Later that morning, while Abhimanyu stepped out to take a call, Meera quietly slipped out of bed.
Her body protested, every step shaky and slow, but her heart was stubborn. She wanted to do something—anything—to feel normal again. To feel like she wasn't just surviving in this house like a ghost.
So she made her way to the kitchen, grabbing a kettle with trembling fingers. She could at least make him tea. She used to know exactly how he liked it—strong, barely sweet, with cardamom and nothing else.
She was halfway through lighting the stove when a sharp voice froze her.
"Meera."
She turned.
He was standing at the doorway—barefoot, hair slightly disheveled, his shirt halfway unbuttoned from the morning rush. But his eyes…
They weren't angry. They were terrified.
"I was just—" she began.
But he was already across the kitchen, snatching the kettle out of her hands before it could burn her.
"You don't do this," he said, his voice tight, almost trembling. "Not yet. You don't get to act like you didn't almost break in front of me a few days ago."
She tried to speak, but he cut her off.
"I don't care if you feel useless or guilty or whatever the hell is going on in your head. You are not lifting a single damn thing until I say you can."
Her chin quivered. "I just wanted to do something for you…"
His hand reached up and gently cupped her cheek, thumb brushing away the tear that had slipped free.
"You breathing is enough for me right now."
Her breath hitched.
"You waking up, smiling, laughing—that's more than anything you could ever make or do for me, Meera."
For a long second, she just stared at him. Then, slowly, she let herself sink into his chest, hands curling into the fabric of his shirt.
"I hate being weak," she mumbled.
He kissed the top of her head. "You're not weak. You're healing. And I'll wait however long it takes."
"When did this change happen in you?"
She asked.
He sat there for a moment, silent, staring at nothing. Then, finally, his voice came, low and rough.
"After my parents died… all I wanted was revenge."
She looked at him, but he didn't meet her gaze. His eyes stayed on the floor, as if afraid of her reaction.
"I didn't know who was behind it for a long time. But when I found out… years later… that it was your father who gave the order, I couldn't breathe for days. I couldn't even cry. Something in me just… snapped."
He swallowed, jaw clenching.
"That's the reason I joined the mafia. To get close to the ones who ruined me. And when I learned he was retiring from that world, when his health started to fall apart, I knew I was running out of time. I couldn't kill a dying man. That wouldn't be justice. That would be mercy."
He finally looked at her.
"But pain? Watching his daughter — his only daughter — suffer? That… that felt like the only way I could truly make him pay. So I stepped into the business world. Built myself up. I knew he would never hand you over easily unless I was powerful enough."
Meera's lips parted slightly, tears forming again, but she said nothing.
"So I married you," he said, voice quieter now. "I married you thinking it would be the slowest burn for him. Watching you live with a man who didn't love you. Watching you fade. And then…"
His voice broke, just for a second.
"Then I married you. And I realized, the second I put that mangalsutra on you… you weren't him. You weren't like him at all."
He looked away again, ashamed.
"And that terrified me."
She blinked. "Why?"
"Because I had planned to hurt you. And suddenly, I couldn't."
His hands were clenched on his knees, knuckles pale.
"I kept telling myself I could keep it separate. That I could still go through with it. But then you started… falling for me. And I… I could feel it."
He laughed bitterly. "That night in the car, when I asked you if you wanted to stay, I thought you would say yes. Some part of me hoped you would. That I hadn't ruined everything. But when you said no… when you said you wanted to leave…"
He paused, throat tight.
"That's when I decided to let you go. Because I thought maybe that was the one decent thing I could do for you."
Meera's voice was barely a whisper. "Then why now?"
"Because I missed you," he said instantly, like he'd been holding it in for days. "So much it made me insane. I kept myself busy — back-to-back meetings, no sleep, no food, nothing. Just to not think. I convinced myself you were fine. That you would be okay."
He exhaled shakily.
"And then Ranisa told me… and when she described how she saw you… I—" he broke off again, biting down on his lip, hard. "I came here running. I never thought I'd see you like this. You were always the strong one. I thought you'd manage. I never thought I'd broken you this badly."
He looked at her then, and the weight in his gaze wasn't just guilt.
It was regret.
It was love — raw, twisted, hesitant love — that had been buried too long under ashes.
"I'm not asking for your forgiveness. But I'll try, Meera. I'll try to love you. I don't know how to love without fear or pain… but I'll try. For you."
She looks at him. Eyes brimming again, but not with the same kind of tears.
Meera (whispering):
"That's enough for now."
She leans in, slowly, wrapping her arms around him. A soft, quiet hug. No urgency. No desire. Just warmth. Just healing. His arms curl around her like they were always meant to.
Abhimanyu (murmuring into her hair):
"I'll try, Meera. I promise you… I'll try."
Their arms remain wrapped around each other. Her cheek is against his chest; his chin rests lightly on her head. The silence between them is no longer painful — it's comforting.
Slowly, she pulls back just enough to look up at him. Her eyes search his, unsure at first. But something in his gaze — the raw vulnerability, the ache, the unspoken care — pulls her closer.
Meera (whispering):
"Just… stay with me."
He nods, and without thinking, she lifts her face to his. Her lips brush his gently. It's soft, tentative, but charged — a kiss that says I see you. I forgive you. I'm still here.
His hand comes up to cradle her cheek, responding to the kiss.
But the moment deepens, and she moves closer, seeking more.
That's when he pauses.
Abhimanyu (soft but firm):
"Meera…"
She stops. Her eyes meet his — confused at first, then realizing.
He gently presses his forehead to hers, breathing her in.
Abhimanyu:
"Not tonight. I don't want to lose this moment… trying to escape into something else."
Her expression softens.
Meera (quietly):
"You're not escaping. You're choosing."
A faint smile touches his lips.
Abhimanyu:
"For once… I am."
She nods, pulling back just a little, and settles beside him. He shifts, wrapping an arm around her shoulders, drawing her close against his side.
They don't need more tonight.
They just need this.