Monsoon Hearts

Chapter 10: Monsoon’s End

As summer progressed into autumn, the rains began to ease, coming in shorter bursts rather than the steady downpours that had defined their early weeks together. The mountains emerged more frequently from their silver veils, revealing vistas that took Meera’s breath away every single time.

She’d begun helping Arjun with his work, not painting herself but managing the practical aspects—photographing pieces, writing descriptions, researching galleries that might be interested in his monsoon series. It felt natural, using her curatorial skills in service of art she believed in rather than simply maintaining collections for wealthy collectors.

“I’ve been thinking,” she said one morning as they walked through the village market, gathering supplies for the week. “About what comes next.”

Arjun selected mangoes with the focused attention he brought to everything, testing for ripeness with gentle pressure. “And?”

“I want to open a gallery. Here, in Kasauli. Showcase hill artists whose work never makes it to the city galleries.”

He paused in his fruit examination. “That’s a big dream.”

“I know. It would mean using most of my savings from London, probably taking out loans, definitely failing spectacularly if I can’t make it work.”

“It sounds perfect for you,” he said simply.

“Even if it means I’m stuck here permanently? No going back to the safety of London, no fallback plan?”

“Meera,” he said, turning to face her fully in the middle of the bustling market. “I fell in love with you the night you stood in the rain and called it honest. I’m not interested in the version of you that needs fallback plans.”

The word hung between them—love. They’d been dancing around it for weeks, but this was the first time either of them had said it directly.

“I love you too,” she said, and felt something settle into place in her chest, like a bird finally finding the right branch to rest on.

But even as she said it, part of her wondered if love was enough. If the intensity of their connection could survive the practical realities of building a life together, the inevitable moments when passion gave way to routine, when the romance of living in the mountains confronted the reality of limited opportunities and isolation from the wider world.

As if sensing her doubts, Arjun took her hand. “Love isn’t a guarantee,” he said quietly. “It’s just the best reason I know to try.”