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“Samarth she was so little and I wanted to call you and show you her sleeping in her crib, I wanted to send you a photo from a random number because you had blocked mine, I wanted to send you an email with her videos and photos on her first birthday, I wanted to always but I couldn’t.

I was so angry and defeated. And you didn’t want an heir, you didn’t want any children to claim your throne.

You didn’t want me. I hated the thought of never telling Brahmi about her father.

I hated it when I had to make up those stories,” she sobbed.

“I became brave and did it all, I asked god for strength to fight off whatever came my way instead of asking for good things to come my way, Samarth I don’t know how these years passed… ”

“Shhh…” he croaked. “They passed,” he stroked the back of her head. “Ava, they passed.”

“I have so many memories of her growing up and yet it’s like I have no memory of myself.”

Samarth pulled her back and held the sides of her neck, nudging her face up with his thumbs — “I do.”

Her wet eyes gaped at him.

He rolled his thumbs under her eyes, pushing warm, fresh tears away every time they trickled.

“I have memories of you growing these eight years because every morning you grew with me. I saw you, Raje, becoming more and more, wiser and wiser, prettier and prettier,” he pushed some wisps of hair behind her ear, a film of water blurring her to his eyes.

“Every part of you ripened, your smile became deeper and settled — like the world had settled into it after all that you had seen. The innocence in your eyes used to make them shine lighter once, it still shone there but only when you let it. Your face was once impish, the sweetest girl I ever knew. Now it was beautiful — a woman’s face.

In my eyes you did grow a few inches too though…

” he patted the top of her head and she sobbed, those tears now a deluge as her face crashed into the crook of his neck.

“Shhh,” he patted the back of her head, caressing his hand down the length of her hair.

She cried harder, and he kept stroking her hair.

It was like the draining of a wound and the rain after a decade of drought all at once.

Cleansing, relieving, cathartic. He hated it and loved it.

He wanted it to stop and let it run its due course in the same breath.

He kept stroking her hair, feeling the sides of his own nose wet with trails.

And then, slowly, her wracking body began to settle.

He kept stroking her hair, holding her tear-drenched face under his jaw.

Her hiccups vibrated into his and he was grateful to god for it.

That he got to be the body her hiccups drained into.

“What if Brahmi was not between us today?” She asked.

He thought about it too. And had no answer except — “I would still be yours.”

“But would you have stayed?”

“Look at me, Ava,” he pulled her off him.

Their eyes met. “You are that person in my life who has had the misfortune of being loved so completely by me, and loved me just as completely in return that you became a part of me. I sacrificed myself, and you were always a part of me, tossed into the fire I went into. I did not want you to remain mine. Did not want to toss you into the fire I had chosen for myself. I had hoped you had moved one. I was at my worst to you that day in Nawanagar because I did not want you to again pause your life’s growth for me.

But today, if I had found out you had paused it, even without Brahmi, I would have left behind everything to repent the sin I have been to you.

Ava, my loyalty is to my kingdom and family but don’t you know it is to you too? ”

She blinked, her throat moving; her cheeks wet with tears, her eyes so small.

“You never stayed long enough for me to know.”

Tears tracked down the side of his nose.

“I am staying now.”

“As what?”

“What do you need me to be?”

“Ours?” She asked. Didn’t demand, but asked.

He pulled her close and slammed his mouth over hers.

It was breathless, that kiss, with nothing but years pulled and shovelled between them.

One atop the other, layers and layers of wanting and missing and regret and repentance.

He rose on his knees, his tongue shovelling more layers of need and desperation and the memory of who they were, not only to each other but to themselves.

The people they had each abandoned — him for his family and his promises, her for his daughter.

“Raje…” he gasped as she pulled back, panting.

“Let me breathe,” she chuckled through her tears, her chest red and heaving under the tight cut of her spaghetti top.

“I haven’t done this in a long time,” he bent down and kissed it.

“How long?” Her fingers went into the back of his head, in the spiky hair at his nape.

He pushed his tongue out and laved the centre of her chest — “Since I left one kiss at a woman’s apartment and she never returned it.”

“That’s the only debt in your ledger?” She pulled his face up. “You just got paid, then.”

He grinned — “Who’ll pay eight years’ worth of interest, Raje?”

“Should I pull out my ledger and count your debts?”

Samarth opened his arms and fell back on the sofa — “All yours. Take whatever you want.”

