Page 100 of Scars and Crowns

Not I.

Together.

My composure finally gives way. "I'm diabetic." The confession tumbles out so suddenly that even I don't expect it. "I have to check my blood sugar all the time. I carry chocolate everywhere. I have to think about meals before everyone else does. I nearly scared you that afternoon because I forgot to eat." I laugh shakily through tears. "And that's not going away." I frown, "My body just . . . " I shrug helplessly. " . . . does this now." He says nothing. He only keeps holding my hands. So I keep talking.

"I have Sara." My voice grows softer. "I'll always have Sara. She's my whole world." I sigh, "Every decision I make . . . "

" . . . every plan . . . "

" . . . every dream . . . "

" . . . she comes first. I can't stop that. I don't even want to." My throat tightens. "And . . . " The next words are so much harder. "My body isn't . . . " I close my eyes briefly. " . . . what it used to be." The shame arrives before the words do. "I have stretch marks."

"I gained weight after Sara. I've tried to lose it."

"So many times."

"I still wake up early to walk whenever I can. I've changed my food. I've counted calories. I've done everything people tell you to do." A bitter laugh escapes me. "My body just . . . kept the weight."

I finally look at him. "I've tried making peace with that." Some tears slip free. "Some days I manage."

"Some days . . . ” I shake my head. " . . . I don't." He still hasn't interrupted me. Not once. He's simply listening. Really listening. The kind that asks nothing except honesty. So I give him the rest. "There are things I still haven't told you." My voice barely rises above a whisper. "Things that happened in Mumbai. I don't know how to say them yet. I don't even know where to begin." My fingers tighten around his. "I've spent so many years surviving that . . . " I let out a shaky breath. " . . . I forgot how to want anything for myself."

The words hang between us. Then I smile sadly. "Well . . . " I shake my head. "Not entirely." He watches me carefully. Waiting. "Except you." The confession breaks me completely. "I always wanted you." Fresh tears blur my vision. "It never stopped."

"Not once."

"No matter where I was."

"No matter how hard I tried to convince myself I'd moved on."

"I always wanted you." I laugh through tears. "And I'm so ashamed of that." My voice cracks. "I left this palace thinking I'd come back one day . . . "

“ . . . successful."

" . . . confident."

" . . . worthy."

"I thought I'd build this beautiful life. I thought I'd become someone who could stand beside you without feeling small." I look down at our joined hands. "And instead . . . I came back carrying grief."

"A daughter."

"Diabetes."

"Fear."

"So many things I still can't even talk about." Another tear lands on my wrist. "I don't think I'm that girl anymore." I swallow painfully. "I don't think . . . I'm someone worthy of you."

Silence. My heart begins preparing itself. This is the moment. The moment where reality returns. Where kindness softens into pity. Where love becomes an obligation. Instead . . . His hands leave mine. Only so they can cup my face. Both of them. His palms are warm against my cheeks. His thumbs wipe away tears before they have the chance to fall. He lifts my face gently until I have no choice but to look at him.

"Anamika." He says my name like it's something precious. "You keep talking about worth." His voice is quiet. Certain. "As though it's something you lost."

"As though there's some version of you I was waiting for....and you've disappointed me by becoming someone else." He smiles sadly. "Daisy . . . " His forehead almost touches mine. "That woman never existed." I blink. Confused. "There has never been a checklist."

"No perfect version of you."

"No finish line."