Chapter - 38
By the time I returned to our room, I could feel the stiffness settling across my shoulders.
The day had refused to end.
Every time I thought I was done with one file, another had appeared on my desk. Half the meetings should never have reached me, yet somehow they always did. By the time I finally walked out of my office, all I wanted was ten uninterrupted minutes before dinner.
I shut the door behind me and walked towards the wardrobe.
Without much thought, I reached for the knot of my tie and loosened it before slipping my watch off my wrist and placing it on the table beside the bed.
Then I shrugged my coat off one shoulder. Just as I pulled my right arm free from the sleeve, I heard footsteps outside.
I paused.
They were not hurried, they were not slow either. They were light and familiar. Before I had the chance to think about why they sounded familiar, they stopped right outside my door.
I turned to find her standing there.
One hand still rested against the wooden frame while the other held the strap of her handbag loosely at her side. She was not smiling the way she usually did whenever she entered the room.
Instead, she simply looked at me. Her eyes travelled over my face quietly, as though she were making sure I was actually standing in front of her.
She blinked once, then again and I noticed the way her fingers slowly loosened around the strap before letting it slip from her hand altogether. The bag landed against the floor, forgotten.
For a few seconds neither of us spoke.
I watched her carefully.
Something had changed.
Not in a way I could explain.
There was no panic on her face. No mischief either. Her eyes held an emotion I could not immediately recognise. They searched mine for another brief second before softening in a way I had never seen before.
Then she moved crossed the room in quick steps until she was standing directly in front of me.
Before I had the chance to ask what had happened, both her arms came around me, wrapping around my waist as though she had made the decision long before walking into the room.
The coat slipped from my hand and fell onto the sofa behind me.
Her forehead brushed my chest before she turned her face slightly, resting her cheek against me with a sigh that I felt more than I heard.
A few loose strands of her hair tickled my neck while the rest spilled over my shoulder, carrying the faint fragrance of jasmine with them.
Her hands settled against my back, one above the other, and I felt the little pressure of her palms through my shirt.
I had spent my entire life believing I understood silence.
Boardrooms had taught me silence, negotiations had taught me silence and loss had taught me silence.
None of them had ever felt like this.
Her warmth settled against me so naturally that my mind forgot every thought it had been occupied with only moments earlier.
I could feel the sound of her breathing where her cheek rested over my heart. Every slow breath brushed lightly against my chest before disappearing again.
Her fingers were not gripping me out of fear or desperation. They simply rested there, secure and unhurried, as though they had found exactly where they wished to be.
People had embraced me before after ceremonies, after victories and during family gatherings.
Every one of those embraces had carried purpose, expectation or formality.
This one carried none.
She was not asking me for reassurance or thanking me. Neither was she trying to explain herself.
She wanted to stand here with me, and that thought alone made me wrap my arms around her before I could even think about it.
One settled around her shoulders while the other rested against the middle of her back, my palm spreading over her back.
Holding her felt strangely instinctive, as though my body had already decided what to do long before my mind caught up.
The moment my hand touched her back, her shoulders relaxed enough that the tension left them beneath my palm.
She leaned into me by the slightest fraction, her cheek pressing a little more firmly against my chest, and a slow breath escaped her lips.
I felt every bit of it.
My heartbeat had remained steady through situations that would have unsettled most men.
Years of discipline had taught me to control my breathing before it could betray my thoughts.
Yet standing here, with nothing more than this woman resting quietly in my arms, I became aware of something I had never paid attention to before.
The beat beneath my ribs had slowed.
The constant tightness I carried across my shoulders without ever acknowledging it eased so naturally that I only realised it had disappeared after it was already gone.
The weight of the day, the meetings, the conversations, the decisions waiting for tomorrow, every one of them slipped somewhere beyond the walls of this room until they no longer seemed capable of reaching me.
I looked down at her.
Only the top of her head was visible from where I stood. Her eyes remained hidden against my chest.
One side of her face was pressed lightly against me while a few strands of hair had escaped around her temple.
Her lashes rested motionless against her skin and every few seconds I felt her fingers shift almost imperceptibly against my back before becoming still again, as though she were reassuring herself that I hadn't disappeared.
Nobody had ever held me like this once in my life.
She stood here asking for nothing at all and for the first time in years, I realised that peace was not always found in solitude.
Sometimes, it sounded like another person's breathing.
