Arin had always known that Astha was stubborn, but he had assumed—perhaps foolishly—that with time, she would accept the inevitable. That she would see what he saw, that they were meant to belong to each other in every world, in every way. But she had held onto her stance, refusing to acknowledge what he so desperately wanted.
One evening, as they sat on her balcony, watching the city lights flicker below them, he decided it was time to confront her.
“Astha,” he said, his voice quieter than usual but firm. “Why don’t you want to marry me in this world?”
Astha, sipping on her tea, stilled for a fraction of a second before she placed the cup down. She turned to face him, meeting his gaze head-on. “Arin, we talked about this. You promised me you’d be okay with it.”
His fingers curled into fists before he exhaled, forcing himself to remain calm. “I know what I said, but I can’t pretend anymore. I need you, Astha. I need to know that you’re mine, not just in the ways we tell each other, but in the ways the world sees too. I want the world to know that we belong together.”
She closed her eyes for a brief moment before looking at him again. “In my world, Arin, marriage is different. Everyone expects that a wife must leave her family behind—her parents, her home—to be with her husband. I don’t want to do that. I can’t leave Shanaya or my parents.”
Arin took her hands in his, squeezing them gently but firmly. “Who is asking you to do that? I love your family like my own. I wouldn’t leave them, so why should you? I want to be with you and them. I want to share my life with all of you, not take you away from them.”
Astha shook her head, biting her lip. “It’s not just that. I don’t want to change my surname or my identity. Marriage in my world means sacrificing parts of yourself for someone else, and I don’t want to do that. I don’t want to lose myself, Arin.”
Arin cupped her face, his thumb tracing soft circles against her cheek. “Astha, I don’t care about names or legal formalities. I don’t care if you change your surname or not. I don’t care about traditions or rules. The only thing that matters to me is you. As long as I can call you mine in front of the world, nothing else matters.”
Her breath hitched as his eyes bore into hers, intense and unwavering. “You are my miracle, Astha. I don’t want to lose you. I want to stand beside you, with the whole world knowing that we belong to each other.”
His voice lowered to a whisper as he leaned in, his lips barely brushing against hers. “Marry me, Astha. There is nothing else I need.”
Astha felt her walls slowly crumbling, the weight of his words wrapping around her heart. She had been so afraid of what marriage meant that she had forgotten what it could be—something built on love, trust, and the life they had created together.
She exhaled, searching his face for any hint of hesitation. There was none. Only love. Only him.
“Yes,” she whispered, and his arms immediately wrapped around her, pulling her into a fierce embrace. “But,” she added quickly, pulling back slightly, “no big weddings. No relatives. No jingbang.”
Arin chuckled, pressing a soft kiss to her forehead. “Done. Just you and me.”
Astha smiled against his chest, finally allowing herself to surrender to the love she had tried so hard to resist.
Because for the first time, she realized—he wasn’t asking her to lose herself.
He was asking her to be herself—with him.
Forever.
Leave a Reply