54. THANKS
VEERAJ
The bedroom is quiet, the air still warm with the scent of tangled sheets. I lie beside her, one arm wrapped securely around her waist while our breathing slowly settles into an easy rhythm.
My fingers are still tangled gently in her dark hair as I look down at her. The anger that took over when I heard her father's words hasn't completely disappeared. It has simply changed. All I want now is to hold her close enough that every painful memory he left behind fades a little more.
I lean down and kiss her slowly.
She melts into me without hesitation, her fingers slipping into my hair as she kisses me back with the same quiet certainty.
For a long moment, the rest of the world disappears.
When we finally pull away, we stay wrapped around each other in the middle of the bed.
Her head rests against my chest while my heartbeat echoes beneath her ear.
My hand slowly traces the pale patches of vitiligo along her side, my touch light and careful, because I want to memorize every part of her.
The room is peaceful again, but I know the shadows of her past are still somewhere inside her.
"I always thought leaving the orphanage and building the NGO was enough," Diya whispers into the quiet.
Her voice is soft, stripped of its usual teasing confidence.
Her fingers tighten around my shirt as she lets out a slow breath.
"I really believed I'd moved on. I thought I'd dealt with everything .
. . Papa's words, the way people looked at me, the feeling that I was always a burden. "
She pauses before looking up at me.
"But tonight . . . " Her eyes shine with tears. "You healed something I didn't even know was still hurting."
A small smile appears on her lips. "The way you stood up for me . . . the way you held me . . . it changed something inside me. Thank you, Veeraj."
My jaw tightens immediately.
Thank me?
She should never have needed protecting from the people who were supposed to love her. She should never have grown up believing she had to earn basic kindness.
The thought alone makes my chest ache.
I gently brush a loose curl away from her face. "Don't thank me for doing what should have been done from the beginning," I say quietly.
My voice is calm, but firm. "You deserved love long before I came into your life."
"You deserved to feel safe."
"You deserved to believe you were beautiful."
I cup her face in my hand. "And none of that should ever have depended on someone proving it to you."
She looks at me without saying a word.
A slow smile tugs at the corner of my mouth. "Although . . ." I murmur, my teasing side returning, "if you're absolutely determined to thank me . . . "
Her eyebrows lift. " . . . thank me for your next orgasms."
A bright blush spreads across her cheeks.
"Veeraj," she gasps, already sounding flustered. I place a gentle kiss on her shoulder, "because I am nowhere near done with you, my love."
Before she can come up with another comeback, I lean in and kiss her again.
Slowly.
Tenderly.
The kind of kiss that says everything words never could.
She smiles against my lips, her fingers slipping into my hair once more as the world outside our room fades away.
For tonight, nothing else matters.
She's here.
She's safe.
And she's finally home.