LOVE & LOVE Only

The aroma of filter coffee, a constant in our South Indian household, was stronger than usual that morning. Dad was already on a conference call, his voice a low rumble that vibrated through the house, while Mom bustled around the kitchen, her bangles jangling a familiar tune. Vinay, my older brother, was probably still asleep, the lucky so-and-so. He was living the Bangalore dream, or so it seemed. I, Vishal, was a chip off the old block, following Vinay's path right into the heart of the IT world. Now, I was about to join him in Bangalore, a city that felt a world away from our sleepy little town. Vinay was 28, a seasoned software engineer, and I was 24, a fresh recruit, my excitement tinged with a bit of anxiety. Vinay had a flat, a bachelor pad, whereas I was going to be in a men's hostel, a typical rite of passage for southern IT workers. Vinay’s life, though, had its undercurrents. Beneath the veneer of a successful techie, there was a recklessness. The word "girlfriend" was often uttered in plural, and late-night parties were a regular occurrence. Then came the arrest. A drug raid, a night in jail, a phone call that sent shivers down our spines. We managed to use our friend's father's influence to get him out, a deeply unsettling experience for all of us. The compromise was expensive, both financially and emotionally.My parents, deeply traditional and shaken by the incident, decided marriage was the best solution. They arranged for him to marry Anasooya, a demure, sweet girl who, they believed, would bring stability into his life. Vinay, naturally, was resistant. He was still hung up on his old girlfriend, a fact that sent my parents into further despair. The wedding was a somber affair, a forced alliance that nobody seemed particularly happy about.Soon after the wedding, Vinay got an onsite project in Germany, an escape he seemed to welcome. Anasooya was left behind in Bangalore, a city she was as new to as I was. She was also a techie, but her office was in Kochi, so she worked from home, practically home-arrested. I felt a pang of sympathy for her. Their relationship was tense, a stark contrast to the easy intimacy of my parents' marriage.Anasooya was quiet and composed, a woman who carried her burdens with a stoic silence.Then, the world turned upside down. The COVID-19 pandemic hit, sweeping across the globe like awildfire. India announced a nationwide lockdown, plunging the country into chaos. My men’s hostel was closing down indefinitely. As the news broke, Dad called me, his voice firm and concerned. I had to shift to Vinay’s flat; Anasooya was all alone there, and they wanted me to look out for her.So, I packed my meager belongings and headed to Vinay’s flat, a place I knew only from the occasional phone call. It was a small two-bedroom apartment, filled with the stark, masculine energy I associated with my brother. But there was also a sense of quiet orderliness, a feminine touch, undoubtedly Anasooya's influence.I found Anasooya in the living room, her face pale but composed, her fingers flying over the keyboard of her laptop. She greeted me with a polite smile, her eyes holding a trace of something I couldn't quite decipher - a blend of resignation and perhaps, a flicker of hope. As I settled in, the reality of our situation began to sink in. I, the younger brother, was now responsible for looking after my sister-in-law, a woman who was practically a stranger. We were confined to that small flat, two souls caught in the middle of a global crisis and a family drama that felt increasingly complex. The filter coffee, for now, was the only constant. The rest, I knew, was about to change. I didn't know where this new chapter would lead, but I knew, deep down, that it would be far from ordinary.The chipped mug warmed my hands, but not my soul. The lukewarm coffee tasted like ash, a fitting metaphor for the past month. Vinay, hunched over his laptop across our tiny kitchen table, typed with the ruthless efficiency of someone utterly unburdened by heartbreak. He was the opposite of me, a perpetual motion machine humming with productivity, while I felt like a discarded battery.It was ironic, really. For four years, through countless late-night study sessions and awkward hallway encounters, I’d avoided moving in with Vinay. It wasn’t because I disliked him; we were good friends, even if our personalities were as different as oil and water. No, I’d clung to the sterile comfort of the hostel, the shared bathrooms and paper-thin walls, all for the nocturnal symphony of phone calls with Sarah.Sarah. Just the name was a dull ache in my chest. We’d been inseparable for two years, our relationship a secret garden bloom of late-night whispers and stolen moments. Four years of engineering classes together, yet I'd only confessed my feelings after graduation, terrified of jeopardizing the fragile equilibrium of our friendship. Those late-night calls, the ones that stretched into the early hours of the morning, they were precious to me, a lifeline in a world that otherwise felt mundane.They were also a secret, a secret I guarded fiercely. My family, conservative and unwavering in their traditions, wouldn’t have approved of my relationship with Sarah, a girl from another religion. So, the hostel was my sanctuary, the neutral ground where I could be both their son and Sarah’s lover. But destiny, that capricious beast, had other plans. One month ago, Sarah had ended things. There was no dramatic showdown, no grand betrayal, just a quiet, heartbreaking admission that we were on different paths. The pain that followed was unlike anything I’d ever experienced. I felt like I was drowning in a sea of grief, each breath a struggle. I was on the precipice, teetering on the edge of depression. My psychologist, a kind woman with gentle eyes, suggested I surround myself with more positive influences, a happier environment. As if that was easy. I'd tried walking in the park, I'd attempted to take up yoga, but the overwhelming sadness clung to me like a persistent cough. Then, just when I thought things couldn't get any worse, the world went into lockdown. Covid hit, and suddenly, the hostel was a ghost town, its doors locked, its inhabitants scattered to their various homes. I had nowhere else to go but Vinay’s flat. The place I had so meticulously avoided was now my prison. The silence in the 2BHK flat was thick, a blanket woven from unspoken anxieties and unacknowledged sadness. It was just me, Vinay, a perpetually restless soul trying to outrun the shadow of depression, and Anasooya, my sister-in-law, a quiet, almost ethereal presence who seemed to carry the weight of the world on her delicate shoulders.My psychologist’s voice, crackling through the phone during our weekly sessions, had become a lifeline. "Stay safe, Vinay," she’d urged, "and try to connect with Anasooya. Building relationships can be apowerful tool against isolation.” Easier said than done, I thought. I had tried, making stilted attempts at conversation, but each time, Anasooya’s sad, downcast gaze would extinguish any spark of enthusiasm I managed to conjure. She retreated further into her shell, and I, defeated, would retreat into the digital abyss of my phone.Anasooya wasn't much of a cook. Her meals were functional but lacked any real flavor. As a hostel boy, I was used to surviving on questionable fare, so I ate them without complaint, my stomach a seasoned veteran in the battle of blandness. One evening, while aimlessly scrolling through YouTube, a thumbnail caught my eye – a cheerful fellow, wielding a spatula and a wide grin, under the title "Bachelor Cook: Simple Recipes for the Stressed and Starving." The idea sparked like a tiny flame in the dimness of my mood. With lockdown restrictions still in place, I ordered the necessary groceries online and, with a newfound sense of purpose, decided to try my hand at a simple dal tadka.The aroma filled the flat, a welcome change from the usual quiet. When I hesitantly offered Anasooya a plate, she took it with a wary glance. After a few tentative bites, she looked up, her eyes widened slightly, a hint of a smile playing on her lips. "I am a far better cook than you, Vinay," she said, a genuine chuckle escaping her lips. The sound, however brief, was like a melody to my ears. This was the first time I'd seen her laugh, and the impact was profound, a small victory in my silent war.The next