The city lights passed by in streaks as I drove, one hand on the wheel and the other on the gear stick. The car was quiet, and no music played.

Alisha Roy.

No headlines. No photos. No mention of a marriage, let alone a separation.

How had that gone completely unnoticed?

If Alisha had truly been absent from that marriage if things had ended early, like Abhiram implied then who is Myra’s mother?

Was Myra adopted?

But... no. There was emotion when he spoke of her mother. A grief he didn’t show, but didn’t hide either. Not about a stranger. Definitely not.

I didn’t have answers. But my instincts—they whispered this story was far more complicated than what little he’d shared.

After parking my car in the building, I exited. I unlocked the front door and entered the home. A dim light emitted from Ma's room.

I peeked in. “Ma? You’re still awake?”

She looked up from her book, smiling. “I was waiting for you. So? How was it?”

I stepped in slowly, bag still slung over my shoulder. “He’s… a good man, Ma. A really good man.”

Her smile widened.

“And?” she asked after a pause.

“I don’t know where it’s going to go. But I… I want to find out. He’s not like the others. He’s different.”

Ma reached for my hand and gave it a squeeze. “That’s a good start. Take your time. If it feels right… and both of you feel ready… then we’ll take the next step.”

I nodded. “You should sleep, Ma. It’s late.”

“You too, beta. Good night.”

“Good night.”

Later, I slipped under the covers, changed into my pyjamas, and turned the lights off—but sleep didn’t come.

The evening played behind my closed eyes like a reel on loop. His voice. His silences. That quiet, careful way he looked at me when I said, “I’m here. Whenever you want to share.”

I remembered how he asked me to text him once I got home. Just a simple thing. But it wasn’t casual—it was full of care.

I reached for my phone.

Reached home. Had a wonderful evening.

I didn’t expect a quick reply.

But within moments—ping.

Glad to know. Even I had a great evening.

I smiled, fingers hovering over the screen. Should I say more about another meet? Would it seem too eager?

Another ping.

If you’re okay, let’s plan another meeting.

I laughed softly. So... he was thinking the same thing.

I typed back:

Definitely.

A minute later:

That’s great. Tell me your convenient day and time. We’ll plan accordingly.

I typed:
Okay :)

A few more texts followed. Light. Easy. Like dipping our feet into something unfamiliar but warm.

Finally, a gentle:
Good night.

I put my phone down, staring at the ceiling, A quiet smile tugged at the corners of my mouth.

This wasn’t love. Not yet.

But it was something.

Something that made the silence feel fuller. The air feel lighter.

The next morning, as soon as I stepped into the office, Aarthi practically pounced on me with her usual detective-like energy.

“Okay, spill. How was it? What did he say? What didn’t he say? she began in rapid-fire mode.

I couldn’t help but laugh, raising a hand to stop her barrage. “Aarthi, breathe. You sound like a true-crime podcast host.”

She grinned, though her eyes sparkled with mischief as she continued, “Come on, tell me everything about Mr. Sinha. His late wife? Myra? How was the dinner?”

I hesitated; I wasn’t ready to dive into the complexities of his past. I didn’t want to share her about certain details about us. It felt like they belonged only to Abhiram and me.
"I'm sorry, Aarthi, I can't tell you the details—nothing about his past."
She pouted slightly, but soon relented with a playful huff, “Fine, don’t spill the gossip. But at least tell us how you felt—meeting him, being there.”
He was polite. Well-groomed. I paused, then glanced at Aarthi with a little smirk and added, “And handsome too.” Aarthi gave me a wide grin, her eyes twinkling. “That he is,” she said quickly, before Shivam could pretend to roll his eyes. He didn’t, though.
“He’s… different,” I said finally, letting the word settle. “Different from every other man I’ve met before.”  “Our ideologies match in ways that surprised me,” I continued, more to myself than them. “He doesn’t push. Doesn’t pretend. He just… listens. He allows space. And I don’t feel like I must wear a version of myself just to be around him.”
So, when he suggested meeting again, I agreed without hesitation, curious to see where this unexpected connection might lead.
Both Aarthi and Shivam—who had been listening intently burst into smiles. Shivam clapped me on the shoulder, saying, “I’m very happy for you, Maithili. You finally found someone you don’t run away from after meeting and that’s a good sign. We really hope this works for you, and you know we’re both here for you.”

