I stand pressed against the dark wood of the almirah, my heart hammering as I watch you pace the length of the hallway, a phone clutched to your ear. The moment our eyes meet, a sudden jolt of electricity passes between us. I quickly turn away, swinging the almirah door shut to hide the heat rising in my face.

Drawing a quick breath, I step toward the threshold, only to find you already closing the distance. You look at me with a faint, knowing smile. I try to steady myself and walk toward the exit, but you step into the doorway, blocking my path. I move to one side; you shift with me. I try the other; you step in again, trapping me in the narrow space.

“What are you doing?” I ask, my voice barely above a whisper.

Your head is newly shorn, the familiar darkness of your hair gone, leaving your face more exposed than I have ever seen it. Grief has sharpened you. It has hollowed the space beneath your eyes and placed a stillness inside them that frightens me.

I know why your hair is gone.

I know whose absence you carry.

There are words I should offer—careful, consoling words about loss, time, and endurance—but all of them feel too small. They would fall between us like objects dropped into a well, never reaching the depth of what you feel.

So I say nothing.

I take a cautious step backward as you continue to advance. The contrast between us is striking—the deep, rich drape of my indigo-blue saree against your sheer white shirt and low-slung cargos. Through the translucent fabric, the outline of your chest is visible, a sight I have longed for during the months we have been apart. My eyes linger on the subtle rise and fall of your breath, tracing the faint scatter of hair across your chest before lifting to meet your gaze.

Your lips are parted in invitation, and mine part in answer.

Before I can speak, my back meets the cool plaster of the wall. Your hands close around mine, pinning my wrists above my head. The kiss is sudden, deep, and breathless, dissolving months of distance in a single moment.

You pull your lips from mine and look at me. I struggle to catch my breath, my eyes moving from yours to your lips, then down to your chest. I have always wanted to see you like this. My gaze rises again to your eyes, then your mouth.

I lean forward to kiss you, but you lift me before I can. The room spins as you carry me toward the bed. You lay me down, the sudden shift leaving me breathless as memories of our past intimacy rush back.

Slipping out of your shirt, you settle over me, the warm weight of your body pressing against mine. Your hand traces my hairline, brushing stray strands from my face before your lips move slowly down the column of my neck. A soft sound escapes my throat.

You pull me into your arms, your hands firm around my waist as you loosen the folds of my saree. My dyed hair falls loose over my shoulders. As the fabric slips away, you look at me with raw desire, your eyes lingering on my neck, the curve of my waist, and the soft contour of my hips.

I study the bare curve of your head, the skin still lighter where the sun has not touched it. I lift my hand and trace it gently.

Beneath my palm, you become completely still.

The gesture undoes you more than the kiss did.

You pull me closer and bury your face against my chest. I wrap my arms around you, kissing your head and caressing you with a tenderness that feels almost protective. I hold you as though I could soothe the grief from your body, and then you draw me back onto the bed.

I gently pin you beneath me, intertwining my fingers with yours as I kiss you deeply. Straddling you, I trail slow kisses across your body—over your neck, your chest, and down toward your stomach. I take my time, listening as your breathing grows heavier and soft sounds escape your lips.

Your reactions make me want you more. I continue until the pleasure becomes overwhelming and you pull me back toward you, kissing me passionately. The attraction between us is impossible to hide. I can see in your eyes how deeply you want me.

I move against you slowly, drawing out every sensation as our bodies come together. You gasp at the warmth and intimacy, and the sound of your pleasure fills the room.

You pull me beneath you, your hand gently tangled in my hair as you move against me in a steady rhythm. Your fingers rest around my neck, firm but careful, and I surrender to the moment, letting my body respond to yours. I moan as your lips move over my chest and stomach before finding their way back to my mouth.

Our eyes meet—your deep-brown eyes holding my dark ones—and I look at you with love, passion, and a desire I can no longer hide.

As the tension between us finally breaks, I feel months of waiting, longing, and unspoken emotion leaving our bodies all at once. My lips part, and you kiss me as we lose ourselves in each other.

Then you collapse into my arms, burying your face against my chest.

I hold you tightly as you begin to cry, wrapping my legs around you and refusing to let you pull away. I kiss your head, your ears, and your temple, holding you close as the fear and pain you have carried for so long begin to leave you.

Your body is warm and solid against mine, yet I can feel the weariness inside it—the effort it has taken for you to continue moving through ordinary days while carrying an absence too large to name.

I hold you tighter.

After months apart, I finally have you in my arms again, and I do not want to let go.

The tears come silently, your body shaking with everything you have carried alone. I cradle your head and kiss the smoothness of your scalp, then your temple, your ear, and the corner of your closed eye.

You try once to turn your face away.

I bring you back.

There is no shame here.

There is only this room, this bed, and my body beneath yours, asking nothing from you except that you stop pretending for a little while.

Later, as the intensity fades into stillness, the emotional weight of our reunion takes over. I trace the line of your back, my fingers brushing against the small heat-induced blisters marking your skin—the physical toll of stress and neglect while we were apart.

An ache of tenderness blooms in my chest, along with a desperate wish to soothe every mark and every piece of pain you have carried alone.

Our eyes lock—your deep brown meeting my black. The distance, the waiting, and the quiet fear of the past few months melt into the silence of the room.

You bury your face against my neck, your breathing ragged, until a silent sob breaks through. I wrap my arms and legs around you, pulling you impossibly close, kissing your head and your ears, refusing to let you carry the weight alone any longer.

When I finally sit up to gather my clothes and prepare to leave, you watch me from the mattress.

Before I can reach the door, you cross the distance once more, catching my wrist and pulling me back into the warmth of the bed.

The world outside disappears all over again.