Talab

Her royal love 10

Rooh woke up with a gentle smile playing on her lips.

Her fingers carefully lit the small candle atop the cake she had secretly ordered. She placed it on the table beside their bed and looked at him — her Maan, asleep peacefully, his face glowing softly under the moonlight slipping through the curtains.

Wearing nothing but his oversized t-shirt, she began singing softly...

"Happy Birthday to you..."

Maan stirred, his eyes slowly fluttering open.

And the sight he saw?

His wife. His Rooh. Barefoot. Glowing. Singing like the night itself belonged to her.

"You... remembered my birthday?" he asked, surprised, voice thick with sleep.

She smiled and nodded, a playful pout on her lips. "Obviously, my Jaan. I remember everything about you. Now come on — cut the cake quickly. I've been dying to taste it."

He chuckled and sat up, still in awe of her. He cut the cake, fed her the first bite, and she did the same.

But then — her mischief returned.

She dipped her finger in the frosting, smeared a little over his Adam's apple, and leaned forward. Slowly. Sensually.

Her lips touched his skin. She licked the frosting away, softly sucking, sending a groan deep from his throat.

His grip tightened around her waist.

She looked up at him, seductively.

And without hesitation — she removed his t-shirt from her body, letting it fall beside the bed. She sat on top of him, bare and glowing like the moon itself.

He smirked, brushing her cheek.

"Why is my kitten so wild tonight?" he asked, voice low, teasing.

"Because," she whispered, biting his earlobe gently, "this kitten craves only her husband."

And then she bit him lightly on his chest — just where his heartbeat thudded loudest.

Maan rolled them over, their bodies now tangled, her giggles dissolving into breathless sighs. His lips traced her collarbone, down to her curves, worshipping her like poetry.

"Maan..." she moaned softly, "chal wahan chalte hain..."

He didn't need to ask. He knew exactly where she meant.

"Let's go," he smiled, lifting her gently.

They reached the peak — their old childhood escape, where teenage dreams once whispered under stars.

Now, grown and madly in love, they stood there again — this time not as two broken people, but as one soul.

The moon shimmered above, wrapped in silver clouds.

Rooh stood near the edge, her eyes on the sky.

"Maan, tell me... why does the moon feel so soothing and beautiful tonight?" she asked, her voice soft and filled with wonder.

He stood behind her, wrapping his arms around her waist.

"Who said the moon is beautiful?" he murmured against her ear. "For me... it's you. The only difference is, the moon has flaws — spots. But you? You're flawless. And I... I'm just one lucky star who got to fall into your orbit."

She turned, blushing, resting her hands on his chest.

Their eyes locked.

Suddenly, it began to drizzle.

Rooh squealed in excitement, twirling like a child, letting the rain kiss her skin. Her wet hair clung to her face, her laughter echoing through the hills.

Maan stood still, watching her like a painting come alive.

Every curve of her, every smile, every drop sliding down her skin — it all pulled him closer.

He stepped forward. Wrapped his arms around her waist.
Her hands found his chest, their eyes melting into one another.

He tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, leaned down...

And kissed her — slow, soft, rain-soaked.

Like the world wasn't watching.

Like the stars had paused just for them.