Chapter 26
Dev
With a mile-wide grin, I make my way towards the bedroom, balancing the breakfast tray in my hands.
I can already picture the look on her face when she sees her favourite parathas and aloo sabzi.
This time, I made sure to get the household staff to help so it wouldn’t turn into another disaster like last time.
But the effort is still mine. That has to surely count and bring a smile to her face.
A smile I live for, and the one she brings to my face just by being who she is.
And no matter how much I do for her happiness, nothing will ever come close to what she has given me. Herself. Completely. The way she trusted me with every part of her is something I’ll carry to my grave.
Even now, thinking about how I woke up with her tucked into me, with her leg thrown over mine and her face buried against my chest, fills me with a deep sense of peace.
I just didn’t want to move. All I wanted was to remain right there, wrapped around her, holding on to the most beautiful happiness I’d ever known.
But I also wanted to make this small effort and wake her with her favourite breakfast, if only to show her what she meant to me, no matter how many times I tell her the same thing.
So, reluctantly, I untangled myself as carefully as I could, making sure not to wake her, and slipped into the kitchen.
As I push the bedroom door open, I suddenly stop dead when I see her suitcase lying open on the bed. She’s standing with her back to me and shoving her clothes into it. Instead of the nightdress I left her in, she’s now dressed in a salwar suit.
The fucking sight steals my breath.
No. She wouldn’t. She wouldn’t regret last night. She wouldn’t run. She wouldn’t leave me. Not after everything we shared, not after she finally let me in.
No. I won’t let her. There’s no damn universe where I will let her walk out that door.
I draw in a few shaky breaths, trying to fill my lungs, before I force my voice out, “Meera?”
She jumps at my voice and spins around, placing her hand on her chest.
“Dev! You scared me! Honestly, you need to stop startling me like that, or one day, you’ll give me a proper heart attack!”
“Why are you packing?” I ask, brushing off her words, because right now it feels like my own heart will give out at any second.
She glances down at her suitcase, then back at me. “I was going to my parents’ house.”
At her words, the ugly fear in my chest skyrockets. She’s really going. She’s leaving me. After everything, after the night we just shared.
“My…” she starts, but I cut her off, my mind too chaotic to let her finish.
“You’re not leaving me.”
She blinks, her brows furrowing. “What?”
I step forward and set the breakfast tray on the table with a thud, and then turn to face her fully. “What happened last night doesn’t mean you should run from me or regret it. What we shared—”
She interrupts me this time, a soft, almost amused smile playing on her lips. “It was perfect.”
Before I can respond, she closes the distance and cups my face in both hands, her thumbs grazing my cheeks. “And I don’t regret a single moment.” She leans in, her lips grazing my nose, sending a jolt straight to my chest. “I can never and will never regret being yours.”
Relief floods through me, and I press my forehead against hers. “Then… why are you packing?”
“My mom called a few minutes ago. She said Dad’s not feeling well, and he’s been asking for me. I thought I should stay with them for a few days.”
“You scared the hell out of me.” I exhale, then pull back just enough to look into her eyes. “I am coming with you.”
She frowns, biting her lip. “Dev, I… I really don’t think that’s a good idea.”
“Why not?” I ask, even though I already know the answer.
“Because… my parents still haven’t accepted our marriage, and they haven’t accepted you either.”
“And they’ll never accept our marriage, or me, unless I try,” I counter firmly.
She opens her mouth, probably to argue again, but I cup her face, my thumb brushing over her cheek.
“Meera, I am your husband. You’re my wife.
I won’t hide from them or give them the space to think I don’t care enough to show up.
I already made a mistake in the way I married you, but I won’t make another by staying away and giving them more reason to hate me than they already do.
It’s high time I face them and prove to them that I am worthy of you. ”
I knew meeting her parents was inevitable, and at some point, I would have to face them.
I was just buying time to fully win my wife’s heart.
And now that I have, it’s time for the next step: convincing her parents.
I know how much she loves them, how central they are to her life, and that makes them a part of mine too.
She swallows hard, her eyes meeting mine, filled with fear, love, and relief all at once. She lets out a small, shaky sigh. “Dev…”
“I am not letting you go to your parents and have them question us. And I am definitely not letting you stay away from me for days,” I say, my thumb brushing lightly over her lower lip.
