The Spaces Between Us

Between Want and Wait

Leo tried everything, his palate overwhelmed by fire and spice, but he didn't complain. He watched her glow, laughing as she urged him to taste one more thing. He thought: this is her world, and I would eat fire itself if it meant seeing her like this.

By the time they returned, he was too full to move. He sprawled on the couch.
"I'm not getting up," he groaned.

Rhea swatted his arm. "I should have booked you a hotel, Leo." And then she added quietly, "I told you I come from a very modest background, Leo."

Leo thought about what she was saying, about the tiny edge of shame in her tone, but smiled back. And when she tried to swat his hand again, saying playfully, "I thought you'd prefer being here."

"I do," he said, catching her hand. His thumb brushed over her knuckles. "Don't worry about me sleeping on the couch."

She handed him soft cotton pajamas and changed into an oversized T-shirt. Leo couldn't keep his eyes away from her. She wore that little anklet he had made with lapis stones, her long bare legs peeking under the T-shirt. He wanted to drag her onto his lap, to feel those legs wrap around him. He wanted her to know how deeply he ached for her. But he swallowed it, keeping his eyes gentle instead of hungry.

They settled into the couch, stretching their legs, sitting side by side half-watching the news before switching to Netflix.

Leo noticed how different she looked from Thailand—lighter somehow, more at peace. Since coming back, she had promised herself she wouldn't let the past eclipse her future. Bit by bit, she'd been reclaiming herself. And he was terrified, in a way—terrified that one day she might not need him at all.

The apartment was sparsely furnished, functional, with a few scattered paintings, nothing personal. When he stepped away to change, he discovered she had drawn him a bath—salt crystals, a single candle flickering at the edge. His chest tightened. She had thought of him, his comfort, his rest. He wanted to tell her she was already enough.

When he emerged, warm and clean, he kissed her forehead and said goodnight, retreating to the couch.

Rhea lingered, conflicted. He had crossed oceans to see her, and still, they weren't anything defined—not lovers, not partners. Alex was the only man she had ever shared a bed with, and it was this bed. She could not imagine being in it with Leo. She didn't want to use Leo as a refuge from Alex's shadow. He deserved more than that.

And Leo understood, though it tore at him. He felt the pull toward her—wanted to hold her, to claim her—but he refused to rush her. He would wait, no matter how long.

The next morning, a Sunday, they took the short flight to Delhi. She had booked a room with two single beds in Taj Palace Hotel; she wanted him to experience the charm of the Taj Palace. It was wedding season, so rooms there were scarce. When they arrived, however, the desk clerk apologized: only one room remained, with a single king bed.

"It's fine," Rhea said with a sigh.

Leo's face remained a mask, but inside, his chest thrummed. The chance to sleep beside her—even if nothing happened—was monumental. He didn't need much. Just the sound of her breath in the dark, just her presence inches away. He thought: maybe one day she'll let me reach across the sheets. Maybe one day she'll reach back.

Their room overlooked the Buddha Jayanti Park and a clear view of the city. Rhea urged Leo to shower and get ready for their half-day city tour.

When he came out wearing his towel low on his waist, Rhea's eyes could hardly look away. Her breath caught, her skin flushed hot. He was temptation incarnate, water glistening on his chest.

Leo caught her looking, and smiled inside. He wanted her to see him. He wanted her to fall in love with him slowly, with her eyes, her heart, her body.

When she came out with wet hair falling over her shoulders, a towel wrapped tightly on her body, his body nearly betrayed him. He clenched his fists, forcing his gaze away. He wanted her so badly his chest hurt.

She took her clothes and got ready in the dresser section.

When they went out for the tour, they visited Qutub Minar, India Gate, the Red Fort, Jama Masjid, Humayun's Tomb, the rose gardens, Akshardham Temple, Buddha Jayanti Park, the National War Memorial—Delhi in a single breathless afternoon.

By evening, they were exhausted. Back at the hotel, they ordered kulcha with chicken curry. The staff sent wine, chocolates, and snacks as an apology for the bed mix-up. They ate quietly, the day's miles between them settling into a warm, companionable silence.

Rhea had been dreading this night. She'd arranged for separate beds, not because she disliked his presence, but because she feared what sharing one might mean. She didn't want Leo to think it had been planned, nor did she want him to feel she was hesitant. The truth was far simpler—and far harder. She had never lain beside anyone but Alex. The thought of another man in that space felt strange, almost disloyal to memories she couldn't fully release.

But the night crept closer all the same.