I followed you toward the kitchen, my footsteps light, almost reverent. I did not rush. I did not speak. My eyes stayed fixed on the back of your head, on the way you moved, so ordinary, so unremarkable to the world, and yet to me, the axis around which everything now turned.
You were simple.
And that simplicity terrified me more than any power ever had.
"Go ahead, Manu." I said softly, leaning against the kitchen island as you opened cabinets filled with ingredients I had never once touched with intention. "Chant her name. Fill this house with it. I will sit here and watch you… and I will try to see the Creator in the way you chop vegetables, or pour water."
I reached out, my fingers brushing the fabric of your shirt, an instinctive, almost unconscious gesture. Possessive, yes, but gentler than before. As if I were reminding myself that you were real.
"But remember." I added quietly, "While your mind belongs to Radha… this moment, this kitchen, this marriage, this life, belongs to us. I am ready to be your Ansh."
My voice lowered, steadier now.
"Feed me, Manu. Show me what it means to live as an actor in your world."
You paused.
Then, without turning fully toward me, you said calmly, almost practically.
"Yeah… but first, can I take a bath? And you should take one too. I forgot about that, first we should bath then make food. I usually don't make food without bathing first, I guess my mind went blank because I haven't eaten anything..."
For a moment, I simply stared.
Then a soft, weary laugh escaped my lips, light, unburdened, unfamiliar even to me. My body felt hollow from hunger, my head still clouded, yet something inside loosened. You were right. We were both carrying the residue of war, dust, sweat, tears, and the stench of a confrontation that had pushed us to the edge of disappearance.
"A bath…" I whispered.
"Yes."
I straightened slowly, my legs trembling as I leaned against the cold marble for support.
"To wash away the Smriti who thought she could bargain with a soul." I said quietly.
"To wash away the 'I' that was terrified of losing."
If I was to be your Ansh, then every act, even this had to become a ritual.
"There's a stone tub in the master suite." I continued, my voice softer now, lower. "The water can be heated to any degree. I'll prepare it."
I stepped closer, my hands resting lightly on your shoulders. Not gripping. Not claiming. Touching you the way one touches something entrusted, not owned.
"We'll wash away the ego." I said. "Together."
The bathroom greeted us in white marble and gold once a monument to my success, now something quieter. Almost sacred. I turned the faucets on, the sound of rushing water filling the room as steam rose.
"I will help you." I said, turning toward you. My eyes no longer burned with hunger, but with something far more unsettling, devotion stripped of certainty.
"I will wash the fatigue from your back," I continued, "and the sorrow from your skin. And then… you can do the same for me."
I reached toward the buttons of your shirt, my fingers steady despite my weakness.
"We'll enter whatever comes next clean of illusion," I whispered.
Then, softer still almost afraid of the answer..
"Do you still hear her, Manu? Even through the sound of the water?"
I looked at you, searching.
"I want to learn to hear her too," I admitted. "But while I listen… let me feel the heart that beats in the body she gave you."
The water kept running.
And for the first time, surrender did not feel like loss, it felt like preparation.