If I Ever Get a Lover Just like Nia.

If I ever get a lover, it would have to be someone like Nia. Someone who gets mad at me every time I meet her not because I forgot the chocolates, but because I didn’t stay long enough the last time I was there. She’d ignore me for hours, pretending I don’t exist arms crossed, eyes looking away, like she’s really done with me this time. And then I’d tease her, “If you don’t talk nicely, I’ll just become Anik’s chachu instead.” And just like that, she’d get so damn jealous “No! You’re my chachu.” And suddenly, everything’s back to normal. The silence is over. The world is okay again. She never expects gifts. She never asks for more than my presence. Because she never knew me for the things I gave but for who I was. (And I never really gave anything, but still, she remembered me.) She’d cry if a photographer asked to click her, but the moment I raised the camera, her Akash chachu, she’d pose like a princess. She wouldn’t just hug me, she’d give me a jaadu ki jhappi, tight enough to fix everything I never said aloud. And if I ever fall in love I want it to be with someone who asks me to stay when I’m walking away. And when I say, “I really can’t...” she looks me in the eye and says, “Jao... niche utaro mujhe,” because of course I had her in my arms. And I want her to look at me the way Nia looks at me. Not like a lover, not like I’m supposed to impress her, but like she’s already sure of me. Like I’m her whole world in the simplest, truest sense. Like a 3-year-old baby looks at that one person because they don’t even know what breaking trust feels like. They just trust. Fully. Naturally. Without questions or fears. I want her to love me like that. With eyes that don’t know how to lie, with hands that hold tight for no reason, with silence that still feels full. I want to be loved like a child loves. Not the love that demands, but the love that waits by the door just to hear your voice. And maybe no one in this world could’ve gotten as lucky as I did to have a niece so obsessed with her chachu that now he knows exactly how he wants to be loved. Not with grand confessions. Not with flowers or poetry or praise. But with soft eyes, quiet presence, and a heart that gives without keeping score. That’s it. That’s all I want. To be loved the way a child loves with nothing in their hands, but everything in their heart. Just like Nia. Just like that.