TANGLED WITH YOU ✓ [COMPLETED]

Bonus~6|●

I thought break pe jane se pahle I should give you a small update on this book so here's the new Bonus Chapter for My Babies<3.

I hope you would like it.

Keep voting and supporting💜.

Milte hai September me.

You guys better not forget me✨️😭

Happy Reading 🫶🏽

The morning sun spilled across our kitchen like a soft blessing—golden and tender, wrapping itself around the walls, the table, and the two pancakes puffing up in the pan like little pillows of joy.

I sat perched on the kitchen counter, tucked into one of Avivansh’s old T-shirts—oversized, faded, and now mine by silent agreement. My legs were folded beneath me, and a steaming cup of coffee warmed my palms.

This had become our Sunday morning ritual. The twins had spent the weekend at their grandparents’ place with their cousins and were dropped off early this morning. Strangely, they had gone straight to their bedroom—no greetings, no “I missed you, Mumma,” nothing. I figured they must be half-asleep. Most likely, their Yuvaan chachu had rudely dragged them out of bed to drop them back. Avivansh does tend to send our kids there only to irritate Yuvaan and his wife. Their sweet little revenge saga.

But right now, my focus was solely on the man standing by the stove in his personal kingdom—my husband, flipping pancakes with ease.

Sleeves rolled up, hair deliciously messy, a half-smile tugging at his lips as he moved around the kitchen like a pro. It was honestly unfair how attractive he looked doing something as mundane as making breakfast.

I took another sip of coffee and resumed my dramatic monologue. “...and then, the idiot husband in the show tells his wife he forgot their anniversary. Like, seriously? Even you wouldn’t dare pull something like that.”

“I value my life too much,” Avivansh replied, not even looking at me, but I caught the smirk on his face.

“Wise man,” I grinned. “You flipping pancakes is way sexier than it has any right to be.”

He finally turned to me, waving the spatula like a sword. “So you only love me for my cooking skills?”

“Obviously,” I said with mock seriousness. “You’re my private chef, chauffeur, cuddle pillow, and occasionally, a decent husband.”

He laughed and walked over, placing the spatula down before leaning in with that dangerously slow smirk that still made my heart trip. “Occasionally?”

“Mmhmm,” I teased, sipping slowly. “The jury’s still out.”

In one fluid move, his hands came to rest on either side of my thighs, boxing me in. His voice dropped into that gravelly, teasing tone. “Want me to prove my husband credentials right now?”