Prashanth had never been a man in a rush. He'd always been calm, relaxed, the kind of guy who went with the flow, never panicking over delays or pushing against time. As a pilot, he had learned long ago that all he could control was the take-off and the landing—the rest was out of his hands. But today? Today was different.

Today, he had something far more pressing on his mind. Lathika.

His wife. The thought still had him smiling, even though the excitement of those first few weeks had settled into the steady rhythm of daily life. But tonight, as he thought about her, alone, on her birthday—celebrating quietly by herself in their new house—it gnawed at him. It ached in a way that was sharper than he expected.

Birthdays had never really been a big deal to him. Just another day. But ever since Lathika had shared her memories of how her family would celebrate her birthdays—how her friends would gather, showering her with love and laughter—it had become something more. She had always been surrounded by warmth, laughter, and the love of the people closest to her. This year, however, would be the first time she had to celebrate alone.

It hurt him to think of her, his wife, eating her favourite food and spending the day by herself. She deserved more than that.

He had made a promise to himself that he'd do better. That he would give her the kind of birthday celebration she deserved. He couldn't be there in person, but he could at least try to make it right.

It was amusing, in a way, how strange it still felt to think of Lathika as his wife. The words felt foreign yet familiar at the same time. He smiled to himself, grabbing a few boxes of chocolates from the duty-free. It wasn't much, but it was something.

As he wandered around the airport, waiting for the air traffic control tower to give him clearance, his mind was a whirl of thoughts—of her. What would she be doing right now? Would she be lonely, or lost in her thoughts? The idea of her being alone made him feel more unsettled than he anticipated. He sighed, pushing all thoughts of regret aside. He was doing what he had to do for now. But soon, he would be home.

Finally, the green light. A simple instruction to take off. He took a deep breath, adjusting his focus. It was time to shift back into autopilot mode, to let his usual calm take over. A smooth take-off. A steady flight. That's what he promised himself to focus on.

Fourteen and a half hours of sky trip later, with a two-hour layover for airport reporting, he was finally on his way. Stepping into his car, he hit the gas, glancing at the clock on his dashboard. Fifteen minutes to midnight. His stomach twisted a little. It was going to be close.

He groaned, though there was some relief in knowing that his grandmother had picked a house so close to the airport. Twenty minutes, give or take, and he'd be there. With a small smile, he thought about how he was going to make up for the missed time. He was going to make it up to Lathika.

The sound of the door creaking open was the only thing that disturbed the quiet of the house. Prashanth stepped inside, moving with a care that seemed almost instinctual. He dropped his bag and the chocolates he had picked up from duty-free on the table by the door. The house was still, almost too still.

His gaze flicked toward the wide-open door leading to the garden, where he immediately spotted her—Lathika. She lay on the picnic blanket beneath the night sky, her saree shimmering faintly in the moonlight, the faint scent of jasmine filling the cool night air. His heart swelled as he stood there, taking in the sight of his wife, so beautiful and serene, even in her solitude.

She was a quiet silhouette, the small table beside her holding a cake box and an iPad, forgotten in the soft shadows. He moved carefully, quietly stepping onto the grass. The crunch of the ground beneath his feet didn't disturb her. He knelt down beside her, the cool evening air brushing against his skin as he laid next to her, slipping his hand into hers without a word.

The silence between them was comfortable, peaceful. Both of them just gazing at the stars above, their fingers brushing in the quiet. Prashanth's thumb traced circles on the back of her hand, his touch gentle, but she kept her eyes on the sky.

"Are you mad?" he asked softly, breaking the silence.

Lathika shook her head, her lips pressing into a small, pouting frown. His heart skipped.

"Then why are you quiet?" he asked, his voice teasing, trying to draw her out.

"I'm not mad at you," she replied, her voice tinged with a quiet frustration. She sat up, the shimmering mirrors on her saree catching the light. "Just upset."

"Upset that I couldn't make it on time? Or upset that you had to celebrate your birthday alone?" He already had an inkling of the answer, but he wanted to hear it from her.

Lathika kept her gaze on the ground, staring at the mowed grass beneath them. Prashanth took her hand in his again, giving it a small squeeze. She looked at him, her eyes softened by the weight of her frustration. She hesitated, then spoke again.

"Just upset with everything," she muttered. "Your stupid schedule putting you on a long-haul flight this week, the weather in Europe, me alone on my birthday, the timing... everything." Her face scrunched as she spoke, her eyes a little watery, but there was something endearing about how she vented her frustration.