It felt like the weight of someone's head resting over your heart and somehow, without saying a single word, Parthvi had managed to silence a part of me that I had believed would remain restless for the rest of my life.
I made no attempt to move.
There was nowhere else I wanted to be.
Standing this close, I became aware of how naturally she fit against me.
The top of her head rested just beneath my chin, her cheek still pressed against my chest, her hair falling across my shoulder in waves.
Every breath she took brushed faintly against me, and with each passing second I found myself becoming more aware of her than of anything else in the room.
Then she spoke.
Very softly.
"Thank you for doing that for my family, Ranaji. Even though we did not deserve it." she murmured, her voice muffled against my shirt.
Even though we did not deserve it.
For a long moment, I said nothing.
My hand remained against her back, feeling the slow rise and fall of her breathing beneath my palm. She had not moved after saying it. She remained where she was, her cheek still resting over my heart.
"You are wrong." I replied to her.
I felt her body become still against mine after hearing me.
"You are not responsible for what happened before you were born, Parthvi." I told her, my hand moving once across her back before coming to rest there again.
"Neither is Ruhi." I continued after a pause.
Her breathing hitched.
"Children do not inherit guilt. They inherit families." I added.
Very slowly, she lifted her face from where it rested against me. My hand remained at the middle of her back, unwilling to leave its place, while hers still rested against me exactly as they had before.
There was confusion in her eyes now. It had replaced the certainty with which she had walked into this room. She searched my face carefully, almost as though she believed she had misunderstood what I had just said.
She blinked once.
Then again.
"But you married me because of my family," she reminded me,her eyes refusing to leave mine. There was no accusation in her voice. No bitterness. She simply spoke a truth that had existed between us from the very beginning. "You married me because of what my father did."
I held her gaze.
"I did." I admitted, never attempting to soften the truth. My voice remained level, the same voice with which I discussed business, family and war alike. "I brought you to Ratangarh because of what your father did. That decision was mine."
I watched her eyes lower. Her lashes hid whatever crossed them for a brief second before she looked back at me.
"When I married you," I continued, my hand remaining where it rested against her back, "I saw only your surname. I saw the daughter of the man who destroyed my family."
She did not flinch or defend him. Instead, I watched her fingers curl slightly into the back of my shirt before becoming still again.
"I do not see only that anymore." I finished in the same measured tone, looking into her eyes without hesitation.
Her eyes widened.
"What changed?" she asked softly, her brows drawing together as she searched my face. There was confusion in her eyes now, mixed with something far more fragile.
I looked at her while she waited without looking away.
"My answers did not." I replied evenly, my voice remaining calm. "What happened to my family still happened."
I watched her fingers loosen against my back. She lowered her eyes for a brief second before lifting them again.
"But somewhere along the way," I continued after a measured pause, "I stopped seeing only your father's daughter."
The words settled between us.
"I started seeing you."
She did not move or blink.
I watched the surprise spread slowly across her face before her lashes trembled.
"My father is the reason your mother is gone." she whispered painfully, her voice breaking around the words she had perhaps repeated to herself a thousand times. "That truth will never change."
"No," I answered, without looking away from her. "It will not."
Another silence settled between us.
I let it remain there before speaking again.
"But neither will this," I said steadily, my hand remaining warm against her back. "Not once since you have come here have you given me a reason to mistake you for him."
She simply stood there, looking at me as I watched the corners of her lips lift into the smallest smile.
It was not the bright smile she gave Ishaan or the teasing smile she wore whenever she argued with me. It was smaller than that.
She lowered her eyes almost immediately after smiling, suddenly finding the buttons of my shirt very interesting.
The faint colour that had already begun spreading across her cheeks deepened another shade.
I watched it happen.
It started just below her eyes before slowly travelling towards the tips of her ears. She seemed completely unaware that I was noticing every little change crossing her face.
Her fingers, which had remained comfortably resting against my back all this while, suddenly seemed unsure of themselves. They shifted ever so slightly against my shirt before becoming still again.
She continued staring at the front of my shirt for another few moments before finally letting out the smallest breath.
"I think..." she murmured awkwardly, still refusing to meet my eyes as she absentmindedly began smoothing an imaginary crease on my shirt with the tips of her fingers. "I may have done something very impulsive."
I looked at her without answering immediately.
