Set in the night when Shashank was sick with fever. 

“I don’t want you around me, Apurva. I don’t need you around me. You get that? So pack your bags and do what you have always wanted to do. Leave! Leave this house, this family, and this husband. Just… leave!” Despite burning in fever, his words stayed clear, coherent, and adamant. 

He clutched the blanket closer before ordering his finger to show her the door just in case she had forgotten where it was since he caught her standing unfazed even when he was practically screaming at her. 

“If that’s what you want… I will oblige. I’ll leave. Once you recover, I… will,” she said, stepping forward when she saw him trying to reach the glass of water, “mi dete.” 

“Kahi garaj nahi aahe. Tula mazyasathi kahihi karaychi garaj nahi aahe, Apurva. Haan, kahi karaychach asel tar room madhun baher ja. Let me be on my own. I need to get used to it anyway.” His rage was replaced by the sheer vulnerability that even his averted gaze couldn’t hide. 

She placed her hand on his when he stretched it out as he struggled to reach the glass and carefully put it back on the bed. “Tyacha itka tension nako gheu tu, Khadoos. Tasahi tuza prem nahich aahe mazyavar. Kadhi navtach aani satat sangitla aahes tu mala ki te kadhi shakya hi nahi so mazya janyane tula kahi traas honyacha prashnach yet nahi.” Taking the lid off the glass, she held it with one hand before supporting his back with her other hand as she made him drink the water. “Nahi aahe na prem mazyavar? Mhanunach divorce papers sign kele na tu?” 

“Mala watla tu swakhushine tya divorce papers var sahya kelya mhanun mi sign-” He coughed when her words triggered the suppressed rage for yet another time, making him lose his temper. 

She was right beside him within seconds. “Ek divas shaant rahilas tari tu Khadoosach rahnar aahe. Kahi badlanar nahiye. Swatala traas hot astana ajun traas karun ghena garjecha aahe?”

“Tu mala traas dena band kar. Mi karun ghena band karto.” He jerked her hand away when she tried to rub his back to soothe his coughing. He straightened himself and sipped on the water by grabbing the glass from the side table. 

“Thik aahe. Mi tula traas dena band karte.” 

His surprised eyes shot her a look when she readily obliged without uttering a word to counter him which was so unlike the Apurva he knew. 

He kept his lips zipped when she took the glass from his hand, kept it back on the table and touched his forehead with the back of her palm. 

“Taap wadhtoy asa watatay, Khadoos. Ekda check karuya? Ek minute.” She didn’t give him a chance to resist as she put the thermometer in his mouth and fixed her eyes on the clock. 

“102,” she murmured, checking the thermometer. 

“Tula ka itka farak padtoy, Apurva? Taap mala aalay. Dole tuze ka panavtat aahe?” he asked. He had not missed the way her eyes slightly welled up when she looked at the thermometer.  

A part of him was tempted to hold her hand to assure her that it was just a stupid fever that was going to go away in no time. A part of him was tempted to hold her to himself to comfort her aching heart by letting it know that he was going to be alright in no time. 

Not giving in to that temptation was one of the hardest things he had forced himself to do in a long while. 

He still kept his eyes on her though, clearly not willing to miss even the slightest change in her expressions that were being untainted mirrors of her feelings. 

“Tu zop. Mi kitchen madhun thanda pani gheun yete. Tuzya dokyavar tya… pattya thevlya na ki tuza taap bagh utrel patkan. Tu tyach thevlya hotya na mazya dokyavar jevha mala taap hota? Mi aalech. Patkan aale. Tu zop.” 

“Apur-” His call for her stayed incomplete as she rushed out of the room. He closed his eyes, resting his head against the headboard. He hated how ridiculously worked up his fever had gotten her but the divorce matter still held his hands from reaching out to hold her close. 

She had decided to leave him. His mind just couldn’t get over the fact that in a few days – she wouldn’t be in his life… that she wouldn’t be his wife. 

