Epilogue #2
From the living room, Raj Verma, wrapped in a soft shawl, lifted his mug of tea dramatically.
After retirement, he had moved in with them at their penthouse because both Kushal and Arundhati had refused to let him live alone anymore.
Besides, even Amaira needed someone to spoil her when her parents were busy working.
So whenever Raj wasn’t travelling the world with his close-knit group of old friends, he lived with them, helping, advising, teasing, and mostly pampering his granddaughter all the time.
Today, however, the pampering seemed to be on trial.
“Oh, good, you’re home,” he said dramatically. “Someone save me from this pint-sized dictator.”
“That’s a serious complaint.” Arundhati grinned, knowing this was just another day where her uncle Raj had a tough time handling Amaira.
“No,” Amaira insisted, wiggling her finger at him, “I’ve a SERIOUS complaint with Grandpa.”
“Oh no, no, no. Don’t start again. I didn’t do anything!” Raj Verma groaned loudly.
Amaira whipped around in Kushal’s arms, lips pursed, her expression very close to Arundhati’s famous court glare.
“Grandpa made me sad today,” she announced with great tragedy.
Kushal’s arms tightened around her instinctively.
“What? Why? What happened?”
Raj sat up straighter, annoyed.
“Don’t listen to her version. She hides the actual facts.”
Arundhati bit her lip to hide her smile while Kushal looked at Amaira like asking silently, what did you do?
Amaira began, speaking slowly. “Today after school… Grandpa said… ‘No cookie.’”
“That’s it?” Kushal blinked.
Amaira nodded. “Yes, but I was very good today.”
Raj cut in, exasperated.
“But you already had four gulab jamuns in the morning. So much of sweet is not good in one day.”
Kushal turned to Arundhati, who had made the gulab jamuns for them. It was his favourite dessert too.
“You fed her four?” he asked.
“She stole two!” Arundhati defended. “I turned around for one second and—”
Amaira raised one finger, interrupting.
“I did not steal. I borrowed. Mommy said borrowing is allowed.”
Raj slapped his forehead.
“This child will argue with God one day.”
Kushal froze mid-breath as Amaira continued, “So… I told Grandpa, since he didn’t give me today’s cookie… that means I get two cookies tomorrow. One of today’s. One of tomorrow’s. That is… fair.”
Arundhati finally laughed. “Oh my God…”
Amaira twisted around in Kushal’s arms, pointing a tiny accusing finger at Raj.
“And Grandpa said NO. But that is not okay. Because if you skip something, then next time it becomes DOUBLE. Everyone knows that.”
Kushal nearly choked trying not to laugh.
“That’s… a very interesting rule, baby.”
“It’s a TRUE rule,” she insisted. “I made it.”
Raj jabbed a finger at Kushal.
“See? She’s your daughter. Both of yours. This debating… this arguing… this logic that sometimes makes zero sense but sounds like a High Court submission!”
“So, I want two cookies tomorrow. That is all. I rest my case,” Amaira concluded, hands on her little waist.
Arundhati lost it. She bent over laughing while Kushal was red, shaking with pride and amusement both.
Raj threw his hands up.
“Fine! Take ten cookies! Just leave your poor grandfather alone!”
Amaira gasped happily.
“Really! Ten? Yaaay!”
“No!” Arundhati corrected instantly. “Absolutely not.”
Kushal shook his head firmly. “You’re getting one. And maybe another half.”
Amaira pouted.
“But Daddy…”
He kissed her cheek again.
“No arguing with Daddy.”
Amaira sighed dramatically, as if she had just lost a hearing, then got down from Kushal’s arms to show them the drawing she had done today at school.
The moment she left, Kushal turned to Arundhati.
“Where do you think she gets her courtroom drama from?”
Arundhati smiled, heart full.
“She gets the drama from me… and the logic from you.”
Raj snorted.
“And the headache from BOTH of you.”
The three of them burst into laughter before hearing Amaira calling from her room, asking them to come inside.
