Anaya-His heartbeat

CHAPTER-39

ANAYA 

---I had asked Shivarth to come home early today. I wanted to do something special for him, something that would make him feel cared for. Cooking dinner felt like the perfect idea. Only... I'd never cooked before. And  the moment i entered the kitchen i got my hands burnt . But I wasn't going to let that stop me. The maids were horrified when they saw me in the kitchen. "Madam, no! Please let us handle this," one of them begged, her voice shaking. I smiled, trying to calm them down. "Relax, I'm fine. I really want to do this myself." "But Sir will be furious if he finds out! He'll think we didn't take care of you." "Don't worry about Shivarth. I promise he won't scold you." I waved them off and focused on my task, even though my hands were already starting to ache. After scrolling through a ton of YouTube recipes, I finally settled on fried rice and Manchurian. Simple enough, or so I thought. Every step was a challenge. My hands stung as I chopped vegetables, the heat from the stove made my burns throb, and I was pretty sure I used way too much soy sauce. But I pushed through, biting back the pain. By the time I finished, I was exhausted but proud. It wasn't perfect, but it was mine. I set the dishes on the table and was about to collapse on the couch when my phone buzzed. It was a message from Shivarth: **"Reaching in 10 minutes."** My heart skipped a beat. Ten minutes?! I rushed upstairs, changed into a simple yet elegant outfit, and lightly touched up my makeup. My hands protested every movement, but I ignored them. I just wanted everything to be perfect. The sound of the front door opening made my pulse race. I hurried downstairs, and there he was—tall, composed, and utterly captivating. Before I could say a word, he walked straight to me and pulled me into a tight hug. "I missed you," he murmured, his voice soft and deep. I blinked, momentarily taken aback. "You... did?" He chuckled, his arms still around me. "Yes. And you're acting like it's a surprise." "Well, you don't exactly say it often," I teased, though my heart felt lighter at his words. After a moment, he pulled back, his eyes scanning my face. "You look tired. Did you rest today?" I hesitated, then quickly nodded. "Of course! I rested plenty." He narrowed his eyes slightly, clearly unconvinced, but he didn't push. "I'll freshen up. Don't disappear, okay?" I smiled. "I'll be here." As he headed upstairs, I quickly set the dining table, arranging the dishes just right. My nerves were all over the place when he returned. He looked refreshed, his hair damp and his shirt slightly unbuttoned. "You cooked?" he asked, noticing the food. I nodded, biting my lip. "I did. For the first time ever." His eyes lit up with genuine excitement. "You made this? For me?" "Yes," I said softly, my cheeks warming. Without hesitation, he sat down and took a bite of the fried rice. I held my breath, watching for his reaction. His face broke into a smile as he chewed. "This is amazing," he said, his voice full of enthusiasm. "Anaya, you're a natural!" I blinked in disbelief. "You're kidding, right? It's not that good." He shook his head firmly. "Nope. This is the best meal I've ever had." I laughed, unable to help myself. "Now I know you're lying." "Maybe a little," he admitted, grinning. "But I mean it—it's good. And it's even better because you made it." His words made my heart flutter, and I found myself smiling despite the pain in my hands. As we ate, he asked, "So, how was your day?" That simple question opened the floodgates. I started rambling about how much I missed Ayaan and Samaira, how quiet the house felt without them, and how I couldn't wait to see them again. He leaned back, smirking. "You know, it sounds like you married them, not me." I gasped, blushing furiously. "That's not true!" "Are you sure? Because I think I'm just the guy who signed the papers," he teased, his tone playful. "Very funny," I muttered, though I couldn't hide my smile. As I got up to clear the plates, my hand brushed against the edge of the table, and a sharp pain shot through my palm. I hissed, instinctively pulling my hand back. In an instant, Shivarth was by my side, his expression shifting from playful to deadly serious. "What happened?" he demanded, his voice low and tense. "It's nothing," I tried to say, but he gently grabbed my hand and turned it over, revealing the burns. "Anaya," he said, his voice filled with a mix of worry and frustration. "Your hands... why didn't you tell me?" "I didn't want to bother you," I admitted, looking down. "And I wanted to do something special for you." He sighed, shaking his head as he guided me to a chair. "Stay here. Don't move." Before I could protest, he disappeared and returned with ointment and bandages. Kneeling in front of me, he carefully applied the cool gel to my burns. "This might sting," he murmured, his voice unusually gentle. I winced slightly but stayed still. The tenderness in his touch made my heart ache in the best way. "Why didn't you ask for help?" he asked softly, his eyes focused on my hands. "I wanted to do it myself," I said quietly. He shook his head again, his jaw tightening. "Don't ever push yourself like this again. And the maids—" "They had nothing to do with it," I interrupted quickly. "I made them promise not to stop me." His shoulders slumped slightly as he sighed. "You're impossible." "I just wanted to make you happy," I said, my voice barely above a whisper. He looked up, his gaze locking with mine. "You don't have to hurt yourself to make me happy, Anaya. I can't... I can't see you like this." His words, so raw and heartfelt, left me speechless. I swallowed hard, trying to ignore the warmth spreading through me. "Thank you," I whispered. "For what?" "For caring so much." He didn't respond, but the way he looked at me said everything. At that moment, I realized just how much I meant to him—and how much he was starting to mean to me. ---