day, the silence returned, but this time, it was different, laced with a heavy, unsettling lethargy. Anasooya was feverish, coughing, her face flushed. The dreaded news came swiftly – COVID-19. A wave of panic washed over me, but amidst the fear, a sense of responsibility emerged. Anasooya was confined to her room, isolated and vulnerable. I stepped up, the hostel boy, now the caretaker. I meticulously followed the doctor's instructions, armed with a thermometer, a box of paracetamol, and a newfound resolve. I cleaned, cooked (my newfound cooking skills put to good use), and made sure her needs were met.The doctor, during his visit, was reassuring yet firm. "Seven days of strict isolation," he’d said, "Plenty of rest and fluids. You'll need to be her support, Vinay." So I was. I'd leave plates of home-cooked concoctions outside her door, trying to infuse some cheer into the situation. I'd tell her about the day, my voice sometimes faltering with exhaustion, but always trying to maintain a level of positivity. The flat, once a silent battleground of unspoken sadness, was now filled with the clatter of pots and pans and the rhythmic sound of my footsteps, moving between the kitchen and her room.The seven days stretched into a blur. Gone was the introverted girl, replaced by a fragile patient relying on me. The irony wasn't lost on me, the depressed boy, now a beacon of stability and support. The silence was different now, filled with the unspoken understanding of shared vulnerability instead of the awkwardness of strangers. We were no longer just two people sharing a flat; we were now bound by a shared experience, a silent understanding built on the foundations of illness, laughter, and a bowl of surprisingly good dal tadka. And as I navigated the unfamiliar territory of caregiver, I realized that sometimes, escaping depression wasn't about running away, but about finding connection, even in the most unexpected places. The road ahead was uncertain, but for once, I didn't feel quite so alone. The insistent chirping of my phone dragged me from sleep at 6:00 AM sharp. Seven days. Seven long days of this carefully choreographed dance, dictated by a virus and a well-meaning psychologist. My life had become a bizarre routine ever since Anasooya, my flatmate, tested positive for COVID-19. I swung my legs over the side of the bed, the floor cool under my bare feet. The fear, a constant companion these past days, lurked in the back of my mind. Could I have it too? The doctor had warned that the proximity made it likely, hence the strict isolation measures.First, the yoga. Deep breaths, stretching limbs, trying to center myself in this strange, isolating world. My therapist had suggested it, a way to manage the anxiety blooming in my chest. "Routine is your friend," she’d said. It felt more like a jailer, but I went through the motions, the familiar poses a small comfort.Next, the cleaning. Every surface, wiped down with disinfectant. It felt like a constant battle against an invisible enemy. Then came the cooking. I was no chef, but I’d learned to whip up some basic, nutritious meals. Today, it was dal and rice. I plated two portions, carefully placing one in front of Anasooya’s door, a silent offering to the woman sequestered inside. A soft knock, and then I retreated, returning to the kitchen to eat silently alone.Work from home had become a surreal experience. Days blurred together, a monotonous cycle of emails, video calls, and the constant hum of my laptop. The silence of the apartment was deafening, punctuated only by the occasional muffled cough from Anasooya’s room. I missed her presence, the small sounds of everyday life that had once been our shared soundtrack.Evenings were the most peculiar. We’d sit on opposite sides of the dividing wall, our backs to it, and talk. A strange, disembodied conversation. It was another of the psychologist's "techniques," aimed at maintaining a connection without risking further exposure."Anasooya," I began tonight, my voice a little too loud in the quiet room, "are you an introvert?" A pause. Then, her voice, a little muffled through the plasterboard. “Not actually.” I frowned, thinking of her quiet demeanor, the way she often kept to herself even before this. “But mostly I didn’t see you talking much.”"Well," she replied, the tone thoughtful, "if other people are not there to speak with me. then what can I do?"Her words hung in the air, a revelation. It wasn't that she didn't want to talk, it was that she needed someone to engage. And I realized, with a pang of guilt, that maybe I hadn't been that person. I had always seen her as quiet and reserved, never thinking that maybe she was simply waiting to be invited in. I sat there, staring at the wall, the silence filled with the weight of my realization. Being separated by a wall made me see myself and her with clarity. This wasn't just about avoiding a virus; it was about finally seeing the person on the other side of it."So," I continued, a new lightness in my voice, "maybe when this is over, we should talk more. Actually talk.""I'd like that," she responded, her voice carrying a hint of a smile.Another silence fell, but this time, it was different. It was comfortable, tinged with hope and a quiet understanding. The wall still separated us, but somehow, it didn't feel quite so impenetrable anymore. I thought about the next six days, and then, finally, of the day when neither of us would need to sit on separate sides of a wall, and I realized this isolating experience had somehow created something new between us. Maybe isolation wouldn’t feel quite so isolating after all.DAY 2Day two began with my usual yoga routine, the sun not quite up. After stretching and breathing, I moved to the kitchen, focusing on creating something palatable - Upma. It wasn’t my usual, but she needed something easy on the stomach. I placed the plate and her medicines in front of her door, and we began our odd, wall-separated breakfast.“Dear brother-in-law,” she said, her voice a little raspy from the illness, “I think due to this covid, I’ve lost my sense of taste.”“Is it?” I asked, a little concerned. “Don’t worry, it’ll come back.”“No, no,” she quickly corrected, “I mean, this Upma tastes very good, that’s why I said that.” “Oh, shit,” I blurted, immediately regretting it.She surprised me by laughing, a genuine, bright sound that echoed in the quiet house. “So, you can talk and laugh, right?” I teased.“Yeah, I’m a human,” she quipped, “hailing from the great Homo sapiens family. But for me to talk, the other person talking to me also has to consider me a human, too.”“Hmm,” I mumbled, a smile playing on my lips. “By the way, take those two tablets after the food.” “Okay. By the way, thank you, Vishal.”“For what?”“For the food and the care…”“Oh, is it? Then I should also say thank you to you.” “Why?”“Well, I thought it would be a bad idea to come here and live, because I saw you as an introvert, and I didn't want to be in a big house filled with silence. ”“So, is it okay now?”“Of course. And if you’re going to say thank you for everything, it’ll get awkward.” “Haha, okay.”The day went by with work from home, lunch of Kanji, evening tea, and dinner of chapathi and tomato curry. We even had a power cut, forcing us to rely on candlelight. The flickering flame danced on the wall as we spoke, separated again by that strange barrier.“Vishal, can I ask you something?” she said her voice taking on a curious tone. “Oh, yes,” I responded, leaning against the wall.“When the doctor was speaking to you, while taking precautionary steps to not get affected by Covid, he asked, ‘Do you take any medicine?’ and you mumbled something in his ear. What was it?”“Mumbled?” I asked, trying to remember. “Yeah.”“I don’t remember, didi,” I said. “Are you sure?”“Yeah.”“I believe you,” she stated simply. “Yeah,” I mumbled,“Belief is a big thing,” she mused. We fell silent for a minute.“I’m sorry,” I said quietly. “No problem.”“It’s Citalopram (Cipramil),” I confessed. “Means what?”“It’s an anti-depressant.” “What?” she asked, a hint of alarm in her voice. “Please cool down. I'll tell you later.”“No, no. Tell me now.” She was surprisingly demanding.“Okay, I’m suffering from mild depression, and now I’m under the consultation of a psychologist for the past three months, and she prescribed that medicine. But no one else knows about it; now you are the third person after the doctor. So, please, keep it a secret.”