They were an unbreakable couple since school. Still, he cheated on her.
She loved him with all of her. Still, he broke her into millions of pieces.
She has no one except him. He has someone other than her.
She was tolerating bad behavior of his fami...
NA RAAT KA KHWAAB MERA HAIN NA DIN KA KHAYAL MERA HAIN, IBADAT KARU JO LABON PAR NAAM TERA HAIN! ✨
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Mishti sat at the dining table, her wet hair dripping slightly onto her shoulders as she scanned the colorful array of dishes before her. The mouthwatering aroma filled the air, tugging at her stomach.
He noticed her subtle shiver immediately, his brow furrowing in concern as he stood from his chair. "Tum pehle apne baal sukhado. Thand lag jayegi." (Dry your hair first. You'll catch a cold.) His voice was gentle, but there was an unmistakable firmness in his tone, like he wouldn't take no for an answer.
Mishti glanced up at him, pouting slightly, her fingers still running absently through her damp locks. "Mujhe bhook lagi hai!" (I'm starving!) she protested, her voice carrying a soft whine, as if that would convince him to let her be.
He chuckled, a deep, warm sound that filled the room as he shook his head at her stubbornness. "Zidd mat karo," (Don't be stubborn,) he said, taking the towel from her hand. "Mujhe karne do," (Let me do it.) His hands guided her to sit back down, and without waiting for her to argue, he began gently drying her hair.
The towel moved softly against her scalp, and his fingers brushed through her strands with a tenderness she hadn't quite expected. A warm shiver traveled down her spine, her body responding to the unexpected intimacy of the moment. Almost instinctively, her hands reached up, lightly grasping his wrists as she tilted her head up to look at him, her eyes wide with curiosity and something else—something she couldn't name but felt deeply.
"Kya kar rahe ho?" (What are you doing?) she asked softly, her heart suddenly racing under the weight of the moment.
He looked down at her, his face lit by a soft smile, the teasing glint in his eyes still there but accompanied by something deeper. "I just want to make sure that my wife doesn't catch a cold" he said with a playful grin, though his hands never faltered in their gentle task.
Her heart fluttered at the word wife. It wasn't the first time he had used it, but every time he did, it left her feeling slightly off-balance, like the ground beneath her shifted ever so slightly.
She tried to cover her reaction by teasing him back. "Why are you being so sweet?" by looking down.
"Believe me, I'm not that sweet," he said, his tone suddenly serious as her gaze remained fixed on the table.
"Then I must be an exception," she countered, her smile returning like sunshine breaking through clouds.
He paused for a moment, looking at her, and then, as if the tension had lifted, he nodded with a soft smile. "Bilkul," (Absolutely,) he agreed, his voice warm, and their laughter mingled in the air, breaking the spell that had momentarily hung over them.
Once her hair was dry, he set the towel aside, satisfied, and they both sat down to eat the meal he had so carefully prepared.
He watched her as she ate, a quiet contentment settling over him. This was the part of the day he loved the most—sharing these simple, everyday moments with her. He didn't need grand gestures or big declarations. It was enough to be here, with her, to watch her smile and know she was safe, happy.
