“Good. Now try small glides, one foot forward, then the other,” I say, keeping my voice calm and encouraging.
She stumbles, letting out a small yelp, and I catch her instantly, pulling her close, her body colliding softly with mine.
“Told you I’d catch you,” I smile at her.
She looks up at me, breathless, her hands resting lightly on my chest.
“I didn’t doubt you,” she whispers. “Not for a second.”
“Just keep trusting me like this. That’s all I’ll ever need,” I say quietly, easing her back onto her feet and helping her steady herself.
We keep moving, slow and careful. And every time she stumbles, she grabs onto me like her life depends on it. And honestly, I’d be lying if I said I didn’t love every second of it.
“You’re doing great,” I say, genuinely impressed. She’s clumsy, but she’s trying, and she’s getting there.
“I’m terrible,” she laughs, her cheeks flushed.
“You’re doing good.”
After a few more shaky tries and a couple of near-falls, her movements start to smooth out. Her balance steadies, and her confidence grows. She stops clutching my arm and begins to glide on her own. She pushes forward again, her arms slightly out for balance, and this time, she doesn’t wobble. Her eyes widen with disbelief, and a breathless laugh escapes her lips.
“I did it!” she squeals, spinning halfway in place, nearly slipping but catching herself just in time. “I did it, Sidharth!”
I can’t help but grin, pride swelling in my chest. Her joy is infectious, and I find myself just standing there, watching her, soaking her in.
This right here. That light in her eyes. That laugh. That victory. This is what I live for.
She slowly skates back towards me. Her cheeks are flushed, and her eyes sparkle with joy. Instinctively, my body tenses, ready to catch her if she falls, but she doesn’t. She stops right in front of me and catches her breath. Before I can say a word, she reaches up and takes my face in both hands.
“This is the most incredible thing I’ve ever done,” she breathes, her eyes locked with mine. Then she leans in and peppers kisses all over my face—my cheeks, my nose, my jaw.
“Thank you,” she whispers between kisses. “Thank you for fulfilling my dream.”
I stand frozen, my breath caught somewhere between my ribs. My hands hover at her waist, my fists clenched tight as I fight the urge to pull her close. Man, if I could freeze thismoment, I would, and keep her like this forever. This woman is my everything. And I’ll be damned if I ever let the world take her away from me.
I lean in and lower my forehead to hers. “You deserve every dream, Nisha. And I’m just getting started.”
“You have no idea what that means to me,” she smiles, her hands still resting on my cheeks. “I stopped believing I deserved to dream a long time ago. But you… you made me believe in it again.”
A tear slips down her cheek even as her eyes shine with warmth. “With you by my side, I feel like the luckiest girl in the world.”
I swallow the lump in my throat. Her words. Every time she speaks like that, honest and painfully vulnerable, it shatters something in me. She could ask for the moon right now, and I’d find a way to give it to her. Because there’s no chance in hell I’m ever going to be just another man who lets her settle for less.
Chapter 23
Nisha
“No, no, please not again,” I mutter under my breath, almost begging the universe as I flip the tenth roti, only to find it scorched like the rest.
My shoulders slump as I sigh in defeat, pulling the burnt roti off the tawa and dropping it onto the growing pile of failed attempts on the plate.
God! This was supposed to be a simple way to thank Sidharth for taking me skating, for always making my happiness his priority. But now, I stare dejectedly at the chaos around me—flour coating the counter like snow after a storm, half-cut vegetables lying abandoned, and a hundred dirty utensils scattered everywhere. It all feels like a full-blown disaster. What was meant to be a heartfelt dinner now feels like an impossible challenge I’m miserably failing at.
“No, Nisha, you can’t give up. You’ve got this,”I mumble to myself, straightening my back as I steal a glance at the clock. Six-thirty. Sidharth will be here in just over an hour and a half. I still have time to fix this.
I pull in a deep breath and turn my focus back to the tablet propped against the wall, still playing the aloo matar recipevideo on a loop. The overly cheerful voice chirps, ‘This is a beginner-friendly recipe!’
I let out a groan and glare at the screen.“Yeah, right,”I mutter, frustration creeping in.