I smiled back, knowing they were genuinely happy for me.

In the days that followed, our connection grew in quiet. Abhiram and I began texting and talking over the phone, and no matter how many messages I received from him, a smile was always waiting on my face whenever I checked my phone. Our texts covered everything—from mundane work updates and random book recommendations to jokes about our shared love for structured chaos. It became our safe, familiar ground.

We also started meeting casually in the evenings. Abhiram preferred to be with Myra at night, so our encounters were discreet planned when the evening shadows made it easy to slip away unnoticed. It wasn’t that I minded being seen; it was that Abhiram, being a public figure, needed to keep his personal life under wraps until everything was certain.

It was just past lunch, the usual post-meal haze settling over the office when Aarthi suddenly popped her head up from behind her monitor.

“Maithili, do you have any plans tomorrow?”

I looked at her, raising an eyebrow. “Why? Are you finally treating me to that spa day you owe me?”

She rolled her eyes. “Shivam’s sister is coming over and I want to get her something nice. Thought we could go gift shopping together.”

I smiled. “Of course. Happy to come along.”

She narrowed her eyes at me mischievously. “You sure? No plans with your Mr. Perfect?”

I chuckled. “Even if I did, I’d cancel. Can’t I do one small thing for my drama queen of a friend?”

Aarthi placed her hand on her heart. “Touché. Cancelling time with your Mr. Perfect for me? I’m honored.”

I shook my head, laughing softly.

It had been four weeks since that first dinner with Abhiram. Four weeks of evening coffees, slow walks, long conversations—moments that filled more than just my time. They filled something in me that I hadn’t realized was empty.

We met almost every day. It had become an unspoken rhythm. If we didn’t meet, it was only because he was caught up at work or I was too drained to move. But even then, there were texts, voice notes, calls that went a little longer than necessary.

My phone buzzed on my desk. I didn’t have to guess who it was. A smile bloomed across my face the moment I saw his name light up my screen.

Abhiram: Had lunch?

Me: Yes. And you?

Abhiram: Had a meeting, eating now. Also... Maithili, there’s a new café near our office—less crowded. Can we meet there today?

I didn’t even think. Not even for a heartbeat.

Me: Yes.

Not because I had to.

But because I wanted to.

And that made all the difference.

Evening I reached the café early.

Of course I did.

That was becoming a habit—one I didn’t mind. I liked being there first. I liked the quiet moments before he arrived. The anticipation. The way his presence would slowly fill the room, even before he reached my table. I liked watching him walk in, always scanning the space until his eyes found mine—every time, without fail.

Just then, my phone buzzed.

“On my way. Two mins. Sorry 😊”

I smiled without even realizing it.

And like clockwork, just a few minutes later, he walked in. Not rushed Abhiram never rushed but with that same steady calm I’d grown to find oddly comforting. Familiar. His gaze landed on me, and the soft smile he gave made something flutter in my chest.

“Hope you didn’t wait too long,” he said as he slid into the seat across from me.

“I was early,” I shrugged.

He picked up the menu, glanced at it briefly, and then set it down. “I trust your taste. Order whatever you like.”

I raised a brow. “Dangerous move, Mr. Sinha. What if I pick something with too much cheese or a sugar overload?”

He chuckled. “I’ll take the risk, Miss Kulkarni,” he said, adding a playful wink.

So we ordered—his usual black coffee, my regular creamy one, and something light to nibble. And like always, the conversation flowed, easy and unforced.

We wandered from books to baking disasters. I confessed to once making biscuits so hard they could be used as self-defense weapons. He laughed, tipping his head back—a real, full laugh. Rare. Beautiful.

Then, somewhere between coffee and the sun dipping lower, his tone shifted.

“She’s obsessed with sea animals,” he said with a quiet fondness. “Made me watch the same dolphin documentary four times. Says jellyfish are misunderstood.”

I laughed, already picturing little Myra lecturing him on the injustice done to jellyfish.

And maybe it was that image—or the softness in his voice—that made me ask.

I leaned in slightly. “You know… I’ve been thinking about something you said the other night.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Just one thing?”

I smiled. “Fine. Several things. But one stands out.”

He waited, and I asked—gentle, but clear:

“When can I meet Myra?”

He blinked, surprised. “You want to meet her?”

