Page 156 of Mrs. Rathore

“Then I’ll put my pride aside and kiss wherever it hurts.”

She was quiet for a moment. Then she whispered, “I can’t imagine ever hurting you.”

I cupped her face gently.

“Then let’s promise each other… no more pain, no more dragging the past into our future. We stay together, no matter what.”

“I promise,” she said, her eyes glistening with tears. She kissed my palm and held it against her cheek.

Then asked softly, “Did you ever love Ira?”

I sighed.

“We’re not talking about the past, remember?”

“Just tell me, Aryan. Please.”

“I don’t know if I ever truly loved her,” I said honestly. “We were together for ten years, but it never felt like this. We met so young, we were just focused on our careers. It was calm, and comfortable. I was never desperate for her. We didn’t crave each other’s time like this.”

She winced, but I had to be truthful.

“Yes… we slept together,” I added, watching her closely. “But it was just physical. We mistook attraction for love. We were teenagers when we met, and life got busy. We never really figured out what we meant to each other.”

A pause. Then I said it.

“Ira slept with someone else. Once. She doesn’t know I found out, and I’ll never tell her. A batchmate mentioned it. I understand how it happens when you're constantly away on missions, and the other person needs something you can’t give.”

Avni’s eyes widened. “What?”

I nodded. She stared at me, breath caught. “How can you be so… good?”

“Good?” I raised an eyebrow.

“You’re such a gentleman.”

“I’m not always a gentleman with you,” I said, lowering my mouth to her shoulder and gently biting her.

She squealed with laughter as I tickled her, both of us tumbling in sheets and soft kisses.

We talked for hours after that about everything. She told me about Prashant. I didn’t even flinch. We chose a name for our baby. We planned our future. And when morning came, we made love again, slow and tender.

I loved her.

And I knew, without question, I always would.

______

Epilogue

AVNI

Swara, our one-year-old daughter, toddled toward us on her chubby legs. She was trying to walk again but, as always, ended up landing on her bum with a soft thud. Determined and adorably stubborn, just like me, she pushed herself up and tried again.

“Come here, Sweety,” Aryan called, kneeling with his arms wide open.

“No, come to Mama!” I nudged Aryan aside, smirking playfully.

Swara looked between the two of us, thoroughly confused by the tug-of-war. In the end, she chose the third option, waddling straight to our dog, Jimmy. She collapsed into his soft fur, giggling and cooing as he licked her cheek.

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