Siya's life in Chandipur was marked by resilience and solitude, her days consumed by nurturing the vibrant blooms of her flower shop. Abandoned at birth and haunted by the mystery of her parents' disappearance, she had grown accustomed to the whispe...
📖 "When the kissie becomes a battle of pride, and 52 roses turn into a long, drawn-out war of patience." ﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌ ˚ ༘♡ 🪷🪕🪞🦢⋆｡˚ ❀
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I'm grateful for my wife. Not only did she make me blush by changing my boxers yesterday, but she also didn't kick me out of the room, and I got to sleep peacefully on her tummy.
But
Early mornings were supposed to be peaceful. Calm. Quiet.
Not in my house.
Not with her.
The news about Vidyut's arrival should've been the highlight of my morning. After all, it wasn't every day that someone as unpredictable as Vidyut decided to drop by. My mind was preoccupied with plans; strategizing the next steps, considering the security measures, ensuring everything was flawless. But all that planning evaporated into thin air the moment
Siya decided that today was her day of chaos. She was no longer the silent, composed Siya that the fearless business women. No. Today, she was the other Siya; the one only I knew. The one who could drive me to the brink of insanity with her childlike antics and boundless energy.
The sound of anklets jingling pulled me from my thoughts. She was on the bed, feet dangling, shaking her legs just to make the anklets sing their tune since the time I brought one for her. Her bangles joined in, the chiming sound filling the room like an annoying yet oddly harmonious melody.
"Do you hear this Hukum-saheb?" she asked, her voice filled with mock innocence. She hopped off the bed, landing with a dramatic bounce.
"This is what happiness sounds like!" I pinched the bridge of my nose, my patience already fraying. I ignored her. That's the trick; ignore her long enough, and she'll get bored.
Big mistake.
Chan-Chan- Chan- Chan: Her anklets grew louder, her bangles chimed aggressively, and her voice turns syrupy sweet.
"I love these anklets," She declared confidently, skipping toward me with purpose, standing behind the couch, wrapping her arms around my neck. Her palm roamed across my abs from behind, teasingly, before sliding down.
In one swift motion, I grabbed her wrist and pulled her down by the neck to my face level after titling my face upwards, her gaze locked onto mine with mischievous intensity. She leaned in close ...too close....while I was on a call.
"How much do you love them? Hmm? Say it. Say you love them!"
What's she exactly talking about?
Bewbies or anklets?
It's better not to even glance at her, keeping my focus on the call.
"Yes, Vidyut's arrival needs to be handled carefully. Make sure the—"
