It's Called PRIDE!

[35] A FAMILY DINNER

Laxmi

The days have been a whirlwind of responsibilities and tension. Prity's unwavering dedication to her NGO and parliamentary duties has her stretched thin, with barely a moment to breathe.

Recently, she has also rejoined her old hospital as a psychologist, further adding to her already packed schedule with patient calls and consultations.

Meanwhile, our children, Avi and Tina, are diligently preparing for their upcoming exams, with their new academic year set to begin in April.

I am deeply involved in helping them with their studies, all while juggling my own responsibilities as a teacher, ensuring my students are ready for their school exams.

Our household is a bustling hub of activity, yet we are fortunate to have the supportive presence of our extended family. My sister and mother-in-law, along with Prity's parents— I lovingly refer to them as 'Uncle' and 'Aunty'.

Despite their presence, however, an unsettling shadow has loomed over us for the past few months. Every two months, a menacing threat arrives by post, a stark reminder of the café incident that shattered our peace.

Although, by some grace, no further attacks have occurred, the anxiety lingers. Prity is determined to get to the bottom of these threats.

She works tirelessly, collaborating with the police and conducting her own investigations, but the identity of the person behind them remains a mystery. I can see the worry etched on her face.

As I stand in the kitchen, chopping vegetables for dinner, my mind wanders to these dark thoughts. The rhythmic motion of the knife offers little solace against the backdrop of my worries.

Who could be behind these threats? What do they want? And more importantly, how can we stop them?

Suddenly Prity entered the kitchen, her presence a comforting balm. Her smile instantly lifted my spirits as she moved closer, her fingers grazing my arm lightly.

"Hey, Laxmi. Need any help?" she asked, her voice a soothing melody that eased my worries.

I nodded, grateful for her offer. "Yes, please. Could you chop the vegetables? I'm falling behind."

Prity picked up a knife, her movements fluid and precise. "You look tired," she observed gently. "Are you okay?"

I sighed, the weight of the past few months pressing down on me. "It's just... everything. The threats, the kids' exams, my students. Sometimes it feels overwhelming."

Prity paused, her eyes filled with concern. "I know, love. But we're in this together. We'll get through it."

Her words were a lifeline, pulling me from the depths of my anxiety. "Thank you," I whispered, feeling the warmth of her support.

As we worked side by side, our conversation shifted from mundane tasks to more profound matters. We talked about the children's future, our plans to ensure their safety.

At one point, I struggled to reach a jar on the top shelf. Standing on tiptoe, I stretched my arm but fell short. "Darn it," I muttered, frustration creeping into my voice.

Prity, always perceptive, stepped in. "Here, let me help," she said softly, her breath warm against my cheek as she reached above me.

Her body brushed against mine, and I felt a shiver run down my spine. Our hands touched briefly as she handed me the jar, and for a moment, our eyes locked. The air between us was charged with unspoken feelings.

"I love you my wife," she whispered, her voice barely audible, yet it resonated within me.

"I love you too Prity," I replied, my heart pounding. We were so close that a kiss seemed inevitable, our faces inching nearer.