Chapter 57
CHAPTER
FIFTY-SEVEN
Hearing Adhira say the words that’ll set us all free was a feeling unlike anything else. I stared at her in disbelief for an uncomfortable beat before crushing her to my chest, relief pouring out of me.
She’s spent the last several minutes psyching herself up for this phone call, and now that her phone is in her hand, I’m nervous with anticipation.
“I can go to my room if you want some privacy,” I tell her, ready to walk away if she needs me to, but desperate for her to ask me to stay.
She shakes her head. “No, please…” Her glossy eyes catch on mine, pleading with me to know what she needs. “I just…” She averts her gaze. “I want you with me for this, Elijah.”
“You need me?”
“No. I don't need you. I want you with me. You ground me. Your presence is like a soothing balm, quieting some of my racing thoughts. But I don't need you, Elijah. I just want you."
My heart gallops out of my chest, my brows climbing high on my forehead before I can stop them, but the elation swirling deep in my belly wins out over the part of my brain that knows I shouldn’t be this excited at the prospect of her wanting me.
Everyone always needs me, but the one person who never seemed to want to is now telling me she doesn't just need me, she wants me around, and it’s got my heart and mind in a tizzy.
“Okay,” I say on a rough exhale, ungluing my tongue from the roof of my mouth. “I’m right here.”
I take a seat beside her on the sofa, my belly warming as her shoulders relax with my quick agreement and, just maybe, at my proximity to her.
Things have changed so gradually between us that if I hadn’t spent every day cataloguing each of her movements, the little bits of herself she’s offered to me, and all of her favourite things, I wouldn’t have realised that I’ve become one of them, and that fact alone is enough to have me flying high.
Our thighs press together despite there being more than enough room for both of us, but the simple fact that she now welcomes my touch has my bones turning to liquid.
“I’m not video calling them because if I see their faces, I’ll fall apart,” she explains.
“Beta!” her mum, Deepti, calls joyfully over the line. “How is our darling daughter doing?”
Adhira sucks in a deep breath, her teeth biting down on the smooth flesh of her lower lip as she glances up at me. I reach out, squeezing her thigh—something I find comforting, but which I think she only tolerates because it makes me feel better. I can’t be sure.
“Mummy, is Papa there?” she asks, her chin trembling.
“Haa, maari laali. I’m right here. Is everything okay?”
She glances my way, fear-stricken, because the truth is no. Everything is not okay. And we can't be sure of the next time it will be.
“I—I don’t think it is. I have something I need to talk to you about, but I can’t…” She clenches her eyes shut, tears trailing down her cheeks, and I open and close my fists at my sides to stop myself from reaching out to wipe them away.
She needs to do this without any interference or coddling from me. I’ll be here when she’s ready to fall apart and wants me to help her pick up the pieces, but until she asks for my help, I have to let her do this her way.
“You can’t what?” her mum asks, her voice growing shrill with worry.
“We need to talk in person. I’m sorry for the trouble, but—”
“It’s no trouble,” her dad cuts her off. “We’ll be there as soon as we can.”
“Elijah?” Deepti asks, and Adhira’s brows wrinkle, deep brown eyes flicking to my face. She nods at me with her chin, silently asking, “What are you waiting for? Answer her.”
“Yes, Deepti. I’m here.”
She blows out an audible breath. “You’d better take care of our daughter while we figure out how to get there,” she says, her tone at once demanding and pleading.
Before I can answer, Adhira cuts in, telling her mother the words I didn’t know I needed to hear. “He’s always taking care of me, Mummy. I promise. Elijah is a good man, and I can’t wait for you to meet him.”
She whispers the last sentence, and my heart breaks.
For her and her parents, but for me too. Because if the universe is so cruel as to take her from me, I’m not sure I’ll survive.
She ends the call shortly after, turning to face me with a serious expression. I raise a brow at her.
“Something you’d like to say?”
“I just invited my parents for a visit, and I have no idea where they’re going to sleep.”
I tilt my head. “Can’t they just stay at a hotel?”
She sucks in a gasp, slapping a theatrical hand over her mouth in mock outrage.
“Elijah Elliott! Of course they can’t! Asking my parents to stay in a hotel is the equivalent of making them sleep in the street while it rains.
The aunties would never get over something so disrespectful.
” She shakes her head at the thought. “Not telling them I’ve had cancer for months?
Forgivable after lots of grovelling. Sleeping anywhere but under our roof? Inconceivable.”
I pinch the bridge of my nose, clearly missing a piece of cultural context. “You can stay in my room, and they can stay in yours, and I’ll sleep on the sofa?”
She shakes her head. “They’ll accuse me of kicking you out of your room. That wouldn’t be worse than putting them in a hotel, but it certainly wouldn’t be better.”
“Uh-huh,” I say, amused, the corners of my lips twitching. “I can stay in a hotel then.”
Her eyeballs just about roll out of her pretty face. “In what world did you think that would be an option, given what we’ve discussed?”
I put my hands up in surrender, chuckling at her outrage. “What do you propose, then? They sleep in your room, and you and I camp out in mine?” Not that I don’t bloody love the idea of that.
Her eyes light up as if I’ve just had the grandest idea. “Yes! That’s perfect. We can set up an air mattress on the floor,” she says, nodding as though she’s just confirmed her own plan. And seeing as I’m thrilled about the prospect of being that close to her, I enthusiastically agree.
We spend the rest of the evening cleaning up the last of the depression aftermath, washing all the linens, and keeping ourselves mind-numbingly busy. And it feels good to do something that makes such a positive impact on our mental health.