MY AVERAGE LIFE

Part 61

Shivani Pov:

As Sharath held me tighter, his warmth settled into me, grounding me in the moment. I could feel the tension in him slowly unraveling, but there was still a trace of something—relief, worry, maybe even frustration—that lingered. His arms wrapped around me like he was afraid to let go, and for a second, I hated myself for causing this, for making him feel like I could slip away. But I knew I had to face my parents alone, and he understood that in his own way.

I pulled back just enough to meet his gaze, my fingers gently cupping his face. His eyes, still searching mine, were softer now but filled with emotion. I leaned in, brushing my lips over his, barely whispering against him, "I'm here."

Without hesitation, his lips found mine. The kiss was soft at first, tender, but quickly deepened, like he was letting out all the frustration and longing he'd been holding in for the last two days. I melted into him, my hands moving from his face to his shoulders, gripping him as if to reassure him that I wasn't going anywhere. His fingers trailed down my back, sending shivers across my skin, and when they landed on my waist, I couldn't help the little gasp that escaped my lips.

He knew me too well—knew exactly how to touch me, especially where I was most sensitive. His hands lingered there, holding me firmly, and I felt my pulse quicken under his touch. There was something both grounding and electrifying in how his fingers pressed into my waist, the way his lips moved against mine with a quiet but desperate need.

"Shivani," he murmured against my lips, his voice raspy and low, making my stomach flutter. "I missed you."

I kissed him back, letting my fingers slide into his hair, pulling him closer. "I missed you too," I breathed, and my words came out softer than I intended, but he heard them. I could tell by the way his grip tightened, his body pressing more firmly into mine as though he needed that reassurance.

His lips trailed down to my neck, kissing slowly, deliberately, and I tilted my head back, giving him access. Each kiss he planted there felt like a promise, like he was telling me in his own way that everything was going to be okay. I sighed, gripping the fabric of his shirt, anchoring myself to him, my heart pounding harder with each gentle kiss.

Sharath's touch became more deliberate, his hands sliding back up my sides, and I felt the heat of him seeping through my clothes. His lips were warm against my neck, lingering longer than before, and every press of his mouth sent little sparks down my spine. I couldn't help but shudder under his touch.

He paused, resting his forehead against mine, his breath mingling with mine as we both tried to catch it. His hands remained at my waist, holding me close, not letting me go. "I'm never letting you go," he whispered, and there was something almost vulnerable in the way he said it, like he was still afraid that I might disappear.

I pulled back just enough to look into his eyes, my thumb gently brushing along his jawline. "I'm not going anywhere," I whispered back. And I meant it. No matter what happened with my parents, no matter what struggles we faced, I knew I wasn't leaving him.

I kissed him again, softer this time, but the kiss deepened quickly as his hands slid back to my waist, his touch more insistent now. I could feel the tension melting away, replaced with something more raw, more urgent. His lips moved to my collarbone, his breath hot against my skin, and I couldn't help but arch into him, my hands threading through his hair, holding him close.

The world outside, the fights with my parents, the uncertainties—all of it faded away. All that mattered was this, being here with him, in his arms. His lips moved back up to my neck, and I sighed, my fingers tightening in his hair as I pressed myself closer to him, wanting to feel more of him.

When he finally pulled back, his forehead resting against mine, his breath ragged, he gave me that soft, familiar smile—the one that always made my heart skip a beat. "You're everything to me," he whispered, his voice steady but full of emotion.

In the midst of it all—the chaos with my parents, the intensity of Sharath's touch, and the overwhelming emotions—I couldn't help but reflect on how much my life had changed. A few months ago, I was the girl who didn't even believe in "I love you." It was just a phrase, thrown around so easily that it had lost its meaning to me. I had always been skeptical, guarded even. I never believed that love—true love—was something meant for me, and yet here I was, wrapped in the arms of a man who never even needed to say the words for me to feel it.

"You're everything to me," he had whispered, and those words felt more powerful than any "I love you" ever could. It was like he wasn't just saying something to make me feel good, but that he truly believed it—felt it deep in his bones. And that hit me harder than anything else. I realized, in that moment, how different my world had become since Sharath walked into it.

The girl who once scoffed at love, who thought she could live her life without needing anyone, now had someone who made her feel more alive than she ever thought possible. He had shown me what a colorful life was, one filled with moments of joy, connection, and yes, maybe even love—though he rarely said it out loud.

The way he held me now, his hands firm on my waist, his forehead resting against mine as we caught our breath, was enough. More than enough. I didn't need grand declarations. It wasn't about the words anymore. It was the way he looked at me, like I was the most important thing in his world. It was the way he reached for me when he thought I was slipping away, the way his touch could make me feel safe and wanted all at once.

He didn't need to say "I love you" for me to know what he meant. And honestly, did I even know what love was? The idea of love was always so messy, so complicated in my head. But this—this warmth, this undeniable pull I felt toward him—if this wasn't love, then I was okay with that. Because whatever it was, it made me happier than I had ever been.

I leaned back slightly, still in his lap, and looked into his eyes. His expression softened, and I could tell he was thinking too, though I wasn't sure what. Maybe about us, maybe about the future. I ran my fingers through his hair, tracing gentle patterns along his scalp, and he closed his eyes for a moment as if savoring the touch.

"Sharath," I murmured, and his eyes fluttered open, meeting mine.

He didn't say anything, just watched me, his hands still resting on my waist, thumbs rubbing gentle circles against my skin. That touch, the way he knew exactly where to hold me, how to touch me—it made my heart race. He always knew how to calm me, how to make me feel like I belonged with him. And in his silence, I understood everything. We didn't need words.

I leaned in, pressing my lips softly against his. The kiss wasn't hurried or intense this time. It was slow, deliberate, like I was trying to pour every unspoken feeling I had into it. And maybe I was. Because in that moment, I realized how much he meant to me, how much this—whatever it was—meant.

His lips responded in kind, soft and warm, as his hands tightened slightly around my waist, holding me closer, as if to tell me without words that he was here too. That he wasn't letting go. And neither was I.

When we finally pulled back, both of us breathless but calm, he smiled that soft smile of his, the one that made me feel like everything would be okay. I rested my forehead against his again, our breaths mingling in the quiet of the room.

Whatever this was, love or not, it was ours. And that was enough for me.

I smiled back, running my fingers through his hair gently "You're everything to me too," I whispered, my voice barely audible.

He kissed me again, slower this time, letting his lips linger on mine for longer and his hands resting at my waist as if they belonged there. As we sat there, tangled together, nothing else mattered but the quiet understanding that we were in this together, no matter what.