Sacred Games Of Twisted Fate {18+}

*CARE OF COLD HUSBAND*

***author's pov***

She sighed and thought to change her dirty saare. 

The moment she tried to stand up .. she felt a sharp pain in her ankle .

As Aayara stumbled, her ankle twisting painfully beneath her, a sharp groan escaped her lips. But before she could even hit the ground, Arjun's arm was around her waist, steadying her. She found herself inches away from him, his grip firm yet somehow gentle as he looked down at her with an expression that was both exasperated and amused.

He raised an eyebrow, his lips pressed together in a barely concealed smirk, as if silently questioning how she could be so reckless. That stare—it felt like he was studying her, finding humor in her clumsiness while masking an undercurrent of concern.

"You seriously can’t manage a few steps without needing to be rescued, can you?" he said, his voice filled with mock disbelief.

Aayara's cheeks flushed. She knew he was only teasing, but his gaze had a way of making her feel both foolish and oddly safe at the same time. "I... I just didn’t expect my ankle to give out," she muttered, avoiding his intense gaze.

Arjun sighed, shaking his head as if resigned to her antics. But he didn’t let go. Instead, he adjusted his hold on her waist, lifting her effortlessly. "You’re going to end up hurting yourself worse if you keep this up," he said, his voice softened by a rare hint of tenderness.

Without waiting for her to protest, he carried her toward the bathroom, his steady footsteps contrasting with her still-racing heart. Once inside, he set her down carefully on the counter, his hands lingering for just a second longer than necessary, his touch sending a thrill through her.

"Stay here," he commanded, giving her a pointed look. "I’ll get your clothes. Try not to injure yourself in the meantime."

Aayara watched him leave, her pulse still quickened by the unexpected closeness. As he returned with her change of clothes, she realized that for all his rough edges and teasing words, there was a side to Arjun that cared more than he’d ever let on.

As Aayara looked at her reflection, her fingers gingerly traced the bandage on her forehead, now soaked with a faint tinge of dried blood. She winced, a hint of frustration creeping into her expression as she took in her disheveled appearance.

"Bhootni lag rahi hoon," she murmured to herself with a small sigh. "Let’s just wash up quickly."

She turned on the tap and splashed water on her face, letting the coolness ease away some of the tension. The water felt refreshing against her skin, though she was careful not to disturb the wound on her forehead.

Just as she was about to pat her face dry, she heard footsteps approaching. Glancing up, she saw Arjun entering with her nightgown in hand, his brow furrowed as he took in the sight of her fussing over herself. A subtle smirk tugged at his lips as he observed her.

"Trying to make yourself look human again?" he teased, crossing the room with that calm, unbothered confidence she both envied and admired.

Aayara felt a blush creeping up her cheeks. She straightened up, giving him a little glare. "Kya karoon, tumhare liye thodi na lagti rahoon bhootni jaise," she retorted, reaching for the towel.

Arjun raised an eyebrow, an amused glint in his eyes. "Glad to see you’re taking this so seriously," he said, handing her the nightgown. "Now, get changed. And try not to slip again."

Their eyes met for a lingering moment, and despite everything, Aayara felt a sense of warmth—an unspoken comfort in the space they shared, even in the smallest gestures.

Arjun let out a small sigh as he took her face gently in his hands, tilting it upward to meet his gaze. His fingers traced her damp cheeks as he studied her, a subtle intensity flickering in his eyes. Without a word, he reached over to grab a face wash, squeezing a bit onto his palm.

“Close your eyes, yaar,” he muttered, a hint of irritation in his voice, though it was softened by a certain tenderness.

Aayara quickly obeyed, shutting her eyes and feeling his hands work over her skin, massaging the face wash in gentle, circular motions. The warmth of his touch and the delicate pressure of his fingertips made her heartbeat quicken, and for a moment, she forgot the tension and pain of the day. His hands, usually cold and calculating, felt different—soft and surprisingly careful.

After a moment, he guided her closer to the sink, rinsing off the suds with warm water. She felt the water trickling down her skin as he wiped away the last traces, leaving her face feeling fresh and renewed. Slowly, she opened her eyes, catching his gaze lingering on her face, softer than she’d seen in a while.

“Better?” he asked, his voice low, as his thumb brushed away a stray droplet lingering on her cheek.

She nodded, at a loss for words, feeling a strange sense of comfort and warmth in this quiet, unexpected moment between them.

Arjun carefully helped her to her feet, his hands steady as he unwrapped her saree with precision, not paying heed to her flushed cheeks. She stood there, feeling her face grow warmer with every passing second, her heartbeat thudding loud in her ears. He paused to look at her, a faint smirk tugging at his lips.

"Why are you blushing?" he teased, rolling his eyes. "Am I seeing you for the first time, wifey?" His tone was mocking, yet something about the way he looked at her sent a shiver down her spine.

As he set the saree aside, his hands moved to the clasp of her blouse, and she swallowed hard, unable to meet his gaze. Her breaths grew shallow, and the redness spread from her cheeks down her neck as she stood there, almost frozen. His touch was unexpectedly gentle, though his gaze held a possessive gleam, reminding her of just how deeply he controlled this moment.

Arjun leaned in close, letting his fingertips trail lightly over her shoulders as he continued, seemingly unbothered by her reaction. She felt her pulse quicken, her mind clouded by his nearness, aware of every subtle movement he made.