"And what might that be, Raanisa?" I asked her, despite knowing the answer and could not help but smile.
She finally looked up at me.
For exactly one second.
Then she looked away again.
"I hugged you!" she confessed under her breath, the words coming out so softly that they were almost swallowed by the silence between us.
"You did." I agreed without hesitation.
She closed her eyes.
"Oh God," she groaned, dropping her forehead against my chest once again as though hiding there would somehow erase the last few minutes. "I cannot believe I just did that."
I looked down at the top of her head.
"I can." I replied simply.
"Let's just forget that this ever happened, okay?" she asked, still standing still, her face buried in my chest, making way for a warm, fuzzy feeling inside me.
"I am afraid that is not possible, Parthvi." I told her and that made her lift her head and look at me once again. There was confusion in her eyes again, but this time it was accompanied by curiosity.
"Why not?" she asked, her brows drawing together as she searched my face.
"Because," I replied evenly, my hand remaining where it rested against the middle of her back, "I have spent the last several minutes discovering that I am rather fond of having you here."
She frowned faintly.
"Here?" she repeated quietly, clearly not understanding what I meant.
I did not answer immediately.
Instead, the hand resting against her back gave the slightest unconscious press, drawing her just a fraction closer before becoming still once more.
"In my arms," I clarified. "And I see no reason to forget something I intend to experience again."
I told her the truth and she simply stared at me for some seconds.
The colour drained from her face for the briefest second before returning twice as fiercely. It spread across her cheeks so quickly that I watched the blush deepen almost in front of my eyes.
Her lips parted.
Closed.
Parted again.
Not a single word emerged.
I waited.
She continued looking at me as though I had spoken in a language she had never heard before.
Then slowly, she blinked.
Once.
Twice.
Her eyes dropped from my face to the knot of my loosened tie before immediately darting somewhere over my shoulder, as though every object in the room had suddenly become far more interesting than looking at me.
"I..." she began weakly, only to stop halfway through the sentence.
She cleared her throat.
"I..." she tried again, her voice somehow even smaller than before.
Nothing.
Another silence settled between us as I watched her attempt to recover with interest. She continued looking everywhere except at me.
The silence stretched between us while I watched every unsuccessful attempt she made to gather her composure. It was oddly fascinating.
"I..." she said softly, her voice barely above a whisper as she glanced at me before immediately looking away again. "I think I should let go now."
"If you say so." I replied.
She gave the smallest nod to herself, almost as though she were gathering courage for something extraordinarily difficult.
Very carefully, her hands slipped away from my back.
I felt every inch of that movement.
The warmth of her palms disappeared from my shirt one slow moment at a time until her fingertips finally slid away altogether.
She took a hesitant half-step backwards, her eyes still lowered, her fingers immediately reaching for the end of her dupatta as though they desperately needed something else to occupy themselves with.
She had let go.
I had not.
My hands remained exactly where they were. One still rested around her shoulders, the other remained spread across the middle of her back.
It took her a moment to notice and she blinked once, then looked back up at me.
"Ranaji..." she called, uncertainty creeping into her voice.
"Yes?" I answered, meeting her eyes.
"I..." she began hesitantly, glancing at my arm before looking back at me. "I... let go."
"I know that you did." I replied evenly.
She waited.
When I made no attempt to move my hands, she looked at me again, this time with visible confusion.
"You're..." she said slowly, as though carefully choosing every word. "You're still holding me."
"I am." I acknowledged simply.
The blush that had begun fading immediately returned and she looked from my face to my hands and back again.
"I thought..." she murmured awkwardly, "...that once I stepped back, you would too."
"I had no intention of doing that." I answered her as it was.
Her lips parted.
"You... didn't?" she asked, sounding surprised.
"No." I replied simply.
Another silence settled between us. She searched my face as though she expected to find some trace of amusement there. She found none.
"You're making this very difficult for me!" she complained softly, unable to hide the embarrassment colouring every word.
"I know." I answered.
She stared.
"You know?" she repeated incredulously.
"I do." I replied without looking away.
She let out the smallest, most defeated sigh.
"Then why?" she asked helplessly, finally looking directly into my eyes. "Why are you still holding me?"
I held her gaze for a long moment before answering.
"Because," I said quietly, my voice remaining steady, "I have no desire to let you go simply because you feel embarrassed."
She forgot to breathe.
