42| Letters 💌📜

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तुझे चाहा रब से भी ज़्यादा,फिर भी न तुझे पा सके।रहे तेरे दिल में मगर,तेरी धड़कन तक न जा सके।

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तुझे चाहा रब से भी ज़्यादा,
फिर भीतुझे पा सके
रहे तेरे दिल में मगर,
तेरी धड़कन तक न जा सके।

Word count ~ 4400 +

I woke up with a dull, throbbing ache in my head, the kind that fogs up your mind and makes every movement feel heavier than it should

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I woke up with a dull, throbbing ache in my head, the kind that fogs up your mind and makes every movement feel heavier than it should. Blinking slowly, I tried to sit up, pressing my fingers against my temples to ease the tension. What had happened? I couldn't remember. It was like trying to grasp wisps of smoke, fading the moment I reached for them.

Before I could dwell on it, I felt something firm and warm against my waist. I looked down and found Adhiraj's arms wrapped securely around me, his body pressed against mine as he slept, his grip protective even in his dreams. I stilled for a moment, my heart skipping a beat at the sight of him so close.

Turning slightly, I let my gaze linger on his face—his strong jawline, the relaxed curve of his lips, and the slight scruff that gave him that rugged, effortless allure. I think the word "ethereal" wasn't created to describe a woman's beauty; it was made for him. Even in the softness of sleep, he radiated power, like a king resting between battles.

And those moustaches... I smiled to myself, feeling my chest flutter with warmth. His moustaches gave him a regal, almost royal look, the kind that could only belong to someone who carried the weight of the world on his shoulders yet looked impossibly graceful doing it. I reached out, unable to resist the urge, and gently traced my fingers along the curve of his moustache. The hair was soft yet firm beneath my fingertips, and the sensation sent a strange thrill through me.

He didn't wake, but he stirred slightly, his grip on my waist tightening as if he knew I was touching him. I couldn't help but smile wider at the thought. He was always like this—possessive, even in his sleep.

Lying back down beside him, I let my fingers trail over the strong lines of his jaw, marveling at the way his features seemed carved from stone, yet softened by the peace that sleep brought. The butterflies in my stomach fluttered again, more insistent now. How could someone look this perfect, even while sleeping?

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