ʙᴏᴏᴋ 𝟷 ɪɴ ᴊᴏᴜʀɴᴇʏ sᴇʀɪᴇs
Tia ᥫ᭡ Saransh
"I like you. Saransh ji, I truly do a lot, but I'm not sure what love is because I've never felt it."
"Then let me show you what love feels like by painting you in the color of my love, sona.
✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩
"S...
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“I can walk, Ansh,” I mumbled, but he was as stubborn as a mule, refusing to let me go for even a second.
“I know, but I don’t want you to take any stress. You’re still not recovered, Sona,” he whispered, lifting me in a bridal style and striding towards the entrance.
I sighed, shaking my head, and nestled my head against his chest. It felt safe there, cocooned in the warmth of his embrace.
Finally, we were home in India after a week that felt like an eternity. A painful week, to say the least. I was relieved that nobody had asked me about my condition. They all assumed that Daksh Sinha was the reason for my state. And while he was half the reason, Saransh had no clue about that monster. I needed to tell him soon; I couldn’t just sit idle and watch as something even more dangerous loomed on the horizon. I knew my Saransh would believe me. I didn’t want him to remain in the dark any longer. Whatever decision he made afterward, I would accept it. His life was more important than mine. It was up to him whether he wanted to be with me or leave me. I would gladly accept my fate.
I glanced down at myself—a broken mess. My neck was wrapped in a bandage, my collarbone marred by a burn from a cigar, and my left ring finger was encased in a fracture bandage. I was a patchwork of injuries, and the reflection in the mirror didn’t lie.
“Ruko!”
A familiar voice snapped me from my thoughts.
There stood my Maa and family members at the entrance, holding an aarthi thali, their eyes glistening with tears. My own eyes began to well up. I cursed myself for causing them pain.
“Ghar ki Lakshmi maut se ladkar, humari khushiya wapas lekar aayein hai. Hum aarthi ke bagair kese andar humare Lakshmi Gruhapravesh kar sakte hain?”
Maa’s words washed over me like a warm embrace, a reminder of the strength that runs through our family.
Saransh gently placed me on the ground, but I stumbled. He held my waist firmly, standing behind me like a protective fortress. Maa performed the aarthi, and a sob escaped my lips. Saransh caressed my back and kissed my head, his touch soothing the storm inside me. I glanced up at him; his eyes brimmed with unshed tears, and he gave me a faint smile that made my heart flutter.
“Anadar aja, baccha,” Maa insisted, placing a tilak on my forehead.
I looked back at Saransh and smiled, a silent invitation.
I gestured for him to come closer, bending down to his level.
“What’s the matter, Sona?” he asked, concern etched on his face.
I shook my head, tilting it slightly, feeling his warm breath fan against my lips. His eyes widened in surprise; I could see the wheels turning in his mind, probably thinking I was about to kiss him in front of the family.