He was going to lose her forever in a few days and the mere idea of it was driving him insane. 

When Apurva returned to the room with the bowl of cold water, she caught him asleep. She placed the bowl on the side table and carefully pulled a chair near the bed. 

She deliberately avoided sitting beside him on the bed, afraid of waking him up. She exhausted the next several minutes keeping the wet cloth on his forehead, sitting back for some seconds, getting up to soak the cloth again, and repeating the process till his fever dropped to 100.

It was only when her eyes reassured themselves by staring at the thermometer for several long moments that she finally sat in her chair to relax. 

Khadoos cha taap utartoy. She didn’t remember when was the last time she had panicked so much upon seeing someone sick.

Her father owned a hospital. She had been there quite often. Sick people. Ill people. Sufferings. Pain. Diseases. She had seen it all and tolerated it very well but her husband’s mere viral fever had landed her in deep distress.

Khadoos. She rested her head on the bed near his hand. 

“Tula itka farak padayla nako, Apurva!”

She hastily straightened herself, hearing his voice. Adjusting her messy hair that hid her vision, she sat back in her chair. She cleared her throat, summoning the courage to look at him. “Tu… tu zopla nahi? Mala watla zopla tu!” 

“Zoplo asto tar mazya bayko chi kalji kashi baghitli asti?” He managed to weakly smile. Since his fever had gone down, he was already feeling better. “Pan kahi divas… pan kahi divas aani mi tuza navra nasnar aahe, Apurva. Tula itka farak padayla nako.“

“Farak tar tula hi padayla nako na, Khadoos. Tuzya phone madhun number kadhun tuzya colleague la phone kela hota mi. Tyanni sangitla mala institute madhe kay zala te. Ka chidlas itka? Ka traas karun ghetlas itka? Netra Tai mala kahi mhanali tar mhanali. Tula itka farak padayla nako. Kahi divas… kahi divas aani mi tuzi bayko nasnar aahe na, Khadoos!” 

After the initial shock faded, he pulled himself into a sitting position. “Tu… kon-ala phone kela hota?”

‘Tyane kahi farak padto?” 

He rested his head against the headboard, staring at his stubborn wife as he silently wondered how she must have gotten to know that something did happen at the institute to call and inquire. 

“Maza phone asa na vicharta waparlela mala aawdat nahi, Apurva!” 

“Mazya navryala mala na vicharta koni traas dilela mala aawdat nahi, Khadoos!”

“Traas tar tu hi detech ki!”

“Tu nahi det?”

“Apurva, mi papers var sahya -“

“Asu de na, Khadoos. Kuthlehi explanations… justifications aahe ti paristhiti badlu shaknar aahe ka? Mag sod na.”

“Tuzi iccha asel tar kadachit badlu hi shaktil…” he said. 

“Aani nasel mazi iccha tar?” 

“Aapla ghatasphot hoil. Kahi divsaant. Tu mazyapasun kayamchi lamb jashil. Kahi divsaant. Tuza Teddy tula zopayla kadhihi tyacha haat deu shaknar nahi. Kahi divsaant. Ratrichya andharat, vijanchya kadkadat.. Khadoos kadhihi Shishta la javal gheun dheer deu shaknar nahi. Kahi divsaant…. Kahi divsaant!“

Her hand fisted the bedsheet as he listed what she was going to lose forever in a couple of days. Scratch that – he listed what he was going to make her lose forever in a couple of days. 

Just once. Why couldn’t he ask her just once if she really wanted a divorce before signing those papers? 

“Why do you always… always believe everyone else over me, Khadoos?” she asked, digging her nails in the bed before roughly pulling her hand to herself. “Kadhi Netra Tai tar kadhi Dr. Anjali… tu ek mi sodun saglyanchya bolnyavar vishwas ka thevtos?” 

He couldn’t break the silence that he had chosen. She couldn’t see that he was feeling guilty for making the choice of signing the divorce papers. For trusting her mother. His heart had already called him out for doing what he had done but his brain still believed that she was equally at fault. 

