Realizing Love

January 1, 2011

9:30 AM — The Oberoi, Mumbai

Sunlight streamed into the room, warming the sheets as Katherine Naskar slowly woke up. The distant hum of Mumbai's morning traffic filled the air, but inside the hotel suite, everything was quiet.

Her mind, however, wasn't.

Last night's conversation with her father lingered like an unshakable shadow.

_"I just need to understand where Aritra stands."_

_"You're in a unique position, Katherine."_

She had hesitated.

Not because she was unsure of Aritra.

But because, deep down, she hadn't yet figured out where she stood.

She exhaled sharply, sitting up and pulling the sheets around her.

Why was she struggling with something that should have been so simple?

Did she love Aritra?

The question felt ridiculous. They had been married for a while now. They lived together. They spent their days side by side. But was it love… or had she just gotten used to him?

Aritra wasn't an easy man to read. He never made grand romantic gestures, never tried to impress her with extravagant gifts, and yet… he was always there.

Unshakable. Steady.

Her mind wandered back to their first festival together—Durga Puja in Kolkata.

Instead of some high-profile event, they had walked through crowded pandals, surrounded by music and the smell of incense. He had blended in as if he were just another guy from the city, eating phuchkas from a street vendor and laughing when she nearly choked on the spice.

There were no cameras. No staged appearances. No pressure.

For the first time in her life, she had experienced a festival for what it was meant to be—pure, joyous, and simple.

And that was just one of many moments.

She had never realized it before, but her entire life had changed after she married him.

There were no more forced charity galas.

No networking dinners filled with people scheming for power.

No meticulously curated social circles where every friendship was a business transaction.

She was finally free.

And Aritra?

He had never once tried to make her his version of an ideal wife.

He didn't dictate how she should dress.

He didn't tell her what events she needed to attend.

He didn't force her to play the part of a billionaire's wife.

Instead, they lived as they pleased—celebrating festivals, eating street food, walking through markets, watching late-night movies in their living room.

She thought about his simple wardrobe—jeans, T-shirts, and the occasional jacket. The way he always chose comfort over image, despite being one of the most powerful men in India.

And suddenly, she knew.

She hadn't just fallen for Aritra.

She had fallen for this life—a life where she didn't have to be Katherine Blackwood, the daughter of power.

With him, she was just Katherine.

And she had never been happier.

---

10:30 AM — Realization

Katherine stood by the balcony, watching the world below.

And then, her eyes landed on him.

Aritra was sitting on a bench near a small roadside café, dressed in his usual black T-shirt and jeans, casually sipping a glass of cutting chai. He was engaged in conversation with an elderly chai vendor, listening intently, nodding occasionally, and smiling.

There were no bodyguards.

No expensive suits.

No journalists documenting his every move.

Just him, living his life as simply as ever.

And that was when she felt the final piece click into place.

She loved him.

Not because of his brilliance.

Not because of his power.

Not because of his empire.

She loved him because he never let any of it change him.

Because he had built the future, yet never lost himself in it.

Because, despite everything, he still found peace in a morning cup of chai, in a quiet conversation with a stranger.

And suddenly, she knew what she had to do.

She needed to tell him.

She found him still sitting at the café, the remnants of his chai beside him.

He looked up as she approached, raising an eyebrow. "You're up early."

"I need to talk to you," she said, her voice steady but urgent.

Aritra studied her for a second, then stood up, gesturing for her to follow him toward a quieter street.

"What is it?" he asked.

Katherine took a deep breath.

And then, before she could overthink it, she grabbed his hand and held it tightly.

"Aritra… I love you."

Aritra blinked. For the first time, he looked completely caught off guard.

Katherine let out a nervous breath, feeling her heart hammer against her ribs. "I needed to say it. Because I realized something—I don't care about the business, or the politics, or the empire. I love you because of who you are. Because of how you make me feel. Because I don't have to be anything but myself when I'm with you."

Aritra remained silent for a moment.

Then, without a word, he pulled her into his arms.

The tension melted instantly as she felt his warmth, the steady rhythm of his heartbeat against her cheek. He held her firmly but gently, as if he had been waiting for this moment all along.

No words were needed.

After a long silence, he finally spoke, his voice quieter than usual.

"Come on," he said, pulling back slightly to look at her. "Let's go get some chai."

Katherine stared at him in disbelief. "Chai?"

He smirked. "Yeah. That's what you do when your wife finally confesses, right?"

She burst out laughing, her heart feeling lighter than it had in years.

"You're impossible," she said, shaking her head.

Aritra only shrugged. "And yet, you love me."

She smiled. "Yeah. I do."

This time, she was the one who kissed him, slow and sure.

And in that moment, Katherine knew—

She had chosen him.

Not because of loyalty.

Not because of circumstance.

Not because of fate.

But because, for the first time in her life, love had never felt so simple.