She giggled. Giggled . Then laughed, laying back on the opposite end of the sofa. Her body became languid and she sighed, sniffling until her sighs were louder than her sniffles. She picked up her wine glass and took a long, deep sip, eyes on him. He quirked a brow. She giggled again.

“Are you drunk, Ava?” His head came up. She kicked his bum. “One glass of wine gets nobody drunk.”

“I thought it best to confirm before…”

“Before?”

“Before I take this conversation at face value and go around you like a lovesick fool in front of Brahmi.”

“You already do that.”

“No, I don’t!”

“You are not as smart as you think you are.”

“Agreed.”

Her leg fell away, opening her up to him. He crawled to her, between her legs, and settled there, their noses touching before he angled his face and took her mouth. Her body moved underneath him.

“Not now,” he pressed his hips into hers.

“I agree,” she smiled. “In your room, and quick.”

“No.”

She frowned.

Samarth curved his hand to her cheek and pushed her hair off her neck — “After we are married.”

“Is this a proposal?”

“I don’t have a face to propose. You can consider this begging.”

She laughed, her legs going around him until their bodies were truly and dangerously melded.

“I said, no, Ava,” he groaned.

“Am I being a threat to Rawalji’s virtue?”

“You’ve already claimed it years ago,” he kissed her nose. “What are you threatening me with now?”

Her lips pulled into that proud, sweet smile with the dimples popping. His heart thudded. He had to keep reassuring himself that this was true, that she was again smiling at him like she used to.

“You are guarding it like it is Alibaba’s cave.”

He snorted.

“I said khul ja sim sim once,” she pushed her hips up, the naughty level rising. He loved it. “A lot more than once. I can say it again.”

He clicked his tongue, transferring his body weight on her hips, effectively thwarting her — “After marriage.”

“Samarth!” She tried to push her hips up. He kept them down. She punched his side. “Oooh,” he laughed. “What’s a good boy got to do here to keep himself safe from a predator like you?”

Ava braced her body and flipped him in an instant. Shocked, he landed on his back, eyes wide as she sat up on his waist. An evil laugh, the cutest evil laugh he had ever heard emanated from her — “Where will you go now…”

“Mama, why are you fighting with Papa?”

Samarth’s eyes widened, as did hers. They looked behind her at the half-asleep little girl with her snugly tucked under one arm and remembered collectively that they had a daughter. Her eyes were squinting in the light and her hair was all over her face, thank god.

“I am not fighting with Papa…” “She was trying to defeat me in pillow fight!”

Brahmi glanced from him to Ava and back to him.

“Where are the pillows?”

“Mama was cheating,” he twisted his body to plop her on the sofa and slide out from under her to get his baby.

“I wasn’t cheating!”

Samarth gathered Brahmi into his arms like a baby and cradled her to his chest. Her head automatically fell on his chest. “Wanna go back to sleep?”

“I want to play pillow fight too,” she rubbed her knuckles over one eye. Samarth glanced back at Ava, whose smile had turned tender now. He smiled back and kissed his daughter’s head — “Tomorrow.”

“Chocolate hearts?!!” She squealed. Samarth glanced down at the coffee table.

“Al-right,” he turned her away and began to stride towards her bedroom, Ava on his heels.

“I want, I want, Mama…”

“Tomorrow.”

“You were eating chocolate hearts without me?” His daughter glared at him.

“I wasn’t. We saved them all for you. Tomorrow for breakfa…”

“Uhhh hhh,” Ava warned from behind him.

“I mean, after lunch.”

“After breakfast, “ Brahmi argued, having caught his weakness.

“We’ll see tomorrow morning,” he lay her down in the middle of her bed and pulled her duvet over her. She grabbed his hand and tried to pull him. Samarth went down, stretching beside her — “What is it?”

“You both cannot go out and play without me.”

He chuckled. Glanced at Ava. Then sat up, pushed out of his shoes and went in under the duvet.

“Alright, I am in your team. Now ask Mama to also sleep here so that she doesn’t go and play alone.”

“You also, Mama.”

“I have to wind up outside…”

“She’ll go and play alone,” Samarth whispered in her ear. “And chocolate hearts are there too.”

Ava snarled at him.

“Come, Mama…” she pulled her mother’s hand and as soon as Ava lay down on her other side, her eyes closed. Over Brahmi’s head, Samarth reached out and tapped the top of Ava’s head. She raised her face and bit his finger.

“Don’t shake!” Brahmi scolded.