Kshitij got Kritika [Completed✓]

CHAPTER ~ 31

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POV :~ KRITIKA

I jolted awake, my heart pounding as I glanced at the clock on my bedside table. My breath caught in my throat. I was late for my first day back at the office after my leave.

Panic surged through me, and I sprang out of bed, my mind racing with a checklist of things I needed to do.

My clothes!

I rummaged through the closet, frantically pulling out a crisp white top and a pair of navy trousers. I quickly laid them out on the bed, mentally ticking off each task as I prepared for the day. My hair was a mess, and I barely had time to think about breakfast.

I grabbed my toiletries, ready to dash into the washroom, when the door suddenly swung open on its own.

Shit!

Kshitij emerged, steam billowing behind him.

This wasn't it.

His chest was bare, droplets of water glistening on his skin, and he had only a towel wrapped loosely around his waist. His hair was damp, tousled in a way that made him look effortlessly attractive.

How can you play this stunt with me God? That too, this early morning.

For a moment, we both stood there, frozen, staring at each other in stunned silence.

My heart skipped a beat, and I felt a rush of heat flood my cheeks. The air between us felt charged with an awkward intensity. I could see the surprise in his eyes, mixed with a hint of embarrassment. It was as if time had slowed down, and we were both acutely aware of the intimate situation we had stumbled into.

He cleared his throat, breaking the silence. "Good morning," he said, his voice slightly hoarse.

"Morning," I replied, my voice barely above a whisper. I could feel my cheeks burning, and I quickly averted my gaze, focusing on the floor. "I… I didn't realize you were in here. I'm sorry."

He nodded, his expression softening. "No worries. I didn't expect you to be up so early either."

"Um-office. I'll be.. late."

"Oh! I— didn't remember, otherwise I would have woke you up."

First. please. Move from. Here.
I'm feeling seduced by your abs and muscles and whatever.

Why the hell is he half naked and is standing so effortlessly infront of me?
Because you're his wife—idiot.

As if on cue, he shifted slightly, making way for me, "I'll drop you."

I brushed past him, nodding my head, feeling a jolt of electricity as our arms lightly touched.

The moment felt intensely personal, and I could barely breathe as I stepped inside the washroom, closing the door behind me with a soft click. Leaning against the door, I took a deep breath, trying to steady my racing heart.

The image of Kshitij, so unexpectedly vulnerable, lingered in my thoughts. His damp hair, the water droplets glistening on his skin, the way the towel hung loosely around his waist and was showing a hint of his V-line—it was all so intimate, and yet so incredibly awkward.

I had seen him in various states of undress before—as in naked chest, but this felt different, more raw, more real because he was just in a towel.

I quickly splashed water on my face, trying to shake off the awkwardness and refocus on the tasks at hand.

While I went through my morning routine, my mind kept drifting back to him involuntarily. There was something about seeing him like that, so unguarded, that made me feel a strange mix of closeness and unease.