Solace

|55|surrender

Aapki manzil hu main...meri manzil aap hain...

***

The moment I stepped out of the
washroom, my eyes were instantly drawn to my wife, radiant in a stunning red dress.

Red—the color of love, intoxicating and profound. The color of passion that simmers beneath the surface, waiting to ignite. It speaks of endings laced with quiet inevitability and new beginnings tinged with unspoken promises. Red, the color of longing and restraint, clung to her like a second skin, daring me to look away, though I couldn't.

I've never been good at identifying women's clothing, and tonight was no different. All I knew was what my eyes could take in. Her dress fell gracefully below her knees, hugging her frame in a way that was modest yet maddeningly captivating. On her feet, she wore silver heels that gleamed under the light, perfectly matching the delicate silver earrings that adorned her ears and the bracelet resting lightly on her wrist.

Her beauty stirred something primal within me—a craving, an insatiable need to make her mine, to claim every part of her, so that our bodies knew nothing but each other. I wanted her beneath me, surrendering to the rhythm of our union, her soft, sinful sounds filling the air.

I cleared my throat, attempting to steady my thoughts and regain control. My heart knows only how to love her deeply and tenderly, but my mind—oh, my mind! It longs to ravish her, to lose myself in her entirely.

I found myself wondering—not just wanting her but questioning my own intentions.

Was it love that made me crave her, or the desire to show her, through intimacy, how deeply I wanted and cherished her?

But even if we were to take that step, would it be mutual?

Would she want it as much as I did?

And if she did, why?

"You're lost," her soft voice pulled me out of my thoughts.

I blinked and met her timid gaze, her hair cascading in wild, wavy locks that framed her face like nature's untamed art. There was something sinful in the way it all came together—a calculated yet effortless allure.

"Nope," I replied, my voice steady though my thoughts were anything but.

"I have a flight at eight in the morning, " she said, watching me as I ran my fingers through my hair after combing it.

"I know," I replied simply, but it left a pang in my chest. My gaze dropped, unbidden, to her neck, where the nuptial chain rested, glinting faintly. She wasn't wearing vermilion, though it didn't really matter.

"Do you want me to, uh, change?" she asked, her voice uncertain as my eyes lingered on her. She looked divine, her eyes more defined and striking than usual. She must have done something to them—they seemed larger, bolder, pulling me in like a magnet.

"No," I said, my voice soft.

"I'm just thinking..." My gaze slipped to her lips, painted a deep, inviting red. It was almost cruel. She had clearly planned to ensure I'd spend the night pacing the bathroom, trying to calm myself.

"Thinking what?" she asked, curiosity lighting her features.

"Actually," I said, tearing my eyes away and forcing a small smile, "I'm hungry."

"Wait," she mumbled, walking past me, leaving behind her familiar, comforting scent.

I watched her retreat, and after about five minutes, she returned, carrying a pink-colored fabric in her hands.