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This is one of the books in the series: Destined To Be. (can be called a collection of books)
The story can be enjoyed as a standalone. You can find more details on my profile.
# HEAVY EDITING START...
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Jagdish sat down and took his plate, opening the first container to find his favorite dish sitting there on the dining table. His lips curled into a soft smile as he recognized the aroma of Baingan ka Bharta. "I forgot to tell... Rani didi had called and informed me she's taking leave this week," he said, pausing as he scooped a ladle full of the dish onto his plate. "She's going to her village."
"It's good that at least one of us knows how to cook basic meals," Nishita retorted, her eyes fixated on her phone. "Otherwise, we'd have to resort to restaurants."
Basic meal? His darling wife had made the perfect meal for him, and she had the audacity to shun her efforts and call them basic. He shook his head slightly and took the first bite, the taste of brinjal and spices hitting sharply on his tongue as he melted into the flavors. How good she could cook!
He remembered when she had first confessed to him that she wasn't fond of cooking, that she only knew how to prepare basic meals, and that cooking felt like a chore that required more time than necessary. She had always been open about her feelings towards the kitchen, mentioning her frustration with the meticulousness it demanded and the time it consumed. That was one of the reasons he never asked her to cook for him... or anything else for that matter; he preferred not to disrupt her routine, and he didn't want to dump his expectations on her. He did desire her happily cooking for him and then sitting on his lap while he fed her... but that was just a silly dream.
And here she was...
Despite her claims to be amateur, she had managed to create this dish that felt like it had been crafted with care and expertise. The balance of flavors in her cooking spoke volumes about her natural talent, even if she didn't see it herself. As he savored the meal, he couldn't help but marvel at how she effortlessly turned something as simple as brinjal into a culinary delight.
As he took another bite, memories of the past month flooded his mind, tainting the delicious meal with a bitter undertone. It had been a goddamn month since he had shouted at her, letting himself become the kind of man he fucking despised. His harsh words had driven a wedge between them, pushing her to leave their shared room and seek solace in a separate space, avoiding even his shadow.
Her absence was a gaping hole in his world, a constant ache that whispered of his mistakes. The silence between them roared, a deafening reminder of the chasm he'd created. How could he stand before her, and seek forgiveness, when he was still struggling to forgive himself?
His darling was right in her silent punishment; he deserved this pain. He needed it to realize the gravity of his mistake, to understand that losing his calmness and lashing out at her was inexcusable. He shouldn't have projected his pent-up angst onto her. The memories of his mother's harsh words still echoed in his mind... but why did he hurt his lovely Nishita?
Jagdish sighed, putting down his last bite as the food turned tasteless in his mouth. He had been a fool, letting his unresolved issues fester and harm the one person who mattered most to him. The sight of her retreating figure broke his heart, and he stared at the empty chair across from him, longing for her presence.
But she was gone... She had left him alone, again.
--
He knocked on her room door, "Nishita?"
There was no response, but he couldn't bring himself to walk away. The silence weighed heavily on him, amplifying his doubts and fears. He felt a lump in his throat, his heart pounding as he stood there, rooted to the spot. No, there's no escape, he needed her. He needed to hold her, to look into her eyes, to love her in the ways she desired. After three fucking years, fate had finally given him a chance to be with her again. Who was he to not make every effort to ask for a heartfelt "sorry"?
"Wifey... please open the door," he whispered, his voice strained as his eyes blurred with unshed tears. "Will you not give me a chance to talk?"
He reached out and knocked again, "My love... I am... I am sorry."
Please, open the door, please...
--
A/N
"Tujhe Sochta Hoon" fits so damn well here.
ALSOOOO... OPEN THAT DAMN DOOR NISHITA! MY BOY IS GONNA CRY!
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