“Okay, you can trust me,” she said softly, “But you are young, happy-going, educated, employed. How can you be?”"So what? Depression is a psychological issue. ” “But the reason?”Suddenly, the power came back, flooding the room with light. "I'll tell you later. You go and have a shower; I’ll get the food ready. I have to make a phone call.”“Okay.”“Don’t forget the medicine, please.” “Okay, okay.”I called my doctor, and she told me it was good to share things with someone I trusted. She also reminded me that yoga was helpful for stress and added, "If someone around is there the best option is talking and if no one is there then some other ways also there."Confused, I asked, “What other ways?”She lowered her voice and said, “As a doctor, I shouldn’t say it, but as a friend, I can say it: masturbation is a stress reliever.”"Oh ok doctor. i understand ". I hung up the phone.When I came back, Anasooya had finished dinner. The plates were outside, and the room was dark. I felt a strange warmth spreading through me.DAY 3The aroma of puttu and kadala, a testament to my improving culinary skills, hung in the air. Anasooya, her eyes sparkling with amusement, finished her breakfast. “Vishal,” she said, her voice a soft melody, "or should I say, Vishu?"A warmth spread through me. "Vishu," I confirmed, a grin tugging at my lips. "Thank you," I added, appreciating her approval. "Between," she continued, her tone turning playful, "don't forget the promise you made yesterday." My heart skipped a beat. Feigning ignorance, I chuckled, "What promise? I don't remember."Her smile hinted at her knowing better. "See? Don't make me angry. Remember what your doctor said? About sharing things?"The doctor’s words echoed in my mind: "Sharing your feelings is crucial for healing, Vishal. It's a form of therapy." He had also, rather awkwardly, added, "And don't be afraid to share… other things too.""Yes," I mumbled, a blush creeping up my neck. "The doctor… he said… other hot things also. Yeah, Madam, I'll tell you… in the evening session."The day melted into a blur of work-from-home tasks, punctuated by a healthy lunch of kanji. As darkness fell, a familiar power cut plunged us into silence. The flickering candlelight cast long shadows as I found myself sitting outside Anasooya's room, my heart pounding a rhythm against my ribs. She emerged, settling on the opposite side of the small space."So," I began, my voice barely a whisper, feeling the weight of unspoken words. "You want to hear it? Are you sure?""How many times do I have to tell you?" she replied, her voice firm yet gentle. "I have to hear it."The candlelight danced in her eyes, reflecting a depth of emotion I hadn't fully understood until now. My story, a tale of heartbreak and healing, of stumbling through grief and rediscovering hope, tumbled out. It wasn't just about sharing the past; it was about sharing myself, my vulnerability, my hopes for the future—a future I suddenly envisioned with her by my side. Kochi. A city of dreams, where love sometimes blooms unexpectedly.Okay, here's the story based on your prompt, incorporating the twist at the end:My sister-in-law, Anasooya, leaned forward, her eyes sparkling with curiosity. I chuckled, ready to finally share a story I usually kept locked away. “You know, my first real crush was Zarah,” I began.Zarah was… unexpected. Short, yes, but with this incredible, fiery spirit. In college, she’d been the 100- meter champion, a blur of motion and determination. I, on the other hand, was the quintessential hosteller, surrounded by friends, always cracking jokes, romance a distant afterthought. Zarah was a day scholar, and our paths rarely crossed except for the most basic of greetings. Yet, she quietly intrigued me.Years later, after college, I found myself at a startup in Kochi. One evening, out of the blue, Zarah messaged me, needing help with some coding. We met over coffee, and the exchange of ideas was effortless. Those coffee breaks became a regular thing, soon filled with laughter and shared secrets. One evening, a friend spotted us. “Hey, are you two dating?” he’d teased, and I’d laughed it off, claiming we were "just friends." But as days bled into weeks, I started seeing her differently. Our late-night chats became the highlight of my day. We talked about everything - family, jobs, life's little absurdities.Finally, I called my friend, pouring out my feelings. “I think I like her. Should I tell her?” He'd urged me to be direct. Hesitation warred with hope, but I finally messaged Zarah, "Zarah, I think I’m developing feelings for you. What do you feel?"Her reply was swift. “Let’s meet tomorrow at the coffee shop.” The next day, my heart hammered in my chest as I waited. She walked in, a playful smirk dancing on her lips. “What a small mind you peoplehave. A girl shows a little comfort and you think she has feelings?”My stomach dropped. I felt like running, but before I could, she added, “Not all girls are the same. Some feel the same way too. Like me.”I was elated. I jumped up, my joy spilling over. “Hey, control yourself!” she said, her laughter ringing in my ears. That day marked the beginning of our love story – endless phone calls, silly teasing, spontaneous bike rides became our norm.Then, the bike trip to Ooty. “I know what you’re planning,” she’d smirked, but eventually, she agreed. We left Kochi at 10 am, the wind our companion. By 4 pm, we were in Ooty. She spotted a café that caught her eye. “Remember? It all started with coffee," she teased."Yeah, but I was just 'a friend' then," I replied, a grin spreading across my face. The romantic music in the background set the mood. We explored Ooty, laughing and enjoying every moment. As night fell, we checked into a resort. I was nervous.We entered the room, and I suggested she get fresh up, we had travelled for 6 - 7 hours. After that, we went to the restaurant for dinner. And surprise, I had arranged a candle light dinner. She was surprised and hugged me and kissed me on the cheeks. After dinner, back in the room it was just us. I promised, “Don’t worry, I won’t touch you without your permission.”She hugged me tightly. “For now, just keep this,” she whispered, kissing my cheek. I responded, our hearts racing in that moment. We fell asleep wrapped in each other’s warmth. That was the moment I realised that we crossed a threshold.Love had found us. Two ordinary people navigating an extraordinary start. That trip was not just the beginning of us, but a beautiful journey.Suddenly, Anasooya stopped me, her brow furrowed. “Hey, Vishal, do you think I’m dumb enough to believe all this?”I blinked. “Why? I’m telling the truth.”“Sorry, it’s hard to digest. Even my friends have told me stories like this, but those stories are a bit steamy. So, I’m finding it hard to believe.” I chuckled. “Ha ha.” "Why are you laughing?""Who told you that nothing happened? I haven't finished the story." “But you said you both just slept, right?”“Yeah, but the trip’s not over yet, madam.” “Oh! Then continue please.”"Yeah, physical sex happened yesterday, and then we came back home." "Hey, explain it!"“See, I can’t.” “Why?”“Why? Because you’re my sister-in-law! If my brother finds out I'm telling you these things, he will kill me.”Anasooya’s face twisted into anger. “Your brother, shit! I hope that man is with his girlfriend in Germany.”“What?”“Yeah, he’s not coming back. They are in a live-in relationship over there.” “What?”“I’ll tell you later. Now, please consider me as your friend and tell me.” “But…”“Please, leave that for now and tell me the rest of the story in detail.” Ok I continued the story.The morning in Ooty was crisp and cool, a stark contrast to the humid heat we’d left behind. We’d woken up with the sun streaming through the gaps in the curtains, painting stripes across our bed. After a leisurely walk through the mist-kissed hills, we found a cozy little café and devoured platefuls of idli and sambar, the warmth chasing away the morning chill. Back in the resort room, the quiet settled around us like a comfortable blanket.