Marrying my Enemy's Bride

Chapter 30: Failed confessions

I woke up earlier than usual today, something that's become a rare occurrence since Khadoos and I started sharing the same bed. For a moment, I didn't even know why my eyes fluttered open so soon. But then, I felt the warmth—his warmth.

My head tilted slightly to the side, and there he was, his ever-so-cold demeanor replaced with a calmness that softened his features. His sharp jawline, his slightly furrowed brows that seemed to carry the weight of the world even in his dreams, and his lips—pressed together in a way that made them look softer than usual.

"Hot haina?" my subconscious mind chimed in with a smirk.
(He’s hot, isn’t he?)
"Haan, bohot zyada," I admitted, a shy smile creeping onto my face.
(Yes, very much.)

Without realizing it, my fingers reached out, brushing aside the stubborn strands of hair that had fallen on his forehead. I leaned closer, pressing a soft kiss there. Perfect, I thought. But then, something inside me stirred—something playful, mischievous even.

Before I knew it, my lips found his cheek. First one, then the other.

"Sote huye mard ka fayda uthate huye sharam nahi aati?" my subconscious mocked, a tone dripping with judgment.
(Don’t you feel ashamed taking advantage of a sleeping man?)

"Pati hai vo mera! Pyar karti hoon toh sharam kis baat ki?" I defended, my voice firm in my head.
(He’s my husband! If I love him, what’s there to be ashamed of?)

"Par use pata hai kya ki tu usse pyar karti hai? Besharam aurat."
(But does he know you love him? Shameless woman.)

"Shut up!" I scolded my inner voice, leaning in again to place a long kiss on his cheek.

"Haye, mera hot man! Ye besharam aurat uska galat fayda utha rahi hai."
(Oh my hot man! This shameless woman is taking full advantage of him.)
To make her even more jealous, I gave another kiss, this time longer and slightly... wetter.

That’s when it happened.
Khadoos stirred.

My heart skipped a beat, and I froze in place, lips still hovering close to his cheek. His brows furrowed slightly, and I pulled back like a thief caught in the act. For a moment, I held my breath, staring at him wide-eyed. But thank God, he was still fast asleep.

"Ab kya hua? Nikal gayi sari himmat?" my subconscious teased.
(What now? All your courage gone?)
"Seedha 'I love you' nahi bol sakti aur chali kiss karne?"
(You can’t directly say ‘I love you’ but you’re out here kissing him?)

"Kisne kaha I can't say 'I love you' to him?" I retorted, feeling my cheeks heat up.
(Who said I can’t say ‘I love you’ to him?)
"I just... never tried."

"Toh phir try kar!"
(Then try it!)
"Haan, karungi na!"
(Yes, I will!)
"Kab? Das pediyan guzar jaane ke baad?"
(When? After ten generations have passed?)

"No," I said firmly. "Aaj hi karungi. Tum dekhna."
(Today itself. Just wait and see.)

I laid back down, still feeling the warmth of his presence. Today was going to be the day. No more hiding, no more excuses.

But for now, I let myself enjoy this moment, snuggling closer to him, feeling his steady breaths against me.
If this was how love felt, then I was ready to embrace it—one kiss and one confession at a time.

***********
  I stood in front of the tall mirror in our room, the cool marble under my bare feet grounding me. My reflection stared back, and for the first time in years, I felt... different.

I picked up the tiny red box on the dresser, opening it to reveal the sindoor inside. Gently, I parted my hairline with trembling fingers and filled it with the vibrant red powder. The color stood out against my wheatish skin, a symbol of the new life I had embraced. Then, I reached for my mangalsutra. The black beads glimmered as I clasped it around my neck, the gold pendant settling softly on my collarbone.
I tilted my head and took a long look at myself. This wasn't the old Meera, the one who lived in daydreams and fanciful notions. This Meera had faced storms, endured chaos, and yet, here I was—whole.