RadhaKrishn

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Radha's Pov

The wind carried the scent of jasmine through the garden, the soft hum of the evening blending with the distant laughter of our family inside. The past few weeks had been a blur—a storm that had finally passed, leaving behind a sky that, though scarred, was clear again.

I sat on the swing in our backyard, Aavi curled in my lap, his tiny fingers playing with the edge of my dupatta. His breaths were steady now, peaceful, as he drifted into sleep.

Krishna stepped onto the patio, his presence always an anchor, always something that steadied me. His eyes found mine in the dim glow of the garden lights, filled with something softer than I had ever known before.

"Can I hold him?" he asked, his voice low.

I nodded, gently passing Aavi into his arms. Krishna cradled our son with the kind of tenderness that melted every last piece of the fear I had once carried.

"He's safe," I whispered, more to myself than to him. "We're safe."

Krishna sat beside me, pressing a kiss to Aavi's forehead before shifting his gaze back to me. "You were always safe with me, Radha," he murmured.

A lump formed in my throat. The weight of everything—the nightmares, the losses, the fight—had finally lifted. And in its place, there was only this. Us.

I reached for his hand, intertwining our fingers. "I know," I said. And I did.

He had kept his promise.

Dev was gone. The past no longer had its claws in me.

Krishna had given me a future—one filled with love, family, and the kind of peace I had never dared to dream of.

I leaned into him, resting my head against his shoulder. His warmth, his presence, was everything I had ever needed.

"We made it," I whispered.

Krishna kissed the top of my head, his voice a vow, a forever promise.

"We always will."

And in that moment, beneath the quiet night sky, I knew—this was my home.

Not just the house.

Not just the safety.

Krishna.

He was my home. My beginning, my end, and everything in between.