"Karo jo karna hai," Shubman said with a resigned shrug, allowing Ishan to proceed. Ishan swiftly removed Shubman's shirt and led him downstairs to the garden of their haveli. Shubman followed, intrigued but also a little apprehensive about what Ishan had in mind.
As they reached the garden, Shubman's eyes widened in disbelief. There, on the grass, Ishan had thrown the shirt down and was now pouring kerosene over it. With a strikingly casual motion, Ishan struck a match and ignited the shirt. Flames quickly engulfed the fabric, sending wisps of smoke curling into the air.
"Baby, ye kya tha?" Shubman asked, his voice a mixture of shock and bewilderment as he stared at the burning shirt.
"Kuch nahi, hume ye shirt pasand nahi tha," Ishan replied with an air of indifference, as if the act of setting fire to a shirt was a perfectly reasonable response.
"Pasand nahi tha ya jealous ho gaye the?" Shubman pressed, raising an eyebrow and trying to understand the underlying motive.
"Ham kyun jealous honge kisi se? Us chudail ke aapke shirt ko chhua tha, toh hamne use jala diya," Ishan said with a nonchalant shrug, as if his actions were the most natural thing in the world.
Shubman couldn't help but marvel at Ishan's possessiveness. "Itna possessive?" he asked, a hint of amusement in his voice.
In response, Ishan playfully pulled Shubman's ear. "Pyar karte hain aapse aur hamara hak banta hai," he said, his tone firm but affectionate.
Shubman chuckled softly, his earlier tension easing. "Accha baba, maan gaye tumhe. Waise, wo aayi thi kya?" he inquired, his curiosity piqued once more.
"Kon?" Ishan asked, feigning ignorance.
"Wahi tumhara puchu," Shubman said, clearly disinterested.
"Aap usse jealous ho rahe ho," Ishan remarked, a hint of mischief in his voice as he watched Shubman's reaction.
"Nahi ho raha hun main jealous," Shubman retorted, though his expression betrayed a different story.
"Par aapki shakal pe toh kuch aur likha hai," Ishan quipped, his gaze assessing Shubman's demeanor with an almost playful scrutiny.
Shubman met Ishan's eyes and cleared his throat, as if preparing to reveal something significant. "Wo tumhare gall katne ko keh raha tha aur toh aur chumne ke liye bhi keh raha tha," he confessed, his tone tinged with frustration and a touch of amusement.
Ishan's eyes widened in disbelief, unable to hide his surprise at Shubman's words. "Pehle shirt pehen lijiye aap," Ishan said, his voice softening as he realized Shubman was still without his shirt.
"Shirt toh jaladi," Shubman replied with a resigned shrug, glancing at the ashes of his once-favorite garment.
"Aur nahi hai kya? Yehi kyun pehenni hai, chaliye," Ishan said, guiding Shubman towards their room. Once inside, he handed Shubman a fresh shirt. Shubman slipped it on, the garment a temporary but comfortable fix.
"Hmmm, toh ab bataiye kya hua?" Ishan asked, settling beside Shubman with a curious look.
"Kya hua? Ek toh wo jab bhi aata hai, 'ishie ishie' karke tumhare paas aa jata hai. Kehta hai tumse shaadi karega. Kyun karega tumse shaadi? Mere pati ho tum, sirf mere," Shubman explained, his voice carrying a mix of irritation and protectiveness.
Ishan's expression softened as he listened, understanding the depth of Shubman's feelings and the sincerity behind his actions.
Ishan took a deep breath, his gaze steady as he looked at Shubman. "Wo 4 saal ka baccha hai," he said softly, attempting to bring perspective to the situation.
Shubman, unfazed, shook his head and pulled Ishan into a tender embrace. "Toh kya hua? Mujhe koi farak nahi padta, baccha ho ya bada. Tum mere ho, bas mere," he declared, his voice filled with unwavering certainty and affection.
Ishan smiled warmly, feeling the sincerity of Shubman's words. The embrace was more than a simple gesture; it was a reaffirmation of their deep connection and commitment to each other.
With a playful pout, Shubman looked at Ishan and asked, "Tum usko puchu bulate ho, mujhe kyun nahi?"
