Chapter 27 #2
“I didn’t like it at first,” he went on. “The first month, I called Papa every night.”
She paused.
A younger version of him rose in her mind. Alone. Holding on to a voice that made the unfamiliar bearable.
“And after that?” she asked quietly.
“It became home.” His hand moved through her hair. “The way places do, if you stay long enough.”
She let that settle.
“Raghav and I…” a faint breath, almost a smile, “…we were trouble by the second year.”
She laughed. “What kind?”
“The kind that ended up in the principal’s office every week.” His thumb brushed her shoulder. “I once convinced him the fire exit from the science lab led to the cricket ground.”
She lifted her head. “It didn’t?”
“It did not.”
“Where did it lead?”
“The girls’ dormitory corridor.”
Her eyes widened.
He held her gaze, entirely unapologetic. “We were suspended for a week.”
“Was there a girl?” Her tone careful.
He didn’t hesitate. “Bharti. It lasted six weeks.”
“Why did it end?”
“She decided cricket mattered more to me than she did.”
“Did it?”
“At sixteen?” He glanced up. “Yes.”
She smiled.
“I regretted it at seventeen. She had moved on.”
She watched him. The line of his jaw. The calm in him. The softness the early light gave him.
“Were there others?”
His eyes returned to her. “None that mattered. Not like this.”
The air changed. She pressed her face back into his shoulder, her breath warmer now.
His arms tightened around her, drawing her closer. That was an answer enough.
Morning Four
"What do you want?" he asked.
They sat against the wall, her legs across his, his arm around her. The courtyard held the last of the night.
"What do you mean?"
“From our life. Not the Haveli. Not the business. What do you want?”
The question settled deep.
“I want to wake up and know the day matters,” she answered slowly, choosing each word. “That what I do has meaning. The Haveli gives me that. The people. The work. The history.”
Her fingers curled against his arm.
“I want children who know where they come from.”
He didn’t interrupt.
“And I want to stop being afraid,” she added, softer. “Of being too much. Of taking space that might not have been mine.”
His arm tightened. He turned to her.
“You have never taken too much space. You have always taken exactly what was yours. Others just didn’t see it.”
Her eyes rose to his.
“I did.” His voice dropped. “From the first day.”
That reached deep. She looked away, gathering herself.
"What do you want?" she asked.
He took a moment, choosing his words carefully.
“I want someone who argues with me. Not because they have to. Not because they need anything.”
His thumb moved along her arm.
“Someone who says no, Boss and means it.”
She curled into him.
“I want Maa to stop worrying. I want Naina to have someone who won't complain when he has to drag fabric samples at midnight.”
A small smile touched her lips.
“I want your father to know that everything he gave came back to his daughter.”
She looked up at him.
“I want you to wake up every morning and know you are exactly where you are meant to be.”
He brushed their noses together.
“And I want to be the reason for that.”
Her throat tightened. She didn’t trust herself to speak.
He read it in her. Then softer, quieter, “I want all of us. Together.”
That was all.
She leaned back into him, her head resting against his shoulder.
He pressed his mouth to her hair. They didn’t speak again. Above them, the sky changed as morning arrived.
Morning Five
They were back against the wall, her legs stretched across his, his arm around her.
“I have been thinking,” he began.
She tilted her head, instantly alert. That tone always meant trouble. “That sounds dangerous.”
“It is necessary,” he replied, composed. “The honeymoon.”
She blinked and waited.
“I have reviewed options,” his tone carried the same control he used when companies bent to his decisions. “I have narrowed them down.”
“Of course you have.”
“Europe is obvious,” he shrugged. “Everyone goes to Europe. I have no interest in doing what everyone does.”
“Then where?”
“The Maldives remains under consideration.” He looked at the sky, thoughtful. “Very little to do. Nowhere to go. Complete isolation.”
Her eyes widened.
“Bali is another option. Cultural. Visually impressive. Private villas are available.” A glance at her. “With private pools.”
She turned her face away.
“Japan,” he continued, unfazed. “Excellent food. Interesting culture. However…” a slight pause as he selected his words, “…traditional inns have very thin walls. That may present… acoustic challenges.”
Her hands flew to her face.
“I keep returning to the Maldives,” he went on, as if closing a deal in his head. “Isolation is efficient. No external interruptions. No requirement to leave the villa.”
“Hukum,” her voice came out muffled through her fingers.
“I am being practical. This requires planning.”
She lowered her hands and looked at him.
His face remained composed. His eyes were not.
The laughter escaped before she could stop it. Bright. Sudden. Free. She clapped her hand over her mouth at once, glancing toward the courtyard walls as if they might report her.
He caught her mid-laugh, his hand sliding to the back of her head, drawing her close.
His mouth found hers, entirely pleased with himself.
She was still laughing, soft, breathless, against his lips.
He didn’t mind. Not even a little.