SHIVARTH

After dinner, I followed Anaya into the kitchen, noticing the determination in her steps as she grabbed the plates. I already knew what she was planning. "Where are you going?" I asked, leaning against the counter. "To do the dishes," she replied nonchalantly, stacking the plates in the sink like it was no big deal. I sighed, eyeing her hands. *Those hands should be resting, not scrubbing dishes.* "You're not doing the dishes," I said firmly. She turned to me, frowning. "Why not? I can manage." I gestured toward her hands. "Because your hands are burnt, Anaya. You're not touching soap or water, end of story." She crossed her arms, her stubbornness showing. "I told the maids to leave. I wanted to do this myself." My jaw tightened. *Of course, she did. This woman doesn't know when to stop.* "You've done enough for one day," I said, rolling up my sleeves. "Step aside." She looked ready to argue, but I'd had enough of her reckless persistence. I gently moved her aside and started rinsing the plates. As I worked, my mind wandered. I couldn't stop thinking about her hands, the pain she must've endured to make dinner for me. It wasn't just the effort—it was her intention, her need to make things special for me. But all I could focus on was how unnecessary it was for her to suffer for something so small. *Why does she push herself so much? Doesn't she know I'd be happy with just her company?* As I rinsed the last plate, my hands moved automatically, but my mind was elsewhere—on her. Anaya stood by the counter, her small frame leaning against it, her eyes following my every move. I didn't need to look at her to know what she was thinking. She was probably feeling proud of herself for all she'd done tonight, but all I could think about were those bandaged hands of hers. *Why does she do this? Why does she push herself to the point of pain just to make me happy?* It hit me then—how lucky I truly was. This wasn't just a gesture; it was her heart speaking. She wanted to make me feel special, to show me I mattered to her in her own way. Not everyone would go to such lengths. Not everyone would care like this. But alongside that gratitude was an ache, deep and raw. She'd hurt herself for me. Those burns weren't just physical—they symbolized how she was willing to ignore her own pain for my comfort. And that realization cut deeper than I expected. *What did I do to deserve her?* I glanced at her briefly. She was trying so hard to act normal, like her hands didn't sting every time she moved. It made my chest tighten. How could she be so selfless? Didn't she realize she didn't need to prove anything to me? Setting the plate down, I turned to her, wiping my hands on a towel. My voice softened as I broke the silence. "Anaya, why didn't you just let the maids handle everything tonight?" She hesitated, looking away. "I wanted to do something special. For you." Her words were so simple, yet they carried so much weight. I stepped closer, leaning against the counter beside her. "And you thought burning your hands in the process was a good idea?" She flinched at my tone but didn't argue. That small reaction made me soften instantly. "Anaya," I said quietly, my voice gentler now, "you don't need to go through pain just to make me happy. You're already special to me. You don't have to prove anything." She looked up at me, her eyes wide and vulnerable. "I just... I wanted to do something for you. Something that felt like *me.*" Her honesty made my heart clench. I didn't know what to say for a moment, so I just looked at her—really looked at her. How had I gotten so lucky? She was kind, thoughtful, and stubborn to a fault, but she was mine. And it scared me how much I didn't want to lose her. But then my gaze dropped to her hands, and the bandages brought that ache back. "You can't do this again, Anaya," I said firmly, stepping even closer. "I mean it. I can't... I can't see you hurt yourself like this." Her lips parted slightly, like she wanted to argue, but she stayed quiet, sensing the emotion in my voice. "I know you wanted to make things special," I continued, my throat tightening. "And you did. But not at the cost of your own pain. Please." She nodded slowly, her eyes softening. "I didn't mean to worry you." I let out a soft chuckle, shaking my head. "You didn't just worry me. You drove me insane. You have no idea how much seeing those burns hurt me." She blinked, surprised, her lips curving into a small, shy smile. "I didn't realize you cared this much." I scoffed, rolling my eyes, though my voice was warm. "Of course, I care. You're my wife, Anaya. That means your pain is my pain." Her cheeks flushed, and for a moment, the tension in my chest eased. She was okay. She was here. And even though I was still upset, I couldn't help but feel grateful—grateful that this incredible woman was mine, even if she had a knack for testing my patience. As I turned back to the sink to put away the towel, I thought to myself, *She's not just my wife. She's my everything. And I'll do whatever it takes to keep her safe—even if it's from herself.*  As I watched her, standing there with those tired yet hopeful eyes, I couldn't help but think, *This woman... She's going to drive me crazy, and I don't even mind.* ---