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That’s my cue to leave—I’ve always respected her privacy during these intimate moments. But as I turn around to go, her hand catches mine.

“You don’t have to go,” she says softly, her eyes inviting me to stay.

I blink, surprised. Her words are simple, but their meaning isn’t lost on me. She’s letting me stay. Letting me be part of this intimate moment with our son.

Before I can respond, Veer’s restlessness intensifies, spurring her to action. She unzips her nightgown, and he latches on immediately. She releases a deep breath as he begins to nurse, and I find myself transfixed by the sight. This intimate act between mother and child… It’s something I’ve thoughtfully avoided until now, but watching them together, I’m overwhelmed by the beauty of it.

I stand there for a moment, unsure of what to do. Then, slowly, I lower myself onto the sofa beside her, my eyes glued to Veer. Simran rests her head against my shoulder, her exhaustion from the day evident. I pull her closer, wrapping my arm around her, and press a soft kiss to her hair, mesmerised by how peaceful our son looks as he feeds.

Veer’s eyes find mine while he nurses, and he makes a contented sound, as if showing off his happiness to me. Simran and I share a smile at his obvious satisfaction.

This is another barrier broken between us—where I once stepped away to give her privacy, now she’s invited me into this sacred family moment. It’s more profound than I expected, this simple act of being present while she feeds our son.

Simran lifts her head from my shoulder, her eyes searching mine as if to gauge my reaction. Without thinking, I lean in and kiss her—a brief touch of lips, but filled with meaning. Then I press another kiss to her forehead, smiling as I notice Veer drifting off to sleep.

“Why Veer?” I ask suddenly.

She looks at me, confused, so I clarify, “How did you come up with the name ‘Veer’ for our son?”

Simran snuggles closer to me, and my arm tightens around her instinctively.

“I knew the gender of the baby already—it’s legal here. When the doctor said it was a boy, I wanted a name that somehow reflected you, because he’s your son too.” She pauses, her gaze softening. “I didn’t have to think much. The qualities of yours that I’ve always loved were your loyalty and your courage to fight for your family, to stand by them in good times and bad... like a hero... a brave warrior. That’s why I chose ‘Veer.’”

I smile, deeply touched by her words.

“I couldn’t have picked a better name than this. It’s perfect for him.”

Her eyes meet mine, and in that moment, we’re drawn together like magnets, kissing each other with a raw need. I pull her closer, wanting more, but just then, we both remember Veer resting in her lap. Reluctantly, we pull apart and see that our son has already drifted off to sleep, his hunger satiated for now.

I carefully lift him from her lap and place him in his crib while she adjusts her nightgown. As we head back to her bedroom to continue packing, I stop her in the doorway.

“You’re not helping me pack?” she teases, her lips curving into a playful smile.

“You need my help?”

Her smile falters slightly, replaced by something softer.

“I don’t know how I managed everything alone these past months without you. But now that I’ve got a gist of what we could have together... I don’t want to do anything that doesn’t include you by my side.”

Her honesty hits me like a punch to the gut—in the best possible way. Without thinking, I pin her to the doorframe, leaning in so that our faces are mere inches apart.

“If you keep talking like that...” my voice drops to a husky whisper, “I don’t think packing is what we’ll be doing tonight.”

“I don’t mind if we do something other than packing,” she teases boldly, her fingers curling into my shirt.

Her words snap the last thread of my restraint. I pull her to me, and she responds instantly, wrapping her legs around my waist as I carry her to the bed. We carelessly push aside the packing materials, sending them tumbling to the floor in haste. They can wait until tomorrow.

Hovering over her, I pull off my shirt, my voice rough with need.

“I’ve been f*cking dying to taste you again.”

The sight of her beneath me, eyes dark with desire, undoes me completely. As I help her out of her nightgown, I’m struck by how perfect this feels—how right. Like it’s meant to be. Our passion has always been like this—raw and uncontrolled, like a force of nature.

“This won’t be gentle,” I warn her, my breathing already ragged.

“Anything,” she whispers, reaching for me. “Just touch me.”

Her words eliminate any last bit of control I might have had. My lips crash onto hers with unrestrained hunger. Simran meets my passion eagerly, her fingers threading through my hair as she arches up against me. The feel of her soft curves pressing against my bare chest ignites a fire in my veins. I trail heated kisses along her jaw and down her neck, relishing the breathy moans that escape her lush lips.