Chapter 38: Chapter 28: In Your Arms Again

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Arjun

I hate that I had to leave without saying a proper goodbye. I knew about this business trip when I met Karan, and I had every intention of informing Ananya. But by the time I got to the office, everything spiraled out of control. One thing after another, and suddenly, I had no time—no chance to talk to her.

She was asleep when I left at midnight. I could have woken her up. I should have. But I didn’t. Maybe I was a coward. Or maybe... I just didn’t want to see the disappointment in her eyes.

I don’t know why, but I have this gut feeling that she’s upset with me. And what scares me more? The thought that my absence might not affect her at all.

How did we get here? Everything was perfect in Switzerland. She smiled more, talked to me without hesitation. I could feel us getting closer. So why does it feel like we’re back to square one?

I run a frustrated hand through my hair, exhaling sharply as I stare out of the hotel window. The city below is alive with lights, but all I can think about is her—back home, possibly indifferent to my absence.

I tell myself it’s just a business trip. A few days, and I’ll be back. But deep down, I know it’s not about the trip. It’s about the distance—this invisible wall growing between us.

I pick up my phone, my fingers hovering over her name. I want to call her, hear her voice, maybe even explain. But what if she doesn’t care? What if she just gives me a polite response, like I’m nothing more than a colleague? The thought stings more than it should.

I toss the phone onto the bed and shut my eyes. Sleep refuses to come. My mind is stuck in an endless loop of her—her soft laughter in Switzerland, the way her eyes lit up at little things, how she unknowingly made me feel… something I don’t even know how to name yet.

I miss her.

And the worst part? I don’t even know if she misses me too.

It’s been hours since I landed in London, but I still haven’t called her. Every time I reach for my phone, my fingers hesitate, my chest tightens. What would I even say? That I wanted to call her the moment I stepped off the plane but couldn’t find the courage? That I’ve been thinking about her since the second I left?

Pathetic.

I tell myself it’s already past midnight back home. She’s probably asleep. Calling now would be pointless. But I know that’s just an excuse—one I keep making to avoid facing whatever she might say… or worse, the indifference I fear in her voice.

The weight in my chest only grows heavier. I sigh, unlock my phone, and type out a simple message:

“I’ve arrived.”

That’s it. No ‘hope you’re okay.’ No ‘I miss you.’ Just two words that feel empty but are all I can manage.

I stare at the screen for a few seconds before hitting send. Then, I toss the phone aside and lean back against the hotel headboard, running a hand over my face.

What the hell is happening to me?

I have already fired every single person who dare to hurt my wife. Before coming here I went to office and fired every single person of them and made everything clear and made them understand that she is here because she deserves to be here not because she is my wife.

I’ve already dealt with every single person who dared to hurt my wife. Before leaving for this trip, I went to the office and fired every last one of them. No second chances. No room for excuses.

And I made sure everyone else understood one thing—she’s here because she deserves to be, not because she’s my wife. I made that crystal clear.

No one will ever question her place again.

I felt a sense of satisfaction as I walked out of the office, knowing I’d taken action. But that satisfaction didn’t last long. In the back of my mind, I couldn't stop thinking about Ananya. She didn’t deserve any of this—none of the doubts, the judgment, the whispers behind her back. She deserved respect, admiration, and the freedom to stand on her own merit without anyone undermining her.

But did I do enough? Did firing those people really fix anything? Or was it just a temporary solution to a much deeper problem?

I shake my head, pushing the thoughts aside. I’ve already made the decision, and there’s no going back. What matters now is that she knows I’ve got her back—completely. That no matter what happens, I’ll protect her.

But I still can’t shake the feeling that I’ve somehow failed her. I should’ve been there for her in a way that went beyond just clearing her path at work. I should’ve been there for her when she needed me the most.

I pull out my phone again, staring at the screen, waiting for her reply.

I stare at my phone, waiting for her reply, but the screen stays empty. My fingers itch to type something, anything to bridge the growing distance between us. But what if she doesn't want to hear from me? What if she’s angry, hurt, or just… tired of it all? I can't risk making things worse.

I stand up and walk to the window, my thoughts swirling. It feels like everything I've done so far hasn't been enough—like I've been too late to fix things that never should have gotten broken in the first place.

The truth is, I don’t know what’s happening between us anymore. One moment, it feels like we’re finally understanding each other, and the next, I’m lost in a sea of doubt and regret.

I run my hand through my hair and take a deep breath, trying to steady myself. I can’t fix everything at once. All I can do is keep showing up. Keep proving that I’m here, no matter how much I mess things up.

Now, the most important task is finding out who sent those pictures and how they got them in the first place. I'm already on it. I've instructed Karan to handle the investigation for me—he knows how critical this is.

I won’t rest until I uncover the truth. Whoever did this will pay for it. No one messes with my wife and gets away with it.

♡♡

The past few hours have been a blur. I've been caught up in endless meetings, and I’m still heading to another one. I don’t even have a moment to breathe, but I know I have to get through this—finish everything as quickly as possible so I can get back home.

My mind keeps drifting back to Ananya, wondering how she’s holding up without me. I want to be there for her, to make things right, but all I can do right now is push through this madness.

As I enter yet another meeting, I remind myself that this is just temporary. Soon, I’ll be back by her side. And when I do, I’ll make sure she knows just how much she means to me. Every hour away from her only makes me more certain of that.

I checked my phone again. Still no reply. A heavy sigh escapes me. I don’t even know what I’m feeling right now—frustration, confusion, maybe even a bit of fear. But what worries me the most is how I’m going to face Ananya when I get back. She hasn’t even replied to my message yet.

Is she upset with me? Did I push her away without even realizing it? The uncertainty gnaws at me, and the thought of her shutting me out is a knot I can't untangle. What if she’s already too distant? Too hurt to care anymore?

I close my eyes for a moment, trying to steady my thoughts, but the questions keep swirling in my head. I just need to get back to her, to fix this. But what if it’s already too late?

But it hurts me, too, to know that she didn't call me she was having a panic attack. I’m upset—hurt in a way I can’t quite put into words. It makes me feel like she won’t call for me, even if she’s in danger.

Does she not trust me enough to reach out when she needs me most? Or worse, has she already made up her mind that she’s better off without me? The thought lingers, sharp and heavy.

I’ve always promised myself that I would be there for her—no matter what. But now, I’m left wondering if I’ve failed her, or if I’m just someone she’s learned to live without.