“Okay,” I said, checking my watch. “So, we need to leave by 1 PM to reach home by 7 PM. That gives us three to four hours. What do you wanna do?” The question hung in the air, a little too innocent, even to my own ears. Zarah turned from where she was admiring the view from the balcony. Her eyes, dark and sparkling, scanned my face, a mischievous glint playing in their depths. "Vishal," she said slowly, her voice a low purr, "are you acting like an extra decent boy, or are you actually an extra decent guy?”My brow furrowed. "Why? What happened?" I was genuinely confused. Was I not being myself?She laughed, a melodious sound that made my chest tighten. “No, I mean, after all the effort you put in to bring me here, you haven’t even tried to be naughty. Not even a little.”I blinked. “Well, you did say, Zarah, ‘don’t touch me without permission,’ remember?” I’d been so careful, so mindful of her boundaries, I'd probably walked the line of being a complete prude.Her eyes widened dramatically. "I didn't say that. You said that you wouldn't touch me without permission." Her tone was playful, but there was an undeniable current beneath the surface."Yeah, but... both are the same, right?" I stammered, feeling myself getting lost in her labyrinth of logic. "No, not the same!" she exclaimed, her laughter bubbling over."Means what then?" I asked, the confusion clear in my voice."Oh, so you are an exact fool guy," she teased, stepping closer, a conspiratorial smile gracing her lips. “That means...?” I prompted, my heart hammering against my ribs.“That means…” she paused, drawing out the moment. "I think so," She finally said, her voice barely a whisper, a playful challenge in her eyes.And that was all it took. The realization, the unspoken desire simmering beneath the surface, finally broke free. I bolted the door with a resounding click, a sudden surge of adrenaline coursing through my veins. She was right there, a breathtaking vision of feminine charm, waiting, wanting. The air crackled with an unspoken tension.She started to step backwards, her eyes never leaving mine, until her back met the cool wall. I placed my hands on either side of her head, effectively trapping her. The space between us was charged, a magnetic pull drawing us irresistibly closer. I leaned in, my gaze locking with hers, and kissed her.Her lips were soft, pliant, like the petals of a rose. It was a slow, deliberate kiss, exploring the contours of her mouth, tasting the sweet essence of her. I wanted more, I craved her. The kiss deepened, our tongues dancing in a sensual ballet that sparked a fire within me.Her hands found my head, her fingers tangling in my hair, pulling me closer. The kisses grew wilder, more urgent. Her breath hitched as I deepened the kiss, her chest heaving against mine. I could feel the hardened tips of her nipples pressing against the fabric of her T-shirt. All my senses were alive, fueled by the primal pull between us. She broke the kiss, her chest rising and falling rapidly, eyes still locked with mine. Her voice was shaky as she said, "Go and get it."My brow furrowed. “Get what?” My mind was a whirl of passion and confusion.She giggled, that playful sound that sends shivers down my spine. “I like… chocolate coffee more.”My eyes widened, understanding dawning in a rush. She wanted, not just me, but the experience, the heightened moment. “Get ready,” I said, my voice hoarse, and I knew she wasn't talking about chocolate coffee.Leaving her in the room, I grabbed my bike keys and sped to the nearest supermarket. I picked out a box of Moods chocolate condoms and hurried back, my heart pounding in my chest. When Zarah opened the door, I almost staggered back. She'd changed into tiny shorts and a sleeveless top, her skin glowing, her eyes alight with a predatory spark.She didn’t wait for me to speak. She simply launched herself at me, her lips crashing against mine in a passionate kiss that sent my senses reeling. Her hands were everywhere, roaming my body, exploring every inch of my skin. She kissed my neck, my shoulders, inhaling deeply in the crook of my arm, her fingers tracing the line of my jaw. There was no coyness, no hesitation, just raw, unadulterated desire.Her kisses turned into nibbles, her tongue laving my fingertips, teasingly running along my leg. She stripped my top off, her hands eager, her breath warm against my bare skin. Then, with a swift movement, she removed her own shirt, revealing her lacy bra. I kicked off my trousers and was left in my boxer briefs. She then did the same thing, removing her shorts leaving her only in her undergarments. My own body was on fire, and I could feel my erection throbbing.She kissed my nipples, teasing them with her teeth, before pulling away to take my penis in her hand. I moaned, my body shaking with anticipation. I couldn’t wait any longer. I reached out to unhook her bra, her breasts spilling into my awaiting hands. I kissed her nipples, drawing them into my mouth, sucking gently. Her back arched, a soft moan escaping her lips. Then my fingers found her panties and slipped beneath the fabric, exploring her dampness, the sweet honey of her desire.She pulled back, her eyes dark with passion. "I want the chocolate coffee," she purred, her voice thick.I wasted no time. I tore open the Moods condom, the chocolate scent filling the air. Soon, I was inside her, the tight warmth sending shivers down my spine. Our bodies melded together, our movements driven by instinct. The urgency of our desires reached a crescendo as we writhed together, the intimacy filling the room, consuming us entirely.She moaned, a sharp, almost pained sound as I thrust deeper, the lack of lubrication intensifying the friction. I poured myself into her, my release coming in a torrent. She reached a climax just moments after, her body shuddering with pleasure as she dug her nails into my back. Later, after we cleaned ourselves in the shower, I felt a deep sense of contentment. We dressed, the silence filled with a comfortable ease only experienced with someone with whom you have shared a profound experience. We got back on the bike, she held her hands inside my pants pocket, occasionally touching my penis with her fingertips, making me shiver remembering the intense intimacy we just shared. The ride back to Kochi was filled with a palpable sense of anticipation, a promise of more moments like these to come.We reached home at exactly 7 PM as planned. A few minutes later, my phone buzzed. It was a message from Zarah: “How was it?”A smile blossomed across my face as I typed back. “Unexplainable… I’m already started planning the next trip.”Her reply came instantly, a funny smiley followed by a running smiley. I knew then that this was just the beginning of our story, a story filled with laughter, passion, and endless possibilities. And I couldn’t wait to see where this journey would take us.The scent of pine still clung to my clothes, a phantom reminder of Ooty's crisp air and Zarah's warm body pressed against mine. The memory of her fingers, light as a feather yet electrifying, tracing the contours of my skin, still sent shivers down my spine. The ride back on the bike, her hand nestled in my pocket, felt like a lifetime ago, a blissful dream now fading into the harsh reality of Bangalore.Our relationship, blossoming after that trip, had been a whirlwind of stolen kisses in movie theaters, quiet weekends exploring nearby towns, and an intimacy that felt both fragile and invincible. We were two halves of a whole, perfectly imperfect and undeniably in love. Then came the job offer in Bangalore, a necessary step forward in my career, but a geographical chasm that widened the distance between us.The calls continued, bridging the miles with shared laughter and whispered promises. But the idyllic façade shattered one day with a frantic call from Zarah. Her voice, usually bright and effervescent, was choked with fear and pain. Her father, she whispered, had discovered our relationship. The ensuing fallout was brutal, a violent storm that left her battered and bruised, effectively under house arrest.Her next call was a lifeline, a last desperate gasp before the storm swallowed her whole. “Vishal,” she pleaded, her voice trembling, “Please… don't come. They’ll kill you.”My heart shattered into a million pieces. "What will you do?" I choked out, tears blurring my vision. The words felt hollow, inadequate against the weight of her despair."Don't cry, Vishal," she managed, forcing a strength she clearly didn't possess. “I’ll… I’ll take care of things. Don’t worry. Love you. Live happily.”The line went dead. Repeated calls met with silence. Then came the WhatsApp message, a cruel, finality in the college group chat: a picture of Zarah, the caption stark and chilling: "Living in Memories." The world shrunk, constricting around me, leaving me gasping for air in the suffocating silence of my grief. I stared blankly at the message, the happy memories of our trip to Ooty, the stolen kisses, the quiet moments, all fading into a painful, agonizing memory. She had chosen a path of sacrifice, a path of faith, to protect me. She had given herself up to a life devoid of me, a life she didn't want, so I could live mine.A choked sob escaped my lips. The tears flowed uncontrollably, a relentless torrent of anguish and despair. My world was crumbling, reduced to ashes, and the only sound was my own raw, heartbroken cry. Anasooya, She heard my cries, knocking gently on the wall.Finally, she emerged, her face etched with concern. She broke quarantine, the urgent need to comfort me overriding any personal risk of infection. She held me, her hug warm and comforting, patting my head until the storm of my grief subsided, leaving me spent and emotionally drained.After what seemed like an eternity, the phone rang – my psychologist. Anasooya answered, relaying my story to the doctor. The doctor’s words were a beacon in the darkness: "It's good that he has someone. Vishal will be okay." Anasooya sanitized my hands, a small act of protectiveness, and returned to her room. Before disappearing, she paused, her eyes mirroring the depth of my sorrow. "Don't worry," she whispered, "I'm with you."Her words, simple yet profound, were a lifeline, a promise of hope amidst the ruins of my heart. Zarah’s sacrifice had left an unfillable void, but Anasooya’s presence, a quiet strength in the face of my despair, was a fragile, yet precious, beginning. The journey ahead was uncertain, but I was no longer alone.DAY 4The following morning, while I was busy making breakfast, Anasooya called out to me from her room. Anasooya: Vishu, don’t come in!Me: Alright. What’s up? Anasooya: I’ve got a fever.Me: Oh no! How high is it? Did you check? Anasooya: Yeah, it’s 100°F.Me: I’ll get you some medicine. The doctor mentioned that fevers can come back as part of COVID, so don’t stress too much.Anasooya: To make matters worse, I’m on my period and… Me: And what?Anasooya: I’ve run out of pads. Me: Oh, is that all? You could have just told me! Anasooya: Hm.Me: Seriously, don’t hesitate to share. Anasooya: Okay.Me: Here’s the plan: I’ll finish breakfast and leave the medicine for you. In the meantime, I’ll get what you need.Anasooya: Sounds good. I recalled a conversation with Zarah about menstrual cups, which are reusable and even promoted by some governments over pads. I decided to order both pads and a menstrual cup, and they arrived within half an hour. I knocked on her door.Me: Anu…She: Hey, how did you know my nickname?Me: If your formal name starts with an A in Malayalam, it’s usually Anu or Achu. She: Haha, that’s true!Me: It’s not rocket science. She: (laughs)Me: I’ve brought you pads and a menstrual cup. She: A menstrual cup?Me: Yeah, I’ve heard it’s more comfortable than pads. She: I’ve heard that too.Me: That’s why I got it for you. She: Thanks, Vishu.Me: Just remember to take a couple of days off and rest completely. She: But what about work… Me: Shh… don’t push me. Just do as I say. She: Alright, okay. With a smile, I left her room and enjoyed my breakfast. Afterward, I moved my bed and pillow in front of her door so I could be there for her if she needed anything urgently. You know what a girl truly seeks from those close to herI walked away from that place with a smile and enjoyed my breakfast. Afterward, I took my bed and pillow and moved them in front of her room, ready to help her if she needed anything urgently. You know what a girl truly seeks from those close to her? Comfort. When they feel at ease with you, they will shower you with love and joy. Life can be that simple. I've noticed that my feelings for my sister-in- law, Anasooya, are evolving into something deeper. To an outsider, it might seem taboo or wrong for a younger brother-in-law to have such feelings for his sister-in-law, who is two years older. But honestly, I don’t care about others' opinions; what matters to me is finding peace of mind, and she deserves care and happiness.Again it night during The power cut, a nightly ritual in our little corner of the world, had once fostered a sense of cozy intimacy. Tonight, it felt like a suffocating cloak. We sat on the floor on either sides the room wall, the flickering candle casting long, dancing shadows, and I knew I had to break the silence."Anu," I began, my voice barely above a whisper, "if you don't mind... can you say what's been happening between you and my brother?"Her sigh was a soft, rustling sound in the darkness. "Hm," she replied, her eyes fixed on the wavering flame."If it's hard to say, then leave it," I quickly added. "No problem."She hesitated, then finally spoke, "It’s a secret till now, but one day everyone will know." "Okay," I replied, waiting with a growing sense of dread."Okay, I will tell." She settled back against the wall, and for the next ten minutes, I did nothing but listen. Being a good listener was never an easy thing, especially now that a storm was brewing behind her silence."Vishu," she began, her voice low and strained, "my parents are old and believe in horoscopes very much. According to my horoscope, I should get married before 25, and it’s a special one – it only matches with very peculiar others. I'm not a fan of these beliefs, but I have to obey them, being their only child. My wish was always to quit the job, do a PhD and continue my career in research in some foreign country, taking my parents with me." Her gaze drifted into the distance, as if she were reliving a different life. "But things happened against my wish. They emotionally blackmailed me to marry your brother. They said that a horoscope match like this wouldn’t happen again anytime soon. So I gave in, thinking I could do my PhD after the marriage. I also had dreams of marriage, love... but you know, Vishu, your brother didn't even call me many times during the three months before the wedding."A bitter laugh escaped her lips. "I was so confused. When I started calling him, he would hang up in a minute! Your mother said he was just very busy and that everything would be okay after the marriage. But Vishu," she said, her voice rising with anger, "your brother is a piece of shit!"I flinched at the intensity in her tone. "He cheated on me. After the marriage, he said he was having an affair with another girl. He couldn't tell our parents, but she was demanding, and he planned to move abroad and settle there with her. " She paused, tears welling in her eyes. "Vishu, tell me, what did I do wrong to him? Why didn't anyone tell me earlier that he wasn't ready for the marriage?"I was speechless. The revelation was a blow, a cruel twist of fate unfolding right before me."He pleaded with me, saying he’d move abroad soon and file for divorce once he's settled there. How casually he said it. How casually your family said it. I don't know. It felt like being hit by a hammer. How can I tell my old parents? It will break them."She paused, her voice cracking, "So I kept quiet. We stayed in separate rooms. And then..." her voice became a choked sob, "...one night, your brother, he was drunk and drugged up...he came in and..." She couldn't finish the sentence.My heart lurched. I knew what she meant, even without her saying the ugly word."He raped me, Vishu." She said, her voice a broken whisper, tears streaming down her face. "He tore my clothes; he slapped me, he bit me. He forced himself on me. It was so painful."Her sobs filled the small room, each one a jagged stab to my conscience. "If anyone says Vinay is good, I feel like stabbing myself. The physical scars healed, but not the mental ones. The next morning when he came back to sense he cried like a dog and kept my legs asked that I should not tell anyone especially your parents."She took a shuddering breath and continued, "I packed my luggage, and he begged me to stay calm. I told him to get out. He left and went to stay with his girlfriend. He sent a message saying, 'Sorry, I’m leaving India today, and I’ll file for divorce soon.' I made him agree to say he was filing because he married unwillingly and now wanted to live with someone else," she finished, her voice trembling. "Otherwise, I’d tell everyone what happened that night, the rape."The silence was heavy, broken