Page 102 of The Defiant Wife

The question catches me off guard. I don't answer immediately.

Happiest? My mind instinctively searches for the practical answer. A project completed before its deadline. A successful negotiation. A policy that actually improves people's lives. For years, I measured satisfaction in outcomes, not emotions. Happiness was never something I stopped to define. It was simply the brief silence after another responsibility was fulfilled.

But now . . . A different set of memories pushes their way forward before logic can stop them.

Diya laughing so hard she nearly spills her tea. The children racing toward us the moment we step into the NGO. Tiny hands tugging at my sleeves. Aadhya falling asleep on my shoulder. Watching my wife smile without looking over her shoulder, waiting for someone to take that happiness away.

Funny. None of those things can be measured on a report. And none of those I can mention to her.

Finally I say, "Fixing something."

She looks confused. "Machines?"

"Sometimes."

I nod slowly."But not just machines."

"If something is broken, I can make it work again . . . I like that."I don't realise how much those words reveal until I see the look on her face.

She smiles softly."That makes sense."

"What about you?"

"My answer?"

I nod.

She doesn't even think."Helping people see their worth. I like when I can make someone realize they deserve the best."She shrugs."It instantly fixes my mood."

I want to ask when does she think she can do that for herself, when will she realise she deserves the best too? But I restrain myself because she seems so into this and I actually want to hear her more.

She smiles, "And making children laugh. I could have the worst day of my life, but if one of those little monsters hugs me . . . " she chuckles softly, " . . . everything feels okay again."

I nod. "I know."

"You do?"

"I've seen it."

She looks strangely touched by that.She quickly clears her throat before reading the next question. "Oh, this one's important." She scrolls again.

I brace myself."If someone annoys you . . . "

"They usually do."

" . . . what do you secretly wish you could say but don't?"

I look straight at her."Depends."

"On?"

"Whether it's you."

She narrows her eyes."And if it's me?"

"I usually want to tell you to stop talking."

She gasps dramatically. "I knew it!"