Tying The Knot With Ex's Brother

IN YOUR ARMS AGAIN

The room was quiet, except for the soft hum of the fan and the synchronized rhythm of two hearts finally resting in peace.

Ragini lay in Sparsh's arms, her head resting against his chest, fingers tracing lazy circles on his shirt. The silence between them was no longer loaded—it was warm, comforting. Healing.

Sparsh tilted his head slightly and whispered, "Tell me... what was life like in Singapore?"

Ragini smiled faintly. "Busy. Challenging. But... good in its own way." She shifted slightly, curling into him more. "I worked full-time—lived in a company apartment. I barely had time to think about anything personal. Which, honestly, helped. I needed that kind of distraction."

Sparsh stroked her hair gently as she spoke.

I used to wake up at six, catch the MRT to my office near Raffles Place. The days were long—filled with coffee runs, meetings, and endless presentations. It was exhausting at first, but it taught me resilience.

She told him about her favorite café, a park she often walked in alone, the old Chinese landlady who brought her dumplings on weekends. She laughed as she shared odd cultural differences, her failed attempt to learn basic Mandarin, and her accidental overuse of Singlish in meetings.

Sparsh listened silently, his fingers lightly brushing her arm, his eyes soft with admiration and pain.

Then she looked up and asked, "And you? What about you, Sparsh?"

He let out a slow sigh. "I missed you. Every single day."

Ragini blinked, his honesty catching her breath.

"Sleeping in this room without you... was like living with a ghost. Your absence lived here louder than anything else. Every time I picked up my phone, I wanted to call. To say I was sorry. To beg."

He turned his gaze toward the ceiling. "But I knew you needed space. And time. So I waited... like I promised I would."

Ragini didn't speak. She just reached out and cupped his face gently.

Then Sparsh looked down at her and asked with a teasing smile, "So... did you fall for any charming Singaporean guys? You took your sweet time coming back."

Ragini laughed, rolling her eyes. "Please. There were many—"

He sat up a little. "Many?"

"There was a Chinese guy from the marketing team—sweet, always complimenting my ideas during meetings, and once even waited in the rain just to share an umbrella with me. Then there was an Indian colleague—kind of nerdy but charming—he brought me home-cooked lunch every other day and claimed it was 'just extra food.' And my American neighbor... he had this habit of flirting while borrowing sugar, eggs, even detergent. I'm not sure if he ever ran out of things or just enjoyed the small talk."

Sparsh's eyebrows shot up. His jaw dropped slightly, like he hadn't expected that answer in a hundred years.

Ragini raised an eyebrow, smirking. "Why? You don't believe me?"

"I—uh—no, I mean... I didn't think—" he stammered, genuinely flustered.

She crossed her arms dramatically, her tone mock-offended. "What do you mean? You think I'm not beautiful enough to have admirers?"

"No! That's not—"

She cut him off, eyes gleaming with mischief. "I just told you about three. There were more. Many more, Sparsh."

Sparsh shook his head, pulling her into his arms. "Unbelievable. I leave you for two years and you become an international heartbreaker."

Ragini giggled into his chest.

Sparsh brushed a loose strand of hair from her face and looked into her eyes. "Did you miss me?" he asked, half-playful, half-hopeful.

Ragini tilted her head, her lips curving mischievously. "No," she said.

Sparsh blinked. "No?" he echoed, pretending to be offended. "Really?"

She nodded solemnly. "Not even a little."

His mouth fell open. "Wow. That's cold, Ragini."

She bit her lip, fighting back a grin. "What? I had a busy life. Coffee, meetings, admirers..."

He scoffed. "Unbelievable."

Sparsh's arms tightened around her, and the teasing gave way to silence—soft, warm, full of meaning. 

"I missed you too," he said quietly.

Ragini smiled slightly and teased, "But I didn't miss you."

Sparsh looked up, caught off guard. "Really?" he asked, raising an eyebrow. "Not even a little?"

She shook her head slowly, mischief dancing in her eyes. "Not even once."

He looked at her for a long moment, then gently reached for her hand.

"This ring," he said softly, "the mangalsutra around your neck, the sindoor you still wear... these aren't just ornaments, Ragini. They tell me how much you love me—without saying a single word."

Ragini looked at Sparsh, a soft smile curving her lips. She reached into her bag  on the nightstand and pulled out a small velvet box.

"I brought something for you," she said quietly, placing it in his hand.

Sparsh looked surprised. "A gift?"

She nodded. "Open it."

He flipped open the box. Inside lay a sleek watch—minimalistic yet striking. He picked it up carefully, his eyes catching the engraving on the underside of the dial-his initials.

Sparsh didn't say a word. Instead, he pulled her into a hug. They lay like that for hours—talking about dreams, regrets, future hopes. About what they lost, and what they still had.

Eventually, with fingers intertwined and hearts finally steady, sleep claimed them.

The morning sunlight streamed in gently through the half-closed curtains.

When they emerged hand in hand for breakfast, there was a hush at the table. But it lasted only a second—then smiles bloomed on every face.

Between bites, Ragini looked at her parents and said quietly, "Can you bring  my things back?"

Her father paused, stunned for a moment. "You mean..."

Ragini nodded.

And in that moment, around that simple breakfast table, something sacred was restored. Not everything needed to be spoken. Because in the way Ragini smiled again, in the way Sparsh looked at her like she was the sun after the longest winter—everyone understood.