𝐌𝐚𝐟𝐢𝐚 𝐊𝐢𝐧𝐠'𝐬 𝐢𝐧𝐧𝐨𝐜𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐛𝐢𝐰𝐢

"12. Heartfelt Morning"

"Chehra aisa ki Chand ko bhi
Sharmane pe majbur karde
Muskaan aisi ki patthar ko bhi
Pighalne pe Vivash karde"

-Fictionflare_

The soft rays of sunlight filtered through the curtains, gently illuminating the room and casting a warm glow on both Rudraksh and Ruhanika’s faces. They were still deeply asleep, wrapped in each other's arms, their expressions reflecting a rare sense of peace, as if they were finally resting after a long period of unrest. Ruhanika’s eyes fluttered open as the light began to stir her from her slumber. Instinctively, she rubbed her face against Rudraksh’s chest, seeking the warmth and comfort she found there, trying to hide her face in his neck to block out the sunlight. Her movement disturbed Rudraksh, who shifted slightly and turned his face away, but remained asleep. As Ruhanika slowly opened her eyes, her gaze traveled up, realizing where she was—and more importantly, who she was snuggled against.

Ruhanika's POV:

As I blinked my eyes to adjust to the light, I felt something warm beneath my cheek. Curious, I lifted my head slightly to see what it was. My eyes widened in surprise as I realized I was completely sprawled over my husband. A sudden rush of realization made me freeze for a second. I tried to gently pull back, but something held me in place. I glanced down and noticed his strong hands wrapped securely around my waist, holding me close. A smile tugged at my lips as I processed the scene—he must have hugged me in his sleep, maybe feeling scared and needing comfort, just like I did. He must’ve had a bad dream about a ghost, that’s why he hugged me so tightly.

(Author: Waah Ruhi, ulta chor qotwal ko daatein😝)

I rested my chin on his chest, gazing at his peaceful face. He’s so pretty-pretty, I thought with a smile. And even more “pyaara pyaara” when he’s sleeping. But then, my mind drifted to how different he could be when he’s angry. When he’s mad, it’s like he transforms into “Mahadev ka Raudra roop," I thought with a shiver. I used to be scared of him back then, but even from the very beginning, he’s always made me feel safe. I reflected on how there was never anything bad in his eyes—nothing like what I’d seen in others. He’s so different, always protecting me like my Nima used to. A soft warmth filled my heart as I continued to admire him. And just like he’s always there for me when I’m scared, I promise I’ll be there for him too, whenever he’s afraid or needs someone.His eyes are so mesmerizing—I really want to look into them, but he’s still asleep. After kissing him last night, I feel like doing it again, but I’m worried he might get upset. No, I’ll resist the urge. I noticed some of his hair falling across his face and decided to gently push it back. Oh, his hair is so soft and silky. I couldn’t help but admire the small details that make him so special to me. The best part about him is how he listens to me. Even though my throat feels sore because I haven’t spoken much in the past 3 to 3.5 years, I find myself wanting to open up completely to him. I want to share everything—the things that send chills down my spine. However, Mama and Mami had restricted me not to ttell anything to him, so I’ve held it all in. But being with him makes me feel like I could pour out my heart and cry freely. It’s been so suffocating keeping everything inside. But he’s my husband, and I shouldn’t hide anything from him. I need to figure out how to approach this. Maybe I should ask him only whether to share or not and  if he asks me to. If he says he wants to know, I’ll open up; if not, I’ll respect his wishes. That seems like the best approach, just like him. Right now, though, all I want to do is look at him. He must be hungry, so I should get up and prepare something for him. I remember his brother mentioned he would tell me about his favorite dishes, so I’ll ask him about that. With a grin on my face, I slowly started to move his arms off me. As I was about to get out of bed, I remembered he had told me not to walk too much. But I really want to make something for him. It’s okay if he gets upset with me; he can scold me but I’m determined to cook for him. I stepped down carefully, noticing that my feet weren’t hurting too much. I made my way to the walking closet that he had shown me yesterday. I searched for clothes, but it seemed like it only had his garments. Maybe he needs more time to organize clothes for me. So, I selected a shirt and sweatpants—he had taught me the names of these garments. After heading into the washroom to freshen up, I changed into his clothes. They were still too long for me, and while I managed to tie the strings of the pajama, the sleeves remained a challenge. I emerged from the washroom, struggling with the long sleeves and feeling a bit frustrated. I wondered how he managed to fold them so effortlessly. It seemed like something I should learn from him eventually.