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Aryaman looked ahead at the lake as her giggles echoed in the air.

She was here. His wife. His darling.

All he had to do was turn around.

11

And then he heard the softest tinkle of her bangles.

Goosebumps pricked him all over his arms.

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He wanted to turn around. He wanted to. But he couldn’t though.

Fear and guilt and all his tears too, everything choked him up.

Six years!
 He had been through so much grief and heartbreak, he didn’t even remember her
face anymore.

And that dull ache in his heart, that ache had been a constant friend over the last six
years.

He didn’t know if he could live without that ache. He had grown fond of that ache in
his heart.

But when the haunting music of love story began playing, Aryaman couldn’t fight
himself any more.

Slowly, he turned.

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Temu
 A voluptuous woman stood under the tree, dressed in the rich red saree he had got
for her.

Her saree was over head, covering her face, all the way to her chest.

Her hands were full of red and blue and gold bangles.

Her waist was adorned with her mother’s beautiful waistband. It was a traditional
piece of jewellery that hung from her waist in ropes of pearls and gold. She had the
keys to his house hanging from her waistband.

And she was holding up the arti thali.

It was a heavy silver plate adorned with motifs of the goddess Lakshmi and
decorated with several chiming bells.

He knew that plate. It was his mother’s wedding present. Priya only ever worshipped
in that silver plate.

If this woman wasn’t Priya, then this was he dirtiest joke his brothers could have
played on him.

As he slowly walked up to her, he scoffed at the way her hands trembled.

The veil still stood between them.

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 Wait, that's on Sale?
Temu

He studied her from over the veil.

Was she his Priya?

As he stepped closer, she stood her ground. He closed the gap between them.

The delicious scent of her perfume made him moan. But there was something
different about this Priya. Her scent was richer, deeper, way more maddening that he
remembered.

He was tempted to take off her veil.

The veil was good though.

He needed that for now.

:
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At least, he didn’t have to look into her questioning eyes and drown in his guilt.

The sounds of bells came from the mansion.

She slowly started walking around the swing. As he followed her he watched the
way the pearls in her waistband swayed with every step she took. She was driving
him wild.

Teej was always a private affair between them. They performed the havan and other
prayers with the family.

But they always broke their fast together, in the privacy of their terrace.

Their celebration started from the swing.

:
 In the past, she’d run around the terrace, tossing daisies at his face. He’d catch her,
toss her over his shoulder. And then he’d place her on the swing and rain kisses all
over her face. As he would push the swing from behind, she would lean back to kiss
his cheek. Sometimes, she’d bite his ear.

This Priya, she sat on one side, making space for him.

As he sat beside her, she leaned her head on his chest. Together, they kicked the
ground. The swing swayed softly.

Aryaman closed his eyes. This was new. He had never done this before. His wife
never sat beside him. She always sat on his lap.

But this was good too.

He circled his hand around her shoulder, held her close to his heart. And with every
sway, a piece of his heart returned.

As Priya wrapped her arms around his waist, doubt crept in his heart again.

Was she Priya?

She was acting out of character.

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 His Priya was a fiery girl who fought and screamed and demanded answers.

This Priya was so demure, so soft and loving, she was like the Priya he had
sometimes wished his Priya would be.

Not that he would change his firecracker. But sometimes he had wished she would
just hold him and love him without no questions or accusations.

This Priya was everything he had hoped in his Priya. She was the Priya of his
fantasies.

That scared him.

:
 Someone was playing with him. Someone had found a way to reach into his deepest
fantasies and had given it a form.

At this rate he’d lose his mind.

That was the plan maybe.

He wiped the corner of his eyes as he saw himself sharing a room with his mother.
Two crazies locked away forever.

But then he saw the mangalsutra in her silver plate.

It was his Priya’s mangalsutra, the one she had left behind.

Anger flooded through his veins. If this was some random woman, he was going to
lose it with his Dadi. He was going to set this world on fire.

Aryaman reached for the mangalsutra. She too went on to pick the mangalsutra.

As their fingers touched, sparks flew. They both gasped.

Her veil slightly slipped down her head. He caught a glimpse of her mouth. Her lips
were pink and soft. And they trembled slightly.

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 He was tempted to kiss her.

The prayers began at the distance. It was time to break the fast. But he was done
with this suspense.

He caught her chin, tilted her face gently towards his.

“Is it really you?” He asked.

She rested her feet over his. And slowly, she playfully sensuously traced her toe up
his ankles.

His heart started beating violently. He was stiff in his trousers. It was his Priya. She
always did that whenever she wanted him to take her to bed.
:
 Gathering all the courage within him, he caught the edge of her veil and slowly lifted
it off her face.

As her beautiful face came into full view…his heart stopped beating.

Priya! His heart whispered.

The sounds of conches and chants echoed in the air.

