Whispers of Love

A Grand Home for Our Love

It had been two days since Shubman had bought a house near the school where he was going to teach.

But it wasn't just any house—it was a grand haveli. When Ishan found out, he was taken aback.

"Aapne bola tha chota sa ghar loge, par ye toh haveli hai," Ishan exclaimed.

"Chota hi toh hai hamare gaon ke ghar se," Shubman replied.

Ishan looked at him in disbelief. "Par itna bada ghar lene ki kya zarurat thi?"

"Jaan... ham yahan rahenge pata nahi kab tak, toh jab tak yahan hain tumhe ache se rakhunga na. Bachpan se tum bade ghar mein rehte aaye ho aur achanak se yahan aake main tumhe chote ghar mein rakhunga toh mujhe acha nahi lagega," Shubman said, gently cupping Ishan's face.

"Aap chahe hame bade ghar mein rakhiye ya chote ghar mein, aap jahan rahoge wahin ham bhi reh lenge. Kyunki aapke bina ham adhoore hain," Ishan said softly.

Shubman smiled warmly and kissed Ishan's forehead. And so, they prepared to move into their new home. They had already completed the griha pravesh and all the necessary pujas. Shubman had bought all new furniture and let Ishan decorate the house as he liked.

When they arrived at their new home, the workers were waiting for them. Ishan was about to step inside, but Shubman stopped him.

"Aapne kyun roka hame?" Ishan asked, puzzled.

"Ek second ruko," Shubman said, and went inside the house.

Soon, Shubman returned with a pot filled with rice. He placed it in front of Ishan and told him to push it. Ishan was overwhelmed by the gesture. He lightly pushed the pot and stepped inside.

The entire house was beautifully decorated, every detail reflecting Ishan's taste and preferences. It was everything Ishan had always dreamed of for his home.

"Kaisa laga?" Shubman asked, his eyes full of hope.

"Bahot acha," Ishan replied, his eyes shining with happiness.

"Hamara bedroom isse bhi acha hai. Chalo, dikhata hoon," Shubman said, taking Ishan's hand and leading him to their bedroom.

As they entered the bedroom, Ishan's eyes widened in awe. The room was a perfect blend of comfort and elegance, with soft lighting and tasteful decor.

"Hame vishwas nahi ho raha, ye hamara ghar hai," Ishan whispered, turning to Shubman with tears of joy in his eyes.

Shubman pulled Ishan into a warm embrace. "Ye hamara ghar hai, jaan. Ek aisi jagah Jahan pe ham bahot se sundar yaadein banaenge."

They stood there for a moment, wrapped in each other's arms, feeling the love and warmth that filled their new home. It was a fresh start, a new chapter in their lives, and they were ready to embrace it together.

The sun had already set, casting a soft twilight over the garden where Shubman and Ishan were cuddling. Shubman sat with Ishan in his lap, his arms wrapped tightly around Ishan's waist. He planted light, feathery kisses on Ishan's neck, making him giggle like a teenage girl.

"Chodiye hame," Ishan said, trying to wiggle out of Shubman's embrace.

"Bilkul nahi," Shubman replied, tightening his hold and caressing Ishan's waist.

"Khana banana hai," Ishan murmured, laying his head on Shubman's chest.

"Main bana dunga," Shubman said, snuggling closer to Ishan's neck. Ishan turned around, looking at him with curious eyes.

"Aapko khana banana aata hai?" Ishan asked, a playful smirk on his lips.

"Aur nahi toh kya, tumhara pati all-rounder hai," Shubman boasted.

Ishan smiled and squished Shubman's cheeks, planting a soft kiss on them. "Wooow... toh chalein?" Shubman asked, his eyes sparkling with mischief.

"Haan, chaliye," Ishan agreed and started to get up. But before he could, Shubman scooped him up in a bridal style.

"Aap hamesha hame utha kyun lete hain?" Ishan asked, blushing.

"Ham nahi chahte jab tak ham hain, tum apne sundar pairon ko kasht do," Shubman said as he carried Ishan towards the kitchen.

Ishan smiled shyly, hiding his face in the crook of Shubman's neck. His heart fluttered with joy and love, feeling the warmth and strength of his husband’s embrace.

In the kitchen, Shubman gently set Ishan down and rolled up his sleeves. "Dekho, ab main banaunga dinner," he declared confidently.
"Toh bataiye, kya khaenge aap?" Shubman asked, his eyes twinkling with affection.

"Jo aapko pasand ho," Ishan replied, hopping onto the kitchen counter and swinging his legs.

Shubman stepped closer, their faces inches apart, their breaths mingling. "Pasand toh hame aap ho, aapko bana dein?" Shubman said huskily, his voice sending shivers down Ishan's spine.

Ishan blushed deeply and turned away, flustered. "Khana banaiye, bhook lagi hai," he mumbled.

Shubman chuckled softly and turned to gather the ingredients. He skillfully chopped onions and tomatoes for paneer bhurji, the one dish he knew how to make well. The rhythmic sound of chopping filled the kitchen, accompanied by Ishan's soft gaze, watching Shubman with admiration and love.

As the paneer bhurji simmered on the stove, filling the kitchen with a tantalizing aroma, Shubman moved to prepare the dough for rotis.

Shubman took the wheat and placed it in a bowl, but as he added water, he miscalculated and the mixture became soggy. Ishan started laughing, a melodious sound that made Shubman momentarily forget about his culinary mishap.

"Yeh kya kar diya aapne," Ishan giggled, hopping down from the counter.

Shubman, snapping out of his reverie, watched as Ishan pushed him aside and added more wheat to balance out the water.

"Aap toh bada bol rahe the khana banana aata hai," Ishan teased as he began to knead the dough.

"Khana banana toh aata hai, par aata guthna nahi aata," Shubman replied with a grin. He moved behind Ishan, wrapping his arms around him and placing his hands over Ishan's to help knead the dough. Ishan's breath hitched at the intimate gesture.

Together, they worked the dough, Shubman's hands guiding Ishan's in a gentle, rhythmic motion. The warmth of Shubman's embrace and the feeling of his strong hands over his own made Ishan's heart race.

"Ab dekhna, sab sahi ho jayega," Shubman whispered into Ishan's ear, his breath warm and comforting.

Ishan closed his eyes for a moment, savoring the closeness and the tender care in Shubman's touch. "Hmm," he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper.

Shubman tightened his hold slightly, pressing a soft kiss to Ishan's temple. "Tumhare saath rehne ka har pal khubsoorat hai," he said softly.

They continued kneading the dough together, their movements in perfect harmony. The kitchen was filled with the soft sounds of their combined efforts and the occasional shared laugh. When the dough was finally ready, Ishan looked up at Shubman, his cheeks flushed with a mix of shyness and happiness.

"Ab aapko rotiyaan belne aati hain?" Ishan asked playfully.

"Belna bhi sikh loonga, tumhare liye," Shubman replied, his eyes twinkling with mischief and love.

Ishan smiled, feeling a warmth spread through him that had nothing to do with the cooking. They rolled out the rotis together, the task becoming another shared moment of intimacy and affection.

As they cooked the rotis on the stove, Ishan couldn't help but marvel at how effortlessly Shubman turned every ordinary moment into something extraordinary and full of love. Each roti, though simple, was made with care and togetherness, making them taste all the more special.