I look up slowly, my chest tight.
“It’s my first webtoon,” she says, suddenly shy, words tumbling out a little faster now. “I’ve thought about writing one for a long time as you know, but I never felt… I could do justice to any story. And then—” She gestures vaguely between us. “You happened.”
My throat feels thick. I look back down, scrolling further. Pages of story. Moments. Emotions rendered in her lines, her colors, her voice.
“You based it on us?” I ask quietly.
She nods. “On our story. On how it felt. On what it meant to be chosen when I least expected it.”
I don’t speak for a moment. I don’t trust my voice.
When I finally look at her again, she’s watching me like this matters more than anything she’s ever made.
“I like the name,” I say quietly.
She blinks. “You do?”
I nod, still staring at it, thumb brushing the edge of the tablet like it might disappear if I don’t anchor it. “Dhruvtara,” I repeat, tasting the word. Then I look up at her. “Do you know it’s a star?” I smile and she nods.
“Dhruv Tara. The pole star. The one travelers looked for when they were lost,” I whisper. “I’ve lived my life surrounded by noise. People. Opinions. Expectations. Everyone pulling me in different directions.” I swallow, because this part is harder than it should be. “And somewhere along the way, I forgot what it felt like to stand still.”
I reach for her hand, lace my fingers through hers.
“And then you walked in,” I say, softer now. “You didn’t ask me to become anything else. You didn’t demand I shine brighter or louder. You just… existed. Steady. Honest. Unmoving in the best way.”
Her eyes are glassy now. Mine aren’t far behind.
“You’re my Dhruv Tara, Sitara,” I murmur. “When I lose myself, when I doubt who I am, I look at you—and I know where I stand again.”
She laughs through a broken breath. “I named it that because it, you know, connected our names.” She smiles, squeezing my hand. “You made it so much more beautiful.”
“I do have a complaint, though.”
She frowns, and I lean in pecking her cheek.
“No one,” I say slowly, “can do justice to how beautiful you are, Tara. Not even you. That’s the only complaint I have.”
Her eyes fill instantly. “You’re biased.”
“Completely,” I say, pulling her into me. She fits there like she always has, like she was made to.
“This is the best gift I’ve ever received,” I add into her hair.
She exhales shakily, arms tightening around me. “I was scared you’d think it was silly.”
I lean back just enough to look at her. “You turned our life into art.”
Then I kiss her—soft at first, then deeper, the world narrowing until it’s just us and the quiet certainty that this is where I’m meant to be.
She laughs against my mouth. “Happy birthday, Dhruv.”
I smile, holding her close. For the first time in years, it actually feels like one.
EPILOGUE
What Stayed
4 YEARS LATER
