SHIVI'S POV
As I slowly woke up, the soft morning light filtered through the curtains, casting a gentle glow over the room. I blinked a few times, letting my eyes adjust, and then turned my head to find him lying beside me, watching me with a look that made my heart skip a beat. His eyes were so tender, full of warmth and something deeper, something that made me feel safe and loved in a way I couldn’t quite put into words.
As I started to fully wake up, I noticed something that made me pause—my dress had been changed. A wave of shock washed over me, my mind racing with the possibility that he had been the one to change it. The thought made my cheeks flush with a mix of surprise and embarrassment, but before I could even process it fully, he reached out to me.
His hand was warm as he gently cupped my face, his thumb brushing softly across my cheek in a way that sent shivers down my spine. I barely had time to react before he leaned in, his lips meeting mine in a kiss that was both soft and intense. The way his lips moved against mine was so tender, so full of unspoken emotion, that I felt like I might melt into the bed. His kiss was slow, deliberate, as if he was savoring every second of it, and I couldn’t help but kiss him back, my heart pounding in my chest.
When he finally pulled back, his lips barely grazing mine as he whispered, “Good morning,” his voice was low and filled with a kind of warmth that made my breath catch.
A rush of emotions flooded through me—shock, butterflies, and a deep, overwhelming sense of being cherished. My heart raced as I looked into his eyes, feeling both vulnerable and completely safe in his presence. The way he had kissed me, the way he had whispered those words, left me feeling more loved than I had ever felt before.
As I lay there still feeling the warmth of his kiss, he looked at me with a soft smile and asked, "Did you sleep well?" His voice was gentle, filled with genuine care.
I could feel my heart swell at the simple question, his concern for me evident in his eyes. Smiling, I nodded, unable to find the words to express just how much his presence and tenderness meant to me in that moment. His gaze never left mine.
After 1 hour I was ready for the college a and him for his work. We had our breakfast but before leaving the table he asked me a sudden question "Whom did you talked to last night?" I didn't answered, the night's memories flashed. He leaned in slightly, his gaze intense as he repeated, "I asked you something, don't dare to lie." His tone was firm but not harsh, more concerned than anything else.
I hesitated, feeling a mix of nerves and guilt. After a moment, I finally admitted, "That girl"
His expression softened slightly as he reached across the table, taking my hand gently in his. "Who?" he asked, his voice calmer but still insistent, as if he needed to know.
Taking a deep breath, I looked down at our joined hands and then back up at him. "The one who says you are hers all the time," I said, my voice tinged with annoyance as I recalled the girl's possessive words. I couldn't help but make an irritated face at the memory. "And the other one, her friend."
As I spoke, I could see his expression shift, the concern in his eyes deepening. He held my hand a little tighter, his protective side showing as he processed what I had said. The tension in the air was palpable, and I couldn’t help but feel a bit nervous about what might come next.
His grip on my hand tightened slightly, though not in anger, but in a mix of concern and urgency. "What did she tell you?" he asked, his voice steady but tinged with a seriousness that made my heart race.
I felt the sting of tears welling up in my eyes, but I fought to keep them at bay. The memory of last night's conversation was still fresh, and it hurt to think about it. Sensing my distress, he began to rub my hands gently, his touch calming and reassuring.
Taking a shaky breath, I finally found the courage to speak. "She said that you’ll leave me, that you’re only hers..." My voice wavered as I spoke, the words dredging up the fear I had tried to push aside.
He looked at me intently, concern etched on his face, but I wasn’t done yet. With a deep breath, I continued, "And... I even saw the divorce papers you brought that night when you dropped me off from college."
His reaction was immediate. His eyes widened in shock, and his whole demeanor shifted as he processed what I had just said. "Divorce?" he repeated, his voice rising in disbelief. "What the hell??"
The intensity of his response took me by surprise, and I could see the genuine confusion and frustration in his expression. It was clear that whatever I had seen or misunderstood was something he hadn't expected or planned, and now we were both caught in the emotions of the moment.
His expression was a mix of confusion and frustration as he leaned closer, still holding my hands tightly. "Which divorce papers? I never thought of divorce, and why would I?" he asked, his voice firm yet laced with concern.
I bit my lip, struggling to make sense of it all. "But I saw them... on the bed, in an envelope," I insisted, my voice trembling with the fear and uncertainty that had been gnawing at me since that night.
He sighed, shaking his head as he tried to gather his thoughts. "No, listen to me," he began, his tone more urgent but still gentle. "No envelopes or files come into this house before I check them. I would never even think of leaving you"
He looked into my eyes, his expression softening as he squeezed my hands for reassurance. "You have to believe me. Whatever you saw, it wasn’t what you think. I’ve never considered leaving you, not for a moment." His voice was earnest, filled with a sincerity that made my heart ache with the realization that I had let my fears get the best of me.
The weight of his words began to sink in, and I could feel the tension in my chest slowly starting to ease, though the lingering doubts still hovered at the edges of my mind.
His brows furrowed in confusion as the pieces started to fall into place. "It must be her," he muttered, his voice filled with a mix of realization and anger. I knew exactly who he was referring to—the girls from last night who had made me feel so insecure and upset.
"I won’t leave her," he said, more to himself than to me, his determination clear. With that, he stood up abruptly, his expression hardening with resolve.
Before I knew it, we were in the car, and he was driving me to college. The tension in the air was palpable, and I couldn’t shake the uneasy feeling in my chest. As we neared the campus, I finally found the courage to ask, "What are you going to do? Please, don’t fight with them."
He didn’t respond immediately, his grip tightening on the steering wheel, eyes focused straight ahead. After a long pause, he simply said, "Focus on your studies. I’ll take care of the rest."
His words were meant to reassure me, but they only made me more anxious. Even as I nodded, my mind raced with worry. I knew he was protective, but I couldn’t help but be concerned about what he might do. The thought of him confronting those girls, or worse, made my stomach twist in knots.
As we pulled up to the college, I looked at him, still searching for any sign of what he was planning, but his expression was unreadable. "Please, just be careful," I whispered, feeling the weight of my concern pressing down on me as I stepped out of the car. He gave a forehead kiss as usual. He drove after making sure I was in the college safely.
TO BE CONTINE...
