CHAPTER LXII
"A Second Kind of Love"
Without even realizing when or how it began… things started changing between Hannah and me.
The distance between us — emotional, invisible, once cautious — began to shrink, little by little, day by day. Her presence grew warmer, more familiar, more necessary. It wasn't just about frequent meetings or shared silences after long work shifts anymore. It was the way her fingers brushed mine when handing me a coffee… the way her voice softened when she spoke my name. The way she looked at me — as if I wasn't carrying the weight of a haunted past, but was still someone worth holding on to.
And just like that… we grew close.
Closer than I had expected.
Closer than I had ever thought I'd allow myself to be again.
I told myself I had let Mon go — buried her name under the weight of time and betrayal. I told myself every morning while staring into the bathroom mirror that Mon was my past… and Hannah was my present. That the person I was now didn't belong to the pain of yesterday, but to the possibility of now.
But the truth?
The truth was far more complicated.
Because no matter how hard I tried, no matter how much I smiled, or how tightly I held Hannah's hand in mine… my heart still whispered Mon's name in every beat. Her memory didn't haunt me like a ghost — it lived in me like a shadow. Constant. Quiet. But never quite gone.
Yet even so… I couldn't deny what I was beginning to feel for Hannah.
Her innocence, her kindness, her effortless compassion — it pulled me toward her like a tide I couldn't resist. She made things feel light. Safe. She didn't demand explanations or dig into scars I wasn't ready to reveal. She simply stood beside me — like a steady flame in the cold.
And maybe… that's what I needed.
A soft hand in a world that had been too hard for too long.
Yes — I could finally admit it.
Hannah… was my second love.
Maybe not the first storm to break me open…
But the quiet after the thunder — the calm that helps you breathe again.
Around the same time, a different kind of joy entered our lives — Mahi and Aarvi, my comrades in arms and heart, announced their engagement. After everything we had endured together — School time, broken nights, College life— they had found their forever in each other. It felt like hope wrapped in a celebration. A rare, beautiful thing.
The ceremony was to be held in Mumbai — the city of dreams.
And so, Hannah and I both arranged for transfers.
New assignments, new city… a new beginning.
They call Mumbai the city where dreams come to life — or die trying. Where people arrive with empty hands, chasing stars that shimmer through its humid skyline. Some leave with broken spirits. Others leave with more than they ever imagined.
For us… it was a leap.
As the train cut through the sleeping land, Hannah rested her head against my shoulder, and I looked out the window at the endless night.
I didn't know what Mumbai had in store for us.
But I knew this — for the first time in a long time, I wasn't running.
I was reaching.
And sometimes, that's how healing begins.
"When Home Finds You"
Arriving in Mumbai felt like stepping into a new breath — heavier with noise, richer with colors, but full of possibilities. The city pulsed with life, chaos wrapped in dreams, and in its rhythm, Hannah and I found a space of our own.
We bought a small apartment together — nothing grand, just warm and filled with sunlight. The kind of place that looked like a fresh start. The kind of place where love could quietly grow, away from the shadows of the past. It wasn't long before we asked Hannah's mom to come live with us — and when she did, it felt like a piece of Hannah's soul walked in too.
Hannah's mom… she embraced me in ways I never imagined possible. From the very first moment, she treated me like her daughter — not Hannah's partner, not her guest, but family. There was something so gentle in the way she tucked my hair behind my ear, or placed an extra spoon of dessert on my plate when she thought I looked tired. Her love was effortless, unquestioning. She didn't just accept me — she celebrated me.
And with her warmth wrapped around me, something even more miraculous happened.
My own parents began to change.
Years of silence, distance, and disappointment began to crumble like old walls finally giving in to time. After meeting Hannah's mother, after seeing how whole and happy I looked, my parents slowly opened their hearts. Maybe it was time. Maybe it was love. Or maybe… it was finally understanding that my identity didn't need to be changed, it needed to be respected.
They accepted me — fully, truly, without pretending.
And when they did, something inside me healed that I hadn't even realized was still bleeding.
With the blessings of both our families, the impossible slowly began to feel inevitable.
They agreed to our union. They called it love.
They called it ours.
And within weeks, talks of our engagement began.
The day the discussion turned into plans, I remember sitting on the balcony, watching the orange-pink hues of a Mumbai sunset, and wondering how many storms I had survived to arrive at this peace. How many nights I had cried myself to sleep, wishing to be seen, heard, loved… and now here I was — not only loved, but chosen.
Everything felt like a fairytale stitched together with scars.
Just two days before the big moment — our official engagement — Mahi was also set to get engaged. Her ceremony was drawing near, and I could see the excitement twinkling in her messages and phone calls. There was something about seeing your best friend take that step, too — it made love feel even more real. Even more permanent.
And I wanted everything to be perfect.
So that evening, I took Hannah shopping.
Not just for a dress.
But for a memory.
One more chapter written with laughter and stolen glances in trial rooms, matching bangles, and spilled iced coffee on silk scarves. One more quiet adventure before everything changed again — this time not with pain… but with joy.
Because this time, I wasn't looking over my shoulder.
I wasn't haunted.
I was home.
And Hannah…
She was no longer just my second love.
She was my future.
To be continued….