𝐔𝐧𝐞𝐱𝐩𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐋𝐨𝐯𝐞: 𝐀 𝐏𝐚𝐭𝐡 𝐓𝐨 𝐎𝐮𝐫 𝐃𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐲

Chapter 42

N I K S H A N T

"Thank you, Cherry," I breathed—my voice nothing more than cracked pain laced with desperate hope.

The feeling coursing through me right now... it's beyond words. She's in my arms. Her warmth pressed against me. My arms wrapped tightly around her like I'm afraid she'll slip away if I let go. And the most precious part—she forgave me. She's willing to give our marriage a second chance. She's giving me a second chance.

A chance to rebuild what I broke.

A chance to love her the way she always deserved.

I pressed gentle kisses into her hair, again and again, unable to stop myself. Her scent—sandalwood and something uniquely her—wrapped around my senses, grounding me, calming the storm that had been raging inside me for months.

I closed my eyes for a moment, just to let the peace sink in.

When I opened them again, I found her eyes shut, her long lashes resting on flushed cheeks, her face bathed in the soft morning light. Beautiful. So painfully beautiful.

She slowly opened her eyes, and for the first time in what felt like eternity, her gaze met mine—steady, searching. I gave her a soft, hopeful smile and gently said, "Get up."

Her brows furrowed slightly in confusion, until I gestured towards the aarti thali still resting nearby and pointed toward Mahadev. Realisation dawned on her face, and a tiny smile, almost hesitant, curved her lips.

She stood up with grace, picked up the thali, and silently performed the rest of the aarti. Then, with trembling fingers, she applied a tika on my forehead—her touch warm, delicate, sacred. She held out the prasad, and I accepted it reverently.

"Main sabhko prasad baant ke aati hoon," she whispered, her voice soft but steady.

(I'll go give prasad to everyone. )

I nodded, unable to speak. She turned and walked away, leaving the faint scent of devotion and sandalwood in her wake.

I turned toward Mahadev's murti, slowly walking closer, my feet heavy with gratitude. I folded my hands, bent down, and touched my forehead to the ground—a full surrender of ego, pride, pain.

I murmured, my voice cracking,"Shukriya, Mahadev usko phirse meri zindagi mein laane ke liye... aapka shukriya kaise aada karu, samajh nahi aa raha. Shayad aapne use mujhse isiliye durr kiya tha... taaki mujhe uski ahmiyat samajh aaye. Aur aap safal huye, Mahadev. Main jaan gaya hoon ki woh mere liye kya hai—kitni keemti hai. Sirf itni si dua hai... kabhi bhi usse mujhse door mat karna... shayad iss baar aapki pariksha jeet gaya hoon, par agle baar jeet paunga ya nahi, yeh nahi pata. Aashirwaad dijiye, Mahadev ki hum saat janam tak ek dusre ke ho ke rahe."

( Thank you, Mahadev, for bringing her back into my life... I don't know how to thank you enough. Maybe you took her away from me so I could truly understand her value. And you succeeded, Mahadev. I've understood what she means to me—how priceless she is. I just have one prayer... please never take her away from me again. Maybe I passed your test this time... but I don't know if I'll be able to next time. Please bless us, Mahadev so that we remain each other's forever, for all seven lifetimes. )

I stood up slowly, casting one last grateful glance at Mahadev, as if seeking silent assurance that everything was truly real—that she was truly mine again. Then, I turned and walked out.

As I approached the dining area.

She looked up the moment she sensed me nearing. Our eyes met.

Her expression didn't hold resentment this time. Instead, it was composed—soft yet firm, gentle yet guarded. She straightened slightly and said in a calm voice that held surprising warmth, "Baith jaiye... main aapka breakfast serve karti hoon."