His heart was a fortress, haunted by the warmth he pushed away, scarred by the silence he forced between them, all because he believed she deserved more than the broken pieces he could offer.
And, her heart was a battlefield, bruised by all the word...
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DISCLAIMER: The story is set in the early 20th century. While I have made efforts to capture the essence of the era, there may be inaccuracies as this is a work of fiction. I do not own the characters Arnav and Khushi, and this story is purely fictional with no relation to any real individuals, living or dead. Any resemblance to actual persons or events is purely coincidental.
WARNING : 18+, MATURE WARNING
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It continued pouring cats and dogs outside as the day wore on. Arnav had fallen asleep after their conversation and Khushi lay idly in bed, listening to the steady beat of his heart. His sudden neediness was unusual. He had always been intense in bed, but last night and today, there was an edge of desperation to his neediness. She didn't mind, though. She found comfort in the fact that she could be the solace he needed, the anchor he clung to, providing him with the peace he so desperately sought. Yet, she was worried. She wanted to understand what was happening in his beautiful mind, and the glimpses he shared only deepened her concern about the mental turmoil he was enduring.
The clock was about to strike eleven in the morning. He needed to wake up and have something in his stomach. She reached forward and gently cupped his face, her thumb delicately brushing along his lower lip. He moaned softly before finally stirring.
"Arnav, wake up. It's almost noon," she whispered, placing a kiss on his cheek.
"G'mornin'," his scratchy morning voice greeted her. He puckered his lips slightly and kissed the pad of her thumb.
"I am going to make something to eat."
Khushi was famished. She didn't have the energy to prepare a full lunch, so she quickly whipped up some bread and eggs. She stood in front of the stove, wearing his discarded shirt and a salwar she found nearby. The aroma of cooking filled the small kitchen, mingling with the sound of the rain outside. As she worked, she heard the shower turn off.
She placed the skillet on the stove when two strong arms encircled her waist from behind, bringing her flush against his body. She felt a brush of his hand against her shoulder as he pulled her hair back to reveal her neck. Instinctively, she tilted her head to the side to allow him better access and shivered in his arms as the tip of his nose ran along the length of her neck while he inhaled deeply.
