Zayne

"Don't leave me, Naina," I pleaded, my voice trembling with desperation.

As I gazed into her eyes, I saw the love reflected back at me—an undeniable truth that lay beneath the surface. She had loved me long before she agreed to marry me, and deep down, she knew it too. It wasn't just to escape him that she chose me, nor was it out of revenge; she chose me because she wanted me—just me.

"Adi, remember that list I had for my husband?" Naina asked, her tone light as the three of us shared dinner in our modest apartment.

"Yeah?" he replied, curiosity piqued.

"Zayne checks all the boxes on my list!" she exclaimed, her eyes sparkling as she beamed at him. I nearly choked on my food, hastily sipping water to regain my composure. She hadn't meant to make him jealous; her smile was meant for him, though she was everything I wanted and I was everything she needed.

I closed my eyes. I never claimed to be a saint. It was hard sometimes to get past knowing that she had been with someone else before. I did not just know that she had a past but I had visual memories of it.

Yet she was still Naina—my Naina. I had loved her from the moment I had laid eyes on her, and while I would let her go if it meant her happiness, I would never allow her to return to him.

"Zayne, I can't stay here," she whispered, her voice barely above a breath. "Not with Umma saying..."

"I'll talk to her, I promise," I interrupted, urgency in my tone. My mother would understand that Naina was my wife now; she couldn't treat her like that.

Naina lay back down on the bed, her expression weary.

"Are you hurt?" I asked, concern flooding my voice.

She nodded, and instinctively, I edged closer to examine her. But as I reached out, she gasped, recoiling as if startled by my proximity.

"Naina, I'm not going to hurt you," I assured her gently. "I just want to make sure you're not injured."

"I'm not," she said quickly, her tone defensive as though she were afraid of my touch.

"Where are you hurting, Naina?" I pressed, desperate for clarity.

Her lips trembled, and tears began to stream down her cheeks.

My heart dropped; had she broken her orbital bone? I could still see the redness blooming on her cheek, and a flutter of panic surged within me. What if it affected her eardrum? What if she had developed a facial nerve injury? A carotid dissection? My mind raced through worst-case scenarios.

"Where are you hurting, Naina?" I asked again, my voice hoarse and gruff with concern.

She placed a trembling hand over her heart. "It physically hurts. My heart hurts."

A lump formed in my throat at her admission, a pain that echoed my own. I leaned in instinctively, wanting to comfort her.

"Don't touch me!" she screamed, startling me backward.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry," she said quickly, panic lacing her voice. "I'm really sorry."

"It's okay, Naina," I replied softly, my gaze lingering on her tear-streaked face. I made up my mind then—we would stay in a hotel. I wouldn't put her through another four days in this environment.

"We'll stay in a hotel," I said, gathering my things with purpose.

"Naina?" I asked when she didn't respond. I turned to her, and her silence sent a chill through me. She was staring ahead, tears continuing to stream down her face.

I moved closer this time, careful not to touch her.

"Why me, Zayne?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper. If only I knew.

"Everything happens for a reason, Naina. I just know you and I were meant to find our way to each other," I ventured, trying to lighten the mood with a smile. A soft smile appeared on her face, and my heart did flip-flops at the sight.

"Come on, let's get going. I know a place," I suggested, feeling hopeful. My father owned three units at a nearby four-star hotel, and if they were booked, we could stay in a vacant unit for a reduced cost.

"I think we should stay here, Zayne," Naina said resolutely. "Let me try and patch things up with Umma."

I nodded, feeling a weight lift off my chest. I remembered how my parents had emotionally blackmailed me when they learned about Preethi. I had never wanted to go against them; my family mattered deeply to me. But now, Naina was family too. Naina was my wife.

I honestly didn't know what Naina was thinking. She lay in bed, motionless—neither crying nor speaking—while I paced the room, my heart racing with concern. After checking my phone for any messages, I finally resolved to speak with my parents.