♡♡

It’s been two days, and still no reply to my text. I’ve come to the painful conclusion that maybe she just doesn’t need me after all. I wanted to call her, but now I’m not sure if I even should. What’s the point?

I think it’s best to just forget about it for now. Because for Ananya, I’m just… someone. Someone she won’t reach out to, even when she’s struggling. Someone she can easily leave behind.

I had planned to go back today, but now… I don’t think I should. I’ve already told my assistant to handle everything for me, thinking I’d be back soon, but not anymore. I’ll stay here until my work is done.

I installed mini CCTV cameras at home for peace of mind, just in case. If I wanted, I could watch her—see how she’s doing. But right now, I don’t think I can handle seeing her indifference. It hurts more than I’m willing to admit. So for now, I’ll stay away, focus on finishing what I need to do, and try to find a way to move forward.

Ananya

It’s been two days since Arjun left.

I drag myself out of bed to get ready for the office, though it’s not like I actually slept. I couldn’t. Every time I closed my eyes, the nightmares came rushing back, relentless and suffocating.

I’ve been trying to call Arjun, but there’s no point—it keeps going straight to voicemail. I even texted him, but there’s still no reply. I don’t know why he isn’t answering, why he’s keeping this silence between us.

And worst of all, I don’t know when he’s coming back.

If he’s even coming back at all.

I squeeze my eyes shut, swallowing the lump in my throat. I don’t want to think like that, but the uncertainty is killing me.

I… I miss him.

I miss you, Arjun.

Why are you doing this? Why aren’t you coming back to me?

I sigh, rubbing my temples as I sit on the edge of the bed. I can’t keep feeling like this—not when it’s consuming me from the inside out. I need to clear my head, even if just for a little while.

Without thinking much, I grab my phone and scroll through my contacts until I find Pooja’s name. My fingers hesitate over the call button. I don’t even know what I want to say—I just know that I need to talk to someone. Someone who won’t judge me for feeling this way.

Taking a deep breath, I press the call button and wait.

“Annu?” Pooja’s voice comes through after a few rings, slightly groggy. I must have woken her up.

“I—I’m sorry, did I disturb you?” I ask, guilt creeping in.

“Don’t be silly. What’s wrong?” Her voice instantly turns alert, concern lacing her tone.

I open my mouth to speak, but for a second, nothing comes out. How do I even begin to explain the mess inside my head? That I feel like I’m drowning in silence, that I don’t know where Arjun and I stand anymore? That I miss him, but I don’t even know if he misses me?

“I just… I just wanted to talk,” I finally say, my voice barely above a whisper.

Pooja doesn’t ask any more questions. “Let’s meet. Before you go to the office.”

I exhale, relieved. “Okay.”

Maybe talking to her will help. Maybe it won’t. But right now, I’ll take anything that makes me feel a little less alone.

After ending the call, I sit there for a moment, gripping my phone tightly. A part of me wonders if I’m being too emotional, too affected by Arjun’s absence. But then another part—the one that’s exhausted from pretending everything is fine—reminds me that it’s okay to feel this way.

I pull myself together and get ready quickly, dressing in a simple kurti and trousers. I barely glance at the mirror before grabbing my bag and heading out. The house feels emptier than ever, the silence stretching in every corner. It’s suffocating.

As I step outside, the morning air feels cool against my skin, but it does little to ease the heaviness in my chest. I book a cab and text Pooja.

“I’m on my way. See you soon.”

She replies almost instantly.

“I’m here. Coffee’s on me.”

A faint smile tugs at my lips. I don’t know if talking will help, but at least I won’t be alone with my thoughts.

As the cab moves through the city streets, I stare out the window, my mind still stuck on Arjun. On his silence. On the ache of missing someone who hasn’t even bothered to check on me.

Maybe today, I’ll finally say it out loud—the one question that’s been haunting me since the moment he left.

What if he never comes back?

I spot Pooja the moment I step into the café. She’s sitting by the window, two cups of coffee in front of her—one for me, just like she promised. When she sees me, her brows knit together in concern.

“You look terrible,” she says bluntly as I sit across from her.

I let out a hollow chuckle. “Thanks. That’s exactly what I needed to hear.”

She doesn’t smile. “Talk to me, Ananya.”

I stare at my coffee, tracing the rim of the cup with my fingers. My chest feels heavy, like I’ve been carrying a weight too big for me to hold. And suddenly, I can’t keep it in anymore.

“I don’t know what’s happening, Pooja,” I say, my voice raw with frustration. “It’s been two days. No calls. No replies. Nothing. I don’t even know if he’s coming back.”

Pooja’s expression softens, but she stays quiet, letting me continue.

“I tried calling him. It keeps going to voicemail. I texted him—nothing. And you know what hurts the most?” I let out a shaky breath, my fingers curling into fists. “I had a panic attack, Pooja. A bad one. And I didn’t know what to do. I—I wanted to hear his voice. I wanted him to tell me everything would be okay. But he wasn’t there.” My voice cracks, and I grip the edge of the table. “And the worst part? He probably doesn’t even care.”

Pooja frowns. “You don’t know that.”

“Then why hasn’t he called? Why hasn’t he replied?” My throat tightens as the words spill out. “It feels like I’m the only one feeling this way. Like I’m the only one who—” I stop myself before I say something I can’t take back.

Pooja watches me carefully. “Like you’re the only one who cares?”

I nod, my eyes stinging.

She exhales. “Ananya, I don’t believe that. I’ve seen the way Jiju looks at you. Whatever this is, it’s not indifference.”

I laugh bitterly. “Then what is it? Because right now, it feels like I mean nothing to him.”

Pooja reaches for my hand, squeezing it gently. “Maybe he’s struggling too.”

I shake my head. “Then why won’t he just say that? Why won’t he talk to me?”

Silence stretches between us, and I look away, blinking back the tears threatening to fall.

I miss him. And I hate that I do.

Pooja doesn’t speak for a moment, just watches me with that knowing look in her eyes. Then, she sighs.

“Ananya, I think you need to ask yourself something,” she says gently.

I glance at her, waiting.

“Are you more hurt because he hasn’t reached out… or because deep down, you’re afraid he doesn’t feel the same way you do?”

I inhale sharply, caught off guard by her words.

“I—” I start, but I don’t know how to finish.

I stare down at my coffee, my fingers tightening around the cup. The answer is right there, clawing at my heart, but saying it out loud feels terrifying.

“I don’t know,” I whisper.

