I leaned down, our foreheads touching, the space between us dissolving. “That I’m in love withyou, Cheeseball.”
Her breath caught, and she closed her eyes, her lashes brushing against her cheeks. “Please,” she whispered, her voice trembling, “Please tell me you’re drunk tonight, Manav.”
I chuckled softly, the sound low and intimate, my lips hovering just above hers. “I’m drunk,” I whispered, my lips brushing hers. “Drunk on love, baby.”
And then I kissed her.
It wasn’t rushed or desperate. It was slow, deliberate, and filled with every emotion I didn’t know how to say out loud. My lips moved against hers tenderly, as if they were committing her every breath, every sigh, to memory. She froze for a heartbeat, as if caught off guard by the intensity of it, but then she melted into me, her hands sliding up to grip my shirt, pulling me closer.
I wrapped my arms around her, holding her as if she were the only thing tethering me to this world. Her warmth seeped into me, her presence grounding and consuming all at once. I could feel her surrender, the way her body relaxed against mine, the way her lips answered mine with a softness that matched my own.
When we finally broke apart, her forehead still rested against mine, her breath shallow and uneven. The world seemed to hold its breath with us, suspended in the moment. I took a deep breath, my gaze locked onto hers, and let the words I’d held back for far too long pour out, soft but unshakable.
“I love you,” I said, my voice steady but thick with emotion. “I love you in ways I don’t even know how to put into words, Kiara. I can’t stop thinking about the way you feel in my arms, my life, my home.”
Her lips parted, her eyes wide, but I pressed on, the words spilling from me like a flood. “I love every slice ofburnt toast you serve, and the way you scrunch your nose at my avocado salads like they’re some kind of culinary crime. I want to sleep with you in my arms every night, where you snore without a care, and wake up every morning to see your face light up when I serve your favorite breakfast on the table.”
I paused, my hands gently caressing her face, my thumbs brushing away the tears that had slipped down her cheeks. “I want to cook dinner for you and watch you sneak bites of the vegetables I’m chopping. I want to listen to every ‘Did you know cucumbers—’ fact you can throw at me, even if I’ve heard it a hundred times before.”
Her laughter broke through her tears, soft and incredulous, but I wasn’t done. Not yet.
“I want to pick you up in my arms and make love to you all night until you’re too breathless to speak, until the only words you can manage are, ‘Manav, I can’t move.’”
Her cheeks flushed, but her smile widened, her hands tightening their grip on my shirt as she held onto me like I was her anchor.
“I want to grow old with you, Kiara,” I continued, my voice softening but no less fervent. “You’ve spent your entire life writing love stories—now I want to spend mine living them with you.”
Her lips trembled, and her tears flowed freely now, but I pressed a kiss to her forehead before continuing, my voice breaking slightly. “I want to make mistakes and have you scold me for them. I want to hear you laugh at my abs and call them ridiculous. I want the chaos, the challenges, the imperfections—because they’re ours.”
Her breath hitched, and I felt her lean further into me as though my words were holding her up.
“I love the way you laugh when you think no one’s listening… the way you hum songs completely out of tune when you’re distracted… the way you challenge me, push me, and make me want to be better, even when I have no idea how to get there.”
I cupped her face, leaning down until our noses brushed, my voice dropping to a whisper. “The fierce, stubborn, brilliant, maddening, beautiful mess that you are—Kiara, you are my home.”
As tears rolled down her cheeks, her voice trembled, “I also wanted to tell you something—if you’d been at the launch tonight.”
I stepped closer, my gaze locked on hers. “I’m listening,” I said softly.
She nodded, her arms slowly encircling my neck, pulling me closer. Her breath was uneven as she continued, her words raw and unguarded. “I tried so hard not to fall for you,” she whispered, a shaky laugh breaking through. Her voice cracked as her fingers gripped the back of my neck.
My thumb caught a tear slipping down her cheek.
“I wrote stories about love like it was a fantasy. But when it found me—you—I ran.”
Her breath hitched. “Because you made it real. And real things… break.”
I didn’t speak. Couldn’t.
“I thought I was better off without it. But the truth is, I can’t breathe when you’re not around. I miss you even when you’re in the next room.” Her eyes locked on mine—raw, fierce. “I love you, Manav Oberoi. More than I have words for. More than I ever meant to.”
I pulled her in, unable to hold the distance any longer. My voice was low against her skin. “I want every version of you—messy, loud, sarcastic, silent, hurting, healing. All ofit. You make me want a life I never believed I deserved.”
She closed her eyes, tears slipping down freely now.
She didn’t answer with words.
She kissed me. Slow. Sure.
