A V Y U K T'S  P O V

I stood at the ice-cream truck, clutching two Cornettoes as if they were the most precious things in the world. I was actually whistling—a low, breathless sound. I was thinking about the way she had fed me, the way her accent softened when she teased me. The amount of pain I had given her for years wouldn't reduce just because of a waffle; I knew that. It pained me that she still couldn't look me in the eye for long, but I was ready. I would wait. I would be the man she deserved, even if it took a lifetime.