Pooja gives me a small, sad smile. “I think you do.”

A lump forms in my throat. “I miss him, Pooja. And I hate that I do. I hate that I keep checking my phone. I hate that I keep waiting for something that might never come.”

“Then tell him that,” she says simply.

I blink. “What?”

She leans forward. “Ananya, you’re drowning in all these thoughts, but have you actually told him any of this? Have you told him that you miss him? That his silence is killing you?”

I open my mouth to argue but stop.

No. I haven’t.

I’ve spent the last two days spiraling in my own emotions, but not once have I actually told him what I’m feeling. I’ve called, I’ve texted, but I haven’t told him the truth.

That I need him.

That I want him to come back.

I swallow hard, my pulse quickening. “What if he doesn’t care?”

Pooja tilts her head. “And what if he does?”

The thought sends a rush of emotions through me.

I exhale, gripping my phone. I don’t know if I have the courage to do this.

But maybe… maybe it’s time to try.

I let out a frustrated sigh, gripping my phone tighter. “And how exactly am I supposed to tell him, Pooja? He isn’t texting back, he’s not calling. I don’t even know when he’s coming back… or if he even plans to.”

Pooja gives me a pointed look. “Oh, come on, Ananya. You really think Jiju isn’t coming back?”

I look away, swallowing hard. “I don’t know what to think anymore.”

She shakes her head. “Well, I do. He will come back.” Her voice is firm, unwavering. “And when he does, you need to tell him everything. No holding back. No overthinking. Just tell him how you feel.”

I stare at her, my chest tightening. “And what if it doesn’t change anything?”

Pooja reaches across the table, squeezing my hand. “Then at least you’ll know you tried. But I don’t think that’ll happen, Ananya. He cares about you. Even if he’s being stupid right now.”

I let out a small, shaky breath. “You really think so?”

She nods. “I know so. Just wait. Jiju will come back to you. And when he does, don’t waste time. Just tell him what’s in your heart.”

I nod slowly, her words settling inside me.

Wait.

That’s all I can do for now.

But when he comes back—if he comes back—I won’t run from this anymore. I’ll tell him. Everything.

♡♡

Another two days have passed.

Four days in total since Arjun left. Four days of silence. Four days of waiting—waiting for a text, a call, anything. But there’s been nothing. Still, I wait. Because what else can I do?

I know I hurt him, but now… now he’s hurting me more.

I try to focus on work, my hands moving mechanically as I go through the papers on my desk. But then, I hear something that makes my heart stop.

“The manager just said to send someone to pick up Arjun sir,” someone murmurs nearby.

Wait… what?

Pick up Arjun?

I freeze, my mind struggling to process the words. He’s back?

Oh God—he’s back!

A rush of emotions floods through me—relief, happiness, even a little disbelief. But then, a new thought strikes me, dimming my excitement.

Why didn’t he tell me? Why didn’t he inform me that he was coming back?

I shake my head, pushing the thought away. It doesn’t matter. None of it matters. What matters is that he’s back, and after four days of waiting, I can finally see him again.

Without another thought, I stand up abruptly. “Dev, I’m leaving. I—I have something important to do.”

Dev looks at me with a knowing smile but doesn’t question it. “Yeah, sure. Go ahead. Bye, Ananya.”

I don’t waste another second. Grabbing my bag, I rush outside and hail a taxi, my heart pounding in my chest.

I have to go home. I have to see him.

And more than anything, I want to welcome him back in the only way I know how—by making everything he loves, by making our home feel warm again.

Because no matter what’s happened between us, one thing is certain.

I’ve missed him. More than I can ever put into words.

The entire ride home, my heart refuses to settle. It’s racing—pounding so loudly I can barely think.

He’s back. After four days of nothing, after all the waiting, he’s finally back.

But… will he come home?

The thought claws at me, and I shake my head. No, I can’t let doubt ruin this moment. He has to come back. And when he does, I want everything to be perfect.

As soon as the taxi stops in front of the house, I pay the driver hastily and rush inside. The moment I step in, the silence greets me, cold and heavy. I take a deep breath, pushing it aside. Not for long. He’ll be here soon.

Without wasting time, I head straight to the kitchen, rolling up my sleeves. I pull out all the ingredients I need, my hands moving on their own as I start preparing his favorite dishes. The aroma of spices fills the air, wrapping around me like a warm embrace.

It’s been so long since I’ve done this for him. Since I’ve done something that reminds me that, no matter how complicated things get, he’s still my husband.

I glance at the dishes spread across the dining table, my heart swelling with a mix of emotions—anticipation, nervousness, and a quiet longing I can’t ignore. It’s been so long since I’ve cooked like this for him, since I’ve put my heart into making something just for Arjun.

I made butter chicken, rich and creamy, just the way he likes it—with that perfect balance of tangy tomatoes and velvety butter. The aroma of the slow-cooked spices fills the air, making my stomach twist in anticipation of his reaction.

Next to it, I placed a bowl of dal makhani, cooked overnight for that deep, smoky flavor. I remember how he always pairs it with soft, fluffy garlic naan, so I made sure to prepare those too—golden, crisp on the edges, brushed with butter, and infused with the warmth of freshly minced garlic and coriander.

I didn’t forget his love for mutton biryani either. The long-grained basmati rice is perfectly layered with tender, slow-cooked mutton, aromatic saffron, and caramelized onions. I can already picture him taking the first bite, savoring the blend of flavors that remind him of home.

On the side, I prepared paneer tikka, charred just right, marinated in a mix of yogurt, mustard oil, and spices that leave a smoky aftertaste. I know he enjoys it with mint chutney, so I made a fresh batch, grinding the mint and coriander myself, just the way he prefers.

For something lighter, I made jeera rice and boondi raita, cooling and refreshing, the perfect contrast to the richness of the other dishes.

And of course, dessert I made Gulab jamun even though he doesn't like sweets.

I step back, taking in the sight of the table—warm, inviting, filled with everything he loves. A silent message in the form of food. A way to tell him that no matter what has happened between us, no matter how much distance has grown, he still matters to me.

He is my husband.

And tonight, I just want him to feel at home.

I don’t realize how much time has passed until I hear the sound of a car pulling up outside. My breath catches.

He’s here.

Wiping my hands on a cloth, I take a shaky breath and walk toward the door. My heart is slamming against my ribs, a mix of nerves and anticipation.

I wait by the door, my heart pounding with every passing second. It feels like time has stretched endlessly, each moment dragging on as I anticipate the sound of the doorbell. But it never comes.