“Okay,” she breathes.
I drop a sweet kiss on her forehead. “Good. And next time, no packing without telling me. You nearly gave me a heart attack.”
She laughs under her breath. “You weren’t around when Mom called. And the moment you came in, you didn’t even give me a chance to explain. You just freaked out.”
“Well, my fear got the better of me,” I admit, brushing her hair away from her face. “And I wasn’t here earlier because I wanted to make your favourite breakfast and wake you with it,” I add, nodding towards the tray. “Come on, let’s eat before it gets cold.”
She wrinkles her nose. “Well… last time proved your cooking isn’t exactly… edible.”
“This time I had help, sweetheart,” I say, leading her to the couch and setting the tray between us. I pick up a piece of paratha, break off a small bite, dip it in the sabzi, and hold it out to her.
“Here, try,” I say, watching her eyes soften as she leans in.
“Umm. This is far better than I expected,” she says, smiling at me.
“Told you,” I reply, grinning.
She leans in and presses a soft kiss to my cheek. “I love you.”
“I love you too,” I whisper, picking up another piece of paratha and holding it out to her.
As I feed her, I can’t help but think that winning her parents’ hearts won’t be easy. But I also know that nothing meaningful ever is. My wife is worth every battle, every struggle… every single thing.
???
The drive to her parents’ house is quiet, punctuated by Meera’s worried glances every few minutes, as if she’s checking whether I am really certain about this. Each time, I squeeze her hand, reassuring her I’ve never been more sure of anything in my life.
When we pull up at her parents’ home, I step out before she can open the door and move around to help her. She gives me a small, tentative smile and slips her hand into mine as we walk towards the house together.
The last time we were here, she hated being with me. And now she’s holding my hand.
How much has changed between us, and how far we’ve come.
She stops in front of the door and rings the bell. A few seconds later, her mom opens it. Déjà vu. Just like last time. A thousand emotions flash across her face in a heartbeat—surprise, concern, worry. Only this time, I am not here to break. I am here to mend.
“Meera, beta… you…” she says, looking between us.
“Mom,” Meera whispers, stepping closer and wrapping her arms around her mother. When they pull apart, her mom’s gaze meets mine once more.
“Namaste,” I say quietly, unsure of how to address her. If I call her Sasuji, I know she might remember how I used it the last time, to hurt her. And Mommyji might feel she’s not yet ready to let me call her that, at least not until I’ve truly proven myself.
She gives a small, stiff nod. “Namaste.”
I clear my throat. “I know I should have visited earlier. I owe you an apology.”
Meera’s mom blinks, surprised, not expecting that from me. But before she can respond, Meera speaks up. “Mom, can we go in and continue this conversation?”
“Okay,” her mom says, stepping aside.
Meera nods at me, and we follow her mom inside. The living room is exactly as she had described over one of our dinners—soft, calming hues, hand-embroidered cushions, framed photos of her with her parents, and glass shelves filled with small, cute showpieces.
I think about how much she must have missed this homely atmosphere, and how I’ll need to coordinate with my interior designer to redo our home for her, turning every corner into a little haven just for her. Something warm and lived-in, not the sophisticated, artificial place it is now.
Her mother gestures towards the sofa. “Sit, I’ll get some water.”
“No, I am good,” I reply with a shake of my head as I settle on the couch with Meera beside me, her mother taking the seat opposite us.
My hands twist nervously in my lap. God, I thought I could handle anything. Yes, I knew speaking to her parents would be hard, but I was confident I could get through it. Now, though, I feel completely on edge.
Feeling my tension, Meera places her hand over mine. I give her a reassuring nod, drawing quiet strength from her touch, and meet her mother’s eyes once more.
“I know things didn’t start off well between us,” I begin, my voice steady but sincere. “And I know you have every reason to dislike me.”
Her mom studies me for a long moment, her expression unreadable. Finally, she exhales slowly. “I won’t lie… I am wary of you,” she admits.
“I understand. And I don’t blame you,” I reply with a nod.
“The way you forced our daughter into a marriage… no parents would ever accept that,” she says, her gaze sharp. “But I want to know why you did it.”