I inch closer, resting my chin near her temple. “Poorvi…”
She shakes her head, not looking at me. “No, let me say this. I don’t talk about it often, but tonight I feel like I need to.”
I stay quiet. I’ve learned she doesn’t need my words right now—just my silence, my presence.
She exhales slowly. “After she died, they treated me like… like something to be tolerated. Not loved. Not cherished. Just… there. Existing.” Her hand loosens in mine and I slip my fingers between hers, firm. “Not that they cared about me before, but… at least someone did.”
She inhales deeply, “I remember birthdays passing without a word. I remember standing on the sidelines while my step siblings got new clothes, new books, new everything. I was given leftovers. And not just things… attention, too. I wasn’t asked about school, wasn’t asked about friends. It was as though my voice carried no weight.”
Her voice trembles and then steadies again, almost like she’s scolding herself for letting it shake.
I want to pull her into my arms, but something holds me back—I don’t want her to feel rushed out of speaking.
“You know, people think the worst thing is being hated. But it’s not. It’s being invisible. It’s being there in a room full of family and knowing you could disappear and nobody would notice. That was my childhood, Vihaan. That was me.”
Her words lodge in my throat like thorns.
I brush my thumb over the back of her hand, grounding her. “I notice you.”
Her eyes finally shift to mine, glassy with unshed tears. “I know. That’s why I can talk about it now. Because with you, I don’t feel invisible. And that… scares me sometimes. Because I don’t know what I’ll do if I lose this.”
My chest tightens. I sit up slightly, leaning over her, forcing her to look at me. “Poorvi, look at me. You’re not going to lose this. You’re not going to lose me.”
She bites her lip, a tear finally sliding free. I brush it away with my thumb before it falls to her cheek.
“Poorvi… I don’t care if they turned their backs on you. I see you. I choose you. You don’t need their place, because you’ve made your own here—with me.”
Her eyes close, and she lets out a shaky laugh. “You always say the right things.”
“Not always.” I kiss her temple. “But I mean every word.”
Silence settles again, but it’s not heavy. It’s the kind that hums with closeness. Her head rests on my shoulder now, and I feel the dampness of her tears soaking through my shirt.
Inside, though, my thoughts are loud. I think of the young girl she was, waiting at the table for someone to ask how her day was, waiting for a smile that never came. I think of her loneliness, and it makes me burn with quiet rage at the people who should’ve loved her most.
And yet, here she is. Soft, strong, brave enough to tell me the things that hurt her most. Trusting me with them.
I press a kiss into her hair. “You’re not invisible anymore, Poorvi. Not with me. Not with Bhai-sa, Sitara, Meher, and Veeraj. You are seen. You are heard. And you are loved. Every single day.”
Her hand comes up, pressing lightly against my chest, right over my heart. She doesn’t say anything, but she doesn’t need to. The way she exhales, the way her body relaxes against mine—it’s answer enough.
And I know, in this moment, that all she needs is someone to simply stay, to hold the silence with her. To not look away. And tell her repeatedly that I’m not going anywhere until she finally believes me.
CHAPTER 45
Not So Soon
POORVI
The silence still hangs between us even after the conversation has ended. My mother. My family. Those words still echo in my head like an old wound that refuses to heal. I told him more than I intended to tonight, more than I ever tell anyone, and yet I don’t regret it. If anything, I feel lighter.
And yet… there’s a heaviness, too. A raw ache that comes with remembering.
I hug my knees close to my chest, resting my chin there, and I find myself staring at Vihaan. He hasn’t moved in a while. Just sits beside me, his arms around my waist, his eyes softer than I deserve, like he’s memorizing the shape of my face under this dim light. Sometimes I wonder what he sees when he looks at me this way.
The silence breaks when he shifts, rising from the bed in one fluid motion. I blink, startled. “Where are you going?” My voice comes out smaller than I intended.
He glances back at me, the faintest smile tugging at his lips. “Give me a minute,” he says gently, like a promise, not a dismissal.
