Closer To You

𝙷𝚊𝚛𝚜𝚑 𝚠𝚘𝚛𝚍𝚜?

Vihanna

The next day, I woke up at my usual time to find him already busy at the table. He has a knack for waking up early, always beating me to it.

Waking up, I felt aching legs-the reception outfit was much heavier than the wedding attire. My legs were in more pain than they were after the wedding night.

The memory of yesterday hit me. It was my first time kissing him, and it stirred something within me. Unsure if I'd get another chance, I yearned to experience that kiss again, perhaps many more times.

I stood up from the bed and made my way to the bathroom. I wore a pained expression, limping as I walked due to the discomfort because of yesterday's heavy lehenga. Before I could enter, he spoke. "Your legs hurting?"

"Yes, it's aching a lot." Even though he asked, his gaze remained fixed on the computer screen, fully absorbed in his work.

"Hmm. Wait." He stood up and headed towards the drawer, pulling something out. I didn't know why, but he asked me to wait.

It turned out to be massaging oil, and I wondered what he had in mind with it.

"Sit." His tone suggested agreement, so I simply followed his instructions. He knelt down, holding my feet in his hands. And I finally understand what he was getting to.

"You don't have to. My legs are alright."

"I don't have to but I want to. Just minute earlier, you said your legs are aching."

"Yes but you know its not really good to touch your wife feet."

"Why not?" We continued our conversation while he was already massaging my legs. He focused on the legs and feet, not extending to the thighs.

"Touching feet is a form of giving respect."

"Then consider it as a form of respect from me to my wife." In that moment, I realized he's the epitome of a gentleman-a flag of greatness. While lovers might do such things, we're newlyweds, not yet deeply in love, and yet he still cares in this way.

"Thankyou." And I finally went to freshen up. My legs feeling a little light, all thanks to my husband.

I'm ready to dive back into work; there's a lot to do with clients waiting for me to handle their cases.

Exiting the bathroom, I found him getting ready for work. Without a word, I joined him in getting ready and started combing my hair, applying lipstick, kajal, and blush. In no time, I was ready for the day.

Now, I never forget to wear vermilion, but whenever I do, he helps me with it. The last touch-up included putting on vermilion. It still looked a bit odd in my mangtika, but definitely less odd than the first time I wore it.

"Help me making my tie." He said, and I narrowed my eyes at him, not quite believing what I heard.

"Aap ko tie banana Nahi aata?" It seemed impossible to believe that he didn't know how to make ties. He's a quick learner, at least in my belief, and learning how to tie one shouldn't be challenging. It just didn't align with the idea that he couldn't do ties.
(You don't know how to make tie?)

"Nahi, Kahi Likha hai kya ki mujhe tie banana aana Chahiye?" He said, slightly offended.
(No, is anywhere written that I should know to make ties.)

"No-"

"Your looks are saying otherwise."

"Aap jaldi sikh jate ho jo bhi kam, jaha tak maine notice kiya hai, toh mujhe laga tie banana koi bari bat nahi hogi aapke liye."

(You're a quick learner, as long as I notice so I thought it isn't a big deal to make a tie.)

"But anyways let me help you." I approached him, holding the tie around his neck to help him with it. As I did, his hand reached my waist, causing a shudder. His smirk appeared, and despite hating it, I couldn't deny the mixed feelings of both annoyance and affection.

His gaze was so intense and fixed on me that it felt like a burning sensation.

After making his tie, I adjusted his collar and smoothed it out. "It's done." Even after I finished making his tie, he didn't release his grip on my waist.

"It's done." I repeated. He released one hand, running it through his hair to sweep it away from his forehead. Initially unsure of what he wanted me to do, it soon became clear, aligning with my own thoughts.

"Is it that you're asking what I am thinking?" He nodded but he doesn't know what I was thinking. I was hesitant.

"You didn't hesitate yesterday, what's wrong now?" I leaned in and he leaned down a little to match my height and I placed a kiss on his forehead, hoping it was what he silently requested, or I might end up feeling embarrassed.

With satisfaction, he finally pulled away, taking his hands off my waist. It wasn't just the physical touch he withdrew but also the warmth his hands had brought.

.....

He once again massaged my legs and feet at night, and I was grateful for it. It made me feel lighter, and he did it without me even asking.

For a while, our routine repeated - me making his ties, giving him a forehead kiss in the room, and him returning the gesture as he left for the office after having breakfast.

I joined my work, staying busy but not as much as Ayaan. I usually came home by 6, while he arrived an hour later.

The girl who seems to stick around my husband is still here. Her parents left, but she stayed. Not many appreciate her presence except bua and dadi.

Fortunately, she hasn't tried to take my seat at the dining table, and she keeps her distance from my husband, atleast for now. And I'm thankful for that.

Today, I decided to stay home since I don't have many clients to deal with. Ayaan already left after breakfast, and I'm sitting with maa in the living room.

"Beta, aap aaj Ghar par ho toh aap Ayaan aur papa ko lunch dene chalejao."
(Daughter, since you're home today, go to give Ayaan and Dad lunch.)

"Jii Maa." Maa and I prepared lunch together for everyone, and I went to deliver it to the office.

I reached the building, and now everyone is giving me respect. Ayaan and papa have made the company so big that news of our marriage has reached the entire country, changing how everyone treated me.

Some people gave me sweet smiles, while others shot judgy looks. It made me a bit uncomfortable, but I chose to ignore it all.

I reached his office after a bit of searching. Knocking slowly on the door, I entered. I didn't hear him call me in, but as his wife, I didn't feel the need for permission to be in his office.

Perhaps entering the room without waiting for his acknowledgment was the worst decision I made.

"I didn't give you permission to enter the room. How dare you? Just because you're part of my family doesn't mean you can enter without my approval."

A sharp slap across my face. Not physically but by words. My eyes welled up, but I held back the tears. I was unsure of what was happening around me.

I believed I had the right, but I was living in a delusion.

"I just came here to give lunch." And then I left. I couldn't see or hear anything around me; his words were ringing in my ears.

The trust I began building for him started to slightly crumble. At that moment, I couldn't think of anything.

Just because you're part of my family doesn't mean you can enter without my approval.

To others, it might seem like a small thing, but it hurt me deeply, more than it should have. His harsh and angry words made my eyes want to break down in front of everyone. Maybe his gentlemanly behavior is confined to our home, not outside.