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۶ৎ Inayah's pov ۶ৎ
The morning sunlight spills through the hotel room's sheer curtains, casting a soft glow over the room.
As I stirr awake, the scent of salt still lingers on my skin, and the ache of happiness still heavy in my chest. I turn over to find Arhaan sleeping peacefully beside me, his face relaxed, the sharpness of his usual expression smoothed out in sleep.
I watch him for a while, my fingers twitching with the urge to trace his jawline. But I don't, Instead, turning onto my back, staring at the ceiling, my heart quietly aching.
'I don't deserve this.' I think, the echo of my past gnawing at the edges of the new found joy. 'But I want it.'
I Absentmindedly run my fingers over my forearm, brushing against an old scar. I freeze,tugging the sleeve of Arhaan's shirt instantly down to cover it. Wrapping the blanket tighter around myself, swallowing down the ache in my chest. I wanted to believe this could last. That this version of life - where love wasn't a weapon, and affection wasn't conditional - could be mine.
But shadows of the past always loomed close, like ghosts waiting to remind me of who I really was.
The person I don't want to be.
Arhaan stirs, eyes fluttering open. He blinks at me, his voice raspy with sleep. "You're awake?"
I Smile faintly. "Just woke up."
Pulling me closer, he presses a kiss against my forehead as we cuddle.
And for a moment, I allows myself to believe, that one gullible part that maybe, just maybe, happiness like this could last.
𓇼 ⋆.˚ 𓆉 𓆝 𓆡⋆.˚ 𓇼𓇼 ⋆.˚ 𓆉 𓆝 𓆡⋆.˚ 𓇼
The return to Delhi felt quieter than I expected. The beach, the birthday surprises, the blue-glowing waves - it all faded into memory like a dream I was afraid to forget, the memories that I'll always cherish forever.
But life, as it always does, slowly slipped back into routine.
Arhaan buried himself in work almost immediately after we landed. His phone buzzed at all hours - cryptic messages, late-night calls, and impromptu meetings that stretched until dawn. He'd slip into bed just as the sun rose, his arm automatically finding its way around my waist even in sleep. But by the time I woke up, the space beside me would already be empty.
I didn't question it.
I didn't want to.
Because for the first time, things between us felt steady. And I didn't want to disturb that balance, like a child afraid to touch a house of cards. So I let him go without asking. I kissed his cheek when he left, welcomed him back with quiet smiles, and filled my days with painting so the silence didn't swallow me whole, he would leave me sweet messages in the mornings, sometimes bringing breakfast to bed. Everything is perfect, he is perfect.