I watched it happen. Her lashes fluttered, her lips parted slightly and a deep blush spread slowly across her face until even the tips of her ears turned pink.
For several long seconds, she simply looked at me.
"I..." she attempted, only for the sentence to disappear before it was ever spoken and then looked away.
Then immediately looked back at me again.
"You are being very unfair." she muttered under her breath, unable to meet my eyes for more than a heartbeat.
"I do not believe I am. I just have no intention of letting go of my wife." I replied calmly.
She looked at me in complete disbelief.
For a moment, she simply searched my face, perhaps hoping that if she looked hard enough she would find the faintest trace of teasing hidden somewhere behind my words.
She found none.
I had meant every word.
A tiny breath escaped her lips before she lowered her gaze again. Her fingers twisted the edge of her dupatta together, only to let it go a second later. Then they found it again, fidgeting with the fabric in a way I had begun to recognise whenever she was thoroughly flustered.
"I...I should go and check on Adhiraj uncle." she finally said, looking into my eyes.
She shifted beneath my gaze, waiting for me to answer.
"I am certain he has," I replied evenly, my hand still resting against the middle of her back. "His nurse gives him his medicines at the same time every evening."
Her expression faltered.
"I know," she answered a little too quickly, before adding with visible determination, "but I still want to see him."
I watched her carefully.
She was not lying. She genuinely wanted to check on Baba.
She was also very obviously attempting to flee this conversation and me.
The two things could exist together.
"And that has absolutely nothing to do with wanting to escape me?" I asked her, one eyebrow lifting just enough for her to notice.
"Oh, absolutely not," she replied with remarkable seriousness, nodding to herself as though I had asked the most ridiculous question imaginable. "I spend all my free time running away from you. It has become my favourite hobby."
I looked at her without the slightest change in expression.
It took her two heartbeats to realise what she had just done.
Her eyes widened.
The confidence with which she had delivered the sentence vanished so completely that it was almost impressive.
She blinked.
Then slowly covered her mouth with her fingertips.
"I said that out loud, didn't I?" she asked, her voice barely audible.
"Ji." I replied to her question.
"Ranaji," she said with the solemnity of a woman accepting defeat, "before I say something even stupider, I think I should leave." she announced, nodding to herself.
Without saying another word, I slowly withdrew my hand from the middle of her back.
Then the one resting around her shoulders.
The warmth beneath my palms disappeared and it felt disappointing and she turned on her feet and left the room as fast as she could.
She had entered this room to thank me.
She had left after accidentally confessing that she ran away from me, hugging me without thinking, and fleeing before she could embarrass herself further.
A smile found its way onto my face before I could stop it.
I stood where I was, looking at the closed door as though expecting her to suddenly remember she had forgotten something and walk back inside.
She did not.
The room had fallen silent again, yet it no longer felt the way it had before she entered. A short while ago, every corner was a reminder of another exhausting day. Now all I could remember was the warmth of her embrace and the quiet sound of her breathing against my chest.
My gaze dropped to my hands.
They had let her go.
They had done so because she wished to leave.
Yet my palms still remembered her as I flexed my fingers.
It was an odd realisation. The warmth of her back had disappeared several moments ago, but I could still recall exactly how naturally she had fit against me. I found myself unconsciously flexing my fingers before letting my hand fall back to my side with the faintest shake of my head.
What an extraordinarily dangerous woman. The moment she became aware of what she had done, every ounce of composure she possessed had abandoned her.
I replayed the conversation in my mind.
"I hugged you!"
"Let's just forget this ever happened."
"I spend all my free time running away from you."
Another laugh escaped me before I could stop it.
She truly had said that.
Not even deliberately.
Simply because her thoughts seemed to reach her lips before her judgment had the opportunity to intervene.
I rubbed a hand across my face.
Had anyone told me a month ago that Parthvi Sharma would one day leave me standing in my own room laughing to myself, I would have questioned their sanity.
Yet here I was.
I had made a complete fool of myself.
The thought repeated itself in my head for what had to be the fiftieth time as I hurried down the corridor, one hand clutching the strap of my handbag while the other remained firmly pressed against my face.
My cheeks were burning.
No.
Burning was too gentle a word.
I was certain they had caught fire somewhere between, I hugged you, and I spend all my free time running away from you.
I closed my eyes for the briefest second.
Oh, God.
Why did I say that?
