Page 109 of The Defiant Wife

He smiles softly."So the next time life gets too heavy . . . "He leans his forehead against mine again." . . . lean on me instead."

My throat tightens all over again. This time it isn't because I'm hurting. It's because someone is finally giving me permission to stop carrying everything alone.

"Thank you," I whisper.

My fingers curl into the front of his shirt. For the first time in years the words I don't know what to do don't feel quite so terrifying anymore.

Veeraj wraps his arms around me again and kisses the top of my head.

"Enough worrying for today, Trouble," he murmurs. "Go get some sleep." His voice returns to its calm, confident certainty. "I'll take care of the rest.”

40. IT FINALLY MAKES SENSE

VEERAJ

The silver photo frame sits beside the brass inkwell on my desk. It looks oddly out of place among the stacks of audit reports and files spread across the mahogany surface.

It's the photo I took on Aadhya's birthday.

Diya doesn't know I printed it.

She's standing beneath the garden lights, watching Devraj bhai sa and Meher bhabhi sa together, smiling without realizing anyone is looking at her.

Every time my eyes drift toward that frame, I lose my concentration. The reports blur. The numbers stop making sense.

Instead, I find myself looking at her. The royal blue saree. Her loose curls. The soft smile that only appears when she forgets to guard herself. The pale patches of vitiligo on her neck catching the warm light. She's beautiful.

Not because she's trying to be. Simply because she's being herself.

"Well, well . . . " Vihaan strolls inside like he owns the place, one hand tucked into his pocket. His gaze follows mine and lands immediately on the photograph. A slow grin spreads across his face. "I never thought I'd see the day."

I don't bother looking up from the file in front of me. "What day?"

He walks closer and points toward the frame. "The day Veeraj Singh Shekhawat keeps a framed photograph of his wife on his office desk."

"It's a family photograph."

"Oh, of course."

He nods dramatically. "And I'm sure that's why it's the only picture on the entire desk."

I continue reading the same paragraph for the third time. "I fail to see your point."

"My point," he says, leaning against the desk, "is that if someone had told me three months ago that my elder brother would spend office hours staring at candid pictures of his wife, I'd have laughed in their face."

"I wasn't staring."

"You absolutely were."

"I was thinking."

"About her."

I don't answer.

Vihaan's grin only grows. "You know," he says, his teasing softening into something more genuine, "I honestly didn't think this was possible."

That finally makes me look up. "What wasn't?"