“Maza chukla nahi asa maza mhannach nahiye, Apurva pan swatala vichar. Yala mi kharach ekta zababdar aahe? Aahe ka, Apurva? Mi-“

He coughed and had to leave his statement incomplete. Alarmed, she was by his side with water within seconds. “Ajibaat bolu nakos aata,” she urged, helping him take a sip. “Aata tula bara nahiye na? Tyamule aapan he bhandan postpone karuya. Jevha tula bara watel… angaat traan asel bhandayla… tevha aapan bhanduya, hmm?” 

His lips parted as he stared at her, utterly amused. “Tula shabda n shabda aathavto tya ratri cha?” Stunned at how perfect she was in repeating the words that he had said to her when she had gotten the fever, he was taken aback, to say the least. 

“Aaplyala watata ki aaplyala sagla kalta, Khadoos pan baryach vela aapan fakt je aaplyala baghaycha asta tech baghat asto. Te jasa aahe tasa nahi… pan rather aaplyala jasa baghaycha asta tasa!” 

Taking her hand off his shoulder, he shifted in his place to create a significant distance between them. “Hech mi tuzya baabtit hi bolu shakto.”

“Tu zoptos ka? Mi tuza doka dabun dete!” 

He sat indifferent when she changed the topic. A part of him wanted to stretch the conversation and make her accept his point but something didn’t let him do it. 

Perhaps, it was the evident exhaustion on her face which he knew was both physical and emotional. 

Perhaps, it was her downcast eyes that were hiding a plethora of emotions in them that he still struggled to decipher. 

Perhaps, it was her fingers that were opening and closing, silently struggling to reach out for his hand but weren’t finding enough courage to touch it. 

Perhaps, it was just her. Deeply hurt by his choice of signing the divorce papers. 

“Tula ek vicharu?” he asked, forwarding his hand toward her without any hesitation and softly holding her fingers in it. “Please nahi mhanu nako. Vicharu de?”

While she stayed silent, her fingers that clutched his hand gave him his answer. 

“Tula aaplyat zalela deal cancel karaycha hota na? Tula aaplyat zalela contract nakosa zala hota na? Tula kayam ithech rahayacha hota na… mazya… I mean aamchya saglyansobat? Mazi bayko mhanun?” Shifting closer, his palm caressed her cheek before it slipped underneath her chin to make her lift her eyes to him. “Tula mala sodun kadhich kuthech jaycha navta aani mhanun tya divorce papers var mi kelelya sahyancha tula itka traas hotoy. Khara ki khota?”

“Khota!” Her stubborn eyes stayed fixed outside the window, choosing not to look at their favorite sight- his eyes – knowing that they were more than capable of hypnotizing her and getting every secret of her heart out of her. 

“Mazyakade baghun uttar de.” He let go of her hand that he was holding and scooped her face in his palms. “Khara ki khota?”

“Khota!” She shut her eyes, not allowing him to do what he was trying to do. “Khota Khota Khota! Kiti vela sangu?” 

“Bas ekach da saang. Fakt mazyakade baghun saang!”  

“Tuza na… taap dokyat gelay, Khadoos. Sangitla na ekda. Ka punha punha tech tech vichartoy?”

“Karan mala mahiti aahe tu khota bolteyes, Apurva! Bayko aahes tu mazi. Navra aahe mi tuza. Khota khota nahi tar khara khara jyala sagla jari kalat nasla tari tyala tyachya baykocha mann kalayla lagla aahe!”

His words persuaded her into opening the eyes that she had shut. “Kharach? Kharach tula kalta maza mann, Khadoos?” asked her agonized self. “Ka kelya mag divorce papers war sahya? Kashya kelya mag divorce papers war sahya?” 

His head fell back as he shut his eyes at the question – the question that he had lost count of how many times it was repeated. 