“Coming,” they said in unison, before heading to her room, not wanting to make her wait. After all, this tiny tornado was the heart of the family now.
***************
Night – Kitchen
Dinner had long been cleared. Kushal tucked Amaira into her bed. Her tiny snores floated in the room as she curled around her giant unicorn soft toy. He turned off the lights before shutting the door and headed straight to the kitchen, where he knew his wife was.
Arundhati stood at the kitchen counter in her soft magenta nightie, the matching robe loosely tied at the waist. A small wisp of hair had slipped out of her clip, brushing the nape of her neck, which Kushal noticed as he entered.
He stepped behind her in one slow movement, the warmth of his chest gliding against her back.
She drew in a breath, stealing a glance over her shoulder, as his hands curled around her waist.
“Kushal,” she murmured, “I still have a few chores to finish.”
“We’ll finish it tomorrow,” he replied, kissing her cheek once. “Now I want my wife for myself.”
She rolled her eyes, though her smile betrayed her.
“What if Uncle comes out? You know he’s awake around this hour.”
“I checked,” he murmured, kissing the slope between her neck and shoulder, right through the thin satin. “He’s not in the living room, which means he is off to sleep.”
“And Amaira?”
“In her fort. With her unicorn. Completely out and snoring.”
He turned her gently, slid his hands beneath her thighs, lifted her, and sat her on the cool marble counter with effortless strength. Her robe slipped down her shoulder, exposing warm skin.
“We are doing this in the kitchen?” she bit back a gasp.
“Yes.” His mouth brushed her collarbone. “Because my favourite appetiser is right here and I can’t wait till the bedroom.”
Before she could retort, they heard someone clearing their throat. Loudly.
Both froze, realising it was Raj Verma.
Arundhati nearly threw herself off the counter, seeing her uncle at the doorway. He was holding his steel water jug, slightly flustered and hiding his chuckle.
“I forgot to fill this up,” he announced grandly, lifting the jug.
Kushal recovered first, far faster than Arundhati, who looked like she might dissolve into vapor.
“Uh…Actually,” Kushal cleared his throat, straightening his shirt, “we were discussing… a case. For tomorrow’s court. A very urgent matter.”
Arundhati gaped at him.
Case?
Urgent?
In the kitchen? On the counter? With her robe half-off?
Raj arched a single, highly suspicious, brow, before Kushal quickly replaced the empty jug with a filled one.
“I may not have married, beta…” Raj added with a wicked grin, “but I am old, not blind. Don’t test my intelligence. Whatever was happening here was nowhere close to legal discussion.”
Arundhati smacked her palm to her face.
Kushal bit back a laugh, failing miserably.
“Anyways, goodnight to both of you,” Raj said, almost turning away, still smiling. “And please…” He paused dramatically at the doorway. “Do the rest of your casework in the bedroom. The kitchen is sacred. Respect the food.”
The moment he walked away, Arundhati groaned into her palms.
“I’ll die in embarrassment. I swear, I will never let you step into this kitchen again when I’m doing my chores. All because of you.”
Kushal chuckled, slid his hands around her thighs again, and lifted her as if she weighed nothing.
“You can avoid me in the kitchen tomorrow.” He kissed her jaw. “But tonight? You’re mine.”
She looped her arms around his neck as he carried her through the hallway, her robe slipping further with each step, heat curling between them and multiplying faster.
The moment the bedroom door shut, Kushal’s mouth crashed onto hers…hungry, relieved, almost desperate, like he’d waited all day to breathe her in.
Her fingers dove into his hair.
His hands slid under her robe and claimed her waist.
The robe slipped off her shoulders, pooling silently at her feet.
Then the nightdress.
Then his T-shirt, then everything else, until they were nothing but skin and heat and years of love pressed together.
They collapsed into the sheets…tangled, breathless, kissing like it was the first night all over again and the thousandth all at once.
Years of marriage.
Years of knowing every inch of each other.
