The Warmth of Love

 

The Warmth of Love

Saran Rai

As usual, the husband had gone for his early morning walk. On his way back, a light drizzle began. He kept walking, getting slightly wet in the drizzling rain. Soon, the drizzle turned into a heavy downpour. He got even wetter, but instead of stopping, he thought, If I run, I can reach home in ten minutes. He started running.

Then, hailstones began to fall. Now, he had no choice but to take shelter. The hailstorm lasted for about five minutes. Once it stopped, he continued his way home in the heavy rain, completely drenched.

His wife was waiting at the door with an umbrella. She said, "I was coming to get you with the umbrella, but I got distracted… Anyway, take off your wet clothes, shoes, and socks outside before stepping in. The carpet will get dirty."

"She cares more about the carpet than me!" he thought, feeling a sudden wave of irritation.

It was winter. He was shivering from the unexpected cold rain, his body trembling violently. Half-naked, he stepped inside and collapsed onto the sofa, his teeth chattering. His wife gently wrapped a warm blanket around him, covering him completely. The warmth made him feel slightly better. He was afraid—at his age, what if he caught pneumonia?

Just as he was thinking how comforting a hot cup of tea would be, his wife walked in, carrying a glass, a thermos, and a bottle of whiskey.

She had hidden the whiskey before, wanting him to quit drinking. He had been trying to give it up as well. But now, she poured a small amount into a glass, added some hot water from the thermos, and placed it on the table. "Here, drink this," she said.

With his trembling hands, he picked up the glass and took a sip.

In this vast world, at least one person truly cared for him. A warmth spread through his heart. His eyes welled up, glistening with emotion.