Steeling myself, I headed downstairs and found them in the dining room. My father sat at the table, sipping tea and engrossed in the sports section of the newspaper, while my mother flitted in and out of the kitchen, instructing the maid with her usual efficiency.

"Umma, Appa," I called, trying to capture their attention as I sat down at the table. "Can we talk, please?"

"Have your breakfast," my mother replied, her focus still on her tasks, dismissing my request as she emerged from the kitchen carrying a plate of uppumavu and green chili pickle.

My stomach rumbled at the sight. My mother had always been thoughtful and kind, despite the occasional disciplinary measures that seemed standard for her generation. She had never slapped me.

I remember her always setting alarms for my exams and tending to me when I was sick, rubbing Vicks under my feet and telling bedtime stories when I was little. My memories of her were fond, and I could never have foreseen her raising a hand to anyone, let alone my wife.

"Umma, Vaapa, you knew when I married Naina that she had been engaged and that her wedding had been canceled because her fiancé... hit her," I began, trying to keep the accusation out of my voice.

"And I told you I would find you a better match," my mother interjected, her tone sharp.

"Bobinmoopan's daughter's alliance had come for you—a good girl from a good business family," my father chimed in, and I couldn't understand why they were even bringing this up now.

"Umma, Vaapa, you agreed to my marriage with Naina," I insisted again, feeling the weight of their dismissals.

"That was before I knew how characterless she was!" My mother raised her voice.

I didn't want Naina to overhear this; I could feel the tension rising.

"Umma, she is my wife. I cannot allow you to raise your hand to her," I pleaded, my voice breaking under the strain of my emotions. "She's my wife." I could feel the tears that filled my eyes, making my vision hazy.

At last, my mother looked at me, her expression shifting from scorn to tenderness. She gave a small, subtle nod, and I felt a glimmer of hope.

I continued to speak with my parents, giving Naina some much-needed personal time to gather herself.

Close to lunchtime, I looked up just as Naina walked down the stairs. I stood up instinctively, my heart nearly stopping at the sight of her smile. It was a smile that had the power to make everything else fade away.

"Umma, I'm sorry," she said softly, her voice carrying an earnestness that tugged at my heartstrings. She didn't owe anyone an apology, but I was grateful to see her making an effort.

My mother, however, held her head high, refusing to acknowledge Naina's presence.

I noticed Naina's smile falter for just a moment, but she pressed on, walking toward me and briefly touching my forearm. It was astonishing how a simple touch from her could send a jolt of warmth through me. Our eyes met, and I felt an overwhelming urge to pull her into a comforting embrace, but instead, I pressed my hands onto my thighs, grounding myself.

She headed into the kitchen, and I strained to listen for any signs of conflict. I couldn't help but worry.

Soon, I saw her return to the dining room, carrying a dish. She assisted my mother in bringing the food to the table. My mother appeared slightly more relaxed now, though she still refused to engage in conversation with Naina.

I couldn't believe that just last night, Naina had allowed me to touch her intimately, had even brought up the idea of moving in together. And now, it felt like a chasm had opened between us; I could hardly approach her without the fear of startling her.

I attempted to help with the dishes, but my mother shooed me away from the kitchen. She was a wonderful cook, and I had missed this—this feeling of home. I had been away for about five years for my training. The expectation was clear: I was meant to return and practice cardiology at my father's hospital. Well, I guess it was my hospital too, since I legally co-owned it now.

"Do you want to go for a walk, Naina?" I asked, hoping to create a moment away from the weight of the situation.

She nodded, and I couldn't help but laugh softly. I bet she would want to be anywhere but here.

Then, an idea struck me. "Let's go to the zoo," I suggested, my excitement bubbling up.

Naina laughed and agreed, and soon we found ourselves walking under the afternoon sun at the Thiruvanathapuram Zoo.

"Naina, you look ridiculous!" I teased, noticing the black umbrella she was holding to shield herself from the sun.

"I don't care! My skin will tan, and I'll get a migraine!" she exclaimed, spinning her umbrella playfully. She pointed at a couple of older women nearby. "See? They have umbrellas too!"

