LET ME HATE YOU

Rain dance

Amaan reached the mansion but didn't step out of the car.

He sat in a daze even when the abrupt drizzle hit the windshield. No matter how much he tried, he couldn't forget the surge he felt seeing Asmaira beneath him.

"Fuck!" He hit the steering wheel and leaned his head back.

He was raw and unhinged, so he decided to spend the night in the study. He found it ironic that, being experienced and older than Asmaira, her amateur action to avoid him turned out to be a better solution than his idea of confronting. By the time he mentally prepared himself, the drizzle picked up speed and turned into a pouring rain, drenching him as he walked through the main door. He stepped into his room, fully expecting Asmaira to be sleeping in Kabir's room. However, a round of laughter from the balcony grabbed his attention.

When he walked to the sliding door, his steps came to a slow pause at the sight of his wife playing with the kids without a care in the world. While he was tormented the entire day with her thoughts, here she was enjoying her moment. He was anxious and restless, thinking about what had happened in the morning, while she was nonchalant and in the mood to play in the rain.

Something snapped inside him.

Marching up to the spot, his eyes leisurely trailed over her curves, taking her in bit by bit, clad in a peach chiffon saree sticking to her like a second skin. She was twirling his niece with her carefree laughter echoing. The kids seem to be so caught up in their own excitement that they barely notice his presence, with music playing somewhere.

He fisted his palms by his side when the wind blew, causing her saree to flick— her bare belly on full display. His eyes darkened. Stepping into the rain, he gazed at her bare waist, which she always covered.

"My turn!" another girl squealed, to which Asmaira obliged happily.

He wanted to look away, not to come across as a pervert staring at her, but he couldn't. He felt parched and gulped many times to quench his thirst, but the sight of his wife, soaked in rain, made him lose control.

Kabir, having had enough of his cousin taking Asmaira's attention, ran into her. She laughed and pulled him up.

"Who is the most handsome man?" she squealed, throwing him in the air, making him laugh.

"My baby!" She pulled him close and nibbled his squishy cheeks.

Unaware of a hot-blooded guy staring at her, she twirled her son, her lustrous locks flying open and flowing with her every twirl.

"Dadda!"

Asmaira's body came to an abrupt stop.

With her back to Amaan, she put Kabir back on the ground, unaware of how her see-through blouse almost ripped a feral growl from him. While Kabir ran into his father's arms, squealing—oblivious to the thick silence—the remaining kids hid behind her, afraid of being caught by their uncle way past their bedtime.

"It's Dadda's turn," his voice was way too calm, making Asmaira tremble.

The same child who was jealous of his cousin taking Asmaira's attention earlier was more than thrilled to share his mother with Amaan. Kabir called out his mother in excitement, "Mumma, Dadda now."

Her breathing hitched, and she shivered, realising she did end up facing Amaan even though she went to a great effort to avoid him the entire day. She didn't expect him to be back soon, especially with no one around. There was no way out, not without passing him.

Tucking her hair behind her ear, she turned around, making some excuse to escape blissfully unaware of Amaan's expression. She failed to notice his heated gaze trailing from her shivering lips, to her heaving chest, taking a pause at her waist, and then to her pink toes.