6. Beginning of Healing
Sunlight streamed into the room, falling softly on Shivika's face. She stirred awake, her eyes half closed, but suddenly a wave of nausea hit her.
She hurried to the washroom, leaned over the sink, and vomited. For a while, she sat on the nearby stool, catching her breath before finally freshening up.
Today, she chose a lavender suit.
Standing before the mirror, she began combing her hair. A true smile curved on her lips. A smile she hadn't seen on her own face in days.
It has been so long since I felt like getting ready.
She braided her hair neatly, placed a small bindi between her brows, applied a light red lip balm, and outlined her eyes with kajal.
Looking at her reflection, she noticed something different, her face held peace.
It was as if her soul had finally begun to accept everything that had happened, and she was ready to move forward.
Last night she had realized that tears would not change anything, but trust might.
And her trust in Rakshit had grown tenfold.
Gently caressing her belly, she whispered, "You're growing so quickly, my love."
Her stomach was just beginning to show, a faint curve, and it made her heart swell with joy.
She picked up her phone and murmured with a soft laugh, "Rakshit, you asked me last night if you could be my hope. Today, I'll give you the answer."
Her giggle filled the room, free, genuine, untouched by pain.
For the first time in weeks, she felt truly happy.
Today felt like the start of a new journey, one where she would embrace her pregnancy with love instead of fear.
When she stepped out, she frowned at the empty hall. Rashmi aunty usually arrived by this time. Instead, her eyes fell on Rakshit, busy in the kitchen.
Smiling brightly, she walked closer.
"Good morning," she greeted cheerfully.
The sound of her lively voice froze Rakshit's hands mid-motion. He turned, and for a moment, he stood utterly still.
The sight before him stole his breath.
Shivika looked radiant.
Her brown eyes sparkled with a light he had never seen before, and the kajal made them all the more enchanting. Her smile, soft yet dazzling, made his heart skip a beat.
Shivika noticed his gaze lingering and bit her lip, suppressing a giggle.
Finally, she called out louder, "Rakshit!"
He jolted out of his trance, startled, and the spatula in his hand clattered to the floor.
Shivika bent down to pick it up, but he quickly stopped her.
"Hey, don't!" he said, hastily retrieving it himself, not allowing her to bend.
"You shouldn't bend like this," Rakshit said firmly, his eyes flicking to her stomach before he turned back to the stove.
"Okay," Shivika replied softly, then leaned a little from the side to peek at what he was making.
Her nose wrinkled.
"Why are you making oats?" she whined like a child.
"It's healthy," Rakshit answered calmly, taking out plates.
"But I don't want to eat this," Shivika muttered, her lips forming a pout as she walked to the dining table and sat down sulking.
Rakshit shook his head at her childishness but followed behind with two plates in his hands.
Sitting down beside her, he said in a steady tone, "You already didn't have proper food last night, and the doctor has strictly told you to maintain your diet."
Shivika pressed her lips together, her eyes widening as she made a crying face.
"But I don't want to eat it…"
Rakshit sighed deeply, trying not to smile at her stubbornness.
"Fine," he said finally, "I'll order something for you after I eat this. But first tell me—what are you planning to do now? Because you can't continue dancing, at least for a while, as per doctor's advice."
Shivika lowered her gaze, humming thoughtfully. Then a small smile appeared on her face.
"I was thinking of spending my time reading. That way I wouldn't even realize how my time is passing, and it would be spent well."
Rakshit nodded.
"Good. So, what type of books do you want? There are already many on the shelf, but if you need something else, just tell me."
Shivika's eyes brightened as she began describing her choices—novels, stories that had warmth, and some lighthearted reads too.
While she was talking excitedly, she didn't even realize that Rakshit had lifted the spoon to her mouth and was gently feeding her bites of oats in between her words.
She kept speaking, and without knowing, she chewed and swallowed, caught up in their conversation.
By the time she paused to take a breath, Rakshit was already standing with both empty plates in his hand.
She blinked in surprise, only then realizing what had just happened. He had managed to feed her without a single complaint from her side.
He placed the plates down, filled a glass of water, and handed it to her. She took it silently, her heart softening as she drank.
This man again made me eat without me even realizing, she thought with a gentle smile.
"That's cheating! You made me eat it!" she said, pointing at him.
"I wanted to eat something else."