only by her muffled sobs. I felt a molten rage boiling within me, aimed at my own brother. I didn't know what to say, what to do. Without thinking, I walked over to her, and gathered her into my arms. She was shaking, her tears soaking my shirt, and I hugged her tightly, whispering, "Don't worry, I'm here for you, all is well," over and over again. Suddenly Electricity came. But remained hugging.After what felt like an eternity, she pulled back slightly, her face tear-streaked and red. "Thank you, Vishu," she whispered, "and I mean it."I cupped her face in my hands, wiping away the remaining tears. “Don’t cry anymore. All is well. I’m here, okay?” I gently kissed her forehead.She closed her eyes, and we hugged again. I knew she was infected with Covid, possibly with other things, but her trauma was the biggest infection, and the one I needed to fix, so I stood beside her. I made myself a silent promise; I would be there for her always. The fairy tale had turned into a nightmare. And I knew, with a deep, aching certainty, that I would do everything in my power to help her find her way back to the light.We parted the hug and later I have seenalot of laundry is there in her room. I picked them up and she told “hey vishu please drop it there. I will wash it when im ok” Me: it was my mistaken I didn’t checked it yet. Anyway I will do it Anasooya: Please Vishu try to understand. My inner… before completing the sentence I have seen some of her oanties in the laundry me:yeah your inners are here. So?Anasooya: please I will do itMe: Arey chup. Every human wears inners so what? Only the person who wears it only will wash it? Then if that person gone ill then what he or she will do? Anasooya kept quiet.Me: don’t worry. I will wash it. See keeping the whole room clean is also a part of Covid quarantine. you should have good food, good and clean dress etc.While iam going back from the room she kept my hand and told “The girl whom you are gonna marry is very fortunate, take my word” I just smiled and patted on her face and left.I couldn’t sleep properly that day. I heard her walking sounds from the room also. I thoughts that distracted my sleep was the one which she told me told “The girl whom you are gonna marry is very fortunate, take my word”. It kept beating on my head. Yes I can feel that once again I am feeling thesame emotion that I felt with zarah to my sister in law also. I tried to suppress my thoughts by finding my own solutions like she is my sister in law, she is elder but atlast my mind keep on saying me, she is not your sister in law, she is a good behaved bold beautiful lady. Love her. The conluding statement that my Mind and Brain told me was “LOVE HER, LOVE HER AND LOVE HER”.Day 5The pale morning light crept through the window, nudging me awake. After a quiet yoga routine – a ritual for calming the anxieties that had become my constant companions – I headed to the kitchen. Today’s breakfast was kesari, a vibrant, saffron-infused semolina sweet. I poured it into a bowl, its warmth a promise of comfort. I placed it, along with her medications, outside her door, a silent offering.Then came the laundry. The soft, delicate fabric of her inners required a gentle hand, a far cry from the rough tumble of the washing machine. I carefully washed them, a simple task that felt imbued with astrange tenderness. Panties, just like our underwear. They were merely clothes, yet they felt… different.Finally, the chores done, I dialed Dr. Daksha. I needed her wisdom, her perspective as a woman and a trained professional. “I needed to tell you,” I began, my voice a little hesitant, “about what Anasooyasaid yesterday, and how I'm feeling…” I recounted the conversation, the vulnerability, the confusing joy and fear that had taken root in my heart.Dr. Sharma listened patiently. “It's good that you're acknowledging these feelings,” she finally said. “If your love is strong, and you're prepared to face the potential consequences with both families, then consider sharing your truth. Otherwise, keep it to yourself.”Her words held weight, but I needed more. “Hey, please tell me honestly, what do you think? Give me a suggestion as a friend.”There was a pause, a brief silence that felt like an eternity. Then, Dr. Daksha’s voice, warm and full of encouragement, cut through the air: “Go ahead, man.”That’s all it took. Those two simple words, “Go ahead,” ignited a flame within me. My heart, which had been a hesitant, fluttering bird, suddenly beat with purpose. The fear hadn’t vanished, but it no longer held me captive. A wave of resolve washed over me. The kesari, the laundry, the quiet morning – it had all led to this moment. I knew what I had to do. I would tell her. I would lay bare the chaotic, beautiful truth of what was blossoming within me. I would open up to her, and face whatever came next, with everything I had.The fifth day of her quarantine had flown by in a haze of overthinking. I’d taken a leave, a fact I conveniently omitted, and spent the day sprawled on the sofa, meticulously dissecting my plan. How exactly do I tell Anasuya that I’m hopelessly, irrevocably in love with her? The idea of just blurting it out felt like a reckless dive into a very shallow pool. So, I decided on a slow burn, a gentle unfurling of my feelings. That evening, after dinner, we fell into our usual routine, leaning against opposite walls. And in a surprising twist, it was Anasuya who initiated the conversation. She was planning to take a two-day break, she said, the Corona fatigue finally catching up to her.A wave of relief washed over me. Two days. Two whole days of her being relaxed, of her not being consumed by work. Two days for her to actually consider what my heart had been yearning to say. I decided to subtly steer our conversation towards matters of the heart.“Anu,” I started, trying to sound casual. “Yeah, Vishu, tell me.” “So, what are your future plans?” I asked, feigning interest in her career. “Future?” she echoed, a hint of surprise in her voice.“Yeah, you mentioned wanting to get a PhD and do research, right?”“Oh, yeah. I want to do my PhD in some foreign country, maybe Australia, and then continue there.” “Oh, super. So, it may need some money, right?”“Even though there are scholarships, it’s better to have some of our own savings,” she replied. “Do you need money?” I asked, half hoping she’d say yes, and I’d be her knight in shining armor.“Hey, no yaar. I have it. I didn't tell you, actually, but after that incident with Vinay, I asked him for 20 lakh rupees, keeping this PhD in mind. I told him if he didn’t give me the money, I’d go to the police.”“Oh, is it?” I asked, slightly taken aback by her boldness.“Then, what? He arranged the money and gave it to me and then went out of India.” “So you are determined to be a scientist,” I stated.“Hopefully. But we don’t what destiny has in store for us,” she said. “Yeah, exactly.”“What about your plans?” she enquired.“I don’t have any grand plans, actually. I don’t over plan much.” “You’re so cool-headed, that’s why you take everything so lightly.”“Not like that,” I said. “Life is like this - we’ll plan something and life will have other plans, our plans will be destroyed, and again, we plan for something else. It’s life, man; a very short life and a very short time. Just take things as they come.”“Hey, nice philosophy,” she chuckled.“No. I just said what came to mind," I said, "but a thing which I had in mind is to quit my present job.” “What?” she asked, her eyes widening.“Haha, let me complete. I don’t want to work under someone, with deadlines and all. I want to be a freelancer soon. I know every type of coding, and I'm pretty sound at designing, so I think of taking up work in freelancer mode so that I can work and travel.”“Wow. What an idea! Very nice to hear.” “Hi hi. Thank you,” I said, beaming at her approval. Then came the moment I'd been both dreading and anticipating. “What about your marriage?”Anasuya burst into laughter. “Enough is enough, Vishu. I don’t want to experiment with life again.” “But…” I began.“But what?”“But Vinay was not your choice, right? He was chosen by your parents. In fact, it’s not even your parents. It was the horoscope that did the picking.”“Yeah, that’s true. But you don’t know what I’ve been through. The trauma is not going to heal in my whole life.”