Demon's Physco obsession

A Sanctuary of Surrender

Adhiraaj brought a spoonful of paneer curry to his mouth, a satisfied sigh escaping his lips as the flavours burst on his tongue. With a pleased smile, he emptied the rest of the curry into a serving bowl. He carefully placed the bowl on the table, which was already adorned with rose petals and flickering candles. Next, he dried a single ceramic plate and set it between two chairs. Stepping back, he surveyed his work; the soft glow of the candlelight danced across the room, illuminating a scene crafted with pure affection. The rich aroma of spices mingled with the sweet scent of the flowers, creating a perfect ambience of romance and anticipation. Every detail was in place, a quiet symphony of effort dedicated to the person who would soon walk through the door.

With his task complete, he untied and took off his apron, crumpling the used fabric into a tight ball. But instead of carelessly tossing it aside, he walked toward the living room. There, he gently picked up a small gift box from the sofa, holding it with a careful reverence that contrasted with his treatment of the apron. He continued to the bedroom, finally dispatching the wadded-up cloth into the laundry bag; he didn't want a messy reminder of his work to spoil the romantic setting he had so meticulously created. He then placed the gift box on the edge of the bed—a silent promise—before heading into the bathroom to wash away the last traces of his efforts.

After a warm, relaxing shower, Adhiraaj put on his sweats, leaving his chest bare, and headed downstairs with a newfound excitement. He carefully adjusted a spoon on the table, then poured himself a glass of wine. He took a slow sip, a contented sigh escaping his lips.

He then walked to the living room, settling onto the sofa and leaning his head back, his eyes closed. A small smile graced his lips. He was ready for a new chapter with Ankita, a chapter filled with love, trust, and happiness. He had waited for her for so long. He would wait for her to come to him, to willingly give their marriage a chance, to accept him as her husband, and to love him back. He was a man who had everything, but now he only wanted one thing: her love. He would do everything in his power to get it.

Adhiraaj's smile remained as a shadow fell over him. He knew it was Ankita, but he kept his eyes closed, giving her space. Ankita twisted the hem of her blouse, a wave of nervousness spiking in her heart. She opened her mouth to speak, but the words died in her throat. She took a deep breath, fisting her trembling hands at the sides of her skirt.

With her head still bowed, her voice was a soft, trembling whisper. "I don't want to be alone again," she said, a small sniffle escaping her. "Not when Bua... not when she might do something stupid again."

Adhiraaj's eyes snapped open. He placed his glass of wine on the table and stood, walking toward her. He wrapped her in a possessive embrace, shushing her gently. "You did a good thing coming back to me," he murmured, his voice a low rumble. "I will never leave you alone, Dove. I won't even let you out of my sight."

He held her like that for a few minutes, both of them relishing in the warmth of the embrace. Then, he slowly broke the hug, his hands moving to cup her cheeks as he gently lifted her face. "Look at me, dove," he whispered, his voice soft, his gaze searching her eyes, which were still hidden by her long eyelashes.

A small, rare smile touched Adhiraaj's lips as Ankita looked into his eyes. He gently took her hand and led her toward the dining room. Ankita gasped when she saw the table, beautifully decorated with rose petals and lit candles. She gulped nervously as he led her to her seat.

She looked at him, confused, but he smiled in return. He pulled out a chair for her, and once she was seated, he sat down beside her. He then picked up a spoon and placed a spoonful of curry near her lips. "Eat, dove," he said gently, his voice a low rumble. "You haven't eaten anything since lunch. You must be starving."