Page 95 of The Unwanted Husband
In her wildest dreams, she never imagined this moment, never imagined she could feel this much, want something so fiercely, loved being reckless in love.
For years, she’d been a fortress. Guarded. Shut down. Every emotion locked behind walls she’d built brick by careful brick, convinced that safety meant stillness, that control meant silence.
But being there, right in the middle of the vast Pacific ocean with nothing but endless blue stretching to the horizon and the man she loved standing before her, those walls didn’t stand a chance.
The ocean wind whipped her hair around her face as she let him devour her, her hands trembling not with fear but with the sheer magnitude of what she felt in the moment. Every touch was a revelation, every breath a confession she’d kept buried for too long.
The waves crashed against the cliff down below, the world reduced to saltwater and sunlight and the thundering of her heart as she showed him, with every kiss, every whispered word, every desperate press of her body against his, exactly how much she loved him.
When he united them with a hard drive, she came undone. She was a new person.
Wild. Unguarded. Explosive.
Everything she’d taught herself not to be.
And it felt like it was just the beginning and she could do anything, with him by her side, with him being her strength, the unwanted husband she loved with all her heart and more.
When they finally surfaced from the intense moments, they were both breathing hard, foreheads pressed together, his thumb brushing her swollen bottom lip.
“I love you,” he whispered against her mouth, the words a vow. “Isha, I love you so much it terrifies me.”
She smiled through the tears now sliding down her cheeks. “Good. Because you’re stuck with me forever.”
“Forever it is,” he breathed, and kissed her again, softer this time, sweeter, a promise sealed against her lips under the lighthouse that had witnessed their journey from strangers to eternal love.
“I love you,” she said simply. “Just Ashok. I love you.”
He smiled and that was all she needed and they adjusted their clothes and hair before they stepped out of the lighthouse together. They stood hand in hand, ring glinting on her finger, looking at each other and they both knew these moments would be with them forever.
What started as a proposal was a promise. A beginning. A choice they would make every day for the rest of their lives. To love each other deeply.
The ocean kept its eternal rhythm far below, but up by the lighthouse, suspended between sea and sky, Ashok and Isha had found something even more enduring.
They’d found each other, forever.
EPILOGUE
Island of Devendraseema,
10 years later…
The sun hung low over the main island, painting the sky in shades of amber and rose gold that reflected off of the gentle waves lapping at the shore. Isha stood at the edge of the gathering, her hand resting protectively on the shoulder of their youngest, seven-year-old Vihaan, while their nine-year-old son Vaibhav fidgeted with his ceremonial scarf beside her.
But her eyes, her heart, her every sense were fixed on the raised platform where her daughter stood.
Notherdaughter by birth, but hers in every way that mattered.
Vaishnavi Varma Devendraseema, eleven years old, stood tall in a traditional silk outfit the color of deep ocean water, her long dark hair braided with jasmine flowers. She looked so much like Sami that Isha’s breath caught, as it still did sometimes after all these years. The same high cheekbones, the same determined set to her chin, the same fire in her dark eyes.
Beside Vaish, her twin brother Vishruth shifted his weight, clearly uncomfortable with the attention but fiercely proud of his sister. At eleven, the twins were on the cusp of adolescence but still children in so many ways, but with glimpses of the remarkable adults they would become.
The island community had gathered in the traditional ceremonial circle, generations of families who had known Ashok since he was a boy, who had celebrated when Ashok and Isha married for the second time, who had watched these four children grow.
Ashok’s father, now in his seventies but still commanding in presence, stepped forward. His weathered face was solemn as he looked at his granddaughter, but Isha could see the glimmer of tears in his eyes.
“Vaish,” he began, his voice carrying across the gathering. “When I look at you, I see my daughter. My Samikhya.” He paused, emotion thickening his words. “You have her spirit, her courage, her kindness, her inability to stay quiet when she sees injustice.”
A ripple of gentle laughter moved through the crowd. Vaish smiled, blinking back tears.
