Kavita’s face drained of color. For the first time in my life, someone had defended me simply because I deserved it.
Weeks turned into months. Rohan grew stronger, taking steps with a cane, and I guided him, always holding his hand. Then, one morning, I woke to an empty bed. Panicked, I ran to the garden, and there he was, walking unassisted. “You’ve healed your legs,” I whispered.
He reached for me, taking my hand. “Yes… but what you truly healed was my heart.”
Tears ran down my cheeks as I embraced him. The villa, once cold and silent, now resonated with laughter and warmth. Every morning, he prepared masala chai. Every evening, we walked among the rose bushes, speaking of the life we were slowly reclaiming.
One evening, I teased, “Do you remember our wedding night?”
He laughed warmly. “Of course. You carried me then. Today, it is my turn to carry you—for the rest of our lives.”
I rested my head on his shoulder and whispered softly, “It turns out we do not need strong legs to move forward. All we need are hearts brave enough to find each other.”
