"From Rivals to Forever: A Journey of Love"

Chapter 30

Aditi's Perspective

I watched Kabir take a piece of brownie and bring it in front of my mouth, his eyes soft and understanding. I hesitated for a second, my thoughts swirling with everything I'd just shared about my parents. But then, almost instinctively, I opened my mouth and took a bite.

The rich chocolate melted on my tongue, and for a brief moment, the sweetness distracted me from the heaviness that had settled in my chest. But as I chewed, the emotions I'd been holding back for so long started to rise. Tears welled up in my eyes, blurring my vision until I couldn't see anything clearly anymore.

I tried to swallow the bite, but instead, my breath hitched, and the sobs I'd been choking down for years came rushing out. Before I knew it, I had turned to Kabir, burying my face in the crook of his neck. The weight of missing them—my real parents, my mom and dad—hit me harder than it had in a long time, and I couldn't stop the tears from falling.

Kabir didn't say anything. He didn't need to. He just held me, one hand running through my hair, the other resting gently on my back. The warmth of his presence grounded me, and the feel of his fingers softly combing through my hair calmed me, even as my sobs grew heavier.

He kissed my forehead, his lips lingering for a moment, and somehow, in that simple gesture, I felt safe. I felt like I didn't have to hold it all together anymore.

"Shhh," he whispered, his voice soft against my ear. "I'm here."

After what felt like an eternity, my sobs quieted, but my body was still shaking from the intensity of it all. Kabir shifted slightly, his arms wrapping around me more tightly. And before I could stop him, he gently lifted me off the floor.

I gasped, my cheeks flushed with embarrassment. "Don't do it, Kabir," I muttered through the last of my tears, my voice still shaky. "I'm heavy."

But he didn't reply. He just held me as if the weight of the world didn't matter, his arms strong and steady, and gently carried me toward the sofa. Without saying a word, he made me sit beside him, his hand still resting lightly on my back.

For a long moment, we sat in silence. The room felt peaceful now, the only sound coming from the occasional creak of the house and the muffled buzz of the outside world. It felt like we were in our own little bubble.

"Do you wanna share something about them?" Kabir asked after a while, his voice gentle and coaxing, as though he knew I needed to let it out.

I blinked, trying to catch my breath as I thought back to the memories I held so close to my heart. Memories of my real parents, the times when everything was simple, and their laughter filled our home.

A small, tearful smile tugged at my lips as I began speaking, my voice a little stronger now. "I remember... there was this one time when we went to the beach." I sniffed, wiping away the lingering tears. "I was really young, maybe five or six. It was one of those rare days when my mom had the day off. My dad, he was always the one planning these spontaneous trips, and this time he said we were going to the beach just for ice cream."

Kabir smiled, nodding for me to go on.

"We drove for hours just to get to this tiny, run-down ice cream stand on the beach," I continued, my voice growing a little softer as the memory unfolded in my mind. "My dad was so excited because they had this weird flavor—something with coconut and pistachio, I think—and he made my mom try it even though she hated coconut." I laughed lightly at the memory. "She took one bite and made the most dramatic face, like it was the worst thing she'd ever tasted."

Kabir chuckled softly beside me, his arm still wrapped protectively around me.

"And my dad, he couldn't stop laughing. He thought it was the funniest thing in the world. I remember sitting there between them, just watching them laugh together, completely in love and happy." I paused, the bittersweetness of it all filling my chest. "It was one of those perfect days. Just us. No hospital shifts, no worries. Just ice cream and laughter."