Two Years Later...

The morning sun filtered through the curtains, casting golden patterns across the wooden floor of our hillside home. I stood in the kitchen, barefoot, wearing Reyansh’s oversized shirt, stirring his favorite coffee — extra strong, no sugar. Just like his love. Intense and addictive.

Behind me, soft footsteps echoed.

“Good morning, Mrs. Malhotra,” came his voice, rough with sleep, and yet laced with that same affection he never failed to show — even after all this time.

I turned, smiling. “You’re late. Your coffee almost turned into resentment.”

He chuckled, pulling me into his arms from behind, his lips brushing my shoulder. “Even your resentment turns me on, Senorita.”

I rolled my eyes, trying not to laugh — but it was impossible with him.

Just then, a loud giggle echoed from the hallway.

“Riya, stop running—!” I called out, but too late. Our daughter, now four, dashed into the room, followed by the new member of our chaos — little Aarav, our son, barely a year old, trying his best to crawl after his sister.

Reyansh bent down, scooping them both in his arms, kissing their cheeks as they squealed with joy.

And I just stood there, watching.

This was it.

The man who once lived in shadows now danced in sunlight with the family he thought he didn’t serve.

The girl who once cried herself to sleep now woke up to love — messy, chaotic, real.

I stepped forward, hugging all three of them. Reyansh looked at me, his eyes soft. “This... this is home.”

I nodded, whispering against his chest. “This is everything.”

Outside, the breeze swayed through the trees, carrying laughter into the wind. And somewhere in that soft silence, the past rested. Not forgotten — just forgiven.

I used to think peace wasn’t made for people like me.

For a man who once believed that love only made you weak, here I was holding my entire world in my arms. My daughter’s laughter, my son’s curious eyes, and Siya…

God, my Senorita.

She walked into my chaos like a calm storm and rebuilt me.

As I sat on the porch, Riya curled up in my lap and Aarav playing with my watch strap, I watched Siya through the open window — talking to the plants she insisted on naming like people. She didn’t know I was watching. She never does.

But I always do.

Even after years, the way she moves… the way her eyes soften when she looks at our kids… it all still hits me like the first time.

I used to chase darkness.

Now, I chase moments like this.

And I’d gladly spend the rest of my life doing it.

Siya stepped outside, coffee in hand, sitting beside me. Her head rested on my shoulder, and for a while, we just existed  no chaos, no past. Just now.

She looked up and smiled.

"Happy?" she whispered.

I kissed her forehead, tightening my hold.

"I don’t think I even knew what happiness meant… until you."

And as the wind carried away old echoes of who I used to be, I knew one thing for sure

This love saved me.

This family made me whole.

And this forever... it's mine.

✨✨✨✨🦋🦋🦋🦋✨✨✨✨