SONG:- PEE LOON- MOHIT CHAUHAN
Advay gently placed Idika on the bed. "You should change into something comfortable," he suggested. Idika nodded but frowned. "My clothes are in the suitcase. Can you ask someone to bring it?" she asked.
"No need," he replied. "You can wear my clothes for tonight. Tomorrow, I'll help you set your clothes in the cupboard." "You should change first. I actually need your help to remove these accessories," Idika said, fidgeting with her fingers.
Advay nodded and went into the dressing room to change into pajamas. When he came back out, he saw Idika struggling to remove her nose pin.
He offered to help, and I gratefully nodded. Advay started removing my accessories, carefully handling each piece. It took us about thirty minutes to get everything off. Finally free of the heavy jewelry, I changed into the pajamas he had given me.
"Ughhh, I'm so tired," I sighed, sinking onto the bed. "You should take some rest," Advay suggested gently. I nodded and lay down on the bed. "If you're uncomfortable, do you want me to sleep somewhere else?" Advay asked.
I chuckled and said, "No, you don't have to. Stay here, ab shaadi ki hai toh aadat toh daalni padegi". He rubbed the back of his neck and then settled down on the other side of the bed.
We both lay there, facing each other, our faces just centimeters apart. I could feel the warmth of his breath, and the proximity made my heart race a little faster. The day's exhaustion was evident in his eyes, yet there was a softness in them.
"Don't you want to find your name hidden in this mehendi?" I asked, extending my hands towards him, the intricate dark brown designs snaking up my arms, each swirl and curve a testament to the hours spent getting it done.
"You've hidden my name in the mehendi?" he asked, a hint of amusement dancing in his eyes.
I chuckled, nodding. "Yes, it's a tradition. Come on, try to find it," I urged, sitting up straighter and presenting both my hands to him.
He shifted closer, his eyes twinkling with curiosity. He gently took my left hand in his, his fingers lightly tracing the patterns. "Alright, let's see," he murmured, his voice soft and focused.
YOU ARE READING
𝐆𝐄𝐇𝐑𝐀𝐈
Roman d'amourIn the bustling city of Mumbai, lived a restaurateur named Advay Malhotra. With a humble beginning, born into a poor family, Advay had always harbored a burning desire to work hard and earn enough money to fulfill his requirements. He was not a man...