“I’ll leave you to it,” I say quietly to Sitara, helping her settle properly. “Take care of her,” I warn Yagini.
She chuckles. “Don’t worry, bhai. Your wife is safe with us.”
I shake my head, stepping back, my eyes drawn inevitably to Sitara. She’s already looking at me, cheeks still pink, and she gives me a small, shy smile.
It warms something deep inside me. And as I walk out of the room, I think—maybe she doesn’t love me yet.
But I am glad I had the courage to be honest about my feelings with her and I am more glad that she’s here. And that fills me with hope I don’t know I should have.
Waiting and wanting
DHRUV
I check my watch for the third time in five minutes and immediately feel ridiculous about it.
She said she’d be a bit late. She’d said it casually too, like it was no big deal, like it didn’t matter that I’ve been sitting at the dining table with food growing colder by the minute, my attention nowhere near the plate in front of me. Sitara had been excited all day—trying very hard to look calm about it, which usually means she’s anything but.
She told me over breakfast that she was going to receive a call today. Something about a webtoon she’s been quietly working on, something she wants to write and illustrate herself. A digital comic, apparently. I didn’t know what a webtoon was until I Googled it in a very dignified, kingly manner, and discovered it’s essentially storytelling in art form—something that makes perfect sense for her.
I’d offered to help, of course. Connections, platforms, whatever she needed.
She’d looked at me then—soft but firm—and said she wanted to do this on her own.
I hadn’t argued. Not because I didn’t want to help, but because I respected that look. The one that saysthis is mine. And I want her to have as many things that are hers as possible.
My phone vibrates in my pocket, dragging me out of my thoughts. I glance at the screen and pick up immediately.
“Dhruv,” Devraj’s voice comes through, gruff as always.
“No hi, hello, how are you?” I ask dryly.
I hear him groan. There’s a pause, stretched thin with everything we’re not saying.
“How’s she?” he finally asks.
I inhale slowly. “You know I would never hurt your sister, Devraj. Stop being such an ass to me.”
He doesn’t respond immediately. He never does. Lately, this is how all our calls go—he checks in about Sitara, reassures himself she’s fine, then disappears again. I don’t blame him. He’s scared, and he doesn’t know how to say it. He’s also working overtime to keep the media at bay, to make sure nothing touches her, not after everything.
My jaw tightens briefly at the thought of Maya.
“Devraj,” I say quietly when he stays silent, “you’re the only friend I have.”
The words come out softer than I intend, but I don’t take them back. He’s my brother in every way that matters. I don’t ever want to lose him.
“I’m sorry,” he finally says. “I was unfairly angry at you.”
“I know,” I reply, and I mean it. “You think I took away your sister.”
“You did,” he mutters.
I smile despite myself. “I’m not sorry,” I admit. “I’m happy. I hope I’m making her happy, too. She looks… fine. Happy.”
“She is,” he confirms. “I talk to her every day. Well—mostly she talks, I listen.”
I chuckle. “It’s like that with her.”
He hums in agreement. “How’s Aadhya?” I ask.
