Chapter 38

Lakshmi looked at Kittu and Rashi, stunned. She hadn't expected them to request such a thing. Even though she didn't want Vikram's presence in her house, she knew it wasn't a good gesture to deny someone food. Vikram noticed her hesitation and understood her discomfort. Before she could respond, he intervened gently, "It's okay. I have some important work to attend to. I need to go." He pulled his hand softly from Kittu's grip.

Kittu's face fell, his lips pouting in disappointment. Vikram, seeing the boy's sadness, bent down to his level, kissed him on the cheek, and whispered, "Bye, Kittu."

"When will you come again?" Kittu asked, his voice tinged with longing.

"Whenever you want," Vikram replied with a warm smile.

Kittu's eyes lit up. "Will you take me for a ride in your car?"

Vikram chuckled softly. "It's your car too, Kittu. Yes, I'll take you for a ride whenever you want. But not now—it's late, and I know you're hungry. Eat and sleep tonight. I'll take you tomorrow." He ruffled Kittu's hair affectionately, and the boy nodded happily, his earlier sadness replaced by anticipation.

Vikram straightened up and turned to Lakshmi. His voice was calm but carried an unspoken weight. "Lakshmi, take care. I'll leave now." He glanced at Rashi, nodding in silent farewell. She returned the gesture, her expression unreadable. Without another word, Vikram walked out, the sound of his footsteps fading into the night.

As Lakshmi watched him leave, a strange unease settled in her chest. She knew the pain of hunger all too well, and she could tell Vikram was hungry—his tired face had betrayed him. He had always loved her cooking. The thought of him leaving with an empty stomach stirred something deep within her. He has money, maybe he has a cook, she reasoned with herself, trying to push away the guilt. But the image of his weary face lingered in her mind, refusing to fade.

Her eyes lingered on the path he had taken, her thoughts a whirlwind of emotions. After a moment, she sighed and turned to Rashi, who had been quietly observing her. "Come, let's eat. It's already late," Lakshmi said, her voice softer than she intended.

"No, Akka. I'll go home. I have an assignment to finish. Bye," Rashi replied. She kissed Kittu goodbye and left, her footsteps echoing in the quiet house.

Lakshmi walked her out, locked the door, and returned to the stove. She served food onto a plate and sat on the floor to feed Kittu. As she fed him, her mind wandered back to Vikram. Guilt gnawed at her, sharp and unrelenting. The memory of his face as he left flashed before her eyes, and before she could stop it, a lone tear escaped, tracing a silent path down her cheek.

Kittu, oblivious to his mother's turmoil, was engrossed in the toys his father had brought him. The boy was overjoyed to have a father, someone he had longed for but never fully understood. He sensed something was amiss in his family, a tension he couldn't articulate, but for now, he was content with the small moments of connection Vikram had given him.

After feeding Kittu, Lakshmi served herself from the same plate and sat down to eat. But as she raised the morsel to her mouth, she found she couldn't bring herself to eat. A heavy, unfamiliar feeling settled in her chest, one she couldn't quite name. It wasn't just guilt—it was something deeper, something that reminded her of the pain she had endured before. She had vowed never to let her emotions betray her again, yet here she was, her mind relentlessly drawn to him.

Despite her determination, her thoughts circled back to Vikram. She sighed, setting the plate aside, her appetite gone. She got up, her heart heavy, and moved to the small window, staring out into the night. The silence of the house felt suffocating, and for the first time in a long while, Lakshmi felt the weight of her loneliness pressing down on her.

She didn't know what the future held, but one thing was certain—the past was not done with her yet. And neither, it seemed, was Vikram.

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As Rashi entered the house, she found Meena heating up the food she had brought from her workplace. The aroma of the meal filled the small kitchen, but Rashi's mind was elsewhere. She sat down quietly, her thoughts still lingering on the evening's events. Meena, noticing her daughter's distant expression, broke the silence. "Has Lakshmi and Kittu eaten?" she asked, her voice gentle but probing.

"Yes, Ma," Rashi replied softly, her gaze fixed on the plate in front of her.

Meena, ever perceptive, sensed something was amiss. "Rashi, what happened? What are you thinking about?" she asked, her tone laced with concern.

Rashi hesitated for a moment, then began to recount everything that had transpired—Vikram's visit, his interaction with Kittu, the way he had left without eating, and Lakshmi's quiet turmoil. As she spoke, Meena's expression darkened. By the time Rashi finished, Meena's anger was palpable.

"Why is this boy tormenting her like this?" Meena exclaimed, her voice rising. "Can't he just leave her alone? Hasn't he done enough? Rashi, next time, don't let him into the house. Just chase him away!" Her words were sharp, fueled by a protective instinct for Lakshmi.

"Amma, stop," Rashi interjected, her voice calm but firm. "It's not like you think. He's not the villain you're making him out to be. I don't know what happened in the past, but from what I saw today, he seems like a good man. The way he cares for Kittu and Lakshmi Akka—it feels genuine. If he were truly a bad person, why would he still be here, trying to be a father to his son and a presence in Lakshmi akka's life? He could have easily walked away and found someone else, someone of his so-called status. But he didn't. He's here, and I think... I think he truly loves Lakshmi Akka. I can feel it."

