Chapter Part 28

It started subtly.

I was in my office one morning, sipping on my coffee while reviewing a proposal, when I heard her voice. "Stop drinking so much coffee, Veer," she said, her tone carrying that familiar mix of sternness and care.

I looked up, startled, expecting to see Tara standing there with her hands on her hips. But the room was empty.

I shook my head, brushing it off as a random thought. But it happened again, and again.

In the middle of a meeting, while one of my managers droned on about revenue forecasts, I glanced at the chair across from me and almost dropped my pen. Tara was sitting there, her chin resting on her hand as she looked at me with that soft, knowing smile of hers.

I blinked, and she was gone.

Later, while flipping through files in preparation for another meeting, I felt something soft on my cheek. I froze, my heart skipping a beat. It felt like Tara had kissed me—except she wasn't there.

And then there was the time I imagined her walking into my office, holding a tiffin and scolding me for skipping lunch. I sighed, pinching the bridge of my nose. "Tara, stop this," I muttered under my breath. "I'm tempted to leave everything and come home to you."

"Stop what?"

Her voice was so clear that I jumped, fully expecting her to vanish again. But this time, she didn't.

Tara stood in the doorway, looking at me with a mix of confusion and amusement. She held a tiffin in her hands, just like in my hallucination.

"Are you okay?" she asked, raising an eyebrow.

I stared at her for a moment, trying to process the fact that she was real this time. "Uh... yes," I said quickly, clearing my throat. "I just... wasn't expecting you."

Her brow furrowed slightly. "I brought you lunch," she said, stepping inside. "If you don't want it, I can—"

"No!" I interrupted, standing up and gesturing for her to sit down. "I mean, of course, I want it. Thank you."

She gave me a strange look but sat down anyway, unpacking the tiffin as if my odd behavior was nothing new.

We ate in companionable silence, her presence calming the chaos that had been brewing in my mind all morning. As I watched her, I couldn't help but marvel at how much she had become the center of my world.

Despite my mistakes, despite my shortcomings, she had stayed. She had listened, understood, and cared in ways I hadn't thought possible. Tara had made me realize something I had spent years avoiding—that I wasn't just worth it for her. I was worth it for myself.

"Tara," I said after a while, setting my spoon down. "Why did you come straight after school? You must be exhausted."

She smiled, shaking her head. "I didn't come straight here. I went home first and packed lunch for you."

I frowned, the thought of her going out of her way for me filling me with both gratitude and worry. "You shouldn't do that," I said softly. "Your health is important."

She rolled her eyes, her smile widening. "Don't worry about me, Veer. I'm fine."

As we finished lunch, Tara leaned back in her chair, her expression turning thoughtful. "I was actually going to go Diwali shopping after this," she said casually.

I straightened in my seat. "Then I'll come with you."

"You don't have to," she protested.

"I want to," I said firmly. "Wait here for a bit, and we'll go together."

She nodded, and I went back to wrap up some work. But when I returned to the office, I found her fast asleep on the couch, her head resting against the armrest.

Her face was relaxed, her breathing soft and even. She looked so peaceful that I didn't have the heart to wake her. Instead, I draped a light blanket over her and sat down at my desk, quietly finishing my tasks.

When she finally stirred and sat up, rubbing her eyes, she looked around, slightly disoriented. "What time is it?" she asked.

"Four o'clock," I replied, smiling.

Her eyes widened. "We're late!"

"We still have time," I assured her, standing up and offering her my hand.

The market was alive with the spirit of Diwali—rows of colorful diyas, vibrant rangoli powders, and strings of fairy lights glowed under the golden evening light. Tara flitted from one stall to the next, picking up everything from groceries for sweets to decorative items for the house.

I handed her my wallet at one point, letting her handle the payments. She opened it to pull out some cash and froze.

"What's this?" she asked, holding up a small photograph tucked inside.

It was a picture of her, one I had taken not long after our marriage. She wasn't looking at the camera—her gaze was elsewhere, her face lit with a soft smile.

