40. Another call

Niharika stared at the phone in her hand, her thoughts spiraling. When did Shivaay ever talk to me like this? she wondered. The soft tone of his voice, the concern laced in his words—it was so unlike him.

Her mind replayed the countless moments where his words had been harsh, cutting deep into her soul. He had scolded her, accused her, and left her to bear the weight of blame she didn’t deserve. But now? Now he sounded almost... vulnerable.

Why would he speak to me like that? she thought, her brows furrowing. She tried to shake off the warmth creeping into her chest, reminding herself of all the times he’d made her feel small.

Niharika hugged herself tightly, as if trying to protect herself from her own emotions. "No," she murmured to herself. "I can't let this change anything. He doesn’t get to rewrite what he’s done with a few kind words."

Yet, despite her resolve, the memory of his voice lingered in her mind, softening her defenses just a little. She closed her eyes and leaned against the edge of the bed, whispering, "Why now? Why not before, Shivaay? Why didn’t you try when it mattered the most?"

The questions went unanswered, but her heart refused to let them go.

In California, Shivaay changed into a casual T-shirt and track pants after a long day at work. The moment he stepped into his bedroom, a sense of relief washed over him. He loosened his shoulders, ran a hand through his hair, and collapsed onto the bed, letting out a deep sigh.

Staring at the ceiling, a faint smile crept onto his lips—a rare, genuine one that softened his usual hard demeanor. He felt lighter, as though the burden he'd carried for so long had slightly eased. Thoughts of Niharika lingered in his mind, her hesitant voice from their call echoing softly.

For reasons he couldn’t entirely grasp, that brief conversation had left him at peace. Maybe it was her presence in his life, however distant, or just the subtle shift in their equation.

"She’s something else," he muttered under his breath, shaking his head lightly but still smiling.

As the exhaustion of the day took over, he closed his eyes, his mind still replaying moments of her—her stubbornness, her resilience, and even her silences. With that comforting thought, Shivaay drifted into a deep sleep, his smile lingering.

The next morning, the golden rays of the Californian sun filtered through the sheer curtains of Shivaay's penthouse, casting a warm glow across the room. He stirred awake, his eyes fluttering open as the alarm clock buzzed softly on the bedside table. Stretching lazily, he let out a groggy sigh before sitting up on the edge of the bed, running a hand through his disheveled hair.

The first thing that caught his eye was the red dupatta draped over the armrest of the nearby chair, its presence inexplicably grounding. He stared at it for a moment, a faint smile tugging at his lips, before shaking his head as if to dismiss his thoughts.

"Get it together, Shivaay," he muttered to himself, rising to his feet.

After freshening up, he donned a sharp navy-blue suit, adjusting his cufflinks meticulously. Breakfast was a quick affair—coffee and toast, as his schedule was packed. He checked his phone while sipping his coffee, scrolling through emails and messages. Among them was a text from Riya:

Riya: Good morning, bhaiya! Hope you had a good night. Just a reminder—don’t forget to call Niharika bhabhisa today. She’ll never say it, but I think she misses you.

Shivaay smirked at his sister’s teasing but saved her message. After all, there was truth in her words. He took a deep breath, pocketed his phone, and grabbed his briefcase. Before stepping out, he glanced at the dupatta one last time and muttered under his breath, "I'll call her when the time feels right."

With that, he headed out, ready to tackle another day in California.

Shivaay glanced at his watch as he stepped into the elevator. The glowing digits displayed 8:00 AM, but his mind immediately calculated the time in India.

"It's late evening there," he murmured, leaning against the elevator wall. "She must be winding down for the day, probably sitting with her books or... taking care of everyone like always."

The thought made him smile faintly. The time difference between California and India was starting to get to him. Conversations were hard to time, and the moments he felt like calling her, she was likely asleep or busy.

As he drove to his office, he kept replaying moments from their brief call the previous night. Her hesitant tone, the way she almost stumbled over her words—it was far from the fiery, independent Niharika he once thought he knew. Yet, there was something about her quiet resilience that tugged at him.

"How can someone be so strong yet so unsure at the same time?" he muttered to himself, drumming his fingers on the steering wheel at a red light.

