Reyansh Carter
Isit Aisha down on the top of the counter before standing in between her legs.
She gives me the softest look ever to exist on this earth, and I find myself melting at the sight of her face.
She can do so much to me with just a mere look, just a swift glance of her eyes, but I need to put my foot down sometimes.
I don’t like to see her in the slightest of discomfort, and for her to then downplay her pain makes me angry.
“If you are in pain, you don’t need to hide it from me,” I tell her, and she looks down, biting her lip.
I lift her chin up so I can stare in her beautiful brown eyes and let her know that I am standing on business. “I mean it. Understand?”
She rolls her eyes, and I know she understood me well.
I open the cabinet on top, searching for some pain relief spray or ointment.
“There it is,” I say, grabbing the spray and a bandage.
“Lift your skirt,” I tell her, and she snickers.
“Wow, you have such a way with words, Reyansh,” she taunts, lifting her skirt slightly so I can see her foot.
I shake my head, secretly liking that she is back to her playful self.
I carefully remove her heel, and even though she tries her best to act tough, I can still tell from the way her body tremors that the pain is too much for her to handle.
“You know,” I start as I slowly massage the ointment onto her ankle, trying my best to be gentle and firm at the same time. “As much as I love seeing you wear heels, I also don’t like it when they become a reason that you get hurt.”
She looks at me with her doe eyes, not saying anything, and I start covering her foot with the bandage.
“Remember when you twisted your heel during our Sangeet night?” I add, and at the same time, memories flood my mind.
We were dancing to the beats of a Bollywood song. While I don’t remember it correctly, I do remember watching that movie with her prior to our wedding functions.
I think the movie was called “Hassee Toh Phassee,” and the song was the “Punjabi Wedding Song.”
She wanted to recreate the same vibe for our Sangeet, and I went ahead with everything my wife said. She could have asked for anything, and I would have done it. I would be on my knees if she wanted me to be.
The grip she has over me is insane.
I don’t mind it, though. I have always wanted someone to love me, care for me, and actually act like they wanted me my entire life. And she did it without needing to, without having to.
I don’t have enough words to express how much she means to me.
The happiness on Aisha’s face was incredible. Not only had she managed to recreate the vibe for the function, but she had also managed to dress up like a diva.
With her golden lehenga and open hair, she looked so magnificent. God, I felt like crying seeing her beauty. I couldn’t believe that she wanted me, that she was marrying me.
“You were twirling in your lehenga, dancing to that lovely song,” I added.
Her eyes had that glimmer that said that she remembered everything, so I kept going.
I massaged her calf as an excuse to touch her because I don’t know when I will find the chance to be as close to her as I am right now.
“You looked so beautiful that day. The memory is etched into my brain. But you twisted your heel while twirling, and I hated how much you got hurt on your—our special day.”
I cupped her cheek, brushing my thumb slightly over her soft skin, and I felt her melting against my touch.
I have missed us so much, missed having us so close to each other.
Aisha is someone I crave every single moment of my life, every second. I have been a fool pushing her away, but even in those moments, I was punishing myself more than I was punishing her.
I didn’t even realize when I became so engrossed in my career, trying to give her a life she maybe never even wanted but one I felt obliged to give her, that I ended up destroying us.
“Do you miss this?” I ask, my voice raw and vulnerable.
“Don’t you miss this—miss us?”
Her lips tremble, and I wonder if I should kiss her. I trace her bottom lip with my thumb, and she sucks in a breath.
“I do,” she says, her eyes flitting over my face, resting on my lips before they land back on my eyes.
I hope she can see the raw emotions I am feeling. I am not that great with words, but I hope she can feel what I am not able to say.
I hope that, like always, she can feel what I can’t express.
“I love you, Aisha. I am ready to beg for forgiveness for our entire life together. I am just not ready to let you go.”
I inch closer to her face slowly, giving her time to move away or push me away if she wants to.
“Please don’t leave me.”
I kiss the corner of her lips, and her eyes drop closed.
“Please let me in your heart again.”
My lips move to her cheek, kissing firmly, and her hands tighten around my biceps, her nails digging into my flesh.
“Please let me love you again. Freely and hopelessly—just like before.”
She opens her eyes, and I pull back a little.
And to my surprise, she doesn’t let me go.
Instead, she touches my face, her fingers slowly tracing my jaw, and I feel a shiver run down my spine.
“If I ask you to do something, will you do it for me?”
I nod, having lost my ability to speak suddenly.
The way she is looking at me has changed, and I don’t mind it.
“Kiss me, Reyansh. Just like you used to.”
* * *
I don’t know how much time passes as I stand rooted in my spot, my lips almost touching her skin.
Out of all the things I thought she would say, I didn’t think she was going to say this.
My heart feels as if it will leap out of my chest. I have never felt this way; being near her makes me feel like an out-of-body experience.
I have never yearned to be close to someone as I do with her, never felt this ache in my chest to hold someone, or kiss someone as I do with her ever since I saw her for the first time.
It is safe to say that every cell in my body knows it belongs to only and only her.
“Are you sure?” I whisper.
I don’t want her to regret this. I don’t want her to think that this is a one-time thing. I don’t think I can go back to being at a distance if I kiss her right now.
I think if I kissed her today, I would want to do it for the rest of our time.
Divorce be damned.
“Please don’t make me repeat myself, Rey.”
Just one word. Just her calling me Rey is all the confirmation I need.
I smile, knowing this is what I wanted—needed to hear for so long.
But I also don’t want our first kiss to happen in the bathroom of a party.
I want it to be special.
So instead, I kiss her forehead first, and her eyes close, and her breath hitches.
I kiss her left eye, and I see her body tremor in my hold. My hand latches onto the hollow of her throat, and I can feel the way her nerves pulse under my touch.
I kiss her right eye, trailing my lips down to her cheeks.
Her hands tighten around my body, and I wish we could stay like this forever.
Just frozen in this moment in time.
“I love you, Aisha. And I want nothing more than to devour you.”
Her eyes open, and I can see the effect of my words in them.
“But I don’t want our first kiss to happen in the back of a bathroom.”
Her eyebrows furrow, disappointment flashes through her eyes, and I hate myself for it just as much as I know I am not wrong. Not this time.
“I want our first kiss to be special.” I caress her cheek, hoping she understands. “I want it to mean something.”
Hurt mars her face, and I just hope she understands.
“Is that an excuse because you don’t want to kiss me?”
Her words trigger me, and I pull away slightly to look at her.
How could she even think that?
Me? Not wanting to kiss my wife? Bullshit.
Even when we weren’t talking, I wanted to kiss her.
I was just too afraid of the distance that had bridged between us to do it.
“Are you saying that to hurt me, or do you really think that way?”
“I think that way, Reyansh,” she says, pushing me away. “You don’t have to pretend you want me. You can just let me go.”
I reach out for her arm as she steps down from the counter and tries to move out.
I pull her towards me, and her back clashes against my front. I grip her chin to make her face us in the mirror, and her eyes meet mine. And the one thing that is common between us is the pain on our faces.
It is funny how we manage to hurt each other at the same time as we heal each other.
“You know one thing I am done doing?”
She doesn’t answer, so I go on.
“I am done pretending I don’t want you.”