“Tuzyasathi kahi khaayla aanu ka?” she asked, conveniently moving on from her own question that she probably no longer expected to be answered. 

He quickly straightened himself. “Tu aanshil?” 

She nodded.

“Ja mag. Te divorce papers gheun ye. Aata ya kshani tari fakt tech khaaychi iccha aahe mazi,” he said, gesturing to her to go and get them, “iccha hi aani… garaj hi!” 

“Garaj tula sadhya aaramachi jasta distey, Khadoos. Taap dokyat challay ki kay? Murkhasarkha kahihi badbadtoys tu.” 

“Mi murkhasarkha wagtoy tar tu wag na shahanyasarkhi. Samjun ghe na mala, ekda… please, Apurva?”

Placing her hands on the bed, she let her head fall onto it when her exhausted mind refused to indulge in the sickening divorce topic any longer. 

She was just stealing a moment to breathe and pull herself together. She had certainly not expected him to gently run his hand through her hair so she was bound to be surprised when he did that.

Her brain wanted her to lift her head from the bed and jerk his hand away but her heart wanted her head to stay there forever if that meant being comforted by her favorite hand in existence. His hand. Her Teddy’s hand. Khadoos’s hand.

Like always, in the battle of her brain and heart, her heart managed to defeat its opponent and she quietly let him caress her hair and pat her head without resisting. 

“Thakliyes na?” His tone had softened even more. Gone was the hurt, disappointment, and anger that was dominant inside him till minutes ago when they were arguing back and forth. One glance at her silent suffering and he knew that he did not want to stretch the divorce topic even though it bothered him like no other. “Apurva, tu kahi khalla aahes ki nahi? Tu jevliyes na?” 

“Apurva?” His hand stilled on her head when the possibility of her running around without eating anything unsettled him. “Mi kahitari vichartoy! Tu jevliyes ki nahi?” 

“Mi tuzyasathi soup gheun yete. Babani sangitlelya 2 golya ghyaychya aahe tula. Baba mhanala hota kahitari khaunach ghyaychya aahet tya. Mi yete… patkan banavun gheun yete.” She blabbered, hurriedly getting up from the chair as his mention of food reminded her of his medicines that she had forgotten about in the deep discussion they had dived into. 

Before he could say anything, she had already rushed to the door but abruptly stopped, making him wonder what it was. 

“Pan mala tar soup banavtach yet nahi…”

He would be lying if he said that her plight didn’t hurt his heart. His heart hated the way her eyes moistened upon the realization. 

“Shikun ghyayla hava hota mi.” 

And those were the words that made Shashank Kanitkar fall for his wife all over again. All over again. 

The very fact that she was regretting not learning cooking just because that was holding her back from making soup for him made her husband feel what he would never be able to express in words.  

The feeling was quite familiar to him. Wasn’t it how he had felt about his dancing skills and actually enrolled himself in a dancing institute…. just for her? 

Mhanje… Apurva hi mazya titkyach premaat aahe jitka… mi tichya? Of course, she was. Did he not know that? Even though Abhay’s arrival and Apurva’s mother had almost convinced his brain that Apurva liked Abhay, his heart could never believe that. 

“Mi… Mai la vicharun banavte… nahitar tilach karun magte. Mi prayatna kela aani jar soup bighadla tar vinakaran tuzya aushadhala ushir hoil!”

Her words interrupted his chain of thoughts. “Apurva!” he called, just when she was about to leave the room. “Soup tuch banav. Bighadnar nahi aani jari bighadla tari kahi harkat nahi pan… tuch banav. Tula mazyasathi banvaycha aahe na? Mag tu banav!” 

Her hand grabbed the table beside her as her welled-up eyes warned her to not turn and let him see what he said meant to her but could her heart resist? It was desperate to look at his face, assure and reassure itself that… he meant what he said. 

He quietly watched her standing there for several long seconds, wondering what was going on in her mind before she stepped out of the room. 