Ishan's cheeks flushed slightly as he responded, "Maa ne kaha pati ka naam nahi lete."
Shubman's eyes sparkled with mischief as he pressed further, "Maa abhi toh yahan nahi hai na, ek baar bulao please."
Feeling the weight of Shubman's request and the warmth of his gaze, Ishan's shyness intensified. He hesitated for a moment before whispering softly, "Shubi."
In that instant, as if the power of Ishan's affectionate call was too overwhelming, Shubman's eyes fluttered closed, and he fainted, collapsing gently into Ishan's arms. The suddenness of the moment left Ishan both startled and worried, his heart pounding as he cradled Shubman, his love mingling with concern.
"Shubi, ae Shubi, uthiye na," Ishan said urgently, patting Shubman's cheeks with growing concern. Gently, he laid Shubman on the bed and, with a decisive motion, poured an entire glass of water over him.
Shubman woke with a start, sputtering as he wiped the water from his face. Sitting up, he looked at Ishan with a mix of confusion and mild irritation.
"Shubi, aap thik ho?" Ishan asked, sitting down in front of him, his eyes full of worry.
"Ishu, ye pura ek glass pani kon dalta hai?" Shubman asked, his voice still thick with sleepiness.
"Ham dalte hai, taki aap jaldi uth jaye," Ishan explained, his tone a blend of apology and determination.
"Accha, bahot acha," Shubman said, his irritation softening into a smile as he took in Ishan's earnest expression.
"Thank you. Waise, aap behosh kyun ho gaye the? Hamne toh bas aapko Shubi bulaya tha," Ishan said, his voice filled with curiosity.
"Tumhare muh se mera naam sunnke ke baad mere pet mein titliyan nach uthi," Shubman confessed, his voice carrying a hint of playful embarrassment.
"Aayein? Aapke pet mein titli hai?" Ishan asked, raising an eyebrow and trying to mask his amusement.
Shubman, seeing the innocent curiosity in Ishan's eyes, took a deep breath before explaining, "Han matlab nahi, titli nahi hai. Jab bhi jo aapko pyar karta hai na, wo aapko aapke naam se bulaye ya fir kuch aisa kare jisse aap bahut khush ho, toh tab titliyan pet mein nachti hai."
Ishan tilted his head, puzzled. "Achha, toh titli udhar kaise jati hai?"
Shubman smiled, appreciating Ishan's genuine curiosity. "Wo nahi jaati, wo automatically aati hai," he said, his voice gentle as he tried to simplify the concept for his husband.
"Kahan se?" Ishan asked, his eyes wide with intrigue, eager to understand more.
Shubman chuckled softly at Ishan's innocent questions. "Titliyan aapke dil se aati hain, jab aap khushi aur pyar mehsoos karte hain," he explained, placing a comforting hand on Ishan's.
"Haw, iska matlab hamare dil mein titliyan hain?" Ishan said, his eyes widening with a mix of wonder and delight.
Shubman nodded, a soft smile playing on his lips as he gently squeezed Ishan's hand. "Haan, jab tumhare dil mein khushi aur pyar hota hai, tab wahi titliyan tumhare dil mein nachti hain," he explained.
Ishan's face brightened, and he leaned in closer, his eyes reflecting a newfound joy. "Toh, humare dil mein titliyan humesha nachengi?" he asked, his voice filled with hope.
"Jab tak hum ek dusre se pyar karte rahenge aur ek dusre ko khushi dete rahenge, tab tak ye titliyan humare dil mein naachti rahengi," Shubman assured him, his gaze tender and full of affection.
Ishan smiled warmly, feeling a deeper connection with Shubman as he absorbed the sweetness of the moment.
Target for next update
50+ votes and 30+ comments
kya bolti public, oneshot likhu kya main????
Isse pehle ka chapter hai mehendi ki rangat
YOU ARE READING
Whispers of Love
FanficMeet Ishan, a shy and innocent young man, whose gentle demeanor belies a heart full of kindness and warmth. Alongside him stands Shubman, his husband, a charismatic and flirtatious soul who wears his love for Ishan like a badge of honor. Their marr...