I nodded. “I don’t know why… I just do. She’s your world. And if I want to know you—really know you—I want to know her too. I want her to like me. Maybe even… love me.”

He didn’t respond right away. I could see him thinking, weighing something inside.

“It’s okay if you’re not ready,” I added quickly. “I understand.”

He let out a slow breath and met my gaze. “I am ready to introduce you to Myra, Maithili,” he said softly. “But the real question is… are you ready to introduce yourself to Myra—officially?”

That word caught me.

Officially.

His eyes didn’t leave mine. Then, slowly, he reached across the table and placed his hand over mine.

For the first time since we met, he touched me. His fingers brushed mine, and I was amazed at how such a small gesture could hold so much significance.

“I didn’t let you and Myra meet until now because... I wasn’t sure if you were ready,” he said quietly. “I don’t want you to meet her as a friend of mine or some acquaintance but as someone who could become part of her world and mine too.”

My heart skipped. Was he proposing?

“I hope you understand what I’m saying,” he went on, his thumb lightly moving over my knuckles. “If I bring you into her life, it won’t be casual. And it won’t be temporary.”

I swallowed, suddenly hyper-aware of every emotion tangled up inside me. His touch was grounding, steady—but what he was saying? It shook me, in the best and most terrifying way.

“It’s been four weeks since we met,” he said, voice low, honest. “And every time we’ve met, every word you’ve said—you’ve surprised me. You’ve made me feel things I didn’t think I’d feel again. I was someone who ran from marriage… and then you happened. And I found myself wanting to stay.”

He looked at me with something I couldn't quite name. Something that held hope and fear in equal measure.

“I have a good feeling about us,” he said. “You, me, and Myra. But if you meet her… it means this is real. It means giving this a name.”

A part of me warmed at his words.

But beneath it, a quiet doubt stirred.

He hadn’t told me everything.

Not about Myra’s mother. Not about whether he was truly her biological father. That part of his life was still behind a closed door—and I didn’t want to walk into the future through a half-open one.

I looked at our hands, still entwined, and then back at him.

“I…” I hesitated, my voice barely above a whisper. “I like the idea of us. I really do. And the thought of being in Myra’s life—it doesn’t scare me. Not anymore.”

I looked up at him, meeting his eyes, searching them. “But I can’t build something lasting on unspoken truths. You’ve trusted me enough to share parts of your story… and I’m grateful for that. But I need the rest. I need your whole truth before I can step into this fully.”

The words hung there, heavier than I expected. But I didn’t look away.

“Marriage is built on trust, Abhiram. That’s the foundation. Everything else—love, time, compromise—it all comes after. And if we’re really thinking about a future, about something real… I need to know your past.”

I exhaled slowly. “And I’m not asking you to share everything right now. Not tonight. Not even tomorrow. You can take your time. I’ll wait. I want to wait. But I can’t promise you a future that’s built on half-truths. I won’t.”

He was still. Silent.

“You told me once how Alisha wasn’t honest with you before your marriage. That it led to... everything falling apart. I don’t want that for us. I don’t want to walk into something where pieces are missing, and assumptions fill in the blanks. We owe each other honesty even if the truth is heavy. Even if it’s hard.”

I paused. “No matter how big or small, I want us to be able to show up for each other, with everything. That’s what we deserve.”

He didn’t respond. Just stared at me for a long, unreadable moment. His face didn’t shift, not even slightly. But his eyes… there was something there. I didn’t yet have the name for.

Then, slowly without a word he pulled his hand away.

And stood.

“I need to go, Maithili,” he said, his voice flat, distant. “I have work to do. I’ll call you.”

He didn’t wait for a reply.

Just turned... and walked away.

I sat there, heart pounding, hands suddenly cold against the ceramic of my coffee cup. The chair across from me now empty—too empty.

Did I overstep?
Did I touch a nerve I wasn’t meant to touch?
Should I have held back—just a little longer?

But deep down, another voice spoke up. Steadier. Quieter, but firm:

No.

I didn’t ask for too much.
I didn’t demand.
I asked for truth. I asked for the kind of love that doesn’t hide.

And maybe I did touch a nerve.

But how could I not, if that nerve still held the pieces of the man I was falling for?

I liked him. More than I ever thought I would. But I couldn’t marry him with only half the story. I couldn’t step into a future with locked doors and silent shadows.

I deserved the whole truth.

And maybe… so did he.