Kahi… mhanaycha hota ka Apurva la? He wondered, staring at where she was standing moments ago.

Once she was out of his sight, his mind resumed the topic it had temporarily left. 

Mi tula sangu shaklo nahi, Apuva pan kasa sangnar hoto ki Abhay la pahun honari mazi chidchid mulat chidchid nasun ti bhiti hoti ji mala kahihi suchu det navti. 

How was he supposed to admit to her what he himself had failed to realize when it was happening? Behind the mask of aggression and annoyance stayed the vulnerable insecurities that nobody could see. 

He had seldom bothered about his fashion sense but after Abhay’s arrival, he actually wore what he hadn’t thought in his wildest dream that he would put on himself someday.

Why?

Because he thought that if he did that, then he would be able to reduce the chances of his wife leaving him and going to Abhay. 

His whole struggle of proving himself to be better than Abhay went unnoticed by everyone. Neither was his struggle noticed nor his desperation.  

It wasn’t until the Ganpati Visarjan day when Amey sent him a video that not just left him stunned but also grief-stricken.  

His gaze traveled around, looking for his phone and he caught it near his leg. He pushed his weak body forward to bend and pull the phone to himself.  

It took him merely ten seconds to find his favorite video from the gallery and as he played it again, his lips smiled while his eyes cried.  

Aani maghashi Khadoos var salgech hasle na. Tyacha pan mood off zala asel. Tyala asa sodun…mi baher firayla jana… possible ch nahi aahe mazyasathi. Chidu nakos haan, Abhya, please. Tu ekta jau shakshil?

He even remembered Amey telling him how Apurva had refused to go out with Abhay right as they stepped out of the Wada. Amey who had gone after Apurva to actually ask her to stay back and talk to Shashank was mildly surprised upon seeing that Apurva had no such plans in the first place. 

Recording a small part of Apurva-Abhay’s conversation had come naturally to Amey, having seen his brother’s annoyance toward the bond Apurva and Abhay shared. 

Aani maghashi Khadoos var salgech hasle na. 

Tyacha pan mood off zala asel. 

Tyala asa sodun…mi baher firayla jana… possible ch nahi aahe mazyasathi.

He hadn’t been able to get over his wife’s words. He had tried to apologize for misunderstanding her and signing the divorce papers but she had refused to entertain his justification. It was when she brought Netra into the conversation and taunted him that he signed the divorce papers because he wanted to marry Netra… he lost it and decided to keep away from her because he believed that neither she was going to listen to him nor she was going to stay with him. 

Protecting his heart by acting distant was what his rational mind had chosen, not realizing that rationality and matters of heart didn’t go hand in hand. 

Startled, he hurriedly closed the video and kept his phone aside when Apurva walked in and placed the soup bowl beside him. “Mai ni banavla aahe. Thanda vhaychya aat pi. Mi aaushadha baghte!”

She pushed the bowl a little closer to him before turning to get the medicines but before she could go, he held her wrist. 

“Mi tula mhatla hota na tu banav mhanun…” 

“Tula sadhya bara nahi aahe, Khadoos. Ugach mi kahi gadbad keli aani tyamule tuzi aankhi tabyet bighadli tar te mala nahi chalnar. Nantar kadhitari banvel mi tuzyasathi tula hava asel tar.”

“Nantar? Nantar kashi banavshil? Tu tar challiye na… mala sodun… kayamchi? Aaplya divorce nantar tu mazyasathi kahihi… ka karshil?”

She freed her hand from his hold. “Parat parat toch vishay kadhna garjecha aahe? Aata tu soup var focus kar, Khadoos aaplya divorce var nahi!” 

“Maza focus divorce var nahich aahe, Apurva… tuzyavar aahe!”

She sighed, turning back toward him. “Tu soup pitoys ki mi gheun jau?” 

“Tu jashil gheun? Tula chalnar aahe mi upashi zoplela?” 

Ugh! She hated how well he had come to understand her. 

