He reached out, fingers brushing my wrist. “I know I was cruel. I thought being strong meant not showing how much I cared. But when you left… everything fell apart.”

I wanted to tell him that words weren’t enough. That love needed trust, space, and gentleness. That I couldn’t live like a bird trapped in a golden cage of his protection. But the words died in my throat when I saw a tear slip down his face.

He had never cried. Not once. Not when his parents died. Not when his company nearly collapsed. Not when the tabloids tore his name apart.

But now, for me, he did.

I wiped it away without thinking.

“You’re an idiot,” I murmured.

His lips curved into a fragile smile. “Your idiot.”

That familiar teasing spark returned between us for a brief, painful second.

And just like that, the distance of months vanished. The silence of heartbreak melted into something softer, unspoken.

He drifted into sleep soon after, still holding my hand. I watched his chest rise and fall, my thoughts tangled between resentment and longing.

Outside, the rain finally stopped. The sun peeked timidly through the clouds, casting golden light across the room.

And I realized something—

Maybe the storm hadn’t been between us. Maybe it had been inside us all along.

As I tucked the blanket closer around him, I whispered to the sleeping man who had once been the monster in my story,