Prashanth couldn't help but smile softly, even as he listened to her words. He had been expecting this, but there was something about her—how she wore her emotions so openly, how she let herself feel everything with such raw honesty—that made him want to hold her even closer.

As she continued talking, all he could think of was how beautiful she was—how her eyes sparkled even in frustration, how her lips puckered slightly as she spoke. And without thinking, driven by a sudden rush of affection, Prashanth cupped her face gently in his hands and leaned forward, pressing his lips to hers.

It was quick, impulsive—more of a promise than a kiss—but when he pulled back, Lathika's wide eyes met his, and a smile tugged at the corners of her lips.

"Is that how you want to wish me?" she asked, a hint of playful surprise in her voice.

Prashanth grinned. "Sure," he replied, a teasing gleam in his eyes.

Without another word, he leaned in again, this time with more intention. His lips met hers once more, and this kiss was different—longer, deeper, full of warmth and the quiet affection that had been building between them for months. Lathika's hands found his neck, pulling him closer as they both sank into the moment, lost in the quiet intimacy of their connection. When they finally broke apart, both were breathless, smiling, with hearts racing.

"Happy birthday, Lathika," Prashanth whispered, his forehead resting against hers, his voice full of tenderness.

Lathika's hands cupped his face, her smile soft but genuine, a blush creeping up her cheeks. "Thank you," she whispered. "But my birthday's over, though."

"Well, it's still the 7th in Europe," he replied, a playful glint in his eye.

She rolled her eyes but her smile widened, a sense of contentment washing over her. It was the first birthday she could remember feeling this full of love and warmth, even without the big celebration. Just the quiet, intimate moments with Prashanth made it special in ways she hadn't anticipated.

Prashanth moved away, reaching for the cake box, but she stopped him with a soft voice. "That... felt... nice..." she trailed off, her words laced with a teasing hint. "Did you ever kiss anyone before?" A playful glint dancing in her eyes.

Prashanth's hand froze mid-reach, and he chuckled, slightly caught off guard. He'd learned by now that Lathika had a way of asking questions that no one ever expected, and certainly not right after they'd shared their first kiss. His mind raced as the question settled in.

"No," he replied with a slight grin, trying to keep his tone light. "I told you. I didn't have time for relationships before."

He opened the cake box and was greeted with the rich, inviting scent of chocolate. Lathika's gaze didn't stray from him, her eyes still full of that teasing spark.

"Then?" She leaned in, curiosity written all over her face, her head tilted slightly to the side.

Prashanth shook his head, a small laugh escaping him. He grabbed a spoon from the table, scooping a bite of cake, then fed it to her, his eyes never leaving hers. "We've got enough resources to lean into, Lathika. It's everywhere these days," he teased, the playful note in his voice matching her own.

"Well, then..." she retorted, her smile widening as if her mind was already imagining things. She grabbed a scoop of cake herself and fed it to him, "Happy birthday to me." She winked before adding, "Your resources seem to be a good one. You scored high on this," she teased.

Prashanth shook his head with a laugh, finishing off the last bite of the cake.

"So, how did your day go?" he asked, his curiosity piqued.

"You didn't see your phone?" Lathika raised an eyebrow. "I updated you."

Prashanth grinned sheepishly. "In my rush to get back to you, I didn't check my phone." He looked at her with a softer expression, his smile faltering slightly. "I'm sorry I didn't make your birthday as special as it's been in the past..."

Lathika reached out, her hand resting gently on his face. Her thumb grazed his cheek softly, and her smile was warm, understanding. "Don't be silly. It's fine. I'm just glad you made it home," she reassured him.

Though her words were kind, Prashanth felt a quiet sting in his chest. He couldn't shake the nagging feeling that he hadn't quite done enough, that he hadn't lived up to her expectations. It was a thought that crept in more often than he liked, and despite how hard he tried to push it away, it always found its way back. But Lathika's calm presence, her steady hand against his face, grounded him.

For a moment, he lost himself in her—her soft eyes, the curve of her lips, the warmth of her touch. The intensity of their kiss still lingered on his mind, and he found himself drawn to her once more. Without thinking, he leaned in again, capturing her lips in a deep, lingering kiss. The warmth between them surged, and for a moment, everything outside of this quiet moment ceased to exist.

