HAPPY DIWALI!
A SMALL PRESENT FROM MY END...

(NOTE - Chapters till Ch-38 are already present on -

"There is no old self to get back to there's a new you to create and nurture...................."

As the night deepened, a quiet stillness settled over the room. The rhythmic hum of the ceiling fan was the only sound that filled the silence between them. Vatsal, lying on his back now, stared up at the ceiling, his mind whirling with thoughts. Despite the calm of the moment, he felt a slight buzz of excitement mixed with something unfamiliar—a feeling that kept him wide awake.

He couldn’t help but replay the moments that had just unfolded. “Did that really just happen?” he wondered, a small smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. The way Shubhita had leaned into him, the feel of her hand on his—it was all so...unexpected. And yet, it felt right, like a piece of a puzzle slipping effortlessly into place.

But now, as they lay just inches apart, the comfortable silence was interrupted by a soft sound—a muffled groan that made Vatsal’s ears perk up. He turned his head slightly, peering at Shubhita in the dim light.

Her eyes were closed, her breathing steady, but her hand was pressed against her lower abdomen, rubbing gently. A wave of concern washed over him, but he remembered her earlier words and resisted the urge to fuss over her.

Instead, he decided to try a different approach. “Hey,” he whispered, barely loud enough for her to hear.

“Hm?” She didn’t open her eyes but made a small sound of acknowledgment, a bit like a grumble, as if she were already on the edge of sleep.

Vatsal grinned to himself watching her do that antic. “I guess this isn’t the time for deep conversations or grand gestures,” he thought. But then an idea struck him.

“Do you know what they say about sleeping on the floor?” he asked, his tone light.

Shubhita’s brow furrowed slightly, but she didn’t open her eyes. “What?” she mumbled, clearly not in the mood for a joke.

“They say it’s good for your back, you know. Realigns your spine, helps you grow taller.” He paused for effect, then added, “So, if you wake up tomorrow towering over me, don’t be surprised.”

At this, Shubhita couldn’t help but let out a small, involuntary laugh. She opened her eyes, just a crack, to look at him. “You’re ridiculous. I’ve been sleeping on the floor with you for over a month now. Towering!” she murmured, but there was a hint of amusement in her voice.

“Ridiculous? Maybe. But you’re smiling now, aren’t you?” Vatsal replied, his grin widening. He could feel her mood lightening, and it made him feel like he’d done something right, even if it was just a small thing.

“Maybe,” she conceded, her tone softer now, the tension easing from her features. “But if I grow taller, it’s your fault.”

“I’ll take full responsibility,” he said with mock seriousness, turning onto his side to face her more directly. “But just so you know, I won’t mind looking up at you. Might be a nice change. I dislike looking down at you every damn time.”

“Shut up now! I got the pun.” Shubhita shook her head, a small smile playing on her lips as she settled back into her pillow. The humour had lifted her spirits, even if just a little, and she found herself relaxing again, the ache in her body momentarily forgotten. But as the quiet returned, a thought crept into her mind—one that made her heart flutter in a way that was both thrilling and terrifying.

“This man… he’s making it so hard not to care,” she thought, her eyes closing as she tried to will herself to sleep.

Vatsal, meanwhile, felt a sense of satisfaction as he watched her settle down again. He hadn’t planned on making her smile tonight, but now that he had, he felt like he’d won a small victory.

But as the minutes ticked by, and the room grew even quieter, Vatsal found himself inching a little closer to her, just enough to feel the warmth radiating from her body. He wasn’t entirely sure what he was doing—there was no clear plan, no agenda—just a simple, irresistible need to be close to her.

He wondered if she could feel it too, this unspoken pull between them. “Is this what it’s supposed to be like?” he wondered, the thought both exciting and nerve-wracking.

“Shubhita?” he whispered again, this time more softly, almost afraid to break the moment.

“Mmm?” she replied, her voice drowsy. She didn’t respond immediately, but after a few seconds, she shifted closer to him, her hand brushing against his arm. “Sleep please,” she whispered back, her voice so quiet it was almost lost in the darkness. Sleep had begun to claim her. But he was wide awake.

They lay there in the stillness, their hands finding each other again, fingers intertwining in a gesture so natural it felt like they’d been doing it for years.

As the night deepened and the room grew even quieter, the warmth of their connection began to lull him too into a light, drifting sleep. But just as he was slipping into unconsciousness, Vatsal felt something—or rather, someone—nudging him gently.

“Vatsal,” Shubhita mumbled, her voice muffled as she burrowed her face into her pillow. Her hand had somehow found its way onto his chest, her fingers gripping his t-shirt in a loose, sleepy hold.

He blinked his eyes open, a bit disoriented by the sudden contact. “Hmm?” he responded groggily, still half-asleep.

“You... you didn’t turn off the lights,” she muttered, her words slurring together. “The ghosts... they don’t like the lights on, you know...”

Vatsal stifled a chuckle, realizing that she was barely awake, her mind hovering somewhere between dreamland and reality. “Ghosts, huh?” he murmured, playing along. “I thought they liked it dark.”

“No, no...” Shubhita mumbled, shaking her head slightly as she snuggled closer to him. “They... they like a little light... just a tiny one... like a... like a firefly...”

He couldn’t help but grin, feeling a strange fondness for her even in this silly, half-asleep state. “Alright, I’ll leave a light on for the firefly-loving ghosts,” he whispered, humouring her as he reached out to switch off the overhead light, leaving only the dim glow of a nightlight.