Better question.
Why did I think it?
No.
Even better.
Why did I say everything I thought whenever that man looked directly at me?
I had lived twenty-five perfectly respectable years without announcing every embarrassing thought that entered my head.
Then Rudra Adhiraj Raisinghania had happened.
Somehow, in his presence, my brain had developed the alarming habit of forwarding every unfinished thought directly to my mouth without bothering to ask for permission first.
I groaned under my breath.
"I hugged you."
I whispered the words to myself in horror before immediately covering my own mouth.
"I actually said that."
Then I remembered what had happened after that.
He had not laughed.
He had not looked uncomfortable.
He had calmly informed me that he was rather fond of having me in his arms.
I stopped walking.
Very slowly, I leaned my forehead against the cool stone wall of the corridor.
"No," I whispered to myself. "We are absolutely not thinking about that."
My traitorous heart disagreed and the memory of his hand resting on my back came to me.
The way he had drawn me just a little closer without saying a word and the certainty in his voice when he had said he intended to experience it again.
I squeezed my eyes shut.
"No."
I had nearly forgotten how to breathe.
A tiny, helpless sound escaped me before I buried my face in both hands.
"What is wrong with me?" I muttered to myself.
Nobody answered, which was fortunate because I doubted I would have survived if anyone had heard the question.
With a sigh that would have earned me an eye roll from Ishaan, I pushed myself away from the wall and started walking again but towards the gardens this time.
I needed air.
Fresh air solved everything.
Or at the very least, it seemed less judgmental than the walls of Ratangarh, which had undoubtedly witnessed every embarrassing moment of the last twenty minutes.
The evening breeze greeted me the moment I stepped outside.
The lawns stretched ahead, washed in the soft golden light of the setting sun.
Garden lamps had begun to flicker to life one by one, casting warm circles across the stone pathways.
Somewhere in the distance, the fountain continued its steady rhythm, while the fragrance of raat ki rani floated lazily through the air.
Usually, I loved this place. Today, I was too busy arguing with myself.
"What possessed you?" I demanded under my breath as I began pacing along the pathway.
"You could have just said thank you."
One step.
"Normal people say thank you."
Another step.
"They do not throw themselves into their husband's arms."
Another.
"They definitely do not announce that hug out loud afterwards."
I covered my face again.
"Oh, God."
The memory refused to leave me alone.
"I have no intention of letting go of my wife."
I stopped walking.
"No."
I shook my head firmly.
"We are not replaying that sentence."
Unfortunately, my brain had already replayed it.
Twice.
The corners of my lips twitched despite my best efforts.
"No smiling."
I warned myself sternly.
"This is a serious situation."
My heart appeared to disagree.
It had become spectacularly unhelpful ever since Rudra had started looking at me the way he had today.
I resumed walking.
Perhaps exercise would help.
People always claimed walking cleared the mind.
Mine seemed to be getting progressively worse.
"I started seeing you."
I groaned.
"No, no, absolutely not."
I pointed an accusing finger at my own head.
"You are officially banned from remembering anything he said today." I spoke up.
The ban lasted approximately four seconds.
I had spent the better part of my life believing I understood embarrassment, had stumbled through presentations in school, answered the wrong questions in college and once walked into the wrong classroom entirely.
None of those moments came remotely close to whatever had happened inside our room.
I had hugged my husband without thinking and somewhere in the middle of all that, he had casually confessed that he liked holding me and wanted it to happen again.
I walked in circles around the gardens, each lap no more productive than the last.
Every logical thought I managed to produce lasted exactly a few seconds before being interrupted by another memory of him.
His voice.
His eyes.
The way he had looked at me as though I had become the only thing worth paying attention to.
It was deeply unfair.
He had gone back to whatever perfectly composed people like Rudra Raisinghania did after emotionally dismantling another human being with three sentences.
Meanwhile, I was wandering through gardens arguing with flowers.
Eventually, the evening breeze did what my own reasoning could not.
It slowed me down.
My breathing steadied.
The frantic beating of my heart settled into something almost normal.
Almost.
I looked up at the palace.
Lights had begun appearing behind the windows one after another.
Dinner would be served soon and I could not remain outside forever. Sooner or later, I would have to return and that thought alone made me sigh.
"You're his wife. You share a room and there s absolutely nothing strange about walking into your own room." I reminded myself and nodded once.
