To Be Continued...

FIFTY NINE

I don’t know how Nicolas always managed to silence my anger, pulling me back into the fold, making me love him a little more each time after our fights.

"Harini, we can have fights. But let’s promise we’ll never go to bed angry after we're married, okay?" Whenever he mentioned our future together, especially marriage, I felt this overwhelming relief. I didn't want to be one of those people who date endlessly, flitting from one person to the next. I just wanted one man—the right man—to love deeply and marry. His promises, his dreams of us, they were everything I ever wanted. But then again, he always had an excuse when I asked him to work on us, like when I asked him to finish that picture puzzle of us. He always avoided it, making me question if I was the only one seeing these cracks.

I told myself not to mind, that I understood. But deep down, it stung.

I remember the first time I couldn't reach him—it was Akshaya Tritiya, a day meant for good luck and new beginnings. I was so excited to share the rituals and traditions with him. I stayed up all night waiting for him to call, hoping to hear his voice. When hours passed, worry twisted in my gut like a knot, my mind spinning with all the worst possible outcomes.

Finally, when he did call, he said the lights had gone out at his home, and he’d forgotten to charge his phone. His voice sounded tired, so I didn’t even argue. At that moment, his safety was all I cared about. But then... it happened again. And again.

Each time something in me shattered, a small fracture that left me feeling... uncertain. Doubt crept in, no matter how hard I fought it. I told myself he wasn’t doing this on purpose, that his intentions were good. He’d mess up, then make bigger, more elaborate plans, only to apologize when they fell apart again. "I’m sorry, I messed up," he'd say. And I believed him. But something inside me struggled with that belief.

I wanted to doubt him, I really did, but how could I when he had been there for me so much? Was I overthinking this? Was I just being paranoid? I stared at him across the screen, trying to figure it out—trying to decide if my instincts were right or if my insecurities were getting the best of me. Just as my thoughts spiraled, he interrupted.

“Harini, would you take the lead this time?” His tone was soft, seductive, drawing me back into our little world. He wasn’t talking about our relationship this time. He was talking about the sexual tension that built up between us over screens—the steamy chats, the late-night sessions where desire blurred the distance between us. I nodded, letting myself get swept up in the moment.

For a brief moment, all the doubts melted away, replaced by this all-consuming need to feel him—his touch, his presence, his warmth. It wasn’t just the sex. It was more. It was wanting to bridge the gap that lay between us. Wanting to feel connected, like he was really here with me.

“You know not everyone is like that,” he once said to me.

“I know,” I had replied. “But I’m still a virgin, Nicolas. It’s not about sex for me. I just want love—real love. Maybe that’s why Santino left… because he knew he wouldn’t get that from me.” I had been so vulnerable in that moment, admitting my insecurities, my fear of being abandoned again.

But Nicolas had smiled and said, “That’s why you’re different, Harini. You’re too pure. I want it all with you, every part of you, even if it takes ten more years. I’ll wait. I’m all yours.” Those words echoed in my mind as we spoke now, each one wrapping around my heart and pulling me deeper into this fantasy of us.

His voice lowered as he described the soft touches, the kisses he’d give me. I could almost feel his breath against my skin, the weight of his hands on me.

“I want to touch you, Nicolas,” I whispered, my voice trembling with need. “I want to feel your warmth against mine, to be held in your arms.”

“Soon,” he replied, his voice a mix of desire and promise.

That one word—*soon*—was enough to keep me holding on, even when my doubts tried to pull me away.