Mythili Kapoor, in her eyes,is a nobody. Her parents were always in want of a son and were granted that wish post twelve years of her birth and since then her brother Rajveer has been the apple of her parents eyes. Oh yes, she is remembered when the...
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Mythili's POV ~
I woke up in the dead of night, a sudden and intense craving for noodles gnawing at my insides. My eyes fluttered open, and I glanced at the darkened room, only to see the faint glow of the laptop screen illuminating Shivaay's face. He was hunched over, absorbed in his work, like always.
I tried to be quiet as I slipped out of bed, careful not to disturb him. My bare feet padded softly against the cool floor as I tiptoed towards the door. But just as I reached the handle, I heard his voice—low, almost a murmur, but unmistakably alert.
"Where do you think you're going, Mrs. Rathore?"
I froze mid-step, my heart skipping a beat. How did he know? I turned slowly, meeting his gaze. He hadn't even looked away from his screen, but I could feel his eyes on me, a silent, knowing presence.
"I'm hungry," I confessed, my voice a little more sheepish than I intended. "I've got this sudden craving for noodles. I thought I'd make some."
He finally looked up from his laptop, his eyes softening as they met mine. A smile tugged at the corners of his lips, and without saying a word, he closed his laptop with a gentle click.
"Then what," he said with a mock seriousness, "am I here for?
"Come here," he said, reaching out for my hand and I took it without a hesitation in the world, grinning.
As we made our way to the kitchen, he began pulling out pots, pans, and ingredients while I retrieved the tub of ice cream from the refrigerator and a spoon. I was just about to hop up onto the counter when Shivaay's quick reflexes stopped me in my tracks, pinning me between the counter and his shirtless self. What was he trying to do? Seduce me or what?
"You are pregnant, Mythili," he said, his voice laced with a mix of concern and affection. "Stop jumping around, please."
"Please, Shivaay," I protested with a playful pout, "I'm pregnant, not made of glass. Stop treating me like I'm going to break!"
With a sigh and a soft chuckle, he scooped me up effortlessly, his arms enveloping me in a warm embrace. He set me down gently on the counter before got back to chopping the garlic.
I perched on the counter, savouring the ice cream, my eyes never straying from him. Shivaay's shirtless, athletic frame his toned muscles flexing with every motion. My gaze traced the sculpted lines of his abs and the broad expanse of his shoulders. The way his body moved so effortlessly made my pulse quicken.
"Want some?" I asked, offering him a spoonful of ice cream. His eyes met mine, filled with amusement and affection. He leaned in, his lips about to touch the spoon, but just as he was about to taste the cold treat, I let it drop on his neck.
