I stir in my sleep, only to feel the weight of your arm across my stomach. Your warm breath caresses my neck as you bury yourself a little deeper into the sheets, unwilling to wake up just yet. I gently lift your arm, draw you closer and turn to face you. You open one eye, as if to assess whether the situation is conducive to waking up. And then, deciding to stay in just a bit longer, you pull me into your embrace, sliding me across the bed as if I weigh nothing at all. I plant a little kiss on your chest as I look up into your eyes. My fingers seek your soft, silky hair, wanting just a little more from you. You take the hint. When have you not? Before I can react, you’ve pinned me under your body, caressing my hips and kissing my shoulders. Memories of last night come flooding back as the blush rises to my cheeks. But I know I want more. Your kisses heat up as you make love to me, again. Just like you have for many months now. By the time we both fall back on the bed, exhausted, the sun is already up. You draw me close, my hair a bunch of messy curls and my lips, a scandalously deep shade of red. Before I can say anything, you look deep into my eyes and say, “I can’t stay away one more night. Move in with me.” And this time, I know I can’t refuse.

“Let’s go home.” I stare at you wondering if I heard you right. We’d been seeing each other for over six months. When we started out, you made it clear as day that this couldn’t get serious. And I agreed. After all, I didn’t need yet another failed relationship to add to my already 100% failure rate in relationships. It’s been a wonderful six months. Dinner dates, movies, short vacations, weekends away. There’s nothing to complain about.

Yet, I found myself getting restless. I caught myself thinking of a future with you. Of a home and hearth. Of appreciating a certain shared domesticity. And each time I pulled back. Until I could no longer take it. When I called you earlier in the day asking to meet, even I wasn’t sure I’d go the distance. But here I am. I ended up blurting out the truth in the most embarrassing way possible. “I don’t want this to be a fling. Let’s end it now because otherwise I’ll just fall deeper and deeper in love with you.”

You stared at me for a minute before replying, “Let’s go home.” I stare at you, not sure if I heard you right. Do you want to drop me home? I ask. “No. I want to take you home. To my place.” But why? You’ve never invited me before. Your eyes never leave mine as you reply. “Because there’s no going back now. I’m already in love with you. And you deserve more than dinner dates and vacations in fancy resorts.”

Time hangs heavy on my hands as I bustle around doing this and that. It’s not even 6 hours since I woke up and it feels like days. In an unusually productive Saturday morning, I’ve cleaned and scrubbed, prepped for the week, done my grocery shopping and made lunch. I take as much time as possible to make lunch because I don’t quite know what else to do. My heart feels heavy and there’s a certain restlessness that rises from deep within.

I settle down in front of the TV with lunch intending to watch some mindless entertainment. Instead, I find myself drifting off in different directions. My mind wanders. To a conversation earlier today. He’s travelling again. For work. I’m not sure when he’ll be back. He said it would be a week. It’s been ten days since he left with everyday promising to be the last. Tears threaten to flow. I hate feeling this way. I hate this emotional dependency. I shake my head, as if to snap out of this morose mood I’ve found myself in. I pull myself together and finish lunch.

As I carry my plate to the sink, I find my mind drifting again. I busy myself in trying my hand at baking. This is one thing I haven’t been able to do without his help. Today, I’m determined to change that. I immerse myself in the task at hand, carefully measuring and mixing. It takes me four hours. I’m grateful for the time that passes. And before I know it, it’s late afternoon. I sink into the couch for some rest.

It’s two hours later that the brass knocker on the door wakes me from the involuntary nap I seem to have taken. I look at the clock. It’s 6.30. Who could it be? Perhaps a neighbour needs something. I open the door and can’t believe my eyes.

“Kannamma…” The words fill me up with an indescribable joy. He’s back. As if on cue, the oven timer goes off, filling the house with the aroma of freshly baked bread. “You baked?” His question is full of surprise, happiness and laughter. Yes. I did. He steps in and gathers me in his arms. “It feels great to be home.” Yes darling. It feels like home finally, I say as I melt into his embrace.

The sunlight streams through the window curtains, waking me from sleep. I stir, only to feel the heaviness of his arm around my waist. His head is buried in my neck, like he’s trying to burrow away from the rising sun and snatch just a few more minutes of sleep. The feel of his thick curls against my cheeks makes me smile involuntarily. It’s these few precious moments of peace before the world rises that give immeasurable joy.

I turn around and gather him into my arms. His embrace tightens around me as he pulls me closer. I sigh and snuggle into him, relishing the warmth of the morning, the softness of his touch and the tenderness of his embrace. He opens his eyes and smiles, that gorgeous, open smile that never fails to melt my heart. And then, as if to wish me an amazing day, kisses me deeply. I melt into that kiss. That kiss that never fails to lift my spirits no matter what.

Just as we think we have some time to get cozy, the room door bursts open with a loud thud. Before we know it, the bed is a tangle of arms and legs. There’s laughter and breathless shouts, and a mass of curls to rival their father’s. And I know my day has begun well. I gather the three of them in my arms, knowing that I’m blessed to have this.

It’s nearly 11. We’ve had a long, interesting conversation over dinner. I clear away the table and take them to the sink. The kids, now all grown up and full of teen angst, help grudgingly. They know he expects them to. I tell them I’ll take care of it. They smile, say good night, and go to their rooms, kissing their father good night on the way. He smiles and settles in his armchair with a book in hand. I clear up the kitchen, turn off the lights and join him. He looks happy. My heart fills up. I settle down on the couch across the room from him.

He gets up from his armchair, turns off the lights, leaving the gentle, soothing glow of the pedestal lamp. He pulls the ottoman out and settles down on it, directly in front of where I sit. I raise my eyebrows in question. He smiles, bends down and takes my feet in his hands. I sigh and make myself comfortable. His hands work magic on my feet. I feel myself relaxing. Outside, the night sky has a reddish hue, signalling an impending storm. Thunder rolls. I feel the coolness of the breeze through the balcony door. The coolness signals the start of the rains.

Oh! How I love the rains. They make me insanely happy. He knows my special relationship with rain. His hands continue to massage and caress my feet. I sigh with pleasure. It’s as if he instinctively senses my need and mood. The scent of fresh earth wafts in with the breeze. The first pre-monsoon showers have arrived. It begins to rain.

He gently sets my feet down and gets up. He puts his hand out. I put my hands in his and get up. I look into his eyes, searching for love, for desire and for passion. I find all of them at once. His hand feels warm on my hip. He takes my hand in his other hand and starts moving slowly, as if dancing to a melody we cannot hear. My body responds to his every move. After about ten minutes, he pauses. He puts his fingers under my chin and gently lifts my face to him. What if the kids see? “Let them know too how much I love you,” he says without a moment’s hesitation. I smile. He places a gentle, tentative kiss on my lips. I kiss him back, wishing this moment would last forever. The kiss deepens as his hands caress my back. I melt into him, surrendering my will like I’ve done so many times before.

I hear the room door open and I know one of the kids has stepped out. He knows it too but makes no attempt to stop or step away. Instead, he gently breaks the kiss and pulls me into his arms. He kisses the top of my head and hugs me tight. I let myself go, feeling his every inch against my body. I hear the room door close again, much more quietly this time, and I know they’re fine. I smile against his chest, knowing that I’m now home. He is home. And I’m there. Finally.