Minutes pass—too many minutes. Still no sign of him.

And finally, I can’t take it anymore.

I take a deep breath and open the door.

And there he is.

Arjun.

Our eyes meet, but only for a fleeting second before he looks away.

"Hi..." I manage to say, my voice softer than I intended. Maybe it sounds different, but I don’t care. All that matters is that he’s here. That I’m finally seeing him again.

"Hi." His response is brief, distant. Then, without another word, he steps inside, walking right past me.

That’s it?

Just hi?

No how are you? No how have you been? No I missed you?

He didn’t even look at me properly.

Something inside me twists painfully, and in that moment, I understand.

I understand exactly how he felt that day—when I avoided his gaze, when I shut him out without meaning to.

And now, he’s doing the same to me.

I turn around, watching as he sets his bag down and loosens the buttons of his sleeves. His posture is tense, his movements stiff, as if he’s forcing himself to act normal.

But nothing about this is normal.

Not the silence. Not the distance.

Not the way my heart aches as I stand here, waiting for something—anything—from him.

“You didn’t tell me you were coming back today,” I say quietly, breaking the silence.

Arjun doesn’t look at me. “Didn’t think it mattered.” His voice is flat, unreadable.

I blink, taken aback. “Didn’t matter?” I repeat, my fingers curling into my palms. “Of course, it mattered. I was—”

I stop myself before I say it.

I was waiting for you.

I was counting the hours, the minutes.

I was hoping you’d at least let me know.

But he doesn’t need to hear that. Not when he’s acting like this, like my presence barely registers.

I take a slow breath, forcing myself to stay calm. “You must be tired. I—I made dinner.” My voice is softer now, almost hesitant. “Your favorites.”

For a second, just a second, something flickers in his eyes.

But it’s gone just as quickly.

“I already ate,” he says, picking up his phone and scrolling through it like he didn’t just shatter something inside me.

I swallow the lump forming in my throat.

Of course. Of course, he did.

I should have expected this. Should have prepared myself for the coldness, for the way he’s keeping me at arm’s length.

But it still hurts.

And the worst part?

I have no idea how to fix it.

I stare at him, my hands clenched at my sides.

He won’t even look at me. Won’t even acknowledge the effort I put in.

I spent hours making everything he loves. I waited. I counted the minutes until he came home. And now, he’s just standing there, acting like I don’t exist.

Like I don’t matter.

Something inside me cracks.

Arjun exhales, slipping his phone into his pocket, and then—just like that—he stands up. Without a word. Without a glance.

And turns toward the bedroom.

He’s avoiding me. Again.

That’s it.

I can’t take this anymore.

Before I can stop myself, I grab a couch pillow and hurl it at him with everything I have.

"I hate you!" The words spill out of me before I can think. Before I can stop them.

The pillow hits him square in the back, and he halts mid-step.

For a moment, there’s only silence. Thick, suffocating.

Then, slowly—almost cautiously—he turns around.

His eyes are wide, surprise flickering across his face as he stares at me. Like he wasn’t expecting this. Like he doesn’t know what to do with the storm of emotions I just threw at him.

Well, good. Because I don’t know what to do with them either.

I stand there, breathing hard, my chest rising and falling rapidly. I don’t even know if I’m more hurt or more angry.

All I know is that I can’t let him keep pretending like this.

Not anymore.

"I hate you… I hate you… I hate you!" The words spill from my lips, rising into a shout before I can stop them. My voice trembles, not just with anger, but with something deeper, something raw.

"You left without a single word! You left me alone!" My hands ball into fists at my sides, my whole body shaking. "I hate you! You keep ignoring me!"

Arjun looks startled, his brows furrowing. "What?" His voice is sharp, confused—like he genuinely doesn’t understand why I’m breaking like this.

I let out a hollow laugh, but there’s no humor in it. Only pain.

"You didn’t even call me after going to London," I say, my voice cracking. "You didn’t pick up my calls, didn’t reply to my messages. Not even once. Do you have any idea how that felt? I hate you!"

My throat burns, my chest tightens, but I keep going. I need to let this out, or it’ll crush me from the inside.

"I…" My voice falters. My gaze drops to the floor as my anger starts mixing with something much worse—ache, loneliness, longing. "I was waiting for you." The confession barely comes out, softer than I intended.

I don’t want him to hear how broken I sound.

But I am broken.

Slowly, I look up at him again, and my vision blurs. I blink rapidly, hating the tears threatening to spill, but it’s no use. They gather anyway, making it harder to see the expression on his face.

"And… and now you won’t even look at me," I whisper. My voice is uneven, thick with everything I’ve been holding in.

I turn abruptly, pointing at the dining table, at the untouched food. "I made everything for you, Arjun. Everything you love. But you—" My voice cracks again, and this time, I can’t finish the sentence.

Instead, a whisper slips past my lips, barely audible.

"I… I didn’t even eat anything…"

I shut my eyes tightly, wishing I hadn’t said that part out loud.

But when I open them again, my gaze meets his, and suddenly, the anger isn’t enough to hold back everything else.

The regret. The guilt. The desperation.

"Arjun…" I whisper, my voice breaking. "I’m really sorry, okay? I’m sorry."

I take a shaky breath, my fingers gripping the fabric of my dress. "Please… can you stop ignoring me now?" My voice wavers. "Please… I’m sorry. I was wrong. I should’ve— I should’ve never—"

My throat clenches, cutting me off.

And then, I can’t hold it in anymore.

The first tear falls, warm against my cheek. Then another. And another.

I cover my face with my hands, my shoulders trembling. "Please…" I choke out, my voice barely above a whisper. "It hurts too much now…"

Suddenly, I feel a firm grip on my wrist, pulling my hands away from my tear-streaked face. Before I can react, a strong force pushes me back, my back hitting the wall. My breath catches.

And then—his lips crash against mine.

It’s not gentle. It’s not careful.

It’s raw. Intense. Desperate.

A gasp escapes me, but Arjun doesn’t give me a chance to think. His hands tighten around my wrists, pinning me in place as his lips move over mine with a force that leaves me breathless.

It’s anger. It’s frustration. It’s everything he hasn’t said, poured into this one moment.

And I feel it all.

The way his fingers tremble slightly against my skin. The way his body presses against mine, as if he needs to feel me, to remind himself that I’m still here. That we’re still us, no matter how much we’ve hurt each other.

