Love is not found. It finds you.
It has a little bit to do with destiny, fate, hearts, desires and a lot to do with what is written in the stars.
Anurag Roy, the only son of the Roy family and an angel gifted with the heart of a devil. Is hardworkin...
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(Two months later)
No one told me that pregnancy would be such a whirlwind of turbulence and unpredictability, filled with moments of overwhelming joy, crushing fatigue, and intense emotion.
The first trimester had been tough, the morning sickness were relentless, but Anurag's dedication never wavered.
Each morning, as the first rays of dawn filtered through our bedroom curtains, Anurag would wake before me. He moved quietly, careful not to disturb my fragile sleep. I would hear the soft clinking of utensils and the gentle hum of the kettle as he prepared a cup of warm honey and lemon water.
The aroma would soon fill the room, a comforting prelude to the tender way he would wake me. "Good morning, Love," he would whisper, his voice soft and soothing as he handed me the steaming cup.
On those particularly rough mornings, when the nausea seemed extremely vengeful, he stayed by my side.
His hand would move in gentle circles on my back and pull my hair back, his touch a balm to my churning stomach. "Breathe, Love," he would murmur, his voice a steady anchor.
"It will pass. Just breathe."
When I would snap at him out of frustration or break down into tears, he never took it personally. Instead, he would hold me close, his embrace a haven of warmth and understanding.
"I know it's hard," he would say, his lips brushing against my temple.
"But you're doing an incredible job."
Our mornings had become a ritual of sorts, my petty complaints and his unwavering support. I would sip the warm honey and lemon water, feeling its soothing effect on my unsettled stomach, while Anurag would sit beside me, his presence a comforting constant.
He would stroke my back, his touch light and reassuring, a silent reminder that we were in this together.
And when the worst mornings, threatened to overwhelm me, Anurag would read to me, his voice a steady, calming rhythm. He would choose passages from my favorite novels or poetry, the familiar words providing a soothing escape. "
You're so strong love, you know that?" he would say, his voice filled with genuine admiration. "Carrying our child, enduring all this... you're incredible."
Some days, he would surprise me with small, thoughtful gestures – a single rose from our flower garden placed delicately on the nightstand or a new book he knew I'd been wanting to read.
Sometimes, I even found him reading my favorite books, left open to a cherished passage.
These moments, though simple, carried immense weight for me. They were reminders of his love and dedication, reflections of the kind of man he was. His words always seemed flawless, and he had a great sense of humor and playfulness hidden beneath his diligent businessman persona.
