The crumpled sheets lay loosely over their entwined bodies, a delicate cover that barely concealed the warmth they shared. Her hair was spread out like a dark halo above her head, wild and unruly, as he traced a gentle finger along the smooth curve of her nape, savoring the softness beneath his touch. The early morning light filtered softly through the undrawn curtains, casting a gentle glow across the room. He had deliberately left the curtains open, not wanting to disturb the peacefulness of her sleep.
She slept delicately, with an air of exhaustion that told the story of the night before. Her hands were pressed beneath the pillow, her breathing slow and rhythmic, a picture of serene vulnerability. He found himself mesmerized by the way she looked in her sleep—so peaceful, so unaware of the emotions she stirred within him. His fingers moved through her hair, feeling the silky strands slip through his hands as he brushed them away from her face.
Propped up on his elbow, he supported his head with his palm, gazing down at her with an intensity that even he couldn’t fully understand. It was early, and though his body was still fatigued, his mind was wide awake, consumed by thoughts of her. Last night had been no different from any other night they spent together—passionate, intense, and deeply satisfying. Yet, as he watched her now, he couldn’t shake the feeling that there was something more beneath the surface.
Every soft moan she had made urged him to go further, to lose himself completely in the heat of the moment. But when she had pleaded with him to stop, he had done so without hesitation. His desire was strong, almost overpowering, but it wasn’t worth risking her well-being for. He couldn’t let his lust blind him to the line between pleasure and pain.
But was it just lust that drove him? He doubted it. The feelings he had for her were more complex, more overwhelming than simple physical desire. It was as though being with her filled a void he hadn’t known existed until she came into his life. There was a depth to their connection that he hadn’t experienced with anyone else.
His past experiences had given him enough insight to recognize the difference between fleeting attraction and something more profound. With her, everything felt different—the way she looked at him, the way she made him feel, the way they connected on a level that went beyond the physical.
Could it be love?
The thought made him chuckle softly to himself, amused by his own dramatic musings. It felt almost absurd to label it as love just because it felt different, as though he were the protagonist in some clichéd romance film. The idea that he could mistake these feelings for love seemed ridiculous to him. He wasn’t the type to be easily swayed by emotions, let alone let them dictate his actions.
No, it couldn’t be love. That would be too simplistic, too predictable. But as he continued to watch her sleep, his smile began to fade as he couldn’t deny the growing sense that what he felt for her was something different, something that transcended the boundaries of anything he had known before.
And maybe, just maybe, it was something worth exploring, even if he wasn’t ready to admit it to himself just yet.
With his eyes closed, he buried his face into the crook of her neck, savoring the warmth that radiated from her body. He nuzzled closer, pressing soft kisses along her skin, each one tender and unhurried. The subtle movements of her waking body alerted him, and he slowly pulled away, watching her with a quiet intensity as she stirred from sleep. She reminded him of a chick hatching from an egg, her awakening delicate and new.
Still nestled in the pillow, she blinked her eyes open, the remnants of sleep fading as consciousness returned. Without a word, he slipped two fingers beneath her chin, gently lifting her face so that her eyes would meet his—he wanted to be the first thing she saw this morning.
“Good morning,” he murmured, his voice a deep whisper, before leaning in to capture her lips in a slow, lingering kiss.
The sunlight streaming through the window bathed her face in a warm glow, illuminating her features and making her eyes sparkle with a brilliant shade of hazel. He couldn’t help but let his gaze wander over her face, absorbing every detail as if he were seeing her for the first time. He noticed, however, how she avoided his eyes, looking everywhere but at him.
“Look at me,” he commanded softly, his voice husky with need.
Her eyes immediately snapped to his, as if his words had a power over her she couldn’t resist. He reveled in the way her gaze locked onto his, wondering what she was thinking—did she feel the same way he did? But no, he quickly dismissed the thought. It was foolish of him to hope for that. She always seemed to pull away whenever she had the chance, never lingering long enough to give him any real hope.
His hand, hidden beneath the sheets, began to explore the smooth skin of her bare body. As he drew closer to her lips, his mouth found hers again, his kisses growing more fervent. His hand squeezed her hips possessively before trailing lower, his fingers slipping between her tightly closed thighs. Despite her initial resistance, he persisted, coaxing her legs apart until his hand found its mark. He began to pleasure her, his touch both demanding and tender.
He positioned himself above her, guiding her legs around his hips as he continued to kiss every inch of her body. His lips found her breasts, sucking on her nipples until she released a soft, restrained moan. Finally, he entered her, his movements slow and deliberate, savoring every sensation as he held her close.
He took his time, making love to her as the early morning light filled the room. Hours passed before they finally came to a gentle end, their bodies spent and sated. Even then, he wasn’t ready to let her go. He scooped her up and carried her to the shower, where he washed her body with the same care and tenderness he had shown in bed.
Afterwards, as they returned to the bedroom, he turned to her and instructed, more like commanded, her to wear a simple plain half saree. She didn’t argue or resist; instead, she complied without much thought as it was just a half saree. Moving away from him, she dressed herself with quiet grace, slipping into the skirt with practiced ease. She neatly pleated the fabric, draping the veil around her body. One end of the saree was tucked into her waistline, and with a swift, elegant motion, she twirled it around her body, letting the other end fall gracefully over her left shoulder and draped it with discipline.
