"What can I say? I missed the rain. Plus, you came to rescue me, so it's all good."
Dev mocked a scowl. "You're unbelievable. Next time, bring an umbrella."
She stuck out her tongue. "But then you wouldn't have a reason to come save me."
He rolled h...
In the quiet hours of the night, when the world outside seemed to slumber beneath a blanket of darkness, the room became a sanctuary of intimacy and tenderness. The only sound that dared to break the serene silence was the steady, rhythmic ticking of the clock on the bedside table, counting the moments of their shared bliss.
Scented candles cast flickering shadows upon the walls, their warm glow illuminating the entwined figures nestled beneath the covers. The air was heavy with the lingering aroma of their lovemaking, a heady blend of passion and desire that wrapped around them like a velvet cloak.
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Beside her, her husband lay in the tranquil embrace of sleep, his features softened by the gentle caress of his sleep. In the dim light, his form exuded an effortless masculinity, strong and unwavering, yet tender in its vulnerability. His chest rose and fell with the steady rhythm of his breath, a comforting lullaby in the stillness of the night.
As she lay beside him, she traced the contours of her husband's face with her eyes, drinking in the sight of him with an affectionate reverence. His tousled hair fell in dark waves against the pillow, framing a face that bore the faint traces of their shared passion—a testament to the depths of their connection.
But her gaze was drawn, inevitably, to her own form beneath the sheets—a canvas of beauty and desire illuminated by the soft glow of moonlight filtering through the window. Her skin, bathed in the ethereal light, seemed to shimmer with a luminous glow, every curve and contour a testament to the allure of womanhood. Her hair spilled like silk across the pillow, a dark cascade framing a face of delicate perfection.
Yet, amidst her stunning visage, there were traces of their passionate union etched upon her. The bangles on her wrists lay broken, their once melodious chime silenced by the fervor of their embrace. And the crimson sindoor adorning her forehead was smudged, a symbol of the fervent ardor that had marked their entwined souls.
With a sigh, she shifted her gaze to the ceiling above, her thoughts drifting back to the tender moments they had shared mere hours ago. Each touch, each whispered word, each stolen glance was etched into her memory, a drapery of intimacy woven with threads of passion and longing.
Amidst the sweetness of their love, a pang of bittersweet nostalgia tugged at her heartstrings—a memory of days not long past, when her parents had spoken of an arranged marriage that seemed to loom on the horizon like a shadow cast by tradition.
But fate had intervened, weaving a tapestry of serendipity that led her into the arms of her best friend, her confidant, her soulmate. Their families had already spoken, their union blessed by the bonds of friendship and love—a love that transcended the boundaries of tradition and expectation.
In that moment, as she lay entwined with her husband beneath the covers, she knew with a certainty that surpassed all doubt—she was exactly where she was meant to be, in the arms of the man who had captured her heart, her partner in love and life, her destiny fulfilled.
In the soft embrace of the night, memories danced like ghosts through her mind, swirling and shifting with each flicker of candlelight. As she lay entwined with her husband, the echoes of their shared passion mingled with the bittersweet recollections of their Indian wedding—
a day etched in her heart with the indelible ink of love and tradition.