That sounded perfectly reasonable.
With considerably more confidence than I actually possessed, I climbed the staircase and made my way back through the corridor until I reached our door.
I pushed it open.
For one brief, glorious second, I thought I had been lucky. Perhaps he had already gone downstairs. Perhaps fate had finally decided I had suffered enough embarrassment for one evening.
Then I looked up to see him stand near the wardrobe with his back towards me.
His shirt was gone.
A single white towel was wrapped securely around his waist, another smaller towel resting loosely over one shoulder as he absently dried his damp hair. Tiny droplets of water traced slow paths down his neck and across his shoulders before disappearing beneath the edge of the towel.
My brain stopped working.
Completely.
Every sensible thought packed its bags and left.
"Oh!"
The sound escaped me before I could stop it.
I spun around so quickly that my dupatta flew with me.
My eyes slammed shut on instinct, and both my hands immediately flew up to cover them for absolutely no reason because they were already closed.
"I saw nothing," I announced to the room.
My voice came out far louder than I had intended.
"I repeat," I continued, squeezing my eyes even tighter, "I did not see anything."
I could practically feel him looking at me and my face grew hotter.
"This is your fault!" I informed him with complete confidence, still facing the door instead of him.
"If you had worn your shirt five minutes earlier, none of this would have happened." I said.
For one long second, neither of us spoke.
Then I heard the faint sound of a drawer closing behind me.
"That would have required me to know precisely when you intended to return," Ranajireplied, his voice as level as ever. "I am afraid I do not possess that ability."
I opened my mouth.
Closed it again.
He was being perfectly reasonable.
Which was extraordinarily inconvenient.
"That is not the point," I protested, still refusing to open my eyes. "The point is that... that..." I waved one hand helplessly behind me. "...you are standing there like... like that!"
Silence answered me. Then came the quiet sound of hangers shifting inside the wardrobe and a few moments later, I heard the rustle of fabric.
"You may turn around now," Ranaji said.
I waited.
Just to be safe. Only after another few seconds did I cautiously lower my hands and opened one eye.
Then the other.
He had changed into a white kurta and white pyjamas. His hair was still damp from the shower, a few drops of water resting near his temples, but otherwise he looked exactly as he always did.
Composed and unhurried as though nothing unusual had happened.
"Okay Ranaji, I am going to go to dinner and pretend that the past hour has not happened in my life today." I announced and once again, turned on my heels to leave.
"Okay, Ranaji, I am going to go to dinner and pretend that the past hour has not happened in my life today," I announced before turning on my heels.
I had barely taken two steps when I sensed movement behind me.
Without thinking, I looked over my shoulder.
He was walking towards me.
His hands were clasped behind his back, his steps slow and unhurried.
He wasn't calling my name.
He wasn't trying to stop me.
He simply walked.
I slowed without meaning to.
By the time I reached the door, he was only a few steps behind me.
My hand hovered over the handle.
For some reason, I didn't open it.
I turned.
He came to a stop a short distance away.
Neither of us spoke.
His damp hair had begun to dry, a few stubborn strands still falling across his forehead. The white kurta somehow made him look softer than the man who usually walked through Ratangarh issuing instructions that everyone obeyed without question.
His gaze rested on me.
There was no amusement left in it.
No teasing.
Just that look I had begun seeing more and more often. The same one that somehow made my heartbeat forget what it was supposed to be doing.
I looked away first and my fingers tightened around the end of my dupatta before loosening again.
The silence stretched between us.
It should have been awkward. Instead, it settled around us with surprising ease.
Somewhere downstairs, I could hear faint voices drifting through the palace.
Dinner.
Everyone would be waiting.
Still, neither of us moved.
After a long moment, I lowered my eyes with the smallest shake of my head and my lips curved into a helpless smile that I could no longer hide. When I finally gathered the courage to look at him again, he was still standing exactly where he had been.
Watching me.
I turned back towards the door.
This time, I opened it.
I stepped out into the corridor and began walking towards the dining hall. A moment later, another set of footsteps joined mine.
They never hurried to walk beside me. They never slowed enough to fall away. They remained exactly two steps behind, following me through the long corridors.
I never once looked back. I didn't need to. Somehow, I knew he would still be there, walking behind me, matching every turn I took.
And for reasons I could not explain, knowing that made the walk to dinner feel shorter than it ever had before.