Krishnapriya Devashree

43. Haldi

A/N Warning... Its a very long chapter....

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Devashree had dedicated the evening to churning the finest makhan, a labor of love intended for Krishna. Her hands, though now tired, were imbued with a sense of satisfaction.

The only sound was the gentle rustle of her silk saree as she moved to place the makhan in a small, intricately carved pot and placed it in the corner in her chamber.

After a while, freshly bathed she entered the inner part of her chamber. Clad in a blouse and lehenga, the fabric of her attire of simple lehenga, dyed in the soft hues of dawn, flowed around her like a second skin, showing off her slender waist and the gentle curve of her hips. Her blouse clung to her form, highlighting the elegance of her shoulders and the softness of her arms. Her long dense hair formed curls that framed her delicate face, her hair still carrying droplets of water.

Her steps paused at the threshold.

There, sprawled with an air of casual elegance upon her bed, was Krishna.

One arm served as a pillow for his head propping it up, while the other, dipped into a pot of makhan she had prepared with utmost care and affection.

Krishna dipped his fingers into the pot, lifting the creamy, rich makhan to his lips with a gesture that was as elegant as it was endearing.

Each movement was so full of charm and grace that it utterly captivated her.

The sight of him, so at peace, so at home within the confines of her room, stirred something deep within her. Her Krishna always finds joy in such simple things, in the Makhan that she had prepared with her own hands. It was very domestic.

Krishan continued to lick the makhan from his hands but he was aware of his beloved's gaze. She was looking at him with a look full of adoration and wonder.

Inside, a wave of delight washed over him and a gentle smile played at his lips. In her eyes, he wasn't just Krishna; he was everything he aspired to be, everything he feared he couldn't be, and yet, he was accepted and loved wholly.

As he looked up at her, she quickly averted her gaze.

She swiftly moved towards the mirror to avoid his gaze, her actions betraying a bashfulness that was as endearing as it was evocative.

Her cheeks, kissed by a blush, and the way she was biting her lips spoke volumes of the storm of feelings she navigated within.

The water droplets tracing paths down her neck glittered like jewels.

Krishna watched her through the mirror's reflection, a smile playing on his lips but his eyes intense, captured every nuance of her movements, every hint of emotion that flitted across her exquisite features. This wasn't just a look; it was a gaze that held within it a universe of love, longing, and admiration.

He took in her flushed form and the delicate arch of her neck, glistening with pearls on water.

Their eyes met again through the mirror's reflection as he stared intensely at her.

Holding her gaze, he dipped his hand in the pot and brought the makhan to his lips, he savored it with an exaggerated relish, licking his fingers sensuously.

A shiver ran through her and her heart skipped a beat. The air between them thickened with unspoken words, with desires whispered to the night.

The intensity of his gaze through the mirror, so full of love and longing, felt like a gentle caress, sending ripples through her very being. It was a gaze that saw not just the princess in her silk saree, but the woman within, with all her dreams, fears, and desires laid bare.