“Tula mahiti aahe na nahi chalnar mhanun? Mag pi na chupchap. Kashala traas detoys?” 

“Chal nahi det traas,” he said, pulling a pillow on his lap and placing the soup bowl on it, “tu tuzya jevnacha taat gheun ye. Sobat jevu!”

“Mi jevliye, Khadoos. Tu soup pi!” 

“Tula mahiti aahe mala khota bollela aawdat nahi, Apurva!” 

“Mi khara boltey. Mi jevliye.” 

“Tu khota bolteyes. Tu… nahi jevliyes!” 

“Tu itka sure kasa aahes?” 

“Tula nahi kalnar. Tu ja aani taat gheun ye patkan. Mi tula he soup ch bharavla asta pan mala mahiti aahe tula soup aawdat nahi mhanun ja… tuza taat gheun ye.” 

“Eka ativar!” she said, folding her hands across her chest.  

“Manya!” He blinked in assurance even before hearing her condition. “Saglya ati manya!” 

“Mi taat gheun yete pan tu toparyant soup pi. Mi bas aalech!” 

*

“KHADOOS! Tu manya keli hoti na mazi at?” She bawled when she found the soup bowl untouched when she returned with a plate that had only Varan-Bhaat. “Soup thanda pan zala asel.”

“Asu de, mala tuzyasobat jevaycha hota,” he whispered, taking her plate and putting it on the bed, “ye… bas na!”

Her heart melted the way he revealed how he didn’t mind drinking the cold soup and all that mattered to him was having it with her. How was she supposed to resist those eyes that were shimmering with a palpable honesty? 

“Give me two minutes. Mi patkan soup parat garam karun aante!” 

She had almost gotten her hands on the bowl when he held them. “Kharach nako aahe, Apurva. Fakt tu havi aahe. Bastes? Please?”

She quietly sat on the bed, taking the soup bowl in her hands, completely ignoring her own food plate like it did not even exist. 

He sat stunned when she held a spoonful of soup near his lips, gesturing with her eyes for him to have it. 

Mi gheto. Tu tuza jev na was what he was about to say but scrapped the plan and let her feed him while mixing the Varan-Bhaat in her plate. 

Before she could put another spoon in his mouth, he held a spoonful of Varan-Bhaat in front of her. It was then she realized that she was so lost in him that she did not even realize when he mixed Varan-Bhaat. 

Clearly, she wasn’t lying when she had confessed to her Kukki Gang back then when Shashank used to teach her that focusing on anything else when he was in front of her was hard.

“Aadhi tu soup pi, Khadoos. Tula golya ghyaychya aahe. Mi jevel nantar,” she said, pushing the spoon near his lips. 

Not willing to trouble her, he opened his mouth but did not take down his hand that was still waiting to feed her. “Mi pitoch aahe. Tu ghe. Tu mala bharav. Mi tula bharavto. Tasahi… tu thodech divas aahes mazyabarobar. Nantar kuthe mala asa… tuzya sobat… tuzya haatane…” His voice trailed off as her firm decision of divorce rang in his ears.

Staring at his downcast eyes made Apurva realize that she wasn’t the only one whose heart was breaking. There was someone else too who was struggling to come to terms with the tragedy of the loss. The loss of the beautiful relationship they had carefully nurtured together. 

She was forced to keep aside her thoughts when she caught his wet eyelashes. Blinking back her own tears, she focused on making her husband drink the soup that he didn’t seem much bothered about. 

“Nako. Bas. Ajun… nako!” He resisted when he saw the spoon near his lips again. 

“Ka nako? Ajun ardha jast soup baki aahe aani he tula purna finish karavach lagnar aahe.” 

He couldn’t help but smile as the authoritative tone of Apurva was back in action. “Hi order hoti ka dhamki?” 

