THE IMPERFECT PERFECTIONS

•Δ43~ 𝐇𝐢𝐬 𝐬𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐧 𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐮𝐭𝐞𝐬?

     ☆ .♡‧₊˚ ☆ .♡ ‧₊ ♡‧₊ ☆ .♡ ☆ .♡‧₊˚ ☆ .♡

Aditya's POV:

The faint sound of an alarm pierced through the morning silence, dragging me from the soft, velvety embrace of sleep.

My eyes fluttered open, half-heartedly acknowledging the world. Taniya stirred beside me, her hand blindly reaching for my face, shaking it while her head was still buried beneath the pillow.

“Turn it off, Adi,” she mumbled, her voice muffled and groggy.

With a resigned sigh, I reached over her waist, fumbling for her phone.

It was always the same—the alarms she set but somehow it was always my job to turn them off.

She’d set a dozen of them with only a gap of a minute between two  but wouldn’t even stir to turn them off.

I have to turn them off daily by myself.

The cold air brushed against my skin, making the warmth of our bed feel even more inviting.

I turned off the alarm, shifted to my side, and closed my eyes, craving just a few more  moments of sleep.

Winter mornings are made for dozing off in the arms of comfort.

Well for me, in this case, in the arms of my wife.

She stirred again, this time inching closer. Her body instinctively sought mine, pressing against my back while her leg was draped over mine.

Her face rested against my shoulder blade and I could feel her breath, warm and soft, through the  fabric of my shirt.

I turned to face her, unable to resist the pull.

There she was, lost in the bliss of slumber, her features softened in sleep.Her hair was an endearing mess but to me, she looked perfect.

Even the faint imprint of my shirt's design on her cheek was oddly beautiful.

She was chaotic and serene, all at once—my perfect contradiction.

These mornings with her feel like kind of magic, like the domestic routine you fall into after marriage , where the other person is always with you.

Not that I am complaining

She isn’t just someone I share a life with; she is my person. The one who knows the raw, unfiltered parts of me. The one who holds not just my heart but every piece of me, inside and out.

I was once been terrified of the idea of marriage. The idea of sharing my life so completely with another was too scary for me.

But I was a fool back then.

Waking up next to her, holding her close, feeling her warmth seep into me—it is a blessing, especially in winter. Cold mornings hit differently when you have someone to cuddle.

I pulled her closer, wrapping her in my arms like she was a part of me. She fit so perfectly there, as if the universe had carved her specifically for me.

She murmured in her sleep, her hand resting against my chest as if glueing herself to me.

But, of course, she had her quirks. As much as she clung to me, she starts pushing me away when she starts to feel too warm, only to crawl back closer, inch by inch, until I was practically on the edge of the bed.

It is what happens all night,her claiming all the space, me pulling us back to the center.

And honestly, I wouldn’t trade it for anything.