Tears still cling to my lashes, but I don’t care anymore. Because right now, Arjun isn’t pushing me away.

He’s holding on.

And I hold on too.

Arjun

As I stood in front of the door, my fingers hovered over the doorbell, hesitation creeping in.

Should I press it?

Was she waiting for me?

Or had she already gone to sleep?

A part of me wanted to believe she had been waiting, that she cared enough to stay up. But another part—one laced with frustration and doubt—told me she was only doing what was expected of her as my wife. Nothing more.

And that thought stopped me.

Before I could decide, the door suddenly swung open.

Ananya.

She stood there, eyes wide, her expression unreadable for a moment before she spoke.

"Hi…"

Her voice was soft, different somehow, but I didn’t let myself focus on it.

I looked away almost instantly, unable to meet her gaze. My jaw tightened as I forced out a simple, emotionless, "Hi."

That was all.

No how are you? No did you miss me? Because I was angry. Because she hadn’t replied to my text for days. Because I had convinced myself that my absence didn’t matter to her.

I stepped past her, heading inside without another word. I wasn’t ready for this conversation.

She told me to eat, but I wasn’t interested. I couldn’t even think about food right now.

Without a word, I turned around, heading toward the bedroom.

And then—

Something hit me.

A soft thud against my back, stopping me mid-step.

What the—

"I hate you!"

I turned around, stunned, only to find Ananya standing there, her chest rising and falling sharply, her eyes burning with frustration and pain.

What?

"I hate you… I hate you… I hate you!" She kept repeating it, her voice shaking, rising in volume until she was practically shouting.

My stomach twisted. What the hell was going on?

"You left without a single word! You left me alone! I hate you! You keep ignoring me!"

Ignoring her?

What was she talking about?

"You didn’t even call me after going to London!" she went on, her words coming fast and sharp. "You didn’t even pick up my calls, didn’t even reply to my messages! Not even once! I hate you!"

I felt like the ground beneath me had just shifted.

I stared at her, my mind racing.

I didn’t pick up her calls?

Didn’t reply to her messages?

But… I never got any.

A deep frown settled on my face. I was about to say something, to demand what she meant, but then—

"I made everything for you, Arjun. Everything you love. But you—" Her voice wavered, frustration laced with something deeper, something more fragile.

She whispered something so quietly that I almost missed it.

Almost.

"I… I didn’t even eat anything…"

The breath I didn’t realize I was holding left me in a rush.

I felt the words like a punch to my gut.

It was late. Past midnight. And she hadn’t eaten.

Because she was waiting for me.

And she had said it so softly, as if she didn’t want me to hear. As if she didn’t want me to know how much it mattered.

Something inside me cracked wide open.

"Please… can you stop ignoring me now?" Her voice trembled, thick with emotion.

"Please… I’m sorry. I was wrong. I should’ve— I should’ve never—"

Her breath hitched, and then, in a broken whisper, she choked out,

"Please… It hurts too much now…"

And just like that—

All the anger. The distance. The frustration.

Gone.

Because I couldn’t stand this.

Seeing her like this. Hearing her voice break. Watching the tears spill down her cheeks as she kept apologizing, begging me to stop ignoring her.

I couldn’t do it anymore.

Before I could think, before I could stop myself—

I grabbed her wrist, pulling her hands away from her tear-streaked face.

And then I crushed my lips against hers.

It wasn’t soft. It wasn’t careful.

It was desperate. Raw. Consuming.

I pressed her against the wall, my grip tightening as if I needed to hold onto her, to feel her, to prove that she was still mine.

She gasped against my mouth, but I didn’t let her pull away.

Because I needed this.

I needed her.

I needed her to know that no matter how angry, how frustrated, how broken we felt—

She was still mine.

And I was still hers.

When I finally broke the kiss, I didn’t move away. Our faces were still too close, our breaths mingling in the charged silence between us.

Ananya lowered her gaze, her fingers trembling slightly at her sides. Then, in a hesitant voice, she spoke.

"I… you… you called me Ananya that day."

I frowned slightly, confused. "But that’s your name."

She shook her head, biting her lip as if struggling to find the right words. "No… You don’t call me that."

Her voice was barely above a whisper, as if she was embarrassed to admit it.

"You always call me Firefly or baby… And even when you do say my name, there’s always warmth in it. But that day…" She hesitated, her brows furrowing, pain flickering across her face. "It… it sounded cold."

Her lashes fluttered as she blinked rapidly, as if trying to hold back the emotions threatening to surface.

I inhaled sharply, my chest tightening.

She was hurt.

Over something so small.

Something I hadn’t even realized.

But now, seeing the sadness in her eyes, hearing the vulnerability in her voice, I understood.

Even my smallest actions, my tiniest shifts in tone—

They mattered to her.

And I had hurt her without even knowing it.

"Ananya… I..."

She cut me off before I could finish, her voice breaking as she struggled to speak.

"I’m... I’m..."

Her words choked in her throat, and I could see the pain in her eyes—real pain, raw and unfiltered. She was crying now, tears streaming down her face, each sob tearing through her like a fragile thread unraveling.

"I’m really... sorry... please... don’t... please... stop ignoring me... please..."

It felt like a knife in my chest, the way she begged. I could see how broken she was, and it tore me apart to know that I was the cause of her pain. Her whole body was trembling, her words barely audible, crushed beneath the weight of her guilt.

I didn’t know what to say, so I did the only thing I could think of—I kissed her again. My lips crashing against hers, desperate to stop her tears, to stop this hurt that I had caused.

When I pulled away, her eyes were still filled with tears. Without thinking, I wiped them away, my fingers brushing against her delicate skin as I whispered,

"I’m sorry... I didn’t mean to hurt you. I’m so sorry."

But it wasn’t enough. It would never be enough to undo the damage I had done.

She was crying in front of me. For me. Because of me.

And the realization hit me like a cold wave. I was the reason.

It hurt. It hurt more than anything I’d felt in a long time, because seeing her like this, broken and vulnerable, made me realize how much I had messed up. How far I had pushed her.

But in some strange, twisted way, I was also relieved.

Because at least she was showing me what I meant to her. At least she wasn’t hiding it anymore. The silence, the distance—it had been killing me.

Now, her emotions were raw and exposed, and as painful as it was, I couldn’t help but be grateful.

I needed her to feel something. I needed to know she wasn’t shutting me out, no matter how hard I had made things for her.

