𝐈𝐧𝐧𝐨𝐜𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐖𝐡𝐢𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐬 𝐎𝐟 𝐋𝐨𝐯𝐞

Chapter 42 Begin again

A U T H O R

Nitika's chest rose and fell in an uneven rhythm, heart thudding beneath the weight of everything she'd buried.

She hadn't realized just how much she'd missed him-not just his presence, but the quiet safety that came with it. The way he saw through her, even when she tried so hard not to be seen.

Slowly, like she was learning to breathe again, she stepped closer. "One step at a time, right?" she asked, her voice still trembling.

Avyaan nodded, a breath of relief escaping his lips, as though her words had unlocked something he'd been holding back. "That's all I'm asking."

She looked down at their joined hands, her thumb brushing lightly over his.

"I kept telling myself I didn't deserve you... that you were better off without the mess I've become. But all it did was make everything lonelier. Colder."

"You were never a mess to me," he murmured, gently lifting her hand to his lips.

A tear slipped down her cheek, but this time, she didn't look away. She let him see it. Let herself be seen.

"I'm tired of pretending I'm okay without you" she said.

His arms opened, silently inviting her in-and for the first time in what felt like a lifetime, she let herself fall into them. Her head found his chest, and they both felt like they were in a dream.

He held her like he never wanted to let go. "Then don't. Stay. Let's try again."

She nodded against him, arms wrapping around his waist. "Okay. I want this. I want us."

When she pulled back to look at him, her eyes were clearer, still glassy but full of quiet resolve. "I can't promise I won't be scared. Or that I won't mess up."

He smiled, and for the first time since everything fell apart, it reached his eyes.

They stood close-too close for her to ignore the warmth of him, the way his presence pulled at something deep inside her.

Her breath hitched as she looked up, her eyes locked with his, and in that suspended silence, the rest of the world fell away.

Avyaan reached out slowly, like giving her the chance to stop him if she wanted.

His fingers brushed her cheek-just barely-but it was enough to make her inhale sharply.

It had been so long since someone had touched her with such gentleness, like she was something fragile he was willing to hold even if she broke.

Her hand came up instinctively, catching his wrist, but not to stop him-to keep him there.

"God, I missed you," she whispered, her voice cracking at the edges. "Even when I told myself not to."

"I never stopped missing you," he replied, his voice low, a whisper brushing against her skin.

And then, impossibly slowly, he leaned in.

His forehead touched hers first, a soft meeting of skin and breath. She could feel the warmth of his exhale on her lips, their noses barely grazing.

His hand cupped the side of her face now, thumb tracing the line of her jaw.