Lathika pulled back, a smile tugging at her lips. "We are not doing anything beyond this, okay?" she warned, her eyes twinkling with a mix of amusement and sincerity. "I'm not ready yet."

Prashanth's lips curled into a playful grin as he kissed her again, his hands gently cupping her face. "Whatever you say," he murmured, the words more a promise than a response.

And just like that, Lathika's birthday ended, leaving behind a beautiful memory—a remarkable gift of connection, intimacy, and the promise of more to come.

❁ ❁ ❁

The months that followed Lathika's birthday blended into a hazy mix of fleeting moments and growing absences. Prashanth's long-haul flights took him away for days at a time, while Lathika buried herself in the whirlwind of event planning. They carved out small pockets of time for each other, but those moments always felt like the calm before the storm. There were joys—laughs over silly things, shared meals, and quiet evenings. But those were often interrupted by the unpredictable, the kind of storms that life throws when you least expect them.

One crisp morning, as Prashanth got ready for yet another flight, Lathika found herself staring at the living room. A pile of clothes had already begun to accumulate on the couch, a few stray socks—his, of course—laying conspicuously in the middle of the floor. She rolled her eyes with a half-smile, unable to suppress her amusement.

"Is this a habit I'm going to have to live with forever?" she called out playfully, her hands on her hips as she stood in the doorway to the living room.

Prashanth didn't even glance back as he adjusted his tie, the light-hearted chaos of his morning routine in full swing. "It's called creative organization. You just don't get it," he replied with a wink.

Lathika chuckled, shaking her head as she picked up the socks. "Creative, huh? I'll try to keep up."

She didn't mind, really. It was just another one of his little quirks, and she had come to find them endearing in a way. But there was always something about these mornings—the rush of his leaving, the subtle absence he created the moment he stepped out the door.

Prashanth grabbed his bag, slinging it over his shoulder as he gave her a quick kiss on the cheek. "I'll be back soon," he said, his voice soft, though the weight of the goodbye was always there.

Lathika waved him off, watching him leave with a quiet sadness that she couldn't quite shake. There was a part of her that ached as he disappeared into the car, the door slamming shut, leaving only the faint hum of the engine behind.

She was left in the silence of their empty house. It wasn't the first time he'd been gone, but today it felt heavier somehow. The sense of longing tugged at her chest. She had grown used to his absences, but it didn't make it any easier.

As the hours passed, Lathika buried herself in her work. The events didn't stop just because Prashanth was away, and there was always something to manage, something to plan. But even as she moved from one task to the next, there was a constant, nagging feeling that something wasn't right.

And then, her phone buzzed.

Lathika sat back in her chair, her fingers hovering over the screen. The flood of emails seemed endless, but one stood out among the rest. She opened it, her eyes scanning the message, her stomach sinking with every word.

It was from one of her big clients—the ones who trusted her to execute their most important events. The subject line alone was a punch to the gut: Urgent: Complaint Regarding Missing Inventory.

She clicked on the email, and her heart dropped. The tone was accusatory, filled with frustration. The client was angry, and Lathika could feel the heat rise in her chest. The message outlined a glaring issue: an inventory mismatch. Some borrowed items weren't returned, and the client was furious. Her mind raced, the list of consequences playing out in her head.

If she didn't fix this immediately, everything she had worked for—the business she had been working on again—could come crumbling down. She could already feel the weight of the situation settling on her shoulders. There was no time to waste. She needed to resolve this, and fast.

The day had started with light-hearted moments and playful banter, but now it felt like a distant memory. The reality of her work—its pressure, its demands—had come crashing in, and all she could focus on was the looming task ahead. She exhaled slowly, trying to calm herself, but it was hard to fight the anxiety rising in her chest.

The flood of emails continued, but she couldn't focus on any of them until this one was resolved. She quickly typed out a response to the client, trying to quell the knot in her stomach, knowing full well that this would be a long night.

❁ ❁ ❁

Prashanth's flight had been uneventful, a short hop across cities, and he was back by midnight, eager to get home and unwind. But as he walked into their house, the familiar stillness greeted him. The house was quiet except for the soft hum of the overhead light in the kitchen. He followed the faint flicker of the office light down the hallway, the door ajar, and found Lathika hunched over her desk, the warm glow of her laptop casting a soft light on her tired face.

She was still in her morning clothes, a loose sweater and sweatpants that had clearly seen better days. Her hair was a bit messy, the gentle curls falling out of place, and her eyes were red—worn from lack of sleep and the stress that had clearly consumed her. She didn't even look up when he entered, too absorbed in whatever task was before her.