As the room dimmed to a soft, warm glow, Shubhita let out a contented sigh, her body instinctively curling into his side. Her arm wrapped around him, and her leg draped over his as if she were trying to mould herself against him in her sleep.

Vatsal’s heart skipped a beat at the unexpected closeness. He wasn’t sure what to do—part of him wanted to just enjoy the moment, while another part was worried about waking her up. But when she murmured something else under her breath, barely audible, he leaned closer to catch her words.

“Vatsal... don’t... eat all the apples... save some for me...” Her voice was soft, almost childlike, and Vatsal bit back a laugh.

“Promise I won’t,” he whispered back, his tone tender. “I’ll save the biggest one just for you.”

In response, Shubhita let out a satisfied hum, her grip on him tightening slightly. Vatsal couldn’t help but smile to himself, feeling a warmth spread through his chest. It wasn’t just the physical closeness that made him feel this way—it was the sweetness of these little, nonsensical moments that they were sharing, moments that felt like they were slowly knitting them together in ways he hadn’t expected.

As he lay there, feeling her steady breathing against his side, Vatsal allowed himself to relax fully. He slipped his arm around her, pulling her closer, and rested his chin on top of her head. It felt natural, like this was where they were meant to be.

But just as he was about to drift off, he felt her stir again. “Vatsal...” she whispered, her voice barely more than a breath.

“What now?” he responded, his voice heavy with sleep.

“Nothing... You’re a good but... what’s that? Yeah, annoying person,” she murmured, her voice trailing off as she fell back into a deeper sleep.

Vatsal chuckled softly, feeling an overwhelming tenderness for her. “Ok, I won’t forget,” he whispered, his inadvertently rubbing her back.

Finally, with Shubhita nestled comfortably in his arms, Vatsal allowed his own eyes to close, feeling a sense of peace that he hadn’t felt in a long time. The night stretched on, and in the warmth of their shared space, they drifted into a deep, restful sleep, their limbs tangled together in a cozy, unconscious embrace.

And as the hours passed, the two of them, wrapped up in each other, dreamt of nonsensical things—of fireflies and apples, of ghosts and dim lights—while their hearts, slowly but surely, began to beat in sync, as if they were finally finding their way to a rhythm that felt just right.

_

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The Sunday morning sun streamed through the slightly open curtains, casting a warm glow across the modest apartment. Shubhita stretched lazily, savouring the tranquil start to her day. The weather outside was perfect—bright and breezy, with no hint of rain. It was the kind of day where clothes would dry quickly if hung out on the balcony. After yesterday’s gloomy weather, laundry thing was necessary that day. She had already made it clear to Vatsal the previous day.

As she padded into the washroom, she was greeted by the sound of Vatsal’s muffled grumbling. Curiosity piqued, she peeked around the corner to see him standing by the laundry rack, which was now cluttered with a jumble of clothes. Vatsal, looking decidedly out of his element, was attempting to untangle a heap of clothes with a furrowed brow.

“Good Morning!” Shubhita called out cheerfully, stepping fully into the washroom. “Looks like you’ve taken on my laundry task challenge quite seriously yesterday.”

Vatsal glanced up, a sheepish grin on his face. “Morning. Yeah, I thought I’d give it a try. Didn’t realize it would be this complicated.”

Shubhita stifled a laugh, taking in the sight of him grappling with the clothes. He had clearly tried to sort them but ended up creating an even bigger mess. Socks were knotted together, and shirts were draped haphazardly over the rack.

She walked over, her fingers deftly separating the items. “Let me show you how it’s done. First, we need to sort everything properly.”

Vatsal nodded, moving aside to give her space. “Please. I’m all ears.”

Shubhita began by spreading out the clothes on the nearby table, grouping them into categories: whites, colours, and delicates. Vatsal watched intently, trying to absorb the process.

“Okay,” Shubhita said, her voice gentle but informative. “These are the whites. We’ll need to soak them for a bit to get them clean. The colours can go together, and we’ll hang them out to dry later. The delicates need special handling.”

Vatsal picked up a pair of socks, attempting to follow her instructions. “Got it. So, how long do we need to soak the whites?”

“About thirty minutes should do it,” Shubhita explained. “Just enough time for them to get a good clean. After that, we’ll rinse them out and hang them up.”

She demonstrated how to soak the clothes in a large basin filled with water and detergent. Vatsal, still unsure of himself, followed along clumsily, but he managed to get the process right.

After the clothes were soaking, Shubhita wiped her hands on a towel and leaned against the wall, observing Vatsal with an amused glint in her eye. “Not bad for your first try. I’m impressed you didn’t just toss everything in the bucket.”

Vatsal chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck. “Well, I figured you’d have some strong opinions about how things should be done. Plus, I’m learning it’s better to stay on your good side.”

“Smart man,” Shubhita teased, walking over to the sink to wash her hands. As she did, she caught a glimpse of her reflection in the mirror, her hair tousled from sleep and her face still soft with the warmth of a good night’s rest.

Turning back to him, she noticed the way Vatsal was still watching her, a playful grin tugging at his lips. “What?” she asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Nothing,” he replied, his tone light but with a hint of something deeper and humorous. “Just thinking how lucky I am to have such a beautiful wife, with such a gorgeous hairdo.”

“Ha! Very Funny,” Shubhita shot back, tossing the damp towel at him. Vatsal caught it easily, laughing as he did. But beneath the playful banter, there was a growing sense of ease between them—a comfort that hadn’t been there before.