MY AVERAGE LIFE

Part 64

Sharath Pov:

As I drove to work, the morning sun filtering through the windshield, a small smile played on my lips. The last half-an-hour had been nothing short of perfect, with Shivani's warmth still lingering on my skin from our long, tender goodbye kiss. The way she smiled, her laughter echoing in our home—it made the stress of the day seem so trivial. I loved that she wanted to stay in today, relax, and take a breather after all the travel. She deserved it.

But as I reached for my coffee in the car, I realized something was missing. My wallet. Damn. Without hesitation, I turned the car around. I knew exactly where I'd left it, probably on the kitchen counter in the rush of breakfast. Normally, I'd text her, but I figured I'd be in and out in a minute. Maybe I could steal another kiss while I was at it. The thought made me grin.

When I got back to the apartment, I quietly opened the door, expecting to find her curled up on the couch or in the kitchen. But what I heard instead made me stop dead in my tracks. Her voice—strained, emotional—filled the quiet space.

"Mom, Dad... I wanted to talk to you about Sharath."

I froze. The way she said my name, so serious, so filled with an emotion I couldn't quite place, sent a chill down my spine. I instinctively moved closer, careful not to make a sound. I knew I shouldn't be eavesdropping, but something in her tone made me feel like I needed to hear this.

And then, her mother's voice, sharp and cutting, came through the call. "We've heard about him, Shivani. We googled him. He's a CEO, and there's a big status gap between you two. How can you be sure he's serious about you? Men like him... they don't settle. They date girls for fun, for time pass."

My heart sank, and my grip on the wall tightened. **Time pass?** They thought I was using her? My chest tightened with frustration, but I stayed still, my breath held as I listened for Shivani's response.

"Mom, Sharath has never done anything to hurt me. In fact, he never asked me for dating, he proposed to me directly. He wanted to marry me, but I asked him to wait so we could see if we fit well together. I wanted to be sure. And now... I am. He's the one for me."

Her voice—so certain, so unwavering—tugged at my heart. She had turned me down, and I respected that. But hearing her say now that she was sure... it was everything I could have ever hoped for.

But then her dad's voice cut through the moment. "You've already decided to marry him? What about us? Don't we get a say in this?"

There was silence for a moment, and I imagined her struggling to find the right words. My chest ached for her. I knew how important her family was to her, and how much she valued their approval. It pained me to know that they thought so little of me before even meeting me.

"I wanted to ask you first, but I've rejected his proposal so many times, I didn't want to hurt him anymore. He's everything I've ever wanted, and I know you'll see that too. Just trust me. Give him a chance."

Her voice cracked, and I could picture her holding back tears, fighting to stay strong. I wanted to rush to her, hold her, tell her that everything would be okay. But I stayed rooted in place, knowing she wanted to do it herself.

"But you're willing to hurt us?" her mother's voice snapped, the words cutting through the air.I clenched my fists, anger flaring up inside me. How could they not see how much she loved them? How much was she trying? And I don't think she can ever hurt them as they did to her.  My stomach churned as I waited for Shivani's reply.

"No, I don't want to hurt you. That's why I'm trying to explain. He's perfect, Mom. You wanted me to find the perfect husband, and I have found him. You can't imagine how well he treats me, how much he cares for me. He's the one, and I know you'll see it too when you meet him."

Her voice was breaking now, full of desperation and raw emotion. Tears stung at my eyes as I heard the depth of her conviction. The weight of what she was doing—fighting for us, defending me—pressed heavily on my chest.

Then her dad's voice came through again, quieter this time. "You trust him enough to fight with us?" Without hesitation, she answered, "Yes, and  I trust him with my life"

My heart clenched. Hearing those words from her—knowing that she trusted me that much—it was overwhelming. I had always known that what we had was special, but hearing her say it like that, to her parents, with such certainty, was something else entirely.

Then, her dad's tone shifted, sharp and accusing. "Then where is he? Why are you here, convincing us on your own? Shouldn't he be the one doing this?"

I winced. He had a point, in a way. But before I could even begin to feel guilty about not being there, Shivani's voice came through, stronger than before.

"He doesn't even know I'm talking to you right now. I want to introduce him to you when you're ready to listen with an open heart. He's already handling so much with his own family and protecting me. I don't want him to have to fight this battle too, not until you're ready."

I exhaled slowly. God, she understood me so well. She knew I would fight for her, that I would take on anything, but she also wanted to shield me from unnecessary pain. My heart swelled with love for her in that moment. She was protecting me, just as much as I tried to protect her.

Her father scoffed, "So, you're protecting him now? Shouldn't he be the one protecting you?"There was a fire in her reply that I wasn't expecting. "He is protecting me. He's always protecting me. But this relationship isn't just about him doing all the work. I'm here too, Dad he is not the only one in the relationship. I want to protect him as much as he protects me. That's how it works. It's not one-sided. I'm not going to stand by and let him take all the pressure when I can help. And I'm telling you, he's a gentleman, someone you'll respect and admire when you meet him."

The fierceness in her voice shook me to my core. I had never heard her speak with such strength, such conviction. She wasn't just fighting for me—she was fighting for us. For the partnership we had built, where we shared the burdens equally, where we protected each other.

There was a long silence on the other end. Then, finally, her father spoke, "Alright. We'll meet him this Sunday."

A smile tugged at my lips, but it faltered when I heard him add, "But what if we don't like him?"

There was a long pause, and then Shivani's voice, soft but unwavering, came through. "You'll just have to keep meeting him until you do. I'm sure you'll like him eventually."

Tears welled up in my eyes. She was fighting for me—fighting for us—in a way I had never imagined. I was in awe of her.

I wiped my eyes quickly, swallowing down the lump in my throat. I wanted to burst into that room, hold her, kiss her, and tell her how much she meant to me. But I knew now wasn't the time.

I slipped out of the apartment, quietly closing the door behind me. As I got back in the car, my heart was racing, but for a different reason now. Shivani had fought for me, for us, in front of her parents, and I couldn't be prouder. Whatever happens on Sunday, I knew we would face it together. She had given me the strength I didn't know I needed.

As I drove back to work, I smiled to myself, my mind replaying her words. **"You'll just have to keep meeting him until you do."**

I knew one thing for sure: I would make sure her parents liked me—loved me—because I wasn't going anywhere.