• AUTHOR •
The air in the gym lingers with a thickness akin to the moody clouds shattering in drops and thunders outside. The place that usually blares with pop music and laughter, nowhere to be. The only sounds that penetrate the thick air today being thuds of gloves landing messy punches on a boxing bag from time to time, creaks of heavy metallic chains in protest as punch lands, along with echoes of unsteady footing and heavy unregulated breaths.
Esha's fists hurt agonizingly. The lack of oxygen turning her vision blurry, as if the tears that coats her eyes in abrupt bursts weren't enough. She inhales a long breath, heavy and staggered, it makes her ribs constrict in utter pain around her heart that beats in an unhealthy rhythm. Each of her reactions, a solid question against her survival.
However, she couldn't care one bit about it at the moment. The rage and frustration in her brews with an intensity of a sea storm formed in the heart of the Western- Pacific Ocean that promises to sweep the land away.
Tightening her fist in the pads of her gloves, she turns her hips, leans forward at the stationary bag and lurches, hitting hard on it. The punch lands with an intensity unmatched before, chains groan at the gravity of it. The sound fuels the burning flames in her and her actions aggravate and redouble– step, twist and punch.
Step. Twist. Punch.
Those words echo in her head. But in his voice. The voice that has burned itself in her body, mind and soul.
"You are getting good at it." Goes the same voice.
Her fists still against the heavy bag, body fully alert. Before another thought crosses her mind, he is behind her. His arms lock her neck from back in a rear choke, the softness of her warm skin under his firm and challenging grip.
"Taking the frustration out, huh?" He inhales against her ears, arm tightening an inch more around her.
"Why?" She exhales sharply, her palms coming against his huge arm and elbow. The first defence lock. "Only men have the right to physically burn out their emotions and feelings?"
A chuckle tickles her skin, lips brushing her earlobe. "Never said that, ma'am."
"Of course." A moment she snorts and another, her legs are at work. It goes for his groin, landing a kick enough to take him back. His body staggers back, and the hold on her loosens in impact. She buys it, counters his elbow that's at her cheek with least leverage, and pushes it back. Now at face with his body, she charges for his arm with momentum and sweeps him off her, onto the floor.
One moment he is beside her and the next he's down on the floor. His wife towering over him, her knee cap bending against his cheek, pressing it to the cold floor.
"Wooh, wooh!" He blows heavily, eyes wide in amusement, still dumbfounded. "Cool, woman. I'm your husband, not your enemy."
Even with the heavy breaths, an undeniable wolfish smile spreads on her lips, and she gives her almost undone ponytail a sway. Afterall, she had just taken down and pressed a man double her size onto the floor. Taking a moment more to relish her womanly pride, she retreats and pulls her knee that presses his face down to the floor from the vicinity of his cheek.
Vidyut's amused gaze meets her in a blink. Unable to yet contain the dopamine within her, she smirks, stretching a hand out to him. He's too quick to grab it– but more of a ploy than a preyed– and in a soft tug, at her she smoothly glides onto him, right in his lap.
"Who taught you that?" Is his first proper exhale. The man just had a near death experience.
"I have not just one man who cares about me." She shoots a narrow gaze. "I've got better brothers."
YOU ARE READING
Love Amidst The Chaos
Romance"What is your favourite colour?" Esha asked, her fingers grazing her husband's jaw as she leaned back lazily against him on their couch. "Green," he said in a blink, thinking about her in green. It was sight to watch his wife in green, their first m...