He stood watching her, a faint smile playing on his lips as she emerged from the closet, still adjusting the fabric to her liking. There was something about the way she moved, the way she handled herself, that both amused and intrigued him. He was a man who desired to see more of her, to take in every inch of her body, and in the back of his mind. He had envisioned her in a transparent, netted half saree, one that would reveal every dip and curve of her form while she remained almost still, doing nothing but simply existing in his gaze. Yet, to his amusement and slight frustration, she managed to cover herself with the netted material, leaving only a tantalizing glimpse of her side waist exposed. She was a challenging woman, indeed, and he found himself snickering mentally at her subtle defiance.
Dressing himself, he slipped on his shirt and then his pants, leaving his suit jacket aside for the moment. As he adjusted his collar, he casually informed her that he would be heading to the office soon. For a brief moment, relief flickered across her face, only to be swiftly suppressed. She tensed, her mind racing with the possibility that he might insist on taking her to the office again. She had grown accustomed to these moments of uncertainty, where his intentions were a mystery until the last second.
She gently sat on the edge of the bed, her back turned to him, her mind preoccupied as he continued to get ready.
“Bring me the suit. The one that’s hanging by the door,” he instructed, his voice calm yet firm.
She turned her head to look at him, then followed his gaze to the suit hanging neatly by the door knob. Rising from the bed, she walked over and picked it up, the fabric cool against her fingers. She approached him and handed it to him, her eyes lingering on his face, searching for any hint of his mood.
“Put it on me,” he said, as he buckled his pants over his shirt and spread his arms wide, waiting for her to assist him.
Her hands hesitated, tightening around the suit as a wave of resistance surged through her. But she quickly subdued the feeling, her grip loosening as she obediently slid the coat over his shoulders, smoothing the fabric as it settled against his frame. Stepping aside, she watched as he adjusted the suit, ensuring everything was in place.
He turned to her then, his eyes locking onto hers with an intensity that made her heart skip a beat. He closed the distance between them, his hands cradling her face as he leaned in, his lips capturing hers in a kiss that was both bright and overwhelming. The kiss was deep, passionate, and utterly consuming, leaving her breathless. Her hands instinctively clutched at his suit, holding on for support as he kissed her senseless before finally, reluctantly, pulling away.
Later, they had breakfast together in the garden, the morning air filled with the scent of blooming flowers. It was a serene moment, almost idyllic, but it was short-lived. Soon after, he left for the office, leaving her alone to ponder the strange mix of emotions his presence always seemed to evoke in her.
*****
Sitting in his office, he leaned back in his chair, meticulously reading through the documents in front of him. His eyes scanned each word carefully, absorbing every detail as he highlighted the points he needed to negotiate with the other party. This was no ordinary deal. His brother had made it clear that securing this opportunity was crucial, one that promised significant benefits for their business and for him. The weight of the responsibility hung over him. After finishing his review, he neatly closed the file, placing it aside with a decisive motion.
With a quick glance at the clock, he turned to his laptop and immediately opened a panel with a few keystrokes. Instantly, the screen revealed a familiar yet disquieting sight—Asha, lying motionless on her bed, staring blankly at the ceiling. There was a haunting stillness about her, her gaze fixed into nothingness. He watched her closely, hoping for any sign of movement, any indication that she would get up, stretch, or maybe even eat. But she remained as she was, unmoving, lost in her own world.
A tight knot formed in his chest. Concern crept into his thoughts. It was well past lunchtime, and she hadn't eaten anything yet. He didn't call her immediately, wanting to give her space, hoping that perhaps she just needed a little more time. Maybe she would get up on her own and make something to eat. But minutes passed, then half an hour, and still, she did nothing. The longer he watched, the more his worry deepened.
Something felt deeply wrong. She would lie on the bed for hours, barely moving, not uttering a word. The silence had become her constant companion, as she stared blankly into space, her gaze unfocused and distant. Being silent aside she never talked any proper conversation or even a word with him till now.
He watched her with curious sensing that she was slowly slipping into the clutches of depression. But he refused to let her drift further into that dark path.
Determined to pull her back, he vowed to keep her mind occupied. Either he is going to fullfill her mind with himself or make her busy , her hands busy, and her thoughts engaged. He would fill her days with tasks and responsibilities other than the time he is with her ensuring she was so absorbed in her work that she wouldn't have the time or space to sink deeper into the heaviness that threatened to consume her.
He picked up the phone and dialed the home number. The ringing seemed to pull her out of her daze. Slowly, she sat up and reached for the phone.
“Hello?” Her voice was soft, distant.
“Did you have your lunch?” he asked, his tone firm, masking the worry gnawing at him.
“Yes,” she replied quickly, too quickly. It was a lie, and he knew it.
“Don’t lie to me, Asha,” he snapped. “Go and eat your lunch, now.”
There was silence on the other end of the line, but he wasn’t finished. He wasn’t going to let her brush this off. The fact that she lied to him stung. Did she really think he wouldn’t know? Did she think he was that easy to fool?
“Asha,” he said, his voice rising, “don’t you dare lie to me again. I’ll check the food, and I’ll know if you’ve thrown it away or haven’t touched it. If you think you can hide this from me, you’re wrong.”
She inhaled sharply, the fear evident in her breath. “Okay,” she mumbled, her voice barely above a whisper.
But before she could hang up, he added in a tone that left no room for argument, “And tonight, get ready. Wear the white saree. We’re going out. Just you and me.”
“Okay,” she responded, the weight of his words sinking in as she hung up the phone.
He leaned back in his chair, staring at the screen again. Asha had sighed, exhaustion written all over her face, as though even the thought of getting ready was too much for her. She closed her eyes, seemingly resigned to whatever he had planned for the evening.
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