“Can I say something without making you sad?”
“Hmm.”
“I wish Hayat would come back.”
I wish Hayat had not gone away in the first place.
“I made you sad.”
“No… yes. I mean, the thought of her has become easier to bear with time. But it is still more painful that she went, than happy that she came for even that short a while.”
“It will get better with more time, Atharva.”
“It will, myani zuv.”
“Then what I mean to tell you is that… whoever this new baby is, we will have it. In a few years, we will be ready for it.”
“Three years?”
She thought for a moment. Then nodded.
“You’ll be 41 by then.”
“But I’ll look 31.”
She snorted. And he kissed the back of her head. “I will be beyond the age most men have kids. But our lives started late, myani zuv. And I want to give Arth time with us. I want to give you time to thrive again. Youarethriving, don’t get me wrong. But… for now this feels complete. The three of us. There is space for a fourth but I know in my heart that it’s not now. What do you think?”
“I think,” she pushed her fingers through his. “That you are right, Janab.”
“How painful was it to admit that?”
An elbow went straight into his stomach. He winced, laughing.
They lay together then, silent, for a long time. It was so beautiful to share silence with her. In the oblivion of a cool night, with the world gone silent around them, he could just as easily slip into the delusion that they were at the dawn of their lives still — two people, nascent still, battling uphill to the peaks of their respective careers, clashing, crossing, and staying — not because fate deemed it but because against every odd, their consciences refused to let go.
His palm trailed down her torso and to her stomach, tracing the welts of her delivery marks, her stretch marks. They were thicker here, gone paler than her skin. He caressed them, playing his fingers over them like they were the strings of his guitar. Her hand came up to trace the scar on his cheek, as if in answer. As if saying,I gave you this and you gave me these.
“It was my turn to interrogate you tonight,” she remarked, amusedly.
“I am all yours.”
“You usually run the other way when I ask questions.”
“Not anymore.”
He felt the stretch of her cheek, the smile. The moon was full tonight, sieving in through the sheer curtains. Thank god they had the good sense to park Yathaarth’s cot at the foot of the bed, away from any light.
“I will not force you, Atharva. You sound tired. I know you ran an operation today. I also know this operation means something more to you than usual because you kept it from me too. So I won’t ask. Tell me when you are ready.”
“Even if it is something about you?”
“Even if it is something about me. We have divided the loads of our lives. You carry yours until you are ready to share, hmm?”
A happy scoff left his mouth, pulling his hand out of her circles and caressing the apple of her cheek. Her face turned over her shoulder, big brown eyes full of a faith he thought he had seen before but really hadn’t met before today. Atharva dropped his forehead on hers.
“Thank you, myani zuv.”
“For not interrogating you?”