“I can understand your fear, Anu. But it was an accident, right? Many people meet with accidents, get bedridden and come back to a normal life after that. Everyone deserves a better life. You too.”“Please leave it, Vishu,” she pleaded.“No, I can’t leave it like that. Now, imagine what I’m saying,” I persisted. “Okay, tell me.”“If someone proposes to you, a man with true love, will you change your decision or not?” “At first, I thought Vinay was a good man too,” she replied.“Please leave that matter and respond to what I asked,” I insisted. "Okay, I imagined."“Then will you accept that love?”“Not so easily. I need time to think about that. Only after a long thought can I respond.” “Okay.”“Anyway, first I should get the divorce, then enroll for the PhD, and then I can consider it.” “Okay, I understand. But what things are you considering to define a good man?” I asked. “A kind, loving man is enough. There is no point in expecting too much.”“Why? You can expect whatever you need.” “Hmm,” she mumbled.“Oh, okay, then I’ll ask, and you give the reply, okay?” “Okay.”“Does his profession really matter? I mean, you want to be a scientist, so are you expecting a scientist?” “Of course not. No such expectations. Color, height, language, all those things don't matter.”“Okay, good. Then what about age?”“What do you mean?” she asked, her brow furrowed.“If the person is younger than you, is that a problem? Or if the person is too old, is that a problem?” Her gaze held mine. "Of course not. It's just the understanding between them that matters."“Okay, usually in our country, a younger man-older woman relationship is viewed in a different manner,” I said.“If a woman gets married to an older man, does that make it okay? Is that a great thing? Bullshit thought,” she said, her voice firm.My heart pounded in my chest. The stage was set. The next two days would be crucial. I knew I had to tell her. I had to risk it all. I had to tell her that I was the man she'd described, or at least, that I was trying to be.The conversation had been circling for what felt like hours, all leading to this precarious precipice. "Exactly," I’d said, the word feeling heavier than it should. The thought, which had been a persistent murmur in the back of my mind, had finally solidified. I could, I actually could, proceed with my proposal.Anasooya, her usual bright, inquisitive self, tilted her head. "So, between , what's your marriage plan?" I sighed, the weight of it settling deeper in my chest. "It's... not so easy."Her eyebrows shot up. "Why? Of course, you'll get a good girl.""Is it that simple?" The words were laced with a self-deprecating humor that I wasn’t entirely sure I felt. "Of course!" she insisted, her confidence unwavering. "No doubt in that.""But it's not that easy to handle all of that, too, with this psychological issue." I was referring to the anxiety that often clung to me, the remnants of a past trauma that still occasionally threw its shadow over my life. It was a hurdle, a significant one, when I thought about sharing myself with somebody for the rest of my life.Anasooya's expression softened, her voice becoming gentle, "Hey, shit man. It's just a trauma, and you’re overcoming it. And after all, what a woman is expecting from her man is endless love, and that's the only reason for your current issue. Every woman would dream about getting a man like you as their husband." Her words, so earnest and heartfelt, stirred something within me. It was the kind of unwavering belief that I hadn't encountered in a long time.A sudden surge of courage, or perhaps recklessness, flooded me. "If that’s so," I said, my voice barely a whisper, "then I'll tell you something."She leaned forward, her eyes sparkling with curiosity. "What is it?""Don’t make a scene, okay?" I felt a nervous knot forming in my stomach. This was far more vulnerable than anything I’d ever done."Hey, don't be so surprising," she chuckled, a small playful sound that made my heart flutter. "Just tell me.""Okay, I'll tell you. But don’t make a noise and…" I trailed off, searching for the right words. “You just tell, yaar,” she urged.I took a deep breath. “Anu… I love you.” The words, once a carefully guarded secret, now hung heavy in the air.Anasooya screamed, "Vishal, what?!"“Please don’t make noise," I pleaded, my voice dropping to a panicked whisper. "I’ve already told you not to.”“But do you know what you have just said?” Her voice trembled with shock.“Yes, I know. Now, please be quiet, or I'll leave the house now," I threatened, though my heart felt like a trapped bird. I couldn't let anything interrupt this confession, no matter how clumsily it had come out.Then, to my dismay, Anasooya started to cry, silent tears tracking down her cheeks."Please don't cry," I begged, my voice thick with emotion. "I have feelings for you. It's the same feeling I felt towards Zarah." The mention of my late wife seemed to momentarily shock her into stillness.I took a chance, letting my heart spill out, "I don’t think that one year or ten years is required for one person to feel love towards another. I've been thinking about it for the last few days. Yes, it's true that I've only known you for a few days, but I felt the love towards you. And I want to live with you.”She continued to cry quietly, her gaze fixed on the floor. "Anu," I said softly, reaching out, then stopping myself. "What?" she whispered, her voice hoarse."Okay," I said, trying to regain some semblance of composure. "Day after tomorrow, you can step out of the room as your quarantine period will be over. So you have time to think. Please clear your mind and give it some thought. I know there will be a lot of consequences and drama when our families find out that the younger brother-in-law wants to marry his sister-in-law. I'm ready to face it, Anu. It's my decision. Now, I want to know your decision. If it’s a no, okay, no problem, I can understand your problems, so if it’s a no just let me know and I’ll vacate this house, no problem. I'll wait till day after tomorrow evening."My voice was a strange mix of steadiness and vulnerability. The weight of the last few minutes settled on my shoulders again. I couldn’t bear to stay any longer. I left the place, retreating to the supposed safety of my bed. I lay there, my mind reeling, the silence in the room amplifying the turmoil in my heart. Now all I could do was wait, and pray that my clumsy declaration of love hadn’t ruined everything.I couldn’t sleep properly on that night. Negative thoughts kept on coming into my mind that she will reject my love, my brother will beat me, my parents will curse me. I have tried my level best to sleep, but I coulndt. Atlast I managed to sleep at around 4am only. Day 6When I woke up I checked my mobile and by seeing it is already 11am I just jumped off my bed and went to wash my face. We use to have breakfast at 9am and its already 11am, I rushed to her room door and knocked on it. “Anu I’m sorry, just now only io woke up. Please give me 10mins, I will prepare food”In return she told “hmm”. Ok even I don’t want to ask the reason I just left to the kitchen and made the brunch. I just kept the food plate infront of the door and left to my room and had the food. We didn’t spoke in the night also. the house is filled with dark silence, something that we see in some Hollywood horror movies. That night also I couldn’t even sleep properly. I kept on thinking that how she is gonna react? How do I react if it’s a no?.i went to the fridge and took the vodka bottle and had a couple of drniks and slept peacefully. Day 7Again same routine happened. Prepared the food and kept the plate infront of her room. I got the call from the doctor at 4pm and he told that if she feels ok now she can come out of the room as her 7 days quarantine period is over, I said thanks and hung up the phone. I went directly to her room door and toldMe: Anu. Are you there?Anasooya: yeMe: the doctor called now and told that your quarantine is over so you can come out nowAnasooya: ok. But Vinay, we need to talkMe: hmI expected this, anyway I have to face it na. so, I have already packed my bags and made my mind ready to accept the big No from her. My heart hammered against my ribs, a frantic drummer in the silence that followed. I busied myself straightening a nonexistent crease on my jeans, anything to avoid looking at the closed door. The air in the hallway felt thick, heavy with anticipation."Come in, Vinay," she said, her voice softer than I expected.I took a deep breath and pushed