Page 57 of Forged By Fate

“We could do that next week,” he replied promptly. “I can take you to Manali on my Harley. What else?”

“Let me see… I’ve always wanted painting lessons, but I never got around to doing them.”

“These are all things we can do very easily, wifey. Tell me something you’ve never had. And I’ll do my best to arrange it for you,” he said with a laugh.

I stared at him, wondering if I was about to ruin everything.

“Since you ask…I’ve never had love, Viren.”

He froze for a few seconds, and I was sure he’d tip the hot tub over in his rush to leap out of it. But his hard gaze never left mine as he swallowed hard. I saw his Adam’s apple bobbing with the movement and wanted to go over to him and lick it. But he had promised me a night of just talking, and I wasn’t going to muck it up with more meaningless sex.

CHAPTER 27

VIREN

Iknew I could end this conversation right now. All I had to do was reach out and touch my wife. Maybe press a few kisses to her soft, gleaming skin. And within seconds, she’d be locked in my arms, eyes closed in bliss, this conversation long forgotten.

But as she’d shown today, she didn’t forget anything. She was the one person who saw through me clearly. Besides, the bleakness in her expression as she told me that she had never had love in her life simply gutted me.

How was this even possible? Sunaina was one of the most loveable people I knew. I had to hear her out, and maybe show her how much love there was in her present, even if she hadn’t had any in her past.

“What do you mean?”

She lifted her shoulder idly and looked away as she took a sip of champagne.

“It’s fairly self-explanatory,” she bit out. “I’ve never had anyone in my life really love me. It is what it is.”

“Sunaina…” I began, but she turned an incendiary glare at me.

“Don’t you dare to pity me, Viren Chaudhry!”

“I’m not pitying you, you prickly little cactus. I’m trying to tell you you’re wrong. There are many people in your life who love you to bits.”

But she shook her head stubbornly and I soldiered on.

“Daima told me your father really loved you.”

Sunaina sighed heavily and drained her glass. I topped it up, and she toyed with the stem of the champagne flute as she mulled over my words.

“He loved me a lot when my mother was alive. But after she died, I was more of a burden to him. Especially after he married Aunty. They could have had a happy married life if it weren’t for me.”

“How do you figure that?”

“She hated me,” said Sunaina plainly.

“And that’s on her. It’s a choice she made,” I pointed out.

“Yes, but my poor Baba spent all their married life protecting me from her wrath. That kind of stress takes a toll on your life, right? He was so miserable all the time, and sometimes I used to wish I had died when my mother did so that the poor man could have had some chance of happiness after us.”

My heart clenched at the thought of a world without Sunaina. Our lives would be so poor if we hadn’t met her.

“The fact that he chose you over his marriage should tell you how much he loved you,” I said, my voice rough from all the emotions clogging my throat.

She gave me a startled glance, which showed me that she had never considered this angle.

“Why did your stepmother hate you?” I asked curiously. “How old were you when your father married her?”

“I was four.”

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