“Donhi samaj hava tar,” she said, pushing the spoon in his mouth that he had opened to say something, “Khadoos, divorce hoil tevha hoil pan jo paryant hot nahi to paryant mi bayko aahe tuzi. To paryant tari tula maza mhanana rather orders and dhamkis like how you just confessed you see them… aikavach lagel!” 

She chuckled before he fed her another spoonful of Varan-Bhaat. 

He kept the spoon on the plate upon seeing a bit of rice at the corner of her lips. 

“Khadoos?” she asked when he leaned aside and pulled the drawer of the side table open. “Kay shodhtoys?” Curious, she watched him pull out a handkerchief from the drawer. 

As he started wiping her lips clean with the handkerchief, she sat amused. 

“Mala mahiti nahi tula yacha andaaz aahe ki nahi pan tu jevha… ha asa hakka gajavtes mazyavar… swatala mazi bayko mhantes, mala… tuza navra mhantes… goshti ashya thaam bajavun sangtes… aawadta mala!” He kept the handkerchief aside and lifted the plate again. “Aani aikaycha mhanashil tar… that is something that I wish to do for the rest of my life, Apurva. Regardless of if you believe it or not… regardless of if you accept it or not, I… want to stay with you… till the very end of me.” 

“Khup mothya goshti boltoys, Khadoos!” she said, pushing another spoonful of soup into his mouth. Though his sudden confession warmed her heart, she had learned the hard way that she wasn’t supposed to trust his words. 

“Mi fakt kharya goshti boltoy, Apurva. Haan, tuza tyavar vishwas basna kathin asu shakta pan mi… manapasun boltoy!” 

Those were the last words that their room heard as she gestured to him to keep quiet and have the soup. He did the same. Letting words have some rest, they chose to fill each others’ stomachs and hearts, both. Stomachs with food and hearts with… unsaid but unquestionably evident love. 

Once they were done, she handed him the medicines and stood there till he took them. 

“Tu zop. Mi plate thevun yete,” she informed, making him lay down and covering him with the blanket. Her palm went to his forehead on its own accord. “KHADOOS.” She was quick to panic upon realizing that the fever was increasing again. 

Unlike the previous time, he held her hand and gently patted it. “Taap parat chadhtoy, mahiti aahe mala pan golya ghetlyay na mi aata? Utrel taap. Tu kalji karu nako.” 

“Asa kasa… thamb mi Suva-Aai la bolvun aante.” 

“Apurva…” He didn’t let go of her hand when she tried to rush out. “Konalahi bolvaychi garaj nahi aahe. Zopu de saglyanna aani… tu hi zop.” 

She placed the plate on the table and sat on the bed, postponing the plan of going downstairs to wash the plates. Her heart didn’t agree to leave him alone even for a moment. 

His surprised self looked at her when her hands were back to gently massaging his forehead. “Kay karteyes? Tu plate thevayla jaat hotis na?” 

“Jaail mi nantar. Tu zopaycha prayatna kar. Mi doka dabun dete. Bara watel tula!”

“Apurva… mi sangitla na mi thik aahe mhanun? Ek ardhya taasat taap utrel suddha. Tu itki ka…”

“Ghabartes?” She completed his question, leaning against the headboard as she made herself a little more comfortable as if planning to spend the whole night sitting beside him. “Mansa sodun jaychi savay nahi zaliye mala ajun, Khadoos. Vhaayla havi pan nahi zaliye mhanun mazya mansanna zara jari kahi zala ki mala bhiti watate. It is irrational and lame, I know but… can’t help it!” 

He simply listened to her sharing something about her that he wasn’t aware of. Even though a part of him wanted to say something to comfort her, he stayed quiet as if he sensed that she was not done yet.

And he was right. She wasn’t done yet. 

“When we returned here and Dr. Anjali Vartak aka my mother chose to stay there, abandoning her only daughter… for a long time… for a long time, I actually believed that it had got something to do with me. As if it was my fault. As if… I wasn’t worthy of my own mother’s love,” she added. Her voice had turned heavy by the time she revealed one of the most intimate insecurities she had dealt with. 