Prashanth paused for a moment, just watching her, taking in the strain in her posture. He reached out, his fingers brushing her shoulder gently. At the touch, Lathika let out a long, trembling sigh. The sound hit him harder than he expected, a weight pressing down on his chest.

"Lathika?" he asked softly, his voice carrying the concern he didn't even know he had until the moment she exhaled that sound. "What's going on?"

She looked up, and the exhaustion in her eyes almost made his heart break. She blinked a few times, as if trying to clear away the fog in her mind. "One of my clients..." Her voice trembled, and she paused to steady herself before continuing. "Their items... they're missing. The ones we used for their event. Those are expensive things."

Prashanth's brow furrowed. He could already tell by the way she was holding herself, by the tightness in her voice, that she was about to spiral. "What happened? Did you check the warehouse?"

She nodded, her fingers trembling slightly as she swiped through some documents on her laptop. "Yeah. They're not there either. The warehouse manager says it wasn't logged in, but..." She ran her hands through her hair, frustrated, helpless. "I've always been careful with these things, you know. I double-check everything. I always oversee the wrap-up, the packing, the deliveries. How can this go wrong?"

Prashanth felt the sharp edge of her anxiety, and for a moment, it felt like his chest was tight too. He leaned forward, placing a hand gently on her shoulder, hoping to ground her, to offer some comfort. "We'll figure this out, okay?" he said, his tone steady, though he could feel the weight of the situation starting to press on him too. "Let's just take a breath. It's probably just some mistake in the system, or maybe a misunderstanding with the team. We'll sort this."

Lathika didn't seem to hear him fully, her mind already spinning in a thousand directions. She shook her head, still staring at the screen, the weight of the situation hanging heavy between them. "I can handle it, Prashanth," she said firmly, her voice still tight with stress. "You don't need to worry about this. I'll deal with it myself."

The words cut through him like a knife, sharper than he'd anticipated. He had tried to offer her a solution, a small piece of comfort, and she had shut him down. Not harshly, but just enough to make him feel like an outsider to her world. His smile, which had been soft and reassuring, instantly faded. She wasn't angry—she was just... overwhelmed. But that didn't change how it stung.

He bit back a sigh, trying to shake it off, but it wasn't easy. He knew how important this business was to her, how much she cared about getting every detail right, and how hard she worked to make everything come together. But something in her response, the way she had pushed him away, felt like a wall he wasn't sure how to break down.

The next day, when Lathika asked him to tag along to her warehouse for an inventory check, Prashanth agreed without hesitation. He wasn't going to let her handle this all alone. Maybe, just maybe, he could offer her something—some help, some clarity—to ease the load.

At the warehouse, the mood was tense. Lathika's staff were clearly on edge, trying to figure out where the mistake had occurred, but it was all just a mess of uncertainty and frustration. Lathika was pacing back and forth, her hands running through the inventory sheets in an effort to make sense of it all.

Her staff were going through the motions, but there was no sign of progress. When one of the employees went to check the system again, Prashanth quietly pulled Lathika aside.

"Let's just calm down, okay?" he said, his voice soft but firm. "There's probably just a mistake in the system. We don't need to jump to conclusions yet."

She didn't meet his eyes. Instead, she crossed her arms, leaning against the desk with a tight expression. "Not now, Prashanth," she muttered, her voice barely above a whisper.

Prashanth tried to ignore the sting in her words, tried to keep his focus on the task at hand. "I'm just saying we should do this manually," he suggested. "Instead of relying on the digital system, let's just check everything ourselves. We'll get through this faster."

She didn't reply, but the silence was enough. He could feel the subtle pushback in the way she held herself, like she was closing off, and it hit him harder than he'd like to admit. He didn't know what to do with it. He respected her independence, but he also wanted to be there for her, help her in any way he could. And now, for the first time, it felt like she didn't want him to.

The minutes stretched into what felt like hours, and by the time they finished checking everything manually, Prashanth couldn't shake the weight of the silence between them. She hadn't said much, and neither had he. He respected her need to handle things on her own, but the tension was palpable.

As they drove back, Lathika was quiet. He kept his gaze on the road, trying not to focus on the distance growing between them.

❁ ❁ ❁

Opps... things going a little shaky here.

What's your thought?

Hope you enjoyed the chapter.