Four best friends.
One wedding.
A reunion that was never meant to happen.
Time changed everything. But not their pasts. Not the glances that still sting.
Not the love that never really left. One waits for her, clinging to a love that never faded. O...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
The minutes blurred into an eternity as I stood before the mirror, lost in the reflection staring back at me. It had been ages since I'd draped myself in a saree, the silk cascading like a river of crimson over my curves, accentuating the subtle glow of my skin under the soft lamplight.
The memory of our wedding day still lingered like a sweet dream—me, radiant in bridal finery, feeling like the most beautiful woman in the world.
Now, as I awaited my husband's return, my heart fluttered with anticipation. The clock ticked relentlessly, reminding me he could arrive any moment.
He'd mentioned a late meeting, apologizing profusely for missing dinner, but I didn't mind. The thought of his tired smile and warm embrace was enough to make the evening worthy.
When the doorbell finally chimed, my pulse quickened. I smoothed the pleats of my saree one last time, a shy smile playing on my lips as I hurried to the door. There he was—Viraj, my husband, looking every bit the handsome man I'd fallen for, his tie slightly loosened and his eyes lighting up at the sight of me.
I stepped into his arms, wrapping him in a tight hug, inhaling the faint scent of his cologne mixed with the day's exhaustion. "How was the meeting?" I asked, locking the door behind us, my voice laced with genuine concern.
"It went well," he replied, his voice a low rumble, fatigue etching lines around his eyes, yet they softened with affection as they met mine.
Before I could respond, he pulled me closer, his arms encircling my waist. "But I missed you terribly". A giggle escaped my lips, bubbling up from the joy in my chest. "I missed you too," I whispered, my arms looping around his neck as he guided us toward the bedroom.
He lowered me gently onto the bed, his touch tender yet possessive. I stole one last glance in the mirror, ensuring every strand of hair was in place, every fold of the saree perfect.
He chuckled, a deep, resonant sound that sent warmth pooling in my belly.
He wrapped his arms around my waist, his lips brushing the sensitive skin of my neck in a feather-light kiss. "You look stunning, as always, Isha". My cheeks flushed, and I turned in his embrace, rising on my toes to capture his lips in a kiss.
What started as soft and sweet quickly deepened, passion igniting like a spark to dry tinder. His hands roamed my back, pulling me flush against him, and I melted into the heat of his body.
With effortless grace, he hovered over me, his fingers tracing delicate patterns along my waist. The simple act was electric, a huge turn-on that made my breath hitch.
His mere presence had always been my undoing—his confident gaze, the strength in his frame, the way he made me feel cherished and desired all at once. I gripped his collar, drawing him down for another searing kiss, our breaths mingling in the quiet room.
