66. MINE
VEERANSH:
Morning arrives quietly for once. She doesn't wake before me today.
Aarohi is still asleep beside me, curled slightly to one side, one hand tucked beneath her cheek while the other rests protectively over her stomach even in sleep.
I sit up carefully, making sure the mattress barely moves.
The new bed we assembled last night is larger, stronger, spacious enough for the future I keep imagining, yet somehow she still sleeps close to my side like she naturally belongs there.
I don't wake her. The doctor said rest matters more than routine right now.
Instead, I lean forward slowly and place my palm against her forehead.
No fever. Good. I brush a few strands of hair away from her face gently.
She stirs slightly, murmuring something incoherent under her breath, but doesn't wake fully.
"Sleep," I whisper softly before standing up quietly.
After a quick shower, I change into comfortable clothes and return to the room.
She has shifted again, the blanket half fallen from her shoulder.
I pull it back over her carefully and tuck it near her arm before pausing for a second just to look at her.
There's something peaceful about Aarohi when she sleeps.
No dramatic complaints. No arguments about vegetables.
No stubborn glare when I mention medicines. Just softness. Warmth. Calm.
I leave the room without making noise and head toward the garden.
The morning air feels cool and fresh against my skin.
I sit with my laptop, deciding to finish most of my work early so I can spend the day with her afterward.
Emails. Calls. Approvals. My mind works sharply out of habit, efficient and focused, but every few minutes my eyes drift back toward the house automatically.
Instinct. Protection. Responsibility. Possessiveness. I don't even know what to call it anymore.
A security guard approaches me carefully after some time.
"Sir..." I look up briefly. "Yes?" He hesitates for a second before speaking again.
"A parcel has arrived for Aarohi ma'am." My fingers stop moving over the keyboard immediately.
"A parcel?" "Yes, sir." "From whom?" He shakes his head.
"No sender name. Courier said it was urgent. "
Something tightens unpleasantly in my chest. No sender details.
I slowly close the laptop and stand up. "Send it to my study.
" He nods quickly and walks away. A few minutes later, the parcel rests on my study table.
Medium-sized. Plain brown wrapping. No details except one thing written neatly across the front.
Aarohi Sarkar.
Just seeing her name on something unknown irritates me instantly. I dismiss the servant, close the study door behind me, and stand there staring at the box for a moment. It could be harmless. Books. Clothes. A random gift from a friend. Still, something about it feels wrong. Off. I open it slowly.
Inside lies a fresh red rose wrapped carefully in paper. Beside it, imported chocolates. Underneath them rests a small velvet ring box.
My jaw tightens instantly.
I open the box slowly and stare at the diamond ring inside. Expensive. Elegant. Intimate. My fingers curl around the box unconsciously as something sharp rises inside my chest. Beneath it lies a folded letter. I unfold it carefully and begin reading.
Aarohi,
I miss you. I just came back to India. I really want to meet you and tell you that I have fulfilled my dreams. Back in childhood, you always said you loved diamond rings. I brought one for you. You gave me the strength to achieve my dreams.
Now that I have returned, my only dream is you.
I know we were just childhood friends, but now I realize that when I was away from you, you became my only dream, Aarohi.
I love you.
The paper crumples slightly in my grip.
Childhood friend.
Diamond ring.
My only dream is you.
I read the words again slower this time, my jaw locking harder with every line.
Some man has the audacity to send my wife a diamond ring and confess his love while she carries my children.
Twins. My breathing grows heavier as I glance again at the ring catching the morning light.
For one brief second, I imagine her wearing it.
That thought alone sends something violent through me.
Before I can stop myself, I grab the entire box and walk straight out of the study toward the outer garden wall.
Without hesitation, I throw it hard. The box crashes against the stone boundary and disappears beyond it.
The rose scatters somewhere outside. Chocolates spill across the pavement.
The ring vanishes completely from sight.
I walk back inside still holding the letter.
In the sitting room, I light the fireplace myself. The flames rise slowly while I stare at the folded paper one last time before pushing it into the fire. The edges curl immediately. Ink darkens. Words disappear one by one.
I love you.
Gone.
Ashes.
I stand there watching until nothing remains.
My hands are visibly shaking now. I grip the edge of the table hard, forcing myself to breathe properly. Who does he think he is? A childhood friend? A man returning with dreams and a diamond ring? Someone who thinks he can claim her with memories?
Aarohi is married.
She wears my mangalsutra.
She carries my children.
And he writes my only dream is you.
I pace across the room once. Then again.
The anger refuses to settle. It sharpens instead, turning into something raw and possessive deep inside my chest. I know Aarohi.
She would never encourage something like this.
She probably forgot him years ago. Maybe he created fantasies in his own head from simple childhood kindness.
But that's not the point.
The point is that he dared.
He dared to imagine her as his. He dared to send something so intimate into my home. He dared to write those words about my wife while she sleeps upstairs carrying my future inside her body.
Part of me wants to find him immediately. To look him in the eye and destroy that arrogance personally. But another part knows losing control solves nothing. And right now, control feels dangerously thin.
I close my eyes briefly and see her face from yesterday. Laughing softly despite dizziness. Complaining about injections. Resting her hand over her stomach. Whispering nervously during the sonography. She's emotional right now. Fragile in ways she doesn't even realize herself.
And someone from her past chooses now to appear?
No.
Not happening.
I lean against the wall and press my fingers against my temples, forcing my thoughts into order. She doesn't even know about this parcel. Maybe she hasn't thought about him in years. Maybe to her he was simply another childhood friend lost with time. That's all. Nothing more.
Still, the thought of another man writing her name like that makes my blood burn.
"Aarohi is mine," I whisper quietly under my breath.
The words sound low and controlled, but fierce.
"Only mine."
Not ownership in a shallow sense. Something deeper than that. A bond. A promise. A life built together.
She chose me.
She fights with me. Laughs with me. Sleeps beside me. Cries in my arms. Carries my children.
No letter changes that.
No diamond changes that.
No unfinished childhood fantasy changes that.
I straighten slowly, forcing the anger into something calmer. Sharper. Controlled.
I won't tell her. Not now. Her blood pressure was low yesterday. She doesn't need unnecessary stress. She doesn't need old memories resurfacing while she's emotionally vulnerable.
I'll handle it myself.
If he tries again, I'll know.
Security will receive new instructions today. No anonymous parcels. No unidentified visitors. No surprises.
I walk upstairs quietly afterward and push open the bedroom door softly.
She's still asleep exactly where I left her, peaceful and unaware of the storm that passed downstairs.
I walk closer slowly and sit beside her on the bed.
She shifts slightly in sleep, murmuring something softly under her breath.
Leaning down, I press a gentle kiss against her forehead.
"You're safe," I whisper quietly.
Not to her.
To myself.
Because right now, that's what matters most.
Whatever dreams someone else built around her end here.
With ashes.
With a diamond ring thrown beyond my walls.
Because Aarohi is not someone's unfinished wish from childhood.
She is my present.
My future.
My family.
And I do not share what belongs with me.
Not love.
Not her.