And still…this.
He hovered over her, skin to skin, his lips trailing down her cheek, the corner of her jaw, the curve of her throat.
She felt his palm glide along her waist, up her ribs, each touch making her toes curl against the sheets.
Everything else faded when his mouth trailed down south, tracing the valley between her breasts, then lower between her legs where she ached for him.
A sinful warmth shot through her body as Kushal explored her with his fingers and mouth.
She threaded her fingers through his hair again, guiding him closer.
He touched her everywhere, placed open-mouthed kisses everywhere, not in a rush…
but sinfully slow…like he wanted to rediscover her inch by inch.
Soon, the room was filled with her soft moans as his mouth worked hard to pleasure his wife, reminding her exactly who she belonged to.
And who belonged to her.
Hours later, when they finally fell still, limbs entwined, breath steadying, Arundhati rested her cheek against his chest.
“Who would’ve thought…” she whispered sleepily, tracing circles over his skin, “we were once heading for divorce.”
His arms tightened around her instantly.
“Thank god we didn’t,” he said quietly, pressing a kiss to her hairline. “I would’ve lost the best thing that ever came into my life.”
She looked up at him with soft eyes.
“I’m so fortunate, Aru.” He brushed his thumb along her lower lip. “That I get to love you every day… fight with you every other day… come home to you every night… and raise our little lawyer together.”
Her heart melted into his palm. “Forever yours, Mr. Nair.”
“Lawfully yours, Mrs. Nair,” he corrected, kissing her forehead. “In every way that matters.”
He was right, she thought as she rested her cheek against his heart.
Lawfully yours.
The term suited them too perfectly.
They had started as lawyers…two brilliant, fiery minds practising law, then bound by the law into marriage.
They fought stubbornly through the law to separate.
And somehow, in the strangest turn of fate, they had found their way back through it again…
not just as husband and wife, but as partners, as soulmates.
Even Amaira carried the legacy. She was born with the law in her veins, sharp enough already to defend her cookie rights and win.
Arundhati snuggled closer, her leg hooking over his as if she needed that last bit of warmth to complete her, while ran a slow hand down her spine, tracing lazy, soothing patterns.
“Tomorrow is Amaira’s parents’ teachers meeting,” she murmured softly.
He grinned, instantly remembering exactly how those meetings usually unfolded. His wife barely looked at the report card. She was far more invested in scanning the room to see which teacher or parent dared to throw appreciative glances at her husband. Her jealousy spiked adorably every single time.
Of course, he wasn’t any better. The moment she worked with a ridiculously good-looking client or some smooth-talking father in the waiting area, his own possessiveness rose like clockwork.
But the truth was simple. One look between them, just one steady glance across the room, and everything else faded.
They always found each other.
They always remembered what they had fought through.
And they always came out stronger, no matter how many eyes lingered or how many misunderstandings tried to get in the way.
By the time his thoughts drifted back, she was already speaking again, half mumbling into his skin.
“So tomorrow, wear the black shirt. I’ll iron it for you in the morning and—”
Before she could finish listing her instructions, Kushal rolled and scooped her into his arms in one smooth motion.
“Kushal! It’s late,” she gasped.
“You think I can sleep now?” he murmured, lowering his forehead to hers, “When my wife is in my arms, plotting my wardrobe, and looking like she wants to kiss me senseless?”
Her breath hitched at the tone.
“Honestly, even I’m not done loving you,” she whispered, brushing her lips over his. “Not even close.”
“That’s like my wife.” Her fingers slid up his neck as he kissed her again, going for a round two.
Outside, the city glimmered beneath the moonlight.
Inside, the couple curled into each other, in love, which hadn’t dimmed even after all these years. In fact, it had only deepened, expanding in ways neither had imagined.
A couple who once stood on opposite sides of the law, opposite sides of a marriage, now stood on the same side of everything…life, love, parenthood, victories, mistakes, and every tomorrow that waited for them.
The End