“You know,” I start as I slowly massage the ointment onto her ankle, trying my best to be gentle and firm at the same time. “As much as I love seeing you wear heels, I also don’t like it when they become a reason that you get hurt.”
She looks at me with her doe eyes, not saying anything, and I start covering her foot with the bandage.
“Remember when you twisted your heel during ourSangeetnight?” I add, and at the same time, memories flood my mind.
We were dancing to the beats of a Bollywood song. While I don’t remember it correctly, I do remember watching that movie with her prior to our wedding functions.
I think the movie was called “HasseeToh Phassee,”and the song was the “Punjabi Wedding Song.”
She wanted to recreate the same vibe for ourSangeet,and I went ahead with everything my wife said. She could have asked for anything, and I would have done it. I would be on my knees if she wanted me to be.
The grip she has over me is insane.
I don’t mind it, though. I have always wanted someone to love me, care for me, and actually act like they wanted me my entire life. And she did it without needing to, without having to.
I don’t have enough words to express how much she means to me.
The happiness on Aisha’s face was incredible. Not only had she managed to recreate the vibe for the function, but she had also managed to dress up like a diva.
With her goldenlehengaand open hair, she looked so magnificent. God, I felt like crying seeing her beauty. I couldn’t believe that she wanted me, that she was marrying me.
“You were twirling in yourlehenga, dancing to that lovely song,” I added.
Her eyes had that glimmer that said that she remembered everything, so I kept going.
I massaged her calf as an excuse to touch her because I don’t know when I will find the chance to be as close to her as I am right now.
“You looked so beautiful that day. The memory is etched into my brain. But you twisted your heel while twirling, and I hated how much you got hurt on your—our special day.”
I cupped her cheek, brushing my thumb slightly over her soft skin, and I felt her melting against my touch.
I have missed us so much, missed having us so close to each other.
Aisha is someone I crave every single moment of my life, every second. I have been a fool pushing her away, but even in those moments, I was punishing myself more than I was punishing her.
I didn’t even realize when I became so engrossed in my career, trying to give her a life she maybe never even wanted but one I felt obliged to give her, that I ended up destroying us.
“Do you miss this?” I ask, my voice raw and vulnerable.
“Don’t you miss this—miss us?”
Her lips tremble, and I wonder if I should kiss her. I trace her bottom lip with my thumb, and she sucks in a breath.
“I do,” she says, her eyes flitting over my face, resting on my lips before they land back on my eyes.
I hope she can see the raw emotions I am feeling. I am not that great with words, but I hope she can feel what I am not able to say.
I hope that, like always, she can feel what I can’t express.
“I love you, Aisha. I am ready to beg for forgiveness for our entire life together. I am just not ready to let you go.”
I inch closer to her face slowly, giving her time to move away or push me away if she wants to.
“Please don’t leave me.”
I kiss the corner of her lips, and her eyes drop closed.
“Please let me in your heart again.”
