Love Amidst The Chaos

48| Bleeding Papers

🎀

~ Esha ~

He's here.

I don't know when he got back last night. I waited till midnight for him and then eventually slipped into a slumber on the couch. I vividly remember Aditya carrying me up the stairs even after my protests. Then, I was off again, the moment I hit the bed.

His body pressed into mine, spooning me into his warmth. His arms band around my waist– beneath my shirt– bare on my skin. I feel so warm, lazy and at home, that I almost slip right back into sleep.

Only, I've got a long day planned ahead.

I need to get to the library and resume where I left my journey last day. Each day with that diary has been a ticking time bomb. One that'd go off any moment. I've not found the courage to read past the page. The fear of what could be enthrals me like a spirit hunting for my soul.

If I don't read, I won't know her like I wished to. But if I read, I fear I'd know her too well that I'd not adore her like I am used to. I fear I'd end up hating the only woman I had ever wanted to love. I fear I'd turn her own kids away from her.

And that diary full of ink as blood and words as soul itched to its white skin does have the power to do it.

It could be either of them, with no inbetween.

I inhale a soft breath, the strong smell of him fills me in.

Almost calming.

Slowly I scoot away from him. But, with an arm like that man's around me I was a fool to even think of doing that. All I get to do is scramble an inch away only to get pulled right back into his chest, even closer than I was a moment ago.

Tada, he's awake!

"Is it your birthday, Rapunzel?" His hot breath fans against my neck, his beard tickling my skin as he leans in to press his lips.

My lips twitch into a smile.

Even before I have my coffee intake, the butterflies take over my stomach. I wonder if butterflies in an empty stomach is a privilege or punishment. Whatever that is, this man sure knows how to keep the spark alive. To add the dust of sparkles right in when needed is his right hand trick.

I mean, whenever I feel like that phase is over where everything was roses and sunshine and we've become a normal black and white couple, he proves me wrong.

He chooses that absolute day to set-up a cozy date, bring home something that excites me, say something that leaves my stomach upside down with a whole zoo or even do nothing, just touch me a certain way and make me feel special, like I'm the only person worthy in the world.

That, that, makes me feel like it's all for the first time ever.

"I'm sure I've missed the lantern show even if it was."

"Ooh, don't you worry, princess." He nips at my soft spot making me gasp and giggle at once. Graciously trailing his fingers up my arms, leaving each of my cells and nerve awake with that trail, he presses his hardness to the softness of my back. "I'm right here to show you another lantern show."

I didn't know morning-wood was this crucial part of a man's morning– or this man's morning– until we got married. Until then I thought it was a rare occurrence, but after two weeks in and especially two months into the marriage, I got to know, not having one was more rare. I can't complain even– the man is fit and healthy– that's a blessing he's earned. It's also not like we start each day with some action. Okay, that might be a lie. I mean who am I kidding? But then, most of his mornings are dedicated to his morning jogs than his wife.