"Why do you have this in your wallet?" she asked, her tone a mix of surprise and curiosity.

"Why not?" I replied, taking the wallet from her and tucking the photo back in. "It's you. Who else would I want there?"

Her expression softened, her cheeks tinged with pink.

"It's not just my wallet," I continued. "You're on my phone, my laptop, and in my life. And you're here." I reached out, placing my hand over my chest. "In my heart." she lightly slapped my chest trying to hide the deep red which was adorning her face

The shopping trip had gone well—Tara's energy was infectious, and even though I wasn't much for markets, watching her excitement as she picked out every diya, every packet of rangoli powder, made it worth it.

By the time we returned home, the sun had dipped below the horizon, and the soft glow of the Diwali lights we'd bought earlier seemed to light her face in a way that made my heart ache.

I was carrying the last of the bags inside when I heard a faint wince from her. Turning around, I saw her leaning against the wall, one hand clutching her abdomen.

"Tara?" I said, rushing to her side. "What's wrong?"

"It's nothing," she said through a strained smile. "Just cramps. My periods started."

I led her to the bedroom and helped her sit down, her face pale and drawn with discomfort. The pain she was in made something twist uncomfortably in my chest. I hated seeing her like this.

"Stay here," I said softly. "I'll be back."

I went to the kitchen first, grabbing a bottle of water and ordering the staff to prepare something light for her if she felt up to eating later. But it didn't feel like enough.

I took out my phone, typing into the search bar: What to do for period cramps.

The results were clear: heat, chocolate, and comfort.

I found the heating pad we kept in the bathroom cabinet and plugged it in. Then I placed an order for a chocolate cake from her favourite bakery and paid extra for a promised quick delivery.

When I returned, Tara was lying on the bed, her face scrunched in pain. I placed the heating pad gently on her stomach, adjusting it until she sighed in relief.

"Better?" I asked, brushing a strand of hair away from her face.

"A little," she murmured, her eyes fluttering open to meet mine.

I sat beside her, rubbing slow, gentle circles on her stomach. Her body relaxed slightly under my touch, but I could tell the pain was still lingering.

"Do you want anything else?" I asked, my voice soft.

She shook her head but then hesitated. "I just... I want to be in your arms."

My chest tightened at her words, and I adjusted myself on the bed, pulling her gently to sit between my legs. She leaned back against my chest, her head resting on my shoulder. My arms wrapped securely around her, and I continued rubbing her back in small, soothing circles.

She sighed, her body melting into mine. "Thank you," she whispered.

"For what?" I asked, pressing a soft kiss to the side of her head.

"For this. For everything," she said, her voice barely audible.

The delivery arrived shortly after, and I retrieved the box, bringing it back to the bedroom. Tara's eyes lit up when she saw it, the faintest smile tugging at her lips.

"Chocolate cake?" she asked, her tone teasing despite her discomfort.

"You said you wanted to be in my arms," I replied, setting the box down. "But that doesn't mean you shouldn't have something sweet too."

She chuckled softly, breaking off a small piece and holding it up to my mouth. "Here."

I let her feed me, the rich sweetness of the cake melting on my tongue. Then I took a piece and brought it to her lips.

"Your turn," I said.

We continued like that, taking turns feeding each other. It was a small thing, but it felt intimate, like a quiet act of care that needed no words.

As we finished the cake, Tara leaned her head back against my chest, her eyes drifting closed. I pressed a series of light kisses across her temple, her cheeks, and the tip of her nose, unable to stop myself.

"You're spoiling me," she murmured sleepily, her hand reaching up to rest over mine.

"Good," I said softly, tightening my hold around her. "You deserve it."

The room fell into a comfortable silence, the only sound the gentle rhythm of her breathing.

And in that moment, I realized something simple but profound: my happiness wasn't tied to anything material or grand. It was here, in these quiet moments, holding Tara in my arms and knowing I was exactly where I was meant to be.