“Kititari divas rather aathavde rather mahine… actually varsha… I don’t know… mala asa wataycha that something is wrong with me. Satat wataycha ki mi… waaiit aahe. Itaki waaiit… itaki waaiit jicha konachyach premavar hakka nahiye…”

“Apurva…” he helplessly murmured as she voiced that out which brought memories rushing back to him. The memories that he would give up anything to erase! 

The memories of the times when he had made her feel that she wasn’t worthy of being loved. It didn’t matter that things changed… that he changed. He still had no escape from the guilt that returned to consume him every now and then.

“But I was wrong, Khadoos. I… was wrong. Aani tula mahitiye he mala ya gharat aalayarach realize zala! Mhanje bagh na… Dr. Anjali sobat mala wataycha ki mazyaat kahitari problem aahe. Tuzyasobat hi mala barech vela watlay that… I am not good enough but at the same time… ya gharatlyansobat mala kayam asach watlay that not just I am good enough but in fact, way more than just good enough.” 

He brought her hand down from his forehead to his chest and held it near his heart. 

“That was when I actually realized that I can’t decide my worth based on other people’s opinions because if I did that, I’ll be miserable, Shashank.” 

He shifted his head as his surprised eyes shot her a glance. He didn’t remember when he heard her call him Shashank last, making him feel that it was perhaps the most mature side of Apurva that was in front of him that night. 

She was serious and he could feel it. 

“Mhanun divorce manya kelaay mi… tyacha kitihi traas hot asla tarihi karan aapan zabardasti konala aaplyavar prem karayla nahi lavu shakat. Tuza mazyavar prem nahiye aani-“

“Jar asel tar?”

“Haan?”

“Jar maza tuzyavar prem asel tar? Thambshil? Ya gharat? Rahshil? Mazya aayushyat? Kaymachi? Mazi… bayko banun? Khadoos chi… Shishta banun? Teddy chi… Bahuli banun? Boyfriend Shashank Kanitkar chi Girlfriend Apurva Vartak Kanitkar banun? Shashank chi… Apurva banun? Rahshil… mazi banun?”

“Pan aapla tar divorce hotoy na? I bet Dr. Anjali Vartak aaplyala court paryant odhat netil. Tila aapla divorce hava mhanje hava aahe. Tyasathi kahihi karel ti.”

He laughed. “Court paryant odhat neil? Neu de ki mag. Tu kashala kalji kartes? Tuza boyfriend aahe ki tula tithun palvun nyayla tyachyasobat!”

She giggled, turning off the night lamp that was the only source of light in the room. “Sincere Shashank Kanitkar being Rowdy Shashank Kanitkar? Palavun and all?” 

“Band ka kelas? Purna andhar zaalay. Tula bhiti watate na?” he asked, startled by her choice of willingly choosing darkness. 

“Mala kadhitari konitari mhanala hota ki joparyant to mazyasobat aahe, mala kashalahi ghabraychi garaj nahiye.” 

“E-ek minute! Tula he kasa mahit? Tu tya ratri zopli navtis?” 

“Sleep, Khadoos!” She patted his forehead when she caught his struggle of keeping his eyes open that had been going on for a while but she had missed it, having gotten sucked into the pain of her past. 

It was his fever and the medicines that must have gotten him drowsy, she knew. It was anyway late, she realized as she glanced at the wall clock striking 1 a.m.

She smiled as she stared at her husband who had already dozed off. Her hand carefully caressed his hair, making sure not to disturb his sleep. 

She pressed her lips on his forehead recalling the beautiful confessions and questions he had made minutes ago.

Rahshil… mazi banun?

“Rahil… tuzi banun,” she whispered to his sleeping self, making a silent promise to their relationship that she would protect it from everything and everyone who would dare to harm it then be it her cousin, her mother, or her own fate. 

Do share your reading experience in the comment section. <3