the door open. The room was bathed in the late afternoon sun, highlighting the dust motes dancing in the air. Anasooya was sitting on the edge of the bed, her hands clasped tightly in her lap. She looked tired, but her eyes were clear and held a depth I hadn't noticed before."Thank you for everything, Vinay," she started, her voice wavering slightly. "For staying, for taking care of me…""It was nothing, Anu. You would have done the same for me." I wanted to keep my voice neutral, to not betray the turmoil raging inside me.She looked up, meeting my gaze. "No, Vinay. I don't think that's true. Vishal never would have." The bitterness in her voice was a sharp sting.A knot formed in my stomach. Mentioning Vishal, even in this context, was a stark reminder of the awful truth."He's gone, Anu. He doesn't deserve any space in your head, or in your life."She looked away, staring at the wall. "I know that. Logically, I know. But…" She trailed off, unable to articulate the invisible chains that still bound her.I moved closer, stopping a few feet away. "Anu, about what I said… the other day…" The words felt clumsy, inadequate.She finally turned back to me, her expression unreadable. "Yes, Vinay. I've been thinking about it."A wave of hope surged through me, quickly followed by a crushing fear."I… you know my situation, Vinay. You know everything. I'm… broken. Badly broken. I don't know if I can ever be whole again.""Anu, you're not broken. You're strong. Stronger than anyone I know. And you deserve to be happy.""But what about the divorce? What about what Vishal did? The whispers, the judgments...""Let them whisper. We'll build our own life, a life where none of that matters. We'll create our own truth." My voice was firm, unwavering. This was the promise I wanted to make, the life I wanted to offer her.She reached out and took my hand, her fingers interlacing with mine. Her touch sent a jolt of electricity through me."Vinay," she said, her voice barely a whisper. "I… I don't know if I'm ready for love. Not yet. But… I don't want to be alone either."My heart sank. It wasn't a yes, but it wasn't a definitive no either. It was something… in between."What do you mean, Anu?"She took a deep breath. "I mean… I'm not ready for a relationship. Not right now. But… maybe… maybe we can take it slow. Get to know each other better, as just… friends. See where it goes. If… if it goes anywhere. But at the same time what my parents will think of me? Their daughter is in relationship with her brother in law. What about your parents? All of them will think that iam a bad lady" Me: see anu. Problems will come that’s for sure. But we will face. We will make your parents convince. I will talk to vishal and he will inform my parents about divorce and later on we will tell them about our relationship and I am not bothered about their decision either. Its just you and me. We are the deciders.I squeezed her hand gently. The future was uncertain, full of challenges and unanswered questions. But in that moment, holding her hand, I knew I was exactly where I wanted to be. I was with her, and that was all that mattered. The journey had just begun. "Alright, Anu. Friends. We'll start there. No pressure, no expectations, just… us. And we will deal with our parents later. One step at a time." I tried to sound reassuring, even though a part of me was still disappointed. But I also knew that she was right. She needed time, and so did I. Building a foundation of friendship was the best way to start.She managed a small, hesitant smile. "Thank you, Vinay. For understanding.""Always," I replied, squeezing her hand again. "Now, how about we order some takeout? I'm starving. And maybe watch a movie? Something light, something… not about love." I winked, trying to lighten the mood.She chuckled, a genuine laugh that reached her eyes. "Deal. But I get to pick the movie.""Fair enough," I said, relieved. The tension in the room had dissipated, replaced by a fragile sense of peace.We spent the evening watching a silly comedy and eating greasy pizza. It wasn't a romantic date, but it was exactly what we both needed. It was a return to normalcy, a step away from the intensity of the past week. As the credits rolled, I felt a sense of hope I hadn’t allowed myself to feel in a long time.The calendar pages flipped, each one marking another day in our shared sanctuary. Day 8 had bled into Day 30, and the sterile white walls of the apartment had slowly absorbed the color of our lives. The routine we'd established – the shared meals, the stolen stories, the comforting rhythm of evening walks – had woven a tapestry of unexpected warmth. I was careful, acutely aware of the invisible threads of vulnerability that still bound Anu. Vishal's ghost lingered, a silent reminder of broken trust and shattered dreams.So I cooked her mother's recipes, the familiar smells filling the apartment with a sense of home she hadn't felt in years. I cleaned, scrubbing away the residue of her past, hoping to create a clean slate for her present. I folded her laundry with meticulous care, each act a silent promise of security. After Vishal, she was a fragile bird with a broken wing, and I was determined to be the gentle hand that helped her fly again.One evening, elbows propped on the counter amidst a mountain of soapy dishes, the silence hummed with unspoken feelings. She turned to me, her eyes shimmering with a depth I hadn't seen before."Vinay," she said, her voice barely a whisper, "I never thanked you properly. For everything. For being here… for being patient… for just… being you."My heart swelled, constricting my throat. "Anu, there's no need for thanks. I care about you, a lot. And I want to be here for you, always." The words felt inadequate, a pale echo of the emotions swirling within me.She reached out, her fingers tracing the line of my jaw, a feather-light touch that sent shivers down my spine. "I'm lucky to have you in my life, Vinay."The air thickened, charged with electricity. I yearned to close the distance, to finally taste the sweetness of her lips, but I held back. It wasn't coercion. It was respect. It was waiting for the moment to be right, for her to be ready. Not just for me, but for herself.A month unfolded, a kaleidoscope of shared experiences. Movies, beach trips, quiet evenings spent lost in comfortable silence. We celebrated small victories – a good day at work, a successful therapy session, a shared laugh that echoed in the now-familiar apartment.Then came Day 30. A weekend afternoon swallowed by the comforting darkness of a movie theater-sized screen in our living room. We were watching "Dia," a Kannada romantic tragedy, a film known for its heart-wrenching climax. I stole glances at Anu, my concern growing with each passing scene. The tears started silently, tracing paths down her cheeks, reflecting the flickering light of the screen.Suddenly, she reached out, grabbing my arm with surprising strength. She turned to me, her eyes locked on mine, a tempest of emotion swirling within them."Vinay," she choked out, her voice thick with tears, "I love you." And then, without warning, she leaned forward and pressed a kiss to my cheek, a fleeting touch that reverberated through my entire being.The world tilted on its axis. Cloud nine felt like an understatement. I gently cupped her face in my hands, my thumbs wiping away the tears that continued to stream down her cheeks."Don't cry," I murmured, my voice rough with emotion. "I won't leave you. I was waiting for this moment."Slowly, tentatively, I lowered my head and kissed her forehead, a soft, reverent gesture. Then, drawn by an irresistible force, I moved towards her lips. The kiss was slow, hesitant at first, a gentle exploration. But as our lips met, a fire ignited. We smooched slowly, savoring the taste of each other, the culmination of weeks of unspoken desires.She kissed my ears, my neck, a soft moan escaping her lips. When we finally broke apart, breathless and flushed, we clung to each other, locked in a tight embrace. The past, for a moment, seemed to fade away, replaced by the promise of a future, built on honesty, trust, and a love that had blossomed in the most unexpected of circumstances. We were finally home.……. The love encounter starts here…….. I would like to know your valuable feedbacks about the story pls. kindly write to akrish707@gmail.com

Rahul Akrish

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