Rakshit smirked faintly.
"I'll make it for you. Tell me what you want to eat—but no outside food, it's not good for you."
"But you just said you'd order it from outside a minute ago!" Shivika argued, frowning.
"I said that," he replied calmly, "just to make you busy in conversation."
Her mouth fell open.
"You're mean!" she said, crossing her arms like a stubborn kid.
"I am," Rakshit said without hesitation.
But Shivika's expression softened. She smiled gently and said in a quiet voice, "You're not."
"Hm?" Rakshit looked at her, slightly confused.
"You're not mean, Rakshit," she said sincerely, her tone softening.
He turned away walking towards kitchen, hiding the emotions on his face, but his heart… it felt full.
"Why isn't Rashmi aunty here yet?" Shivika asked as she walked into the kitchen with the glass.
Rakshit was wiping his hands with a cloth.
"She's gone to her daughter's house. She won't come for two or three days," he replied, walking past her.
Shivika followed him back to the hall.
"And… you're not going to the office today?" she asked, noticing he was in casual clothes and settling down on the sofa with a newspaper.
Rakshit adjusted the paper in his hands.
"Since Rashmi aunty isn't here, I thought I'd keep you company. But I'll have to go in the afternoon—there's an important meeting. But don't worry, I'll be back soon."
Shivika's heart warmed instantly.
If he wanted, he could have simply gone to the office early, but no—he was here, just for her.
He wasn't a man who enjoyed being constantly questioned or surrounded by chatter, yet here he was, listening to her endless rants and answering each one patiently.
Rakshit, meanwhile, sat with the newspaper in his hand, but his eyes weren't on the print.
They were only on her—the woman in the lavender suit sitting across from him.
Something about her simple appearance was impossibly alluring today.
He didn't know what spell she had cast, but she looked so soft, so radiant, that it was impossible to look away.
Shivika wanted to say so many things—her gratitude, her newfound happiness, her hopes—but she didn't know how to put them into words.
Instead, she sat quietly, fingers playing with the edge of her dupatta.
"Did you take your medicine?" Rakshit asked suddenly, lowering the newspaper.
Shivika looked up from her lap, her eyes warm.
She smiled softly before replying, "Yes."
Rakshit gave a small nod, his expression relaxing.
For a moment, silence filled the room—but this silence wasn't empty. It was comforting.
Shivika still couldn't find the right words for what she wanted to say. Every time she tried, they got stuck in her throat.
Then suddenly, an idea came to her mind. Her eyes lit up, and without saying anything, she stood up quickly.
Rakshit watched her every movement, confused but curious. She walked over to the bookshelf and pulled out a diary.
Tearing out one page carefully, she folded it and placed it on the nearby table. Then, she took a pen from the pen stand and began writing something quietly.
Rakshit frowned, wondering what she was up to. He wanted to ask but decided against interrupting her.
After a few moments, Shivika stood up and walked toward him. She stopped in front of him, holding the folded paper between her fingers.
Rakshit looked from her face to the paper, puzzled. She gestured for him to take it.
He hesitated for a second, then accepted the note from her hands. Shivika walked back to her place on the sofa and sat down, her eyes never leaving him.
She waited—nervous, yet smiling faintly—to see his reaction.
Rakshit unfolded the paper. His gaze fell on the first few words written in her neat handwriting:
"Thank you?"
His brows furrowed slightly, and he opened the fold further. On one side, it read—
For a moment, his hands went still. His throat tightened, his heart skipped a beat, and his eyes instantly moistened.
That one line was enough to make him freeze. His eyes blinked rapidly, as if trying to believe what he was reading.
Then he turned towards other side—and the next words made his heartbeat race uncontrollably.
A tear escaped from the corner of his eye and slipped down his cheek. He closed his eyes, clutching the paper gently as if it were something sacred.
Her words echoed again and again in his head—soft, tender, unbelievable.
In that one note, she had answered everything he had asked her the night before. She had given him his answer without a single spoken word.
She had listened. She had understood. And now, she was not just trying—she was choosing him.
The last line on that page told him everything he needed to know. She was ready to accept him as her husband—not out of obligation, but because she wanted to.
She was still healing, the pain of her past hadn't vanished, but her efforts… they were real, sincere, and full of heart.
And for Rakshit, that was enough.
He didn't need grand gestures or promises.