Meena fell silent, her anger ebbing as she considered Rashi's words. There was truth in what her daughter said. If Vikram had wanted to, he could have moved on, built a new life without looking back. Yet, here he was, trying to bridge the gap between himself and the family he had left behind. Meena sighed, her shoulders relaxing. "Whatever it is, just be careful around him," she said finally, her tone softer now. "We don't know his intentions fully."

Rashi nodded, but her mind was still swirling with thoughts. She couldn't shake the image of Vikram's tired face as he left, or the way Lakshmi had quietly struggled with her emotions. There was a story here, one that no one had fully told.

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The next day, Vikram woke up earlier than usual. Restlessness had taken hold of him; he couldn't stay still. His heart was tethered to Lakshmi and his son, Kittu. The thought of being apart from them felt unbearable. He completed his morning routine and found himself in the kitchen, brewing coffee. As the aroma filled the air, his mind drifted to Kittu's innocent face—the way it had fallen when Vikram had to leave the previous day, the way the boy had asked, "When will you come again?" Vikram smiled softly to himself. For the first time in years, he felt truly needed, truly loved. Someone was waiting for him, longing for his presence. It filled him with a warmth he hadn't known he was missing. Yet, beneath the joy, a flicker of fear gnawed at him. What if this happiness was fleeting? What if it was taken away from him as quickly as it had come? He shook off the thought, determined to cherish every moment.

After dressing in a black t-shirt and beige pants, he grabbed his car keys and headed to the parking lot. The engine roared to life as he drove toward Lakshmi's house. He had decided to surprise Kittu by dropping him off at school today—and every day from now on. The thought of being a constant in his son's life filled him with a sense of purpose he hadn't felt in years.

Lakshmi woke up quietly, careful not to disturb Kittu, who was still deep in sleep. She brushed her teeth, grabbed her purse, and tiptoed out of the house, locking the door softly behind her. The morning air was crisp as she walked to the nearby shop to buy milk and other essentials for the day. When she returned, she found Kittu still curled up in bed, his tiny chest rising and falling in a peaceful rhythm. She glanced at the clock—6:15 a.m.—and set the groceries near the stove before beginning her morning chores.

As she swept the house, her eyes fell on a few unopened bags tucked in the corner. Curiosity got the better of her, and she opened them, expecting to find more toys for Kittu. Instead, she discovered four or five sarees, each in her favorite colors. Her breath caught. Vikram must have bought them for her. The gesture was thoughtful, but how could she accept them? She wasn't sure, was not ready to let him back into her heart. With a sigh, she set the bag aside, resolving not to wear them.

After finishing her chores, Lakshmi picked out a fresh set of clothes and stepped into the small bathroom attached to her room. She left the door slightly ajar, as she always did, to keep an eye on Kittu. The water was warm, soothing her tired muscles as she washed away the remnants of sleep. When she stepped out, she wrapped the saree around herself hastily, intending to drape it properly once she was out of the bathroom.

Just as she turned the corner and began adjusting the saree, the front door creaked open. Vikram stepped inside, his eyes widening in surprise. In her haste to return from the shop, Lakshmi had forgotten to latch the door. Lakshmi, unaware of his presence, continued to drape the saree with the practiced ease of years. The fabric flowed around her like water, accentuating her grace. Vikram's breath hitched. Her blouse clung to her damp skin, revealing the delicate curves of her body. Water droplets glistened on her bare waist, catching the morning light. She was a vision—one that stirred a deep desire within him, something he had buried long ago.

His heart pounded as his eyes traced the lines of her figure. She was beautiful, more beautiful than he remembered. The feelings he had suppressed for years surged to the surface, raw and undeniable. He wanted to reach out, to touch her, to pull her close, feel her and never let go.

He moved toward her slowly, each step deliberate, as if drawn by an invisible force. His eyes lingered on her figure.

His breath grew shallow as memories of their past flooded his mind—memories of a time when they were inseparable, when her laughter was his melody, and her touch was his solace.

As he drew closer, his gaze fell on the faint stretch marks that adorned her waist. They were like delicate brush strokes on a canvas, a testament to the life they had created together. His chest swelled with pride. He was the reason for those marks, the reason for the art that adorned her skin. They were a reminder of the bond they shared, a bond that had brought Kittu into the world.

His fingers twitched with the urge to reach out, to trace those marks, to feel the warmth of her skin beneath his touch. He wanted to pull her close, to breathe her in, to remind her—and himself—of what they once were.

Lakshmi, sensing his presence, turned sharply, her eyes narrowing as she realized how close he had come. Her body stiffened, and she took a step back, putting distance between them. Her expression was a mix of defiance and vulnerability, a reminder of the walls she had built to protect herself from him.

"What are you doing?" she asked, her voice sharp but trembling slightly. Her hands instinctively tightened the folds of her saree, as if shielding herself from his gaze.

Vikram froze, his hand hovering in the air where her waist had been just moments ago. The intensity in her eyes stopped him cold. He had forgotten, in that moment of longing, the chasm that lay between them—the hurt, the mistrust, the years of silence.

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Hey guys!!!

I'm back! And finally, some romance!

Did you like it? I know I'm not great at this, but I'm trying my best. 😅 Please leave your thoughts in the comments – it would really help me out!

Enjoy reading!!!

Bi Bi!!!