“Better?” he asks.
I open them again, catching the way his gaze softens at the sight of my exhale. “Yes,” I whisper.
He doesn’t stop there. A moment later, he places a glass of warm water on the bedside table, then sits back down beside me, close enough that I feel the brush of his shoulder.
“You didn’t eat,” he says after a while.
“I’m not hungry.” I stare at the blanket.
“You should still eat something. It’ll help.” His tone is gentle but coaxing, not commanding. “Soup? Khichdi? Tell me what you’d like.”
I glance at him, almost incredulous. “You’ll actually make sure I eat?”
His lips twitch, a faint smile forming. “Of course. Do you think I’d let my wife starve?”
The word wife again. He says it like it means something, like it’s not just a title but a promise. My heart flips painfully, more unbearable than the cramps.
“I really am used to being fine on my own,” I murmur, more to myself than him.
“Well, then you’ll have to unlearn that too,” he replies smoothly.
I huff a small laugh, shaking my head, though the tears threaten at the corners of my eyes.
We lapse into silence, but it isn’t empty. His hand finds mine beneath the blanket, his thumb brushing over my knuckles. It’s so simple, so quiet, yet it steadies me more than the hot water bag ever could.
After some time, I whisper, “Vihaan?”
“Hmm?”
“Why are you doing all this? You don’t have to—”
He cuts me off again, this time leaning closer, his voice so low it sends a shiver down my spine. “Because I hate seeing you in pain. Because I want to. Because you matter to me more than you think.”
My throat closes, words trapped inside. I can only look at him, my chest swelling with something I don’t dare name yet.
He brushes a strand of hair from my forehead, his touch lingering. “Sleep for a while. I’ll stay here.”
“You have work—”
He smiles wide and places a finger on my lips, “Respectfully Poorvi, shut up.”
I can’t help but smile back at him. I close my eyes, not because I’m tired, but because I can’t hold his gaze any longer. The cramps still ache, but his hand in mine makes them easier to bear. “Vihaan,” I whisper.
“Hmm?”
“Can I ask you for something?”
“Yes,meri jaan, anything.” I can hear the smile in his voice,meri jaan.My heart is beating wildly now.
“I am really craving maggi, can I get that?” I almost pout, my eyes still close.
He laughs, “You can get anything you want,meri jaan,” he says, his hands now stroking my head gently. “I will get some foryou, okay?” I nod, a smile playing on my own lips. He’s so caring and sweet. I may have hit a jackpot.
CHAPTER 18
The perfect button
VIHAAN