"Ananya," I said softly, my hand cupping her tear-streaked face. "Please… don’t apologize. It’s me who should be sorry. I should have never left like that. I should have never made you feel like you weren’t important to me."

She shook her head, a small sob escaping her lips. "I just… I don’t want to lose you, Arjun. I can’t stand it when you shut me out. I need you. I need you to see me… to really see me."

Her voice cracked on the last words, and it felt like she was tearing apart in front of me. My heart shattered with every breath she took, every tear that fell.

"I see you, Ananya. I see everything," I said, my voice barely a whisper, my thumb tracing the path of her tears.

But even as I spoke those words, I knew I had failed her.

I had made her feel so small, so insignificant, and that was the last thing I ever wanted.

I pulled her into my arms, holding her tightly, as if I could somehow make up for all the hurt I had caused.

"I’m here, Ananya. I’m not going anywhere. I’m not ignoring you anymore. I’m so sorry."

She clung to me, her sobs quieting against my chest. And for the first time in days, I felt like I could breathe again. But even as I held her, I knew it would take time. Time to rebuild what I had broken. Time to prove to her that I wasn’t the man who would walk away.

I wasn’t going to make that mistake again.

But she wasn’t done. Not yet. She pulled away slightly, a pout forming on her lips as she looked at me with teary eyes.

"You… didn’t even miss me."

Her words, so innocent and childlike, hit me harder than anything she had said before. She didn’t even realize how much I had missed her. How every second without her had felt like a thousand years.

Her smile. Her lips. Her eyes. Her voice. Her laughter. The way her hands would fit perfectly in mine. The warmth of her skin against mine. How it felt to have her in my arms. How it felt to be inside her. All of her.

Every part of her was ingrained in me, and yet here she was, accusing me of not missing her.

The ache in my chest deepened, and my control—what little I had left—slipped completely.

I couldn’t hold back anymore.

Leaning in close, my voice low and filled with the weight of my longing, I whispered,

"Put your legs on my shoulders, and let me show you just how much I’ve missed you."

The words hung in the air between us, thick with desire and the raw need that had been building in me since the moment I left.

Her eyes widened for a moment, and she froze, clearly caught off guard by my words. I could see her hesitation, the way her body tensed as she processed what I said. But beneath the surprise, I could feel the unspoken tension between us, thick and undeniable.

She was still upset, still hurt, but I could see something else flickering in her gaze—a spark, a longing that mirrored my own.

I didn’t wait for her to say anything. Slowly, I reached out, cupping her face gently in my hands, my thumbs brushing away the last remnants of her tears.

"Let me put the food in the fridge. As you... had already... eaten," she said, her voice trailing off with an underlying sadness that was hard to ignore. I could see it in her eyes—she was upset, but more than that, she was hurting. She hadn’t eaten, and that realization hit me harder than I expected. I had to fix this, but I didn't know if I had the strength to make things right yet.

She started walking toward the kitchen, trying to slip out of my hold, but I couldn’t let her go so easily—not without trying to mend what had been broken. I reached out and stopped her, my fingers gently holding her wrist. She looked up at me, surprised, almost startled.

"But you didn’t eat," I said softly, and my voice broke through the silence that had hung between us.

She blinked, confusion flickering across her face as the realization hit her. Then I added, "I didn't eat either."

She looked at me, trying to process what I was saying, and then it came—the question I knew was coming.

"But you said you had already eaten," she asked, her voice uncertain, almost small.

I couldn’t avoid it anymore. I had to come clean. The guilt was eating me alive. I swallowed hard before replying, "I... I’m sorry. I lied."

"I didn’t mean to hurt you," I whispered, leaning down to her level, my voice filled with regret. Without thinking, I pulled her into my arms, holding her close. "Please, baby… say something."

For a moment, there was only silence. Then, in the softest voice, barely above a whisper, she said, "Eat with me."

I almost missed it. My grip on her tightened slightly as I pulled away just enough to look at her face. "What? What did you just say?" My voice was desperate, needing to confirm that I had heard her right.

She took a deep breath, as if gathering the courage to say it again. This time, she spoke louder, clearer. "Will you eat with me?"

Then, she dropped her gaze, nervously playing with her fingers. Her voice was hesitant when she added, "I… I made your favorite food."

Something inside me softened. I reached out, taking her hands in mine, stilling her nervous fidgeting. Without breaking eye contact, I lifted her wrist to my lips and pressed a gentle kiss over her pulse point. She shivered slightly, and I knew she felt it too—the warmth, the connection, the silent apology in my touch.

"Yes," I murmured against her skin. "I want to eat. And I will eat with you."

Without another word, I scooped her up in my arms and carried her to the dining table, setting her down gently on a chair before taking the seat beside her. I glanced at the food she had so carefully prepared, my chest tightening with emotion.

"Thank you, Firefly," I said softly, my fingers brushing against hers on the table. "For doing this for me."

She didn’t say anything at first, just stared down at her lap, her fingers still slightly trembling. I could tell she was still hurt, still unsure, but she was trying. That alone made my chest ache.

I reached for the nearest dish, serving some food onto her plate first before my own. "Let’s eat together," I said gently, hoping to ease the tension still lingering between us.

She looked up, her lips pressing into a thin line before she nodded. But as she picked up a piece of roti and broke off a small bite, I noticed her hands were still shaking.

"Firefly…" I called softly. She glanced at me but didn’t say anything.

I sighed, setting my spoon down. "I know you’re still upset," I admitted. "And I know sorry won’t fix everything right away. But… I need you to know that I didn’t ignore you on purpose."

She didn’t need to know that I never got any calls or texts because, in the end, it didn’t justify anything. Not my actions, not my behavior toward her. The damage was already done.

She shook her head and swallowed hard before whispering, "I’m sorry. I know I hurt you that day. And I… I’m bad at expressing things too. In the process, I ended up hurting you. I… I really am sorry."

"Shh… Firefly," I murmured, reaching out to tuck a strand of hair behind her ear. "Don’t say sorry. Not anymore. Let’s just eat, okay? You still haven’t had anything, and you need your energy."

She looked at me for a long moment before nodding, and we finally started eating.

Everything was so good. Each bite was warm, comforting—like home. The flavors, the spices, the way everything melted on my tongue—it was better than any hotel meal I had ever had.

"You really made all this for me?" I asked, my voice softer now.

She glanced at me and gave a small nod. "Of course. I just… I wanted to do something for you."

Something inside me tightened. She always did so much. Always cared so much. And I had hurt her.

