𝐃𝐞𝐯𝐢𝐥𝐬 𝐀𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐥 : 𝑨 𝑴𝒂𝒇𝒊𝒂 𝑫𝒂𝒓𝒌 𝑹𝒐𝒎𝒂𝒏𝒄𝒆

{40}•ʏᴏᴜʀs•

BONDITA

A gentle warmth surrounded me, something solid and strong pressed against my back. My eyes fluttered open, still heavy with sleep, as I slowly became aware of my position. My body was tucked against his, his warmth seeping into me. A slow, steady breath fanned over my forehead, his scent lingering in the air—masculine, familiar, intoxicating.

Anirudh.

I blinked, my vision adjusting to the soft morning light filtering through the curtains. The realization of our closeness sent a shiver down my spine. His arm was wrapped around my waist, holding me tightly against his bare chest. My breath caught as I felt the firm muscles beneath my palm, the rhythmic rise and fall of his breathing lulling me into a strange sense of comfort.

He never slept this late.

Anirudh was always up before me, always awake before the sun had fully risen. But today… he was still here. Still holding me. Still lost in sleep.

I hesitated before slowly shifting to look at his face.

He looked so peaceful, so different from the cold and intense man he always was when awake. His sharp features were softened in slumber, his lashes casting shadows over his cheekbones. His lips, usually pressed in a firm line, were parted slightly, his breathing even.

A small, fond smile tugged at my lips.

I had never seen him like this before.

Carefully, I lifted my hand and cupped his cheek, my thumb tracing the faint stubble along his jaw. His skin was warm under my touch, and for a moment, I simply watched him, memorizing every detail.

Something inside me stirred. A feeling I couldn’t quite name.

Slowly, I leaned in and pressed a soft kiss to his cheek. His grip on me tightened ever so slightly, and a low sigh escaped his lips. My heart leaped as I quickly pulled back, staring at him in alarm.

Was he awake?

I held my breath, watching for any sign of movement. But no—his breathing remained steady, his eyes still closed. He was still asleep.

A quiet giggle almost escaped me. Even in his sleep, he responded to me.

Carefully, I pried his hand off my waist, moving it gently so as not to wake him. I sat up, pulling the blanket over him, tucking him in as he had done for me last night.

Last night…

A blush crept onto my cheeks as the memories flooded back.

His voice, dark and possessive, whispering, "You are my wife. My obsession. My little angel."

The way he had kissed my forehead, the way he had held me as if he would never let me go.

I had felt it. The change.

For the first time, I felt like his wife.

Not just a girl he was forced to marry. Not just someone he was responsible for.

His wife.

A warmth bloomed in my chest at the thought.

Shaking my head, I carefully climbed out of bed, my bare feet touching the cool floor. I turned to look at him one last time. I swallowed, forcing myself to look away before my thoughts wandered too much.

I made my way to the cabinet, searching for something to wear. My fingers brushed against soft fabric, and I pulled out a simple yet beautiful lehenga—purple.

A small smile played on my lips.

Clutching the outfit, I turned towards the washroom, glancing back at him one last time.