The Rathore's Family

Chooriyan

She felt the bed shift slightly as he lay down beside her. Yet, he remained still, not daring to make a single movement.

She closed her eyes, hoping sleep would come, but it evaded her completely. The room was silent, save for the faint sound of their breaths.

When he thought she had drifted off, he turned slowly, careful not to disturb her. Her back was to him, a clear wall of distance she had created. His heart ached at the sight.

Gently, he shifted closer, slipping his hand beneath her head. With a hesitant but tender motion, he rested her head on his shoulder, pulling her into his arms.

He pressed a gentle kiss to her hair, his voice barely above a whisper, filled with regret and affection. “My delicate baby… how could I have touched you so harshly?”

She fought the urge to smile at his words. He never said such things when she was awake, and she didn’t want to break the moment by letting him know she’d heard him.

His hand moved slowly from her shoulder, trailing down to her wrist. The bandage he had carefully wrapped earlier caught his eye. He held her wrist delicately, as though afraid to hurt her again.

He stared at the bandage for a long moment, his thumb brushing over her wrist in soft, soothing circles. His gaze was fixed, filled with a mix of guilt and tenderness, as if trying to erase the pain he had caused.

She tried her best to stay still, to not react, but his actions made it increasingly difficult. His touch was gentle, laced with regret, and it spoke volumes—more than any words ever could.

Her thoughts wavered as she felt the sincerity in his gestures. I told myself I wouldn’t talk to him. I thought I could stay angry... but how can I? How can I, for this man who carries so much regret and apology in his every touch?

He stared at her wrist, holding it in his hand as if it were made of glass. His gaze was blank, unblinking, as thoughts swirled chaotically in his mind.

Have I become like him? Like Mr. Rathore? Is my love so shallow that I let my anger hurt her? His jaw tightened as the realization gripped him. I didn’t even think for a second before my actions... just like he never did.

Fear crept into his chest, cold and unrelenting—the fear of becoming his father. The fear of repeating the cycle he loathed.

“Sunein,” her soft voice broke through his spiraling thoughts.

He blinked, lifting his head to look at her, his expression filled with guilt. Tilting his head slightly, he asked, “Is it paining? Do you…”

“No,” she interrupted gently, meeting his eyes. “This doesn’t hurt.”

“Then?”

“So jaiye na ab,” she said with a small smile, her tone teasing yet tender. Her hand slid around his waist, pulling him closer, before she closed her eyes.

A bittersweet smile touched his lips, though a calmness settled within him—a reassurance that she wasn’t pushing him away, despite everything.

He felt droplets of water on his face and blinked his eyes open, a smile tugging at his lips. The sight before him made his heart skip a beat—she was sitting on the bed, her hair still damp, combing it lazily with her fingers.

Sliding his arms around her waist, he pulled her closer and murmured in his hoarse voice, “Kaunse acche karam kiye maine jo mujhe biwi ka yeh pyara sa chehra dekhne ko mila?”

She paused mid-action, turning slightly toward him. Her lips curved into a mischievous smile as she dragged her index finger down his face. He closed his eyes at her touch, savoring the moment.