The thought lingered as he parked his car and walked into his building. Even in the bustling city of California, with its bright lights and fast pace, a part of him was tethered to a quiet room in India, where he imagined her surrounded by the shadows of responsibilities she didn’t ask for but bore anyway.

"It really sucks," he thought with a wry smile as he entered the office. "Maybe tonight, I'll catch her at the right time."

Shivaay sat in his penthouse, the harsh glow of his laptop screen casting shadows across the room. The reports in front of him were all too familiar, the data blending into one long blur. He had been at it for hours, but his focus kept faltering.

Focus, Shivaay. Work first, thoughts later.

But no matter how hard he tried to redirect his attention, his thoughts kept drifting back to her. Niharika.

It had only been a couple of days since he'd left for California, but it felt like weeks. The time difference didn’t help either. In India, it was already late. She must have been preparing for bed. Maybe she was already asleep.

Shivaay couldn’t help but wonder how she was doing. The image of her smiling face, her gentle nature, flashed in his mind, making him pause. The way she looked when she brought him tea that morning, the way her eyes softened when they spoke—those moments kept replaying in his mind.

Why am I thinking about her so much?

He leaned back in his chair, running a hand through his hair. The ache in his chest was foreign to him, an emptiness that he couldn’t quite explain. He was used to being in control, used to being unbothered, but with Niharika, it was different.

She’s not just some person. She’s... she’s my wife.

He couldn’t ignore the truth. Despite the circumstances that had forced them together, the more time he spent thinking about her, the more he realized how deeply he was affected by her presence, or rather, her absence.

Shivaay took a deep breath, closing his eyes as he leaned back in his chair. The city lights outside twinkled, a distant reminder that the world was still turning, but here, in his quiet penthouse, everything felt still.

What is this feeling?

He opened his eyes and reached for his phone. Without thinking, he dialed her number, his fingers trembling slightly. As the phone rang, he cursed himself for his weakness.

She’s probably sleeping. Why are you doing this?

But before he could hang up, the call connected.

Shivaay froze at the sound of her voice, soft and almost distant through the phone. For a moment, he couldn’t find the words to speak. He hadn't expected her to answer, but now that she had, his mind went blank.

"Ji?" Niharika’s voice was calm, almost curious. "Shivaay, is everything okay?"

Shivaay cleared his throat, trying to push past the tightness in his chest. "I... I just wanted to hear your voice," he said, his words coming out more quietly than he'd intended.

There was a pause on the other end, and he could almost feel the distance between them stretching, despite the fact that they were connected through the phone.

"Is something wrong?" she asked again, a hint of concern in her voice.

He exhaled slowly, fighting the urge to spill everything that was on his mind. "No, nothing's wrong," he replied, though he wasn’t sure if he was convincing either of them. "Just... wanted to check in on you."

Niharika didn’t immediately respond, and for a moment, the silence between them felt heavier than it should have been. Finally, she spoke again. "I’m fine, Shivaay. But... are you okay?"

Her question lingered in the air, making Shivaay realize how much he hadn’t thought about himself in the past few days. He had been consumed with everything else—the business, the move, the endless tasks—but in that moment, it was only her voice that mattered.

"I’m fine," he said again, though the words felt hollow. "I just... miss home." He wasn’t sure why he said it, but it was true. He missed India, missed his family, and yes, missed her.

Niharika’s voice softened. "I... I hope you’re taking care of yourself there. Don’t overwork."

"I won’t," he promised, though he wasn’t sure if he believed it himself. "I just... needed to hear from you."

There was a quiet understanding between them now, a silent acknowledgment that despite the physical distance, something was shifting between them.

"Get some rest, Shivaay," she said, her tone gentle. "I’ll be here when you wake up."

Shivaay didn’t know what to say in response. His heart seemed to skip a beat. He wanted to tell her more, tell her about the emptiness he’d been feeling, but he couldn’t bring himself to. He just nodded, even though she couldn’t see it.

"I will," he whispered, then ended the call, still feeling that strange pull in his chest.

For the first time in a long while, he allowed himself to think about the next time he would see her—what it would be like to be close to her again, to feel the warmth of her presence.

But until then, he would carry her voice with him. And it was enough, for now.