Time stood still between them.

The light from the lamp on her arti plate was all there was between them.

Aryaman stared on without blinking.

Priya! His Priya. It was his Priya. His wife.

Her face glowed in a sheen of gold, her lips quivering as she kept gaze down.

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:
 When she slowly lifted her eyes to his, all the breath left his lungs.

He sat back and sighed in relief.

His Priya. His wife. She was here. In flesh. Aryaman studied her beautiful face. She
was the same. Everything about her was the same. He had feared he worst. But she
was exactly like the girl he had kissed goodbye that night.
:
 As she adjusted the fabric over her head and waited, he stared at the black beads in
his hand.

This was surreal. His wife was really here. For six years she had walked down the
moon every night and held him as he’d wept for her.

Now she was here.

What was he meant to say? He had no speech ready. He didn’t know where to start
or how to make a conversation. She was not asking any questions so he could defend
or explain.

Except for the crickets and the owls and the haunting music of love story, there was
silence between them.

“I’m sorr….” Aryaman whispered.

“Love means never having to say you’re sorry,” she said softly.

A moan left his lips at the sound of her voice. Her voice was different though. It was
richer, deeper. Smooth…like a sip of the finest single malt.

He studied her face.

This wasn’t Priya. This couldn’t be her. Not the real Priya anyways. This woman
was a slice of his imagination.
:
 If she was the real Priya, she would have been screaming and shouting and
demanding for answers, not quoting verses from ‘Love Story.’

This was a dream. This was his dream Priya. His dream Priya always said and did all
the sweetest things.

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He was stone drunk and was lying somewhere on a pile of hay and imagining all
this. He’d wake up soon to the eerie silence of his heart.

But he wanted to indulge this dream a little.

And so he bent closer and locked the mangalsutra around her neck.

When a tiny smile touched her mouth, he held his hand for her. She put her arti plate
to one side and took his hand.
:
 Her hands were soft and tiny. Sadly he had no memory of how Priya’s hand felt in
his anymore.

That convinced him even more that this was a dream.

Leading her to the center of the meadow, he slid his hand from under her saree and
held her waist.

Immediately he frowned. She filled his arms, unlike his petite girl. Her figure was
wholesome now. He found that rather arousing.

Whatever! This dream Priya was driving him mad. Her scent, her voice, her
sensuous curves, everything about her was perfect.

He pulled her closer. She lifted her face to his. He wanted to kiss her. But he was too
scared she might disappear into thin air.

As the music floated, he led her into a waltz routine. They turned around each other.
She was just as graceful as he remembered. Her turns were smooth despite her saree.
And when he turned her quickly, she giggled.

Her giggles made him moan.

They were so much in sync with each other, it was as though they had been dancing
every moment of every day.
:
 Pri held his loving eyes, smiling and blushing at how surreal this moment was. She
was in his arms at last. She had imagined meeting him again in so many different
ways. This was better than anything she had imagined. She was really living her
dream.

And he was way more loving than he had ever been.

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The void of six long years between them had melted away. She lost herself to the
intensity of his eyes. And he didn’t take his eyes off her, not even for a blink.

As his arms came around her, he lifted her off the ground like she was made of
cotton. She marvelled at his strength, at how effortlessly he danced. He turned her
around with purpose, moved around her with confidence.
:
 And when he pulled her into his arms, he could made her feel like a teenager with
just one glance.

The connection between them was eternal.

Whenever they danced, the world around blotted away. And no one could make her
heart flutter like he husband could.

He looked so handsome, she found herself falling in love with him all over.

One moment his eyes shone with the arrogance of the wealthy successful CEO she
had married.

The very next moment, he looked so shy and nervous like that young boy in a
tattered shirt who had danced with her on her terrace.

And then there he was, her Yaman, the darling man she loved so dearly.

As she turned out of his arms, he possessively pulled her back in his chest. They
both moaned when their bodies collided. It was out of this world, this moment with
him.

When she lifted her hand to his cheek, he rested his cheek to hers and sighed.

“I feel like a Prince with you Priya,” he said.

She felt like a princess in his arms.

:
 It was magical the way they turned around each other. As she came back into his
arms, his tears escaped.

“Priya!” Aryaman whispered, holding her waist and bending her backwards. His
eyes never left hers.

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It was the perfect end to their routine.

“Is this heaven?” He kissed the curve of her neck.

Aryaman stared at the beautiful woman in his arms. She was gasping, panting, her
face was flushed from their passionate dance.

He still couldn’t believe she was in his arms.

:
 Had he died? Had she finally come down to take him with her forever?

Slowly, he pulled her up his chest and stared into her eyes.

She looked so ethereal under the moonlight, he hesitated before he touched her
cheek. Her skin was smooth, flushed red. And her lips quivered.

