In love with a villain

chapter 18

  CHAPTER 18

When your young, the purest form of love you receive is from your loving parent. Then as you grow, you fall in love with the toys, then comes your friends, your favourite teacher, your time that you spent with your loved ones.

As you grow you realise that love has a different mean to it. Different colour to it. When your small, the love has colour as bright as yellow or orange, anything that your favourite toys are made of. When you grow a little older, love has the colour of your favourite dad's shirt, your mum's favourite saree.

Then you become the young adult, you have a new perspective of love, the love that can easily influence anything and everything you decide. Love that you feel for anything as random as it can get.

At that time, your love is accompanied with the flaws you pick along the way, it with comes with a wide range of insecurity. The times you pick on yourself, find flaw in yourself yet find peace with loving someone else who is a stranger to you at first.

Then you become an adult, your love comes with responsibility, love comes with boundaries and barrier, standards and society, flaws and faults, secrets and soreness. Yet you love, and you continue to love.

I didn't get to fall in love with anyone, the innocent teenage love wasn't there for me. Even my adult life went into a sole purpose of what altered my life at a young age.

I could've loved anyone, yet I wasn't interested in it. I had something in my mind, something strongly root in me that I needed. And I worked for it.

All those times I believed that loving someone came with a price, a consequence; if broken apart. Let it be your heart or you mind. Loving someone had its price.

I met my woman when I least expected it. In the darkness of that night, in the violence of that air, I found someone that proved me wrong; that love does not always have to have a price to pay. It can be free and it can someday free you. And that itself counts to be priceless.

And my jaanu met a man that did not know the gentleness with which the concept of love had to be offered. I was a gentleman, my mom raised me to be one. Yet not always a gentleman can be a lover with the capability to love tenderly or hold someone unlike the grip of the gun I used.

But everything that I did for her was never forced by me. I did not have the heart to any but gentle, she seemed fragile to me yet strong.

The thing is, she never spoke of her love to me, never confessed to me. Yet every gesture to every movement had love in them. The gentleness to the sneaky glance we both shared when we both refused to come in terms with what we wanted for each, still reminds me of everything beautiful.

I wonder how much love I could give back to her, could it ever count up to her.

Looking down at her, silently tucked into me arms, bare as the day she was born, her lips dry yet pouty enough to tempt me.

Throughout the night, she slept like a baby, happy to be back in my arms. Jaanu had so much love in herself. Her love for me was simple yet complicated to unwrap. She held so much in that body hers.

My fingers slightly stroked her cheeks, trying to wake her up, lips moving involuntarily to her forehead, waking her up.

She took her time, understanding the surrounding, sleepy yet aware. Suddenly turning her back to me, she pulled her blanket up covering her body, making me laugh at her early morning antics.

Shaking my head, I got up, wearing my boxer brief, slowly with at most silence, moved her blanket off her body, and took her in my arms, startling her, her eyes opening with shock, arms wrapping around my neck, "good morning Janaki dhruv." I said pecking her lips.

Grumpily, she leaned her head into my neck trying to find her sleep back. So I took my sleepy wife to the bathroom. Then dropped her, holding her firmly against myself. letting her lean back against me.

I searched for a brush, not finding one, I let her know that and walked outside the bathroom, searching her bag. Yeah! she has two brush, just in case she forgets it at home.

Handing my sleepy wife her brush, I kept my arms around her, both of us sharing the most domestic yet unfamiliar situation.

" you ready to take a bath?" I asked her, and she just nodded her head, turning around hugging me.

"I missed you" she whispered into my chest. Making me tighten the hold around her.

I covering her body, turning on the shower, the initial shock of the cold water reaching me before her.

Her body shivered in the coldness, the arms tightening it's hold because of it.

I took time with her in the bath, taking care of her.

Halfway through it, she paused, her body stiffening, making me pause along with her, then she looks up at me, eyes turning to a puppy eye. God it was already hard for me to not do anything to her right now and she was making it worse by she little puppy face,

" what is it jaanu?" I asked raising my eyebrow, hands involuntarily pulling her closer.

Suddenly pulling my face with both her hands, she pulled me closer just enough so to make me focus solemnly on her and her alone.

" are you ready to listen to me mister husband ?" she asked trying to be serious yet her short stature and angry yet cute face almost making me laugh but I held it. And nodded my head, ready to listen to anything that came out of her mouth.

"what is the grand matter that made my love so serious?" I teased back

"it's serious." She spoke, her tone cracking a bit. My mind capturing the vulnerability at first hand. Making me know something was seriously wrong.

Pushing her hair out of her face, I pulled her closer to me by her neck.

" tell me what is it? Why are you so worried?" my eyes searching for answer.

" you really do love me right?" she asked too serious for my liking.

" I do baba, your my wife, my sweet jaanu." I told her, making sure my tone delivered the sincerity in my heart, and kissed her forehead in reassurance,

" you remember me being sick before coming here right ?" I nodded to her question, taking a moment to turn off the water, noticing the way her body shivered, not wanting to make her sick.

"yes jaanu! I do, what about it? Is there something wrong? didn't you go to the doctor?"

" I did. And he did a test." her voice so low and gentle, making me worried.

" what test baba? Just rip the bandage off and say it." I encouraged her. The tension in her eyes becoming too much for me to handle.

" I am 2 months pregnant." She said, tears ready to fall, her fingers curling against my chest.

For a moment I searched her face, then my mind went blank. Nothing but the words she just spoke running through it.

Jaanu was pregnant.

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you know when you rush your mind to work up a story, it gets really hard to connect to the character all the time given there is no plotline or ending you have in mind. 

dhruv's character as dada is so complicated and has so much potential. I find him really fascinating , so I started writing the story. i want to keep writing, i want give it as much life as possible. 

i don't know what I am trying say but I saw the 1k reads and it's #1 in dhruvvikram and that's super cool and i am simply happy. 

if you tell me which part you liked in the story, it would make  me more happy. pretty please.

don't be evil, just say it.

OK my talking capacity is over. 

bye people<3

love love love.  kiss kiss kiss.