Had I really gone my whole life without noticing that women held umbrellas even when it wasn't raining?

We stopped at a roadside vendor and bought some peanuts served in a newspaper cone. I popped a handful into my mouth, and Naina burst out laughing at the sight.

"What?" I asked, my cheeks stuffed with peanuts.

She shook her head, still smiling.

I watched as she delicately picked up one peanut at a time, rubbing it between her thumb and index finger, blowing off the skin before placing it in her mouth. I burst out laughing.

"What?" she asked, amusement dancing in her eyes.

"Is that how you eat peanuts?" I chuckled, unable to contain my laughter.

She narrowed her eyes at me playfully.

"I guess you learned how to eat peanuts from your real family," she replied, a teasing smile on her lips. The faint dimple on her left cheek made an appearance, and I was so mesmerized by her that I nearly missed what she was saying next.

"Look," she said, pointing and laughing. "They are calling out to you. They missed you!"

I turned to see a group of monkeys eyeing our peanuts, their curious gazes fixed on us.

"Are you going to share?" she asked,a mischievous glint in her eyes.

I glanced at the large sign that read 'Do Not Feed the Monkeys' and shook my head, defiantly shoving another handful of peanuts into my mouth.

Naina laughed again, and my heart swelled with joy. "Your long-lost brother really wants some," she teased, her laughter ringing like music.

I looked back at a particularly aggressive monkey, its hand extended toward us, hissing and spitting.

"Let's get out of here," I said, a protective instinct flaring up. That obnoxious monkey reminded me of Advik, and there was no way I was letting her anywhere near him or anything that reminded me of him.

I grabbed Naina's hand, leading her swiftly out of the monkey area. Once we left, I realized she hadn't let go of my hand. I made sure not to squeeze too tightly, fearful that she might notice she had her hand in mine and pull away.

"Ice cream!" I pointed out an ice cream shop, the heat of the sun beating down on us. It was scorching, but every moment spent with her made it worthwhile.

"That's a lot of calories. Peanuts and ice cream on the same day?" Naina asked, a hint of concern in her voice. I had never thought of it that way.

I shrugged. "You want it, you have it. I'm getting one for myself."

"Get strawberry!" Naina called out as I headed towards the shop.

"One strawberry for you and a chocolate for me," I replied.

"No," she insisted seriously, "you get the strawberry."

"I don't like strawberry," I countered, playful defiance in my voice.

I returned with two cones—strawberry for her and chocolate for me.

Naina stared at her cone, seemingly lost, without making a move to lick it. The sun was scorching, and the ice cream was melting fast. I was halfway through my cone when she finally began to eat hers. The moment she took a bite, it started to drip down her hand.

For all her primness while eating peanuts, she now had ice cream smeared around her mouth and dripping down her chin. At first, I chuckled at the sight, but as she swiped the ice cream with her tongue, I found myself unable to look away. My mind filled with thoughts that were decidedly not suitable for the moment.

She caught my gaze and smiled, a teasing look in her eyes. "Do you want to kiss me?" she asked, catching me completely off guard.

I nodded, my heart racing. Didn't I ever!

"What's stopping you?" she challenged, her eyes twinkling with mischief.

I glanced around, noting that the area was mostly deserted. It seemed no one was foolish enough to brave the zoo in this heat. With a surge of confidence, I leaned in, cradling her face in one hand as I closed the distance between us.

When our lips met, it was everything I had hoped for. The coldness of the ice cream mixed with the warmth of her mouth, the sweet taste of strawberries lingering between us.

I leaned in closer, my heart racing as I gently licked the ice cream off her chin. The moment my tongue made contact with her soft skin, I felt her moan slightly. She was both hot and adorable.

When I finally pulled away, her cheeks flushed a delicate pink, and I couldn't help but admire how beautiful she looked. This was everything. She was everything.

One thing I knew for sure: my wife enjoyed kissing me just as much as I relished kissing her.

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Thank you for reading.

Remember that you are amazing, and there is a reason for everything. You are going to be okay.
❤️Faiza