I reached for her hand under the table, lacing my fingers with hers. "Thank you," I said sincerely. "For this. For everything."

She didn’t say anything, just squeezed my hand back. And in that moment, I knew—we were finding our way back to each other.

After we finished eating, I took the plates and washed them. She had already done so much work, and I never let her do the dishes anyway. I couldn’t let her do everything.

When I finally sat beside her after finishing the dishes, I could sense that she was still tense. Her body language was guarded, her eyes avoiding mine.

"Firefly..." I called softly, trying to catch her attention.

"Did you forgive me, Arjun?" she asked quietly, her voice trembling slightly. "You still haven’t said if you’ve forgiven me or not."

My chest tightened. She still thought this was her fault? I didn’t know what had made her believe that she needed to ask for my forgiveness after everything.

"Baby..." I cupped her face gently, my thumb brushing her cheek. "You don’t have to ask for my forgiveness. I should be the one asking for yours. You didn’t do anything wrong, okay?"

She just stared at me for a long moment, processing my words. I smiled softly, hoping to ease her heart a little. "The food was delicious, but there was something else I was craving."

"What’s that?" she asked, her curiosity piqued.

"Dessert." I said, my voice turning playful, mischievous.

Her face lit up immediately, a spark of excitement in her eyes. "I’ve made gulab jamun for you," she said with a shy smile. "I know you don’t like sweets much, but I thought I’d make it for you anyway. Let me bring it for you."

I mentally slapped myself for not stopping her sooner. As she stood up to bring the gulab jamun, I reached out, pulling her onto my lap.

"Baby, I don’t want that."

She froze, looking at me confused. "Then what do you want for dessert?" she asked softly, a hint of concern in her voice.

"You," I murmured, my voice thick with desire. "You're my dessert, Firefly."

Her eyes widened, her breath hitching as I spread her legs, stepping between them.

Her lips parted, a soft gasp escaping as I leaned in, pressing open-mouthed kisses down her throat, trailing lower, lingering at the sensitive spot where her pulse fluttered wildly beneath my lips. She shivered under my touch, her fingers gripping my shoulders like she needed something to hold on to.

"Arjun..." she whispered, breathless, her voice laced with anticipation.

"Shh..." I hushed against her skin, my hands already working to peel away the barriers between us. "Let me have my dessert baby." The second I tugged off her trousers, I dropped to my knees before her, my hands gripping her thighs, spreading them wider.

She whimpered, her fingers tangling into my hair, pulling slightly as if she wasn't sure whether to push me away or bring me closer. My lips hovered over her inner thigh, feeling her tremble under me. God, I'd missed this—missed her, missed the way she reacted to me, the way her body spoke to me even when words failed.

"You're shaking, Firefly," I murmured, pressing a slow, lingering kiss to the sensitive skin of her thigh. "Do you know how long I’ve been craving this? Craving you?"

She swallowed hard, her breathing erratic, her fingers tightening their grip. "Arjun..." she tried again, but her voice faltered.

I smirked against her skin, dragging my lips higher, breathing her in. "You smell so fucking sweet," I groaned, my fingers digging into her thighs as I pressed my face between them, teasing her with the warmth of my breath. "Let me taste you."

The way she gasped, the way her back arched involuntarily—it drove me insane. She was already so lost in this, in me, in the way I worshipped her. And I was going to take my time, devouring every bit of my Firefly like she was the only thing I needed to survive.

I held her thighs firmly, my grip possessive, my lips trailing dangerously close to where she needed me the most. Her chest rose and fell in uneven breaths, anticipation making her tense beneath my hands. I could feel the heat radiating off her, her body already responding to me before I even touched her properly.

"Relax, Firefly," I whispered, my voice thick with desire. "Let me take care of you."

She whimpered, her head falling back slightly, exposing the elegant curve of her throat. My tongue flicked out, just barely grazing her clit, and her entire body jolted. A broken moan slipped past her lips, and I groaned at the sound, at the way her thighs trembled around my face.

"Arjun—"

I silenced her with another slow, teasing lick, savoring the way she gasped, the way she instinctively tried to close her legs around me, but I wouldn’t let her. My hands held her open, making sure she stayed right where I wanted her.

"You taste even better than I remember," I murmured against her, pressing a lingering kiss to her swollen bundle of nerves before circling my tongue around it in slow, deliberate strokes.

She was unraveling beneath me, her fingers tightening in my hair, her nails scraping against my scalp as she gasped and moaned, completely lost in the pleasure I was giving her. The way she was falling apart so easily, the way she let herself be vulnerable for me—it did something to me, something primal.

I wanted to ruin her.

I sucked her clit into my mouth, flicking my tongue against it, and she cried out, her hips bucking into me. I groaned, my grip on her tightening, holding her steady as I worked her over mercilessly, my tongue pushing her higher and higher.

"You're so beautiful like this, Firefly," I muttered between licks. "Falling apart for me… just for me."

"Arjun... please—" she gasped, her voice breaking, desperate.

I slid one hand up, caressing her stomach, feeling the way her muscles clenched under my touch. I wanted to hear her beg, wanted her completely at my mercy, but more than that—I wanted to watch her shatter for me.

"Tell me, baby," I whispered, my voice dark with hunger. "Tell me how much you missed me."

She whined, shaking her head slightly, as if she couldn't find the words. So I sucked harder, flicking my tongue in a way that made her arch completely off the table, a sobbing moan ripping from her lips.

"I—I missed you!" she finally choked out, her voice wrecked. "I missed you so much, Arjun—please, please, don’t stop—"

I groaned at her desperation, my own arousal throbbing painfully, but this wasn’t about me. This was about her. About making up for every second I had ignored her, every moment she had thought I didn’t care.

I pressed two fingers against her entrance, feeling how wet and ready she was for me. "I’m right here, Firefly," I murmured, sliding my fingers inside her slowly, stretching her open as my tongue worked her clit. "I’m not going anywhere."

She was close—I could feel it in the way she clenched around my fingers, in the way her moans grew higher, her breathing more erratic. She was falling, spiraling, breaking apart in my hands, and I was going to catch her.

"Come for me, baby," I ordered, my voice low and commanding. "Let go. Let me have you."

I tightened my grip on her thighs, my fingers digging into her soft flesh as I hooked one of her legs over my shoulder, opening her up even more for me. A broken gasp left her lips at the sudden change in position, her hands flying to grip the edge of the table.

"Arjun—" she whimpered, her voice trembling, raw with need.