He cupped her face in both his hands. She was just as soft and sweet. He couldn’t
resist himself anymore. He tilted his face over hers and held her eyes for a beat. And
then he pressed his lips to hers for a soft chaste kiss.

His body erupted into flames. She was incredibly sweet. The kiss went straight to his
heart and further down to his loins. He wanted more. He wanted to devour her. He
wanted to lift her into his arms and wrap her around his waist.

But as he about to slide his tongue into her mouth, she turned her face to her side and
smiled.

Aryaman turned too to see where she was looking.

And he frowned.

Ayush was standing beside the swing. His eyes wide in awe, like he was watching
magic unfolding in front of his eyes.

Aryaman stared at the child.

:
 WTF! This was a dream. He was dreaming. How had the child found it’s way in his
dream? Unless…. His heart stopped painfully as he turned to Priya.

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But then he got the biggest jolt of his life when, “Mumma!” Ayush cried in joy.

Priya chuckled. And as she sank to her knees and opened her arms, “Mumma!”
Ayush ran straight into her arms.
:
 “Ah! My baby!” She crushed him into his arms and kissed him plush on his mouth.

“Mumma you look so beautiful….like an angel,” he said.

All Aryaman could do watch in silence, his mind unable to catch up with what was
happening.

“Mumma did you break the fast?”

“I was waiting for you.” She kissed him again and again. “Did you do the arti with
your Papa?”

“With everyone.” He grinned. “But I missed you, Mumma.”

Aryaman frowned at the child. Mumma? Every time Ayush called Priya Mumma, it
felt like a stab in his gut. Why the fuck was he calling his Priya his Mumma?

He slowly came down to his knees and stared at the boy.

What the fuck was going on?

“Do you want to give your Baba a quick cuddle?” Priya said.

Before Aryaman could wrap his head around what was happening, Ayush ran into
his arms and kissed his mouth. “Baba, you dance better than in the video,” he said.

“What video?” Aryaman managed to ask.

“Wedding video.”
:
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“Huh?”

“It’s his dream to see us both dancing.” Pri said.

It was all too much to take in.

Why? He wanted to ask. But that was when he noticed her eyes.

Her eyes were green. Fcking green.

He had been so lost to the thrill of holding her in his arms, he had not noticed her
eyes.

He stared at the child in his arms.

:
 The little boy continued chirping. He told his mother all the sweets he had already
eaten. As he turned Ayush’s face to his, he stared into his pitch black eyes.

Those were his Priya’s eyes.

It struck him like a thunderbolt. “Mera hai tu,” he said in a loud gasp. Everything
finally made sense. Ayush was the almost the same age his Koyal would have been.

“Koyal?” Aryaman’s heart was a loud thunder in his ears.

“Koyal?” He looked at Priya.

She smiled a little. “It’s a boy,” she said, applying a tilak to his forehead.

He stared at the little boy on her lap. Boy? His boy? He had a boy? Which meant…

“My little bean?” He rubbed his heart.

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:
 His little bean was a boy?

“Baba!” The child called.

He jumped a little. He was his Baba. Actually his Baba. He was his blood and soul.
“Ayush…” He looked at Priya. “Ayush is my treasure.” Everything fell into place.
The map was meant to lead him to his son.

“My son.” He gasped. “I have a son.”

As her eyes pooled with tears, Fuck! he sighed.

He was a father. He was really a Baba to a little boy. He couldn’t take his eyes off
Ayush. He loved the boy.

But somehow everything changed now.

:
 “Mera hai tu.” He said again. And he laughed.

Boy. A son. “I have a son.” It felt like his heart was about to explode.

“Do you know who I am?” He asked Ayush.

“My Baba.” He nodded.

He looked at Priya, waiting for her to explain.

“Tell your Baba how he is different to your Papa,” she said.

“Papa made me with his heart. You and Mumma made me with your soul.”

Aryaman simply didn’t know what to say after that. His tears kept streaming down.
His son knew who was all this while. He had been waiting silently for him to find
him.

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 Fck! Fck! He didn’t have no answers for his wife’s questions. Now his son was here
looking at him with big wide eyes?

“We made you with our heart, soul, and all our love,” Pri smoothed her son’s hair.

“Under a million stars.” Ayush grinned.

All Aryaman could was stare at his child.

:
 Priya began her prayers. As Ayush wrapped his arms around Aryaman’s neck, she
began performing their arti together.

Aryaman couldn’t take his eyes off his son.

He saw was Priya in the child. His little Priya was actually back in his arms as his
son.

“Son?” He laughed. His tears though. What the fck was he meant to tell his son
where he had been all this while? What the fck was he meant to say when he himself
didn’t know why Priya had left him?

Was this real? “Is all this really happening?” He asked Priya. “Am I dead? Am I
drunk?”

