The vivid reds in wedding symbols of celebration , Happiness and Joy . But what will happen if the same red colour change into the colour of blood betrayal and the symphony of despair.
Meera sweet little innocent girl end up being the pawn in the d...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
The soft morning light trickled in through the sheer curtains, painting golden streaks across the room. I stirred gently, warmth surrounding me like a safe cocoon. The first thing I noticed—my upper body, bare beneath the sheets. A sudden heat rushed to my cheeks as last night’s memories flooded in. Not of passion, but of the way he stopped.
He could’ve gone further… but he didn’t.
Instead, he held me. Kissed my forehead. Pulled the blanket over us and whispered, “I’ll wait.”
I turned slightly, resting on my side. There he was. Arjun Singh Rajvansh. My husband. His arm lazily draped around me, the gentle rise and fall of his chest so… calming. His usually sharp, intense face looked so peaceful in sleep. Like a storm that had finally settled.
I couldn’t help but smile.
Bending forward slightly, I placed a long, soft kiss on his lips. Just a thank-you. Just… mine.
As I started to slip away from his hold, his hand suddenly tightened around my waist, and I gasped.
“Where do you think you’re going, Mrs. Rajvansh?” came his deep, sleepy voice, laced with mischief.
I squirmed a little. “Bathroom,” I whispered, trying to keep a straight face. “Some people don’t get beauty sleep with you squeezing them like a teddy bear all night.”
He pulled me back with a soft chuckle. “Teddy bear? I’m wounded.”
“You should be,” I teased, poking his chest. “You snored a little too.”
“I don’t snore,” he said smugly.
“Oh, you do. Like a baby lion learning to roar.”
He rolled onto his back dramatically. “I’m being insulted in my own bed.”
“And yet,” I raised an eyebrow, “you’re still smiling.”
He turned his face towards me, that teasing expression fading for a brief second. His gaze softened as he tucked a loose strand of hair behind my ear. “Because I’m waking up to you.”
That melted something inside me.
No flowery lines. No drama. Just those simple words—and that quiet, steady truth in his eyes.
I bit my lip and looked away, suddenly shy. “You’re being unusually sweet this morning, Mr. Khadoos.”
“Maybe I’m softening.”
“Or maybe,” I grinned, “you finally had your black coffee replaced with actual feelings.”
He burst into laughter—low, rich, and rare. “You know what? That deserves punishment.”
“Nooo—” I shrieked as he rolled over and tickled my waist lightly.
