CHAPTER 13
Only You
POORVI
The room is dark except for the faint light spilling in through the curtains, soft shadows stretching across the floor like quiet secrets. I’m lying on the bed, hugging a pillow close to my chest, staring in the general direction of the couch where Vihaan is sleeping—or at least, I think he is.
My specs are off, which means I can barely make out the shape of him, just a blur of someone tall and steady even at rest. Still, my eyes stay there like they have a mind of their own. There’s something oddly comforting about knowing he’s here. Close.
“Don’t you want to start your psychology classes?”
The deep rumble of his voice cuts through the silence, and I gasp so loudly that the pillow almost slips from my grip. My heart stumbles in my chest like it’s trying to catch up.
“You’re awake,” I whisper, half in shock, half in embarrassment.
A quiet chuckle floats across the room, warm and amused. “Yes, Kunwarani-sa, I’m awake.”
I frown instinctively, wishing I could see his expression. “Just… call me Poorvi,” I mumble, a little sharper than intended. The silence that follows feels heavier than the night itself, and immediately my stomach twists. Did I just offend him?
His voice comes again, low, deliberate, almost like a whisper meant only for me. “You are my wife. You will always be related to me, Poorvi.”
For some reason, that simple sentence knocks the breath out of me. There’s no weight of formality in his tone—just certainty, like an anchor dropping deep.
“I don’t mind that,” I say softly, clutching the pillow tighter. My words sound too small for what I feel in that moment. “Being related to you, I mean.” He chuckles.
“I didn’t ask you because I thought you might need some time to settle in,” he continues, his voice calm, steady, like he’s been thinking about this for a while. “Whenever you’re ready for the course, let me know. I’ll help you find colleges and apply.”
I blink rapidly, the edges of my vision swimming a little.
He remembers. Not only remembers, but he’s acting on it without me saying a word.
When I’d mentioned it to him before the wedding, I thought it was a passing conversation for him.
I never expected him, or anyone, to hold on to it.
And yet… here he is, bringing it up like it’s the most natural thing in the world.
A smile tugs at my lips even though he can’t see it. My chest feels tight, but not in the way it used to when people judged me or reminded me of what I lacked. This feels different. Softer.
“I already have a university in mind,” I confess after a beat, my voice barely above a whisper. “It’s online though… and foreign.” I hesitate, biting down on my lower lip before adding, “Although… it might be a bit cost—”
He laughs. Actually laughs. A low, warm sound that makes something flip inside me.
“I would love to spend all my wealth on you, Poorvi,” he says, and I can hear the smile in his voice, if that’s even possible.
My eyes widen. My throat goes dry. “I don’t want that—”
“You don’t have to want it,” he cuts me off gently but firmly. “Whatever I earn, I earn for my family. And you are my family, Poorvi.”
For a second, I can’t breathe. The words echo inside me like they’ve been waiting for a home. You are my family.
“I am?” I manage to whisper, unsure how to even process what that does to me.
“You are,” he says again, softer this time, yet every syllable feels like a vow. Then, after a pause that seems to stretch like an eternity, he adds, “Only you.”
I frown without meaning to, the old insecurities creeping in like uninvited shadows. “But… Bhai-sa, Sitara—”
“They’re my family,” he interrupts gently, his tone patient, certain. “But you are my immediate family. You are my wife. I will build my whole life with you, Poorvi. So everything I do… is for you.”
My chest aches. A lump forms in my throat, thick and unmoving. No one has ever said words like that to me—never with such quiet conviction that leaves no space for doubt. I am his family. The thought loops in my head like a song I don’t want to end.
“Start your classes,” he says after a moment, as if sealing the promise. “You don’t need to ask anyone. I have a credit card with no limits made for you. I’ll give it to you tomorrow.”
I hum softly because words feel impossible right now. My voice would probably crack if I tried.
“And, Poorvi,” he adds, and this time his tone is lighter, but there’s still that undertone of sincerity that never seems to leave him.
“Hmm?”
“Please don’t hesitate in using it.”
My fingers clutch the pillow tighter as I bury my face in it, not because I’m upset, but because if I don’t, the tears threatening to fall actually might. No one has ever made me feel like I wasn’t a burden. No one has ever said I earn for you.
And now, here he is. My husband. On the couch across the room, sounding so calm, so certain, while my entire world feels like it’s shifting on its axis.
I think, after my mother’s death, this is the first time I don’t feel like I’m taking up space that doesn’t belong to me. I feel… wanted.
And all I can think as sleep slowly tugs at me is that maybe—just maybe—this marriage isn’t a gilded cage like I feared. Maybe… it’s the beginning of a life I never believed I could have.