Chapter 1 – Fire
in the Dark Ten Years Ago… The accident happened on a hot summer afternoon, when the sun was burning every street in Jaipur. My phone was constantly ringing, and when I woke up, my neighbor’s voice was trembling:

“Priya! Raghav has met with an accident. He’s being taken to the hospital!”

From that day on, my world fell apart. From a healthy man, Raghav went from being wheelchair-bound, to a half-paralyzed man. At first, I promised myself that I would never leave him. I loved him, and that love was enough for me to overcome everything… Or that’s what I thought.

But ten years… Ten years is a long period when lonely nights become a deep pit swallowing a woman.

I thought I was strong, but every night when I saw my husband sitting motionless by the window, his eyes desolate, I felt a terrible emptiness inside. It wasn’t just a physical lack – it was a longing to hug someone, to touch them, to hear sweet words.

My house was in a small street. Across the street was Amit’s house—a construction worker in his thirties, tall, dark, always with a bright smile. I told myself not to look too long, but every time he passed by with a sack of cement, my body would betray my mind.

One afternoon, when the wall of my house broke, Amit came to repair it. Between the sound of a hammer and the smell of mortar, our eyes met… For longer than necessary. He smiled, I smiled too… And from that moment on, everything began to spiral out of control.

Chapter 2 – Stealthy Nights In the days that followed, Amit would often look for excuses to come—sometimes to borrow tools, sometimes to help repair the verandah. One day, Raghav was taking a nap in his room, and I went to the kitchen to pour water for Amit. When he put the cup on the table, his hand accidentally touched mine… But that “accident” was so fast that I knew it was no coincidence.

“Priya… Are you alright?” – Amit asked in a low voice.

“I’m fine…” – I replied, but my eyes drifted down, not daring to look at him.

That touch was like a spark in a pile of embers that had been smoldering for ten years. We started meeting when Raghav was sleeping or when his friends used to take him out. At first, it was just talking, then hugging, a kiss… And finally, we crossed the line.

I knew I was wrong. Every time I returned to Raghav, I felt guilt and emptiness. But in Amit’s arms, I felt like a real woman – wanted, loved, even if only for a while.

A month passed like that. I thought everything was under control, Raghav would never know… Until that morning.

Chapter 3 – Notebook and Choice
I was boiling masala chai when I heard Raghav calling out from the bedroom. Today her voice was different – not tired as usual, but firm and decisive.

When I went inside, I saw him sitting upright in his wheelchair, holding an old leather notebook in his hand. His eyes… It was deep and not worth reading.

“Priya… I know everything,” she said softly.

My heart sank. I was waiting for him to scream, blame… But he didn’t.

Raghav extended the notebook to me:

“For ten years, I haven’t been able to do anything for you. I know you’re alone. I don’t blame you… However, I know about you and Amit. ”

I was stunned. Not because I was recognized, but because there was no displeasure in his voice.

He continued:

“This notebook is written by me… This is our story, from the day we met at the Pushkar Mela to now. I wrote it word-for-word, with my left hand, every night you slept. I sent the manuscript to a publisher in Delhi… And they agreed to print it. Royalty… The whole thing is for you. If you want to go, I won’t keep it. But if you stop… So I still love you like I did the day before. ”

When I opened the notebook, every line looked crooked, but full of emotion. He remembered every little detail—even the moments when I thought he wouldn’t notice. I burst into tears, pages drenched in tears.

That afternoon, I went to meet Amit. When I said:

“Amit… Let’s stop. ”

He just nodded, looked down, and then turned away. He didn’t say a word. Maybe he knew… There was never any love between us.

That night, I returned to Raghav. No big promises, just holding her hand tightly. The book was later published and sold so much that the hospital bills and living expenses were met. But for me, it had a real price… It saved my soul, pulled me out of my mistakes and helped me rediscover true love.

Life isn’t easy, but sometimes, the most unexpected thing… It is the light that shows the way in the darkest days.

Chapter 4 – Result: The Light
After the Storm Even after Raghav’s book was published, I was not used to seeing his name in newspapers and literary reviews. People called him “a left-handed man to save his love.”

We started getting letters from everywhere—from women who were caring for their sick husbands, from men who had lost the ability to work, but still wanted to love their wives in their own way. He said that our story has made him believe that true love still exists.

The royalty of the book was enough for Raghav to start a new physiotherapy course at a centre in Delhi. Three times a week, I would take him there, sit next to him and patiently practice every action. Drops of sweat rolled down his forehead, and sometimes he would close his eyes in pain, but then open them and smile at me:

“I want to try… For you. ”

Slowly, Raghav was able to lift his left leg up slightly, then lean more vigorously on his left hand. The doctor said that there is still a possibility of his recovery, although he cannot recover completely.

But the most important change was not in his body, but in his heart. We talked more about small things during the day. In the evenings, when I was washing dishes in the kitchen, instead of silently looking out the window, he would now read me an excerpt from a book, or ask me my opinion about a character.

Once, while I was making tea, Raghav suddenly said:

“Honey, you know… I didn’t write this book just to cherish my memories. I was afraid that if one day I was gone, you wouldn’t even know how much I loved you. ”

I turned and looked into his eyes. For the first time in ten years, I saw a warm light there. I went up to him, put the cup of tea on the table and hugged him tightly.

I still think of Amit sometimes – not out of regret, but because he came before me when I was at the weakest. But now I understand that that moment of passion was just the last stop, and Raghav was the path I wanted to pursue.

A year later, on our wedding anniversary, we returned to the Pushkar fair – where it all began. Raghav was in a wheelchair, but his left hand held my hand firmly. He whispered:

“Priya… If we ever meet again in the next life, I would still like to love you from the beginning. ”

I smiled, and for the first time in years I was completely relaxed. That book changed our lives—not just because of the money, but because it made me realize: true love is not in the moments of fire, but in the slow burning that warms the heart, even when everything around it has gone cold.