“My face,” I say, and she chuckles. “I have a pretty face. Perfect balance of Indian and British. A rare combo. Then you have my personality.”
“Oh, your personality, how awesome.”
I pinch her cheek, and she swats my hand away. “My personality is strong, and you are attracted towards people who have a strong personality, who aren’t afraid to lay out their opinions, and you love that about me.”
She doesn’t say anything, but I know I am right.
“Then,” I think for a second. “You love my physique. I am hot; no one can deny that. I have manners, and I respect all women—things you like. You love my humor.”
“I tolerate your humor, but go on.”
I narrow my eyes. “You like my touch.”
“Touch?”
“Yes,” I add. “You can only allow a few people to touch you. Your love language is physical touch, but you can’t let everyone get close to you. The fact that you blush every time I get close to you is enough to let me know that you love my touch.”
As if right on cue, her cheeks turn pink and I smile. I trace her face with my finger, smoothly going over the curve of her nose to the slit of her lips, and she stops breathing.
“You love it when I admire you—I love it too. It is my favorite thing to do. You love it when I kiss you.”
I press a kiss to her cheeks, and her eyes close.
“You love it when I hold your neck like this.” My hand latches onto the hollow of her throat, and I can feel her pulse there.
“You love everything about me, Aisha,” I whisper over her lips, and she finally opens her eyes. I know if I pressed my lips against hers, she would let me do it.
Even if she can’t stand me at the moment, even if she wants to give me a divorce, she can’t betray the feelings that come in her heart. I don’t doubt for a second that she will kiss me back.
But I want her to say the words to me. I want her to ask me to kiss her.
And I will wait for that day, no matter how painful the journey might be.
“Still in doubt that you love me?” I ask.
“I never was.”
Aisha Kapoor
My words must have stunned him because he doesn’t say anything after that. Just kisses me on the forehead and pulls me closer to him.
I keep saying that I don’t need him, that I can spend these three months without him, but I find myself falling short of doing so.
He has this magnetic pull over me, the one that makes me orbit around him constantly. I have always given him priority over myself, and it has never troubled me. Never came in the path of what I wanted to be. But I won’t lie and say that I didn’t lose myself in this relationship. There came a period of time that I stopped talking to him and stopped taking care of myself because I knew he wouldn’t notice anyway, and that killed a part of me without me even realizing.
Taking the decision of parting ways with him wasn’t just to free us both of the burden of this relationship that was long dead, but also because I wanted to reconnect with myself.
I didn’t like who I became in this marriage; how can I expect him or anyone else to like me?
“I know you are overthinking,” he says, and I close my eyes, inhaling his scent as my head rests against his chest. “Don’t do that. Nothing changes if you don’t want it to. I meant it when I said I will do what you want after these three months are over. But I won’t stop to show you that we are good together, that I canbe good to you, and that the past won’t repeat itself. I love you, and I won’t stop expressing that. Not even if you want me to.”
His words are meant to comfort me, and they do, but the confusion in my mind just intensifies.
What should I do?
“Good night, Reyansh,” I manage to say.
He presses a kiss on top of my head, his arms tight around me.
