His words were still ringing in her ears — "I'm not going anywhere."

She stood there, wrapped in his arms, her face buried against his shoulder, lips still tingling from the kind of kiss she had longed for but never dared to expect. Her tears had not stopped, but now they flowed quietly, almost gently — not from despair this time, but from something far more dangerous.

Hope.

And that terrified her more than anything else.

Because hope had betrayed her once. On the very night they got married.

She wanted to believe him — wanted to believe every breath he had just shared with her, every gesture that felt too soft, too careful, too unlike the man she had grown used to. Her hands clung to his shirt, gripping tightly like a woman drowning who didn't trust the waves.

Her voice, barely a whisper, cracked through the silence between them. "What if you hurt me again?"

Aditya didn't pull away. Instead, his arms tightened slightly around her. His chin dropped until his lips brushed against her forehead in the faintest touch.

"You will hurt me again," she murmured, more to herself now. "Because I'm starting to trust you... and I don't know how to stop."

There was a long silence before his voice cut through — low, rough, raw. No longer the composed man of the house. Just... a man stripped of everything.

"When we got married," he said slowly, "I only wanted a name. A partner on paper. Someone I could protect, present, and put in place. Nothing more."

Shradha stilled, but he didn't loosen his hold.

"I was just like them," he admitted. "All the men in this dark, twisted world who think women are just bodies to take comfort in. People to use. To breed. To control."

Her breath caught. Not because it shocked her — but because she had known. She had lived it.

"But then you stayed," he went on, his voice softer now, laced with a strange ache. "You stayed up at night for me. Asked if I'd eaten. Looked at me like I mattered... when I didn't even know who I was anymore."

Shradha's grip on his shirt loosened a little. Her fingers trembling.

"It felt amazing," he whispered, like a confession meant for the dark. "To be seen like that. To be cared for... without earning it. I didn't know what to do with it, so I ignored it. Abused it."

A silence fell between them. But not empty.

It was full — of things long unspoken.

"I grew up watching my mother get beaten, humiliated, silenced," he continued, slower now, as if every word peeled a scar open. "My father brought other women into our house like my mother was furniture. My brothers and I... we were given guns before we were even taught how to shave."

Shradha's heart twisted.

"I told myself I'd never be like him. I swore I wouldn't." His voice shook now. "But I realize now... I didn't hit you. I didn't cheat. But I hurt you. Just like he hurt my mother. Not with fists. But with silence."

Shradha looked up at him slowly, eyes red, breath shallow.

"I became what I feared," he said, eyes meeting hers with unbearable guilt. "And I don't want to be that man, Shradha. Not to you. Not to our child."

Tears slipped down her cheek again — but this time, her walls weren't just cracking.

They were falling.

All of them.

She could see the boy behind the man — the boy who had grown up in a home without love, forced to become a weapon instead of a son. And maybe that boy didn't know how to love, but he was trying now.

And she could feel it in the way he held her — like she wasn't his responsibility, but his choice.

And yet... the fear remained. That tomorrow he'd forget. That this warmth would fade. That this moment would turn into another memory she'd cling to when he turned cold again.

"I'm scared," she whispered honestly, helplessly.

He leaned down, forehead resting against hers.

"I am too," he admitted.

And somehow, in their shared fear, something real began to bloom.

Fragile.

But real.

Shradha's breath hitched again as Aditya gently brushed his thumb against her cheek, wiping away another tear. His eyes were heavy with things he hadn't said—until now.

His voice broke the stillness, low and trembling. "Do you know what hurt me the most, Shradha?"

She looked up at him, unsure, scared of what she might hear.

"When I found out... about the first time," he said, jaw clenched, but not in anger. In pain. "That you ended the pregnancy. That you didn't tell me. That you were scared I wouldn't want the child."

Shradha looked down, guilt crashing over her face again.

"I didn't hate you then," he whispered, "but I was angry. Not just at you—but at myself. For being the kind of man you believed would turn away from his own blood. From you."

Her body trembled again under the weight of his words.

"And then," he continued, swallowing thickly, "when I tried to protect you from your mother's games... when I stood between you and the very woman who's done nothing but destroy you piece by piece... you still left."

Her eyes fluttered shut. She remembered. Every moment of it. The way she walked out of that house, thinking it was the right thing to do. Thinking he didn't really want her to stay.

"You left again," he whispered, "with our child. And you kept it from me. Again."

