Page 143 of Obsession

He blinked. “What?”

“You make this angry sound whenever Vedant or Armaan call me Anna. I’ve noticed it many times before tonight as well. You get mad when anyone, including Nia or Shiven, calls me Anna. Why?”

He clasped her face. “Baby, sweetheart, darling—all those are just titles. But when I say Anna, it is my heart speaking and feeling all those emotions. That’s why Anna belongs only to me.”

She gaped at him.

“Loving you is the only truth I know,” he said, and then stepped back. “I have a cold; I don’t want you to catch it.”

She threw herself at his chest, wrapping her arms around him. “I don’t know what to do with you, Mihir. One part of me simply wants to accept you and end all the emptiness I feel when you’re not with me, but the… the saner part of me wants me to be careful and not get hurt again.”

“What if I promise never to hurt you again?” he said. “I love you, Anna. So much.”

She looked up at him. “I… I need time to say it back. Not yet.”

He kissed her forehead. “As long as you feel it in your heart, it’s enough.”

She lowered her face, but he didn’t miss her smile. His heart sighed in happiness. This, him and her, had been inevitable. They’d taken a long time to reach this point, but they were here now. She was already his. But he’d wait for her to say it out loud too.

For now, it was enough that she was standing in his house and was ready to give him another chance. Plus, she’d helped him find his sister. Falling sick had been worth it.

38

Baby, sweetheart, darling—all those are just titles. But when I say Anna, it is my heart speaking and feeling all those emotions. That’s why Anna belongs only to me.

These words were now imprinted into the very fabric of her being. They’d become her truth and her reality now. Mihir had always only called her Anna, and while she’d never thought much of it, now it made perfect sense. He’d never, not even in the past, called her by any other term of endearment. And now she knew why. Even when he’d been angry with her, he’d poured all his love into this one word—Anna.

She’d been so mad at him that she’d deliberately ignored the irrefutable fact that she loved him, despite her anger and her despair. That she’d only ever lovedhim. Yet, she was hesitating to voice it aloud. Soon, just not tonight.

Her heart rumbled in approval at that decision, and she gave him a smile.

“So, I believe a tour of the house is due,” she said, lightening the moment between them.

“Come on then,” he said, taking her hand.

After leaving class, she had absentmindedly driven in the direction of Mihir’s house. She’d only realized it much later, when she was already halfway there. She’d finally admitted to her concern for him and continued on her way. Now, she was glad she’d decided to come. Her heart was at peace. She was at peace.

Mihir led her out to the main living room that encompassed a large part of the ground floor and stretched between the three different wings of the house. Everything was beautiful and opulent. Expensive artwork adorned the walls; plush rugs softened the marble floors. Every piece of furniture, every decorative detail, seemed meticulously chosen.

A subtle touch of gold was woven into each artwork, rug, and accessory. Even the understated beige sofas were accented with shimmering gold cushions. The dining table, a monumental slab of white marble capable of seating eighteen, bore a golden vein running through its surface. The marble floors also had gold veins interlaced with the white. And despite the opulence, it was beautiful and classy.

Mihir spoke to her nonstop as he ushered her to the middle wing, which belonged to him. She paused for a moment, looking at the house before taking a good long look at him, her husband. Even though he was dressed in simple black cotton pants, a white t-shirt and simple leather slippers, he looked good. But he did look pale, less energetic. She needed to ensure he ate and that she let him rest.

They climbed the stairs, and her foot paused on the final step. She gasped as she stared at a painting right in the center of the wall on the first floor of Mihir’s wing. It was a painting ofher!

She rushed past him to the portrait of her standing against St. Basil’s Cathedral, the sun shining on her smiling face. Her face, the colors, the light, all of it was stunning. The artist’s signature at the bottom of the painting caught her eye. Pedro Pavlov.

“Oh my God,” she whispered. “You got him to do a portrait of me? From that picture you took of me that day in Moscow?”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“Because you once wondered why he couldn’t have painted something as bright as sunshine,” Mihir said as he pointed to a plaque below the painting.

“Éclatant comme le soleil.Let me guess, this meansas bright as the sunshine,” Ananya exclaimed.

“Actually, it means as radiant as the sun. That day, when I clicked this picture of you, I realized how dark my world was without you. I texted him that same day to request him to make a portrait of you, because with you back in my life, everything was bright again.”

---