But once I passed, I’d be able to show them that I hadn’t made a mistake. That the choice I’d made hadn’t completely destroyed my plans. That even though I’d gone off course, everything had turned out fine.
“I would have told them,” I insist. “I was just waiting for the bar to be over. To find out if I passed before—”
“Really? Even now…have you ever mentioned me to them? Have you ever told them the truth? Have you ever talked about any of it? To your parents, or your sister, or Ritu?”
I recoil at the thought. I’ve never brought it up to them. I’ve never wanted them to find out that I’d failed the bar, that I’d failed atmarriage. I’d wanted to leave all of that in the past, where it belongs.
“And I don’t remember you telling them anything after you got your results back. I don’t remember us making plans for us to go up there together. For me to finally meet them,” he continues.
I swallow, my mouth dry as sandpaper, because he’s right. I hadn’t.
“We were…There was so much we needed to figure out then. We hadn’t even talked about where we were going to live and what it meant for my job, for yours, and then when we did…”
Nikhil’s expression darkens. No doubt he’s remembering the same night I am. The last words we spoke to each other. The final fight, which tore us apart.
“But if we’d worked out,” I say, holding his gaze, hoping to break him from those memories and anchor him to the present. “If we’d worked out, I would have told them, Nikhil. I would have.”
He scoffs, and the sound is cutting, a crisp edge of a page slicing against my skin. “Let’s be honest, Meena. After all this time, let’s be honest with each other. You were halfway out the door at that point. You didn’twantme to meet them. You didn’t want them to know about me. And I know why. I’m not a lawyer or a doctor. I’m not the kind of person your parents would have wanted for you. I didn’t finish college. I just work in construction, and you didn’t want them to know that. You didn’t want them to know you’d married someone like me.”
The pain in his voice pierces through me. “That’s not true. That’s not why—”
“Please. You made it clear I wasn’t good enough for you, and I’m not arguing. I wasn’t.”
“No. Nikhil—” I stop, a lump in my throat forming. “I was the failure. Not you. I would have been so proud to introduce you to myfamily. Really, I would have. But I couldn’t face them like that. I was falling apart. I was barely making it through. I needed to pass first. I needed to show them that I hadn’t messed up. That I hadn’t made a mistake—”
“ThatIwasn’t a mistake,” he says flatly.
“No, you’re not listening to me. I—”
“You don’t have to do this. It’s fine. I’ve accepted it.” He shrugs. “You can say that you were going to do it after you passed, but really, why would you have introduced them to your backup plan? Once you passed, once Plan A was in reach, you left. You went back to the life you were always supposed to have. The one you always were supposed to live.”
“You weren’t Plan B, Nikhil. You were never Plan B. You weren’t even part of the plan.”
He laughs roughly. “Great.”
“No. I’m saying…I never planned for you because I couldn’t have. I could never have imagined…I could never have…” I take a deep breath. “You were better than anything I could have possibly planned.”
He stares at me, and then he’s moving, erasing the space he’d created between us. His eyes burn hot, the specks of gold brighter than I’ve ever seen them, and I can’t tear my gaze away. I’m locked in, and the force at which we meet almost hurts. It’s a clash. His lips against mine, his arm around my waist, his hand cradling the back of my head. The stubble on his cheek burns against my skin, but it’s far from unpleasant. I want more of it. I want to feel it everywhere.
I pull him closer, clutching at the collar of his shirt, and he responds in kind, his hands sliding down my lower back, pulling me taut against him. This isn’t a simple kiss. This is possession. Claiming. This is each of us screaming,You’re mine, you belong to me. The truth of it thrums through my bones. Through my blood. We’ve always belonged to each other. Always. Before we exchanged those vows and every day since.
I press my teeth down, gently pulling on his bottom lip, and he moans in response. The sound sets me on fire. I want to hear him make it again. Over and over again. I capture his lip, fully intendingto repeat my actions, but before I can my back meets the hard surface of a wall. Nikhil lifts me slightly, and my legs automatically wrap around his waist.
“Yes,” he murmurs, his lips traveling down the curve of my neck. “Just like that.”
I let my head fall back, enjoying his attentions, but I’m not patient for long. He’s too far away and I need him closer. I cup my hands around his face, bringing him back to me. Bringing his mouth back to mine.
After a long while, our pace slows, the initial frenzy fading into something else. Something slow and soft. Something I’m scared to examine too closely. Something I felt last night.
These last couple days have been stressful and chaotic and wild, but somehow, in these moments, there’s been an underlying sense of peace. It’s a kind of calm I haven’t experienced in six years. I’d forgotten how it feels and now that I have it back, I don’t know how I’ve gone this long without it. Being around Nikhil somehow makes everything better. It always has. He’s the quiet center in the midst of chaos. My eye of the storm.
His thumb slides against my cheek, so slowly. So tenderly. I don’t realize he’s wiping away a tear until another one escapes my eye.
“Meena,” he says softly, the sound barely a whisper. His lips brush my cheekbone, kissing another tear away.
I reach for him, and slide my mouth against his, tasting the salt of my own tears. I ignore it, and press closer. I tighten my legs around his waist and slide my arms around his neck, but something light and abrasive brushes against my skin. I trace it with the pad of my finger, trying to figure it out. It’s a chain, I think. A very thin one.
I frown, breaking away. Nikhil never wore a necklace. He never seemed into jewelry. But that thought crumbles into dust when Nikhil nips at my jaw. He grabs my hands, interlocking our fingers,then presses his firm, closed lips back against mine. A few seconds pass, and I tilt my head, trying to find another angle, trying to coax his lips open, trying to entangle my tongue with his, but he doesn’t respond in kind. His kisses are feather light, and no matter what I do, he won’t return to our earlier fervor.
