"You said you don't hate me. So, can't we start a new chapter?" she said trembling, her eyes filled with hope.
He laughed loudly. "Aliya Emdad are you a stupid or just pretending to be. Listen to me carefully. Yes I don't hate you. Actually I feel...
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In the car, she asked, "Where are we going? That's not the road to your house."
"Our house," I corrected her gently. "We're going to see your parents. I haven't visited them since your return, especially since you weren't around."
The truth was, I wanted to make it up to her for ruining her birthday plan. I thought seeing her family might bring her a little joy.
"Are you mad? I'm not going there looking like this!" she exclaimed.
I blinked in surprise, momentarily stunned. She looked beautiful-what could she possibly mean?
"What's wrong? You look fine," I replied, a bit perplexed.
"Take me to my apartment. I need to change, or I'm not going.' Her tone was serious, leaving no room for argument.
I sighed, knowing I wouldn't win this one. "Are you serious? We're not going anywhere else."
"I'm going to my parents' home, with my... husband, after two years. I need to look that I'm happy." She added with resolve, "I need to wear a saree. Stop the car, or I swear I'll open the door right now."
With a resigned sigh, I gave in, instructing the driver to take us to her apartment.
"Do you still need help putting on a saree?" I asked softly, feeling a hint of nostalgia.
"Nope. Thanks, I learned it. You can wait here or come inside, it's up to you," she replied, already heading toward her building.
I followed her, mostly because I needed to pray. Her apartment was small compared to my mansion, yet it felt so much more like a home. There was a warmth in its decor, something that made it feel alive.
She handed me a prayer mat. "You can pray here and wait after that. I'll get ready. There are snacks in the upper shelf of the kitchen; help yourself." And with that, she disappeared into her bedroom.
After praying, I settled onto the sofa, glancing around her space. A small shelf held an assortment of books, so I browsed, hoping to pass the time. My eyes caught a rolled-up paper tucked in between them, and curiosity got the better of me. Unrolling it, I froze-it was the sketch I'd given her ten years ago.
She still had it.
"Put that back, please," her voice came softly from across the room.
Turning, I saw her standing there in a dark teal saree, looking regal, elegant, breathtaking.
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