Pri silently fed a laddoo to the little boy. As she held the rest of it for Aryaman, “You
are a father now, Yaman,” she said. “We are parents.”

That was all it took for him burst into a sob.

Ayush kissed his cheek.

He crushed the child to his heart. He was so soft like a kitten. And he looked like
Priya. He even smelt like Priya.

Argh! He was so overcome with love, he wanted to crush him to his heart forever.

Ayush held up a jar of sindoor and smiled.

:
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Aryaman studied him for a moment. He saw himself in the boy. He wore the same
hopeful eyes he once had when he had wished for his Baba to come meet his Amma.

All he had wanted was for his Baba to fill his mother’s parting with sindoor and
declare to everyone she was his wife.

He never had.

But he was not his Baba.

And so, taking a pinch of the red powder, he filled Priya’s hair. His heart stopped for
a moment, for she looked like the Priya from his wedding.

His bride.
:
 Only that she was a mother now, a mother to his child.

“Mere bachche ki Maa hai tu, Priya,” he said, chuckling at the way she blushed.

And he watched his son, the way Ayush’s eyes widened, the way he gasped to see
his mother with a sindoor. And when Ayush slid into Priya’s arms and kissed her
sindoor, “I love you,” Aryaman told the child.

“Me more.”

“Me zillion.”

“Me godzilla.”

He burst into a laugh. But he wept too.

Suddenly the lights went off.

Aryaman snapped his head towards the mansion. Quickly, he wrapped his wife and
child in his arms protectively. His hand went to his waist out of instinct.

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 Pri frowned at how startled he looked. He was always alert to danger, as though he
was always surrounded by enemy.

She couldn’t see a gun. But he was armed, she knew.

What was he wearing? A dagger?

Where was he hiding it?

“Pri!” NK called from behind her.

It was time.

She began putting everything back on the arti plate.

“Let’s go,” she told Ayush.

:
 “Is Baba not coming?” He asked.

All Pri could do was caress her son’s head. He was such an understanding little boy,
he nodded.

But the disappointment in his eyes cut her heart. She looked at Aryaman. “You
remember how I always wished I could see Maa Papa kiss each other in real?” She
said.

That was all she had to say. He understood what she was hinting.

Bending closer, he caught her chin. They held each other’s eyes for a beat. And then
he pressed his mouth to hers.

Her tears escaped at how much love there was in that one kiss.

“Tere hee paglet,” he said.

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 She gazed at him with all the love in her heart. When she lowered her eyes to her
child, he was watching them both with magic in his eyes. But he also looked so shy,
she giggled.

My baby! She held Ayush to her heart. “I love you,” she told he little boy. But she
also looked at her husband.

“Mere bachche ka baap hai tu,” she said.

:
 Aryaman laughed. There she was, his firecracker. Ah! He’d missed her so much.

“Say goodnight to Baba.” She told her boy.

All Aryaman could do was watch her gather her plate and get up.

Ayush was back in his arms. As he crushed him to his heart, he sighed. The child
smelt like Priya, he felt like Priya. It was like holding his little Piyu in his arms
again.

“Baba, can I keep your Piyu with me?” Ayush asked innocently.

His words stabbed him somewhere deep. Looking up at Priya, “My Piyu is yours
now,” he said.

He let the child out of his arms, smiling ruefully at the way Ayush caught his
mother’s saree and ran after her, giggling and chirping.

He saw a glimpse of himself and his mother. That brought a fresh wave of tears. His
father had pushed his mother to single motherhood. He too had unwittingly done the
same.

He waited for Priya to say something. He waited for her to blame him, to call him
names.

She simply turned over her shoulder one last time and looked at him with longing
before she walked away.
:
 Aryaman waited for a long long time for her to come back. He was only met with the
silence sounds of the forest.

Slowly laid back back into the moist grass and stared at the stars. The hollow in him
returned.

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Priya was alive. That was the biggest blow to deal with.

And he had a son. That he had not prepared himself for. He didn’t know how long it
would take for him to come to terms with that.

But Priya had not asked him for any explanation. She had not asked him why Ayush
looked like Arnav. She had not asked him where he was that night of her accident.
She hadn’t called him a cheater, liar. She had made no allegations or accusations.
:
 There was a time when she had irritated him all the time with her constant questions
about his past. He had wished she would just shut up.

Now she had.

Her silence felt like death blow.

A different kind of fear came over him. The fear of actually having lost Priya
forever.

Losing her innocent love was worse than losing her forever to death.

Author’s note

Phinally! Phew! We got to this point.

Hope you like it.

It is a beautiful chapter. Very heartfelt.

I guess more than Priya is alive, Ayush is his son is probably the biggest shock. He
was having his suspicion on Priya is alive. But Ayush was a blow that came out of
nowhere. Lol

Keep reading guys .

I have a few chapters on Priyaman. So keep reading.

:
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