Love Amidst The Chaos

50| Beneath It All

~ Vidyut ~

I ran a couple of extra miles today.

But my mind couldn't outrun the thoughts of the toothbrush and hair strand I have tucked in my office bag. The weight of what is to come and what it could be to her haunts me. I almost think of not bothering with the tests, but that again doesn't sit well within me. Just like how the thought of having to tell my wife, her whole life could have been built on a lie doesn't sit well either.

When I'm back home, the house is still asleep, the calm silence and the beams of rising sun falling on the white floor welcoming me. I expect Esha to be still asleep. But as I enter our room, I am greeted with the sight of her sitting on our bed, still in her yellow PJs, hair a pretty mess as she scrolls through her phone while Snowy coddles in her lap, half asleep.

"My girls are up early today." I announce closing the door slowly behind me.

Instead of the smile I expected, she glares at me and I frown at the unexpected fury.

"What?" I perk, clueless.

"You didn't close the door properly and also, didn't feed her today." Her nose scrunch, half accusing and totally adorable.

A chuckle slips from me helplessly and I tilt my head to the right and pinch the corner of my ear. "Sorry."

"I'd accept that—"

Before she finishes I interrupt with a, "But," and lie flat by her stretched legs on the bed.

She smiles down at me, that knowing smile and I share one of my own.

I tip one of my brows smugly– I do know you like my Holy Book.

That you do– her head tilts to the side.

Then, she chuckles and leans down to press a kiss on my nose. "A coffee would do."

"Un latte español, señora?"

(Spanish Latte, Mrs?)

"Si, señor."

(Yes.)

I press a kiss to her knee and rise to my feet, making a lazy stroll to the brewing machine set on a table in the corner, near the balcony. Grabbing her red hearts– extremely aesthetic– cup, I pour in the condensed milk and place it under the brewer. The pod clicks into place inside the compact brewer and its hum fills the room, wafting the coffee air. Bending down I fish the little carton of milk and ice cubes from the mini fridge tucked underneath the table.

Two new additions to our room in a year– a coffee brewer and mini fridge. Yes, my wife convinced me to do so. Not that I complained. I was in if she wanted it. I am always in. But the question why came though. However I didn't have a choice of no, too, because she called it a long term investment.

One would wonder how. And there, you'd have to think like a woman, or like most women do. The reasons she listed goes like– the coffee machine was going to be a life saver once we have a newborn and to tackle the sleepless nights that come along and the fridge too was going to be an essential during the time to store the pumped milk.

Valid reasons, you see.

Once the rich stream of espresso drips into the glass by the last drop and blends with the thick milk contents in the bottom, I pull a spoon and give it a lazy swirl, add ice and finish it with cold milk.

"Gracias, mi amour" she smiles, taking a sip. (Thank you, my love.)

Clutching and putting away our fur ball that's curled on her lap, I replace it with myself, lying my head on her lap.