"Shh, Firefly," I murmured against her, pressing a lingering kiss to her inner thigh before dragging my tongue back to where she was dripping for me. "I need to taste more of you."

And then I buried my face between her legs.

Her whole body jerked as my tongue slid inside her, my hands tightening around her hips to keep her still. She was so hot, so wet, her slick coating my tongue as I thrust it deep, tasting every inch of her.

"Oh—God!" she cried, her back arching, her fingers finding my hair and gripping tightly.

I groaned, the sound vibrating against her, and she gasped, her thigh trembling over my shoulder. I worked my tongue inside her, pushing deeper, curling it against the spot that made her shudder. She was unraveling again, her walls clenching around my tongue, her moans turning desperate, needy.

"You like that, baby?" I rasped against her, my voice thick with lust as I flicked my tongue inside her, stretching her open in ways she’d never felt before. "You taste so fucking sweet, Firefly. So perfect for me."

She sobbed out my name, her nails scraping against my scalp as I licked deeper, faster. Her hips jerked against my mouth, seeking more, but I wasn’t going to let her control this. No, she was mine to devour. Mine to break apart.

"Arjun, I—oh—" She choked on a moan, her body tensing, her thigh tightening around my shoulder.

I could feel it—the way she was teetering on the edge, her breath coming in shallow pants, her stomach clenching as she tried to hold back.

"Don’t fight it, baby," I murmured against her, my tongue thrusting deeper, my lips sealing around her clit as I sucked hard. "Let me have you."

And then she shattered.

She cried out my name, her entire body shaking, her walls pulsing around my tongue as I drank in every drop of her release. I didn’t stop, didn’t let up, working her through the waves of pleasure until she was a trembling, whimpering mess against the table.

When I finally pulled away, my chin slick with her arousal, I looked up at her. She was still breathing heavily, her eyes dazed, her lips parted, her face flushed in the most intoxicating way.

"That," I whispered, pressing one last kiss to her sensitive clit, making her shudder. "That is how much I missed you."

Ananya was still trembling, her chest rising and falling in heavy breaths, her eyes glazed over as if she were lost in a daze. I smirked, running my hands up her thighs, feeling the way her body still quivered under my touch.

I stood up, towering over her, watching as she blinked up at me, her lips still slightly parted, swollen from all her gasps and moans. She looked so fucking beautiful—wrecked and undone just for me.

"Arjun..." she whispered, her voice breathless, uncertain, as if she was still floating between reality and the overwhelming pleasure I had just given her.

I cupped her face, tilting her chin up, forcing her hazy eyes to meet mine. "Yes, Firefly?" I murmured, my thumb stroking her cheek, wiping away the sheen of sweat.

She swallowed hard, still catching her breath. "You...you always do this."

I raised an eyebrow, amused. "Do what?"

"Make me forget everything..." she admitted, looking away, her lashes fluttering as a soft blush spread across her cheeks. "Make me forget that I was upset. That I was mad at you."

I chuckled, leaning down so my lips brushed against her ear. "That’s because I know exactly how to handle you," I whispered, my hands slipping around her waist, pulling her closer, pressing her against me. "I know exactly what you need, Firefly."

She let out a small gasp, her fingers curling into my shirt. "Arjun..."

"But," I continued, pressing a soft kiss just beneath her ear, trailing down her jaw, "I don't want you to forget. I want you to tell me everything. Every thought, every hurt, every little thing that made you feel like I was ignoring you."

Her lips trembled slightly, and I could see the war in her eyes. The hesitation. The vulnerability.

I kissed her forehead, lingering there. "I’m not going anywhere, Firefly. I want all of you. Always."

She exhaled shakily, then slowly—so slowly—wrapped her arms around me, pressing her face against my chest. "I missed you," she admitted in a muffled voice. "So much."

I tightened my hold around her, burying my face in her hair, inhaling her sweet, familiar scent. "I missed you too, baby. More than you’ll ever know."

I carried her to our bedroom, her body soft and pliant in my arms. She didn’t protest, just nuzzled against my chest, her fingers clutching at my shirt like she was afraid to let go.

As soon as I laid her down, she reached for me instinctively. Her hands curled around my wrist, her eyes heavy with exhaustion but still searching for something—reassurance, comfort. Me.

I slipped into bed beside her without a second thought. The moment I did, she moved closer, her arms wrapping around my torso, her face burying into my chest. Her grip was tight, almost desperate, as if she was afraid I would slip away the moment she loosened it.

A lump formed in my throat.

She had been hurting. More than I realized.

I rested my chin on top of her head, feeling the warmth of her body pressed against mine. My hand ran soothingly up and down her back, trying to ease whatever lingering ache she still carried.

"I’m here, Firefly," I whispered, even though she was already half-asleep. "I’m not going anywhere."

Her breath evened out slowly, her grip on me not loosening in the slightest. And then, just when I thought she had drifted off completely, I heard it—soft, barely audible.

"I thought...what if you didn’t come back..."

My entire body tensed.

My heart ached at those words. The quiet fear in them. The vulnerability she had never spoken out loud while awake.

I closed my eyes, pressing a lingering kiss to her forehead.

How could she ever think I wouldn’t come back?

I held her tighter, pulling her impossibly closer, vowing silently to never let her feel that fear again.

"I’ll always come back to you, Firefly," I murmured, even if she couldn't hear me. "Always."

I lay there, holding her close, listening to the steady rhythm of her breathing. But inside, I felt anything but calm.

I regretted it.

I regretted not coming back earlier, like I had first planned. I regretted not telling her exactly how long I’d be gone, leaving her to count the days in uncertainty. Maybe I had thought my silence would make her miss me the way I missed her. Maybe I had wanted her to feel just a little of the longing that burned inside me.

But I had been wrong.

Because Ananya didn’t deserve that.

She didn’t deserve to stay up at night wondering if I would return. She didn’t deserve to second-guess her place in my life. And she sure as hell didn’t deserve to fall asleep clutching me like I was something that could slip away at any moment.

I exhaled slowly, brushing my lips against the crown of her head.

She was still holding onto me tightly, even in sleep, like she was afraid that if she let go, I’d disappear again.

A sharp pang of guilt twisted in my chest.

I never wanted to be the reason she felt abandoned. Never.

I buried my face in her hair, inhaling her soft scent, letting it ground me.

"I'm sorry, Firefly," I whispered against her skin, knowing she couldn't hear me, but needing to say it anyway.

I should have never left her feeling like this.

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