"You walked into the lion's den, sweetheart," he whispered, stepping closer. "And lions don't let go so easily."
He looked down at her leg, at her trembling hands, and the fear in her eyes.
"A beautiful young girl like you," he chuckled, "shouldn't...
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“Let’s go eat breakfast before I decide you’re my only meal.”
She stretched like a cat, yawned, and mumbled, “Momo…”
I raised an eyebrow. “No. You’re pregnant, you need fruits. Veggies. Real food. Not those boiled dumplings filled with MSG.”
She gave me a betrayed look, her lips forming a perfect pout which kills me everytime.
Downstairs, the breakfast table was warm and chaotic. Bhabijaan, Sadafa, and Ammi sat like a pack of giddy wolves, sipping chai and grinning at us as I walked in with a hand lazily resting on my world like a protective claim.
“Oh look who finally got some time to grace us with their presence,” Bhabijaan smirked.
Sadafa gasped, overly dramatic. “No wonder Mishti looks like drained off her energy everytime.”
My baby flushed, laughing behind her hand while I groaned.
“Your father was the same when we were young. Always trying to sneak kisses in the kitchen.”
“I’m surrounded by traitors,” I mumbled.
Meanwhile, Mishti had settled onto the couch nearby, gently feeding tiny Abid spoonfuls of soup. The little boy leaned happily against her, humming a nonsense tune.
I watched her from the table, jaw relaxed, heart unexpectedly soft. But that calm didn’t last long.
“Micchi,” Abid piped up, looking up with innocent big eyes. “What is a kiss?”
She blinked, then smiled sweetly. “Something people do when they love each other.”
He grinned, wiping his mouth with his sleeve. “Then I want to kiss you too. I love you!”
She chuckled, patting his cheek. “That’s sweet, baby—”
“Nope.” I was already rising from his seat.
The entire table paused as I stalked over, scooping her—my Mishti—off the couch and into my lap like it was nothing.
“She’s married,” I announced to Abid, dead serious. “And pregnant. With my child. Kiss applications are permanently closed.”
