Frustration roughened his voice.
"I tried patience. I tried space. I waited for you to see what was right there."
He pressed his forehead to hers, the contact intimate and steady.
"But after that professor humiliated you, I saw it. You were already leaving. You were planning your exit. Counting down to a future where I wasn't in it."
His fingers tightened slightly in her hair.
"I was never planning to let that happen."
She couldn't deny it. Couldn't speak. Could only stare at him through tears that wouldn't stop falling.
"So I had to make you hear it. Had to say it where you couldn't dismiss it as performance or duty or pity." His hands tightened slightly on her face. "Had to make it so public, so undeniable, so witnessed that your brilliant mind couldn't logic it away."
"I'm not..." Her voice broke completely. "I'm not the kind of girl who gets this. Who deserves you."
Something fierce flashed in his eyes.
"Then let me tell you who you are."
His voice softened, but it did not lose its force.
"You're the girl who falls asleep over her books with her glasses still on. Who wakes up with paper marks on her cheek because she is dedicated to what she does."
His thumb brushed slowly along her jaw.
"You push your glasses up with your knuckles, always knuckles. You hum old songs. Off-key. Always off-key. You light up when you talk about documentaries. About real stories. Truth. Your whole face changes."
Her breath trembled.
"You drink chai exactly forty-three minutes after waking. I timed it. You fold napkins into neat triangles when your mind is racing."
His other hand slid to the back of her neck too, warm and steady.
"You manage the most impossible situations because you think out of the box. Always. You stayed till three a.m. fixing notes because you couldn't stand something being done carelessly."
His voice lowered.
"You cry quietly. You think no one sees. You make yourself small when you're hurt. You tried to convince yourself you were temporary in my life."
His throat tightened.
"You read your thesis when you can't sleep. You thank every staff member by name. You sit on the floor with Pista and smile like the weight on your shoulders disappears for a minute."
He leaned closer.
"I didn't fall in love with an arrangement. I didn't fall in love with convenience."
His fingers tightened gently against her nape.
"I fell in love with you. Because you're extraordinary in ways you refuse to see. In ways no one else sees because they're not looking. But I'm looking, Divya. I'm always looking."
His hands framed her face again, thumbs brushing away the constant stream of tears.
"I don't miss details. Not when they matter. Not when they're about you. Not ever."
"Why?" The question tore from somewhere deep, from the scared sixteen-year-old who'd never believed she'd be enough, from the assistant who'd kept professional distance like armor, from the wife who'd counted down to her own expiration date. "Why me? When you could have anyone... when you have had everyone wanting you..."