His voice cracked at the end, and it shattered something inside her.

"I wanted to hate you that night," he said. "God, I tried. I told myself I would never run after you again. That I'd let you go. Let you be."

He paused.

"But then twenty-four hours passed. And I couldn't breathe."

Shradha slowly looked up at him, her eyes wide, tearful.

"My chest ached. Not from anger. Not from betrayal. Just... from not having you near me. From not hearing your voice in this house. From not knowing if you were safe. If our child was safe."

His hand found hers, and for the first time, he held it like it was something sacred.

"That's when I knew," he said quietly. "I wasn't angry because you hurt me. I was angry because you mattered. Because somewhere between the silences and the nights I walked past you... I had already fallen."

Shradha's lips parted, her heart slamming in her chest, too overwhelmed to speak.

"I don't know how to love, Shradha," he said, shaking his head slightly. "I wasn't taught that. I didn't see it growing up. I don't have the words or the perfect gestures. But—" he brought her hand to his chest, placing it right over his heart "—whatever this is... it's already yours."

She broke.

Tears streamed down her cheeks again, but her expression wasn't just sorrow now—it was a terrifying, overwhelming mix of hope and love and fear.

"I want you," he whispered, voice hoarse. "Just as much as you've always wanted me."

And in that moment, her shattered soul finally felt like it was being held—gently, truly—for the very first time.

Shradha broke down again, the sobs softer this time, quiet hiccups against his chest as though she didn't want the moment to slip away by making too much noise. Her hands gripped the fabric of his shirt, her fingers fisting into it like she was anchoring herself to something real.

"Don't let this be a dream," she whispered to herself, her voice muffled against him, trembling.

Aditya leaned in, cupped her face again, and kissed her—firm and gentle, grounding her in the moment. His forehead pressed against hers, lips brushing softly as he murmured against them, "It's not a dream. I'm right here."

She smiled—small and tender—in his embrace. A kind of smile he hadn't seen on her face before. Fragile, but pure. The kind that came from the heart cracking open for the first time.

But then... she stilled.

Her smile faltered.

And in the silence that followed, a new fear crept into her expression—subtle at first, then unmistakable. Her body tensed slightly in his arms, and her eyes flickered down as her fingers slowly loosened their grip.

Aditya felt the shift instantly. "What?" he asked softly, brushing a strand of hair from her face.

Her lips trembled again. She looked down, ashamed of what she was about to say. "What if..." she paused, then forced it out, "what if I can't give you a son?"

Aditya blinked, confused for a moment.

She swallowed hard. "What if it's a girl? What if... what if I fail you again?"

He stepped back slightly, enough to see her fully. Her face was already flushing in shame, her hands moving to her stomach protectively. "I know your family—this world—we live in a place where sons are praised and daughters are—"

"Stop," he snapped, voice sharp but not cruel.

Her eyes widened.

Aditya's jaw was clenched, fury rising in his chest—not at her, but at the way the world had conditioned her to believe such a thing.

"Don't you ever say that again," he said, his voice stern but steady. "Don't you ever think that your worth—or this child's—is measured by gender."

Shradha blinked, her breath catching.

He stepped closer again, gently cupping her face. "Shradha... I don't care if it's a boy or a girl. All I care about is that you wanted to have this child with me. That's all that matters."

Tears welled up in her eyes again, this time different—tears of stunned relief.

Aditya's voice softened, the anger melting into conviction. "But if it's a boy," he said, brushing his thumb under her eye, "I will make sure he never grows up the way I did. I'll teach him what love is. How to be soft in a world that tells him to be cruel. I'll teach him to protect, not to control. To speak, not to stay silent. And I'll never let him touch a gun. Not one."

Shradha let out a shaky breath, her hands rising to cover his.

"And if it's a girl..." his voice broke slightly, but he pushed through, "then I will fight this world for her. Like I fought it for you. I will protect her, adore her, raise her to believe that her voice is power, not something to be buried."

His lips trembled now too.

"I will be nothing like your father. Nothing like mine."

Shradha couldn't take it anymore. She collapsed into him again, sobbing into his chest—not from sadness, but from the overwhelming truth that after years of silence, of second-guessing her worth, of walking through love like a stranger—she had finally been seen.

And for the first time, she wasn't alone in carrying her hopes.

He was holding them too.

____
This book will soon come to and end. Staytuned for more exciting things coming up