"his darkness, my desire"

Their Anniversary Night

The beach villa shimmered with fairy lights that evening. The children were spending the night with Aadvik's sister, and for the first time in months, it was just the two of them—no tantrums, no toy-strewn floors, no cartoons playing on loop.

Just Aadvik and Ananya.

Ten years of loving each other in chaos and calm. From enemies, to strangers, to something wild and irreplaceable.

Ananya stood on the balcony in a deep maroon satin nightgown, her hair cascading down her back, eyes reflecting candlelight. Aadvik watched her from the doorway, a glass of wine in his hand.

"You still stare," she whispered.

He walked over, placing the wine down without breaking eye contact. "Because I still can't believe you're mine."

She smiled, wrapping her arms around his neck. "You've always had me. Even when I hated you."

His lips ghosted over hers. "You never really hated me."

"I did," she teased. "Just like you pretended you didn't care when I cried in the library."

Aadvik chuckled lowly. "I remember. You were wearing that ridiculous yellow kurti with ink stains on the sleeve."

"You noticed?" she gasped.

He leaned closer. "I noticed everything."

The kiss that followed wasn't rushed. It was years of ache, of healing, of needing her in ways he still couldn't name. Their bodies remembered each other, like muscle memory of passion and peace.

He lifted her gently, laying her down on the bed with reverence—not as a man hungry for pleasure, but as a man worshiping the home he never had.

"I love you," he whispered against her collarbone.

Her fingers tangled in his hair. "Then show me."

And he did.

Over and over.

Until they collapsed, breathless, in each other's arms.

---

The Pregnancy

It started with cravings. Mangoes. Then weird mood swings. She cried watching an old cartoon and threw a slipper at Aadvik for leaving the bathroom light on.

"I swear to God, you're hormonal," he muttered.

Then she missed her period.

Ananya stared at the two pink lines, heart pounding.

When she walked out of the bathroom, Aadvik was lying on the bed reading a case study. He glanced up. "You okay?"

She threw the stick at him.

He caught it instinctively.

And froze.

His eyes slowly lifted to hers. "Ananya…"

She was crying now—but smiling. "Looks like Ruhan and Pari are getting promoted to senior siblings."

He didn't speak.

Just stood.

And hugged her. Tight. Unmoving.

When he finally whispered, his voice cracked. "I never thought I'd get a family like this."

"You deserve it," she whispered back.

He shook his head against her shoulder. "I still feel like I'm dreaming."

Ananya gently cupped his cheeks. "Then never wake up."

---

His Childhood Trauma – Shared at Last

A week later, Aadvik took the kids to the porch during sunset.

They sat around a bonfire, roasting marshmallows. Ananya listened from the doorway.

"Papa, why don't you have baby photos like us?" Ruhan asked innocently.

Aadvik paused.

"I didn't grow up like you," he said slowly. "My house… wasn't happy."

Pari frowned. "Didn't your papa hug you?"

He looked down. "No. He didn't know how. He was angry a lot. And my mother… she left."

Silence.

Ruhan reached over, small fingers curling around Aadvik's hand.

Pari climbed into his lap.

"Did it hurt?" she asked quietly.

"Every day," he said. "Until I met your mother."

Ananya's eyes filled with tears. He'd never spoken of this before. Not even to her in full. But now, with his children, he wasn't hiding.

"She showed me how to feel again. How to be soft. And when you two came into my life, I promised I'd never let that darkness touch you."

Ruhan whispered, "You're the best papa."

Pari kissed his cheek. "The safest one too."

And for the first time, Aadvik didn't feel like a broken man pretending to be whole.

He felt healed.

---

College Memories – Full Circle

Weeks later, Ananya visited their old college with Aadvik. The campus had changed, but the library was still the same—musty, silent, sacred.

They stood in the exact aisle where she once dropped her books, where he once mocked her for stuttering in anger.

"This is where I ruined your confidence," Aadvik murmured.

"No," she said. "This is where you unknowingly started falling for me."

He smirked. "I did notice your mole that day. The one near your lip. I hated how much I stared at it."

"And you hated that I didn't fall for your charm."

"I hated that you were smarter than me in psychology."

She laughed, resting her head on his shoulder. "Now we're here. Married. Three kids. And still fighting over who's smarter."

He looked down. "You won the war."

She leaned up and kissed him softly. "No. We both did."

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