Page 131 of Drunk On Love

After Manav exposed Vihaan’s truth to the media, my father finally reclaimed me as his daughter.

We’re not close. Not the way I once wished we could be.

But we meet now and then. And for the first time in years… he doesn’t look through me.

And that’s enough.

For now.

“Cheeseball… your smoothie is ready,” he calls, rounding the counter with that boyish grin that still makes my heart trip over itself.

And I think—maybe love isn’t about grand gestures or perfect timing.

Maybe it’s avocado smoothies and stolen kisses in sunlit kitchens.

“Kill me now,” I groaned, reaching for him dramatically.

But before I could launch into my daily smoothie protest, he leaned down, kissed my forehead, and placed the glass in front of me.

“Are you okay?” he asked—for what had to be the hundredth time today.

I rolled my eyes. “You’ve already asked me a hundred times. It doesn’t change the fact that I look like a pumpkin about to explode.”

He smirked, brushing a strand of hair from my face. “You don’t look like a pumpkin.”

I raised a brow.

He grinned. “Pumpkins look like you.”

I narrowed my eyes and grabbed a tissue to throw at him, but he was faster. In one smooth move, he pulled me into a hug.

“I love you,” he murmured into my hair.

“Once these babies are out, I’m eating ten thousand cheeseballs a day,” I declared. “No avocados. No smoothies. Just cheese.”

“Deal,” Manav said, laughing as he handed me the dreaded smoothie anyway.

Did I mention I’m eight months pregnant? With twins?

And apparently, these two tiny humans have inherited their father’s obsession with avocados. They won’t let me eat anything but toast, salad, sandwiches, smoothies—you name it.

And yet… I can’t wait to meet them.

Manav insists they’re girls. He talks to them every night—tells them bedtime stories while rubbing my belly like it’s the most sacred thing in the universe.

Sometimes I catch him smiling at my bump like it holds every answer he’s ever searched for.

And somehow, in this absurd, avocado-filled chapter of our lives… I’ve never felt more whole.

And in those moments, I realize something.

Love isn’t a grand destination. It’s a journey of a thousand imperfect moments, stitched together with laughter, tears, and whispers in the dark. It’s not about finding someone who completes you—it’s about finding someone who stands beside you as you both grow into who you were always meant to be.

It’s the chaos of everyday life—the forgotten anniversaries, the silly arguments over who finished the last slice of pizza, the uncontrollable laughter over jokes no one else would understand. It’s in the avocado smoothies you hate but drink anyway, just because the one who made it looks at you like you’re their favorite thing in the universe.

It’s the quiet, unspoken moments no one writes songs about—the way their hand finds yours in the middle of the night. The way they remember how you take your coffee. The way they just know when you need a hug and don’t ask why.

It’s in those little things. The things that whisper, “Even in this chaotic world, you are someone’s peace.”