Paper Flowers
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- Parts 42
Complete Fri, May 29, 20269h 53m
Featured by @Romance
.·:*¨༺ ༻¨*:·.
"Why do you make these paper flowers?" He asked, looking at her through the mirror.
"They don't wither like the real ones." She replied, aligning the entire bunch of paper flowers.
"But they don't have the fragrance." He politely challenged her. He was a soldier. Chivalrous was his middle name.
"These paper flowers, they stay with you for as long as you want. You don't really have to throw them away like people discard the real ones. They pluck them for the fragrance and colors. But once that fades, they throw it away." She said, finally looking up at him.
"Not everyone!" He added almost immediately, taking one more step forward.
It could be his height or his longer stride, or maybe the room was too small as it only took him two steps to reach her.
"Yeah! Of course! Exceptions are there, like poets and people in love." She walked in a different direction, putting those flowers on the table.
He rolled his eyes with a defeated sigh. She was a teacher. Arguing with her was as futile as making a sand castle on a seashore.
"You know, gone is the era when people used to preserve the flowers of their loved ones. We don't have people like that anymore!" She said as she faced him.
"We don't have that kind of love anymore." He said looking straight into her eyes. She held his gaze through the mirror for a while, trying to read through him.
"I agree." Murmuring under her breath, she turned around.
Taking a deep breath, watching her retreating figure, he brought out his favorite poetry book from the shelf. After he was sure she was not looking, he ruffled through the pages till he found a dried Hibiscus. The very same one which had fallen from her bag when he first saw her. With a small smile, he cautiously caressed the petals.
He closed the book with a fond sigh and found her looking at him. She couldn't hold his gaze for long and looked down, crimson covering her cheeks. He shook his head with a chuckle.
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Vindictive words of your beloved hurts the most. At first you are taken aback. You won't believe its from them. It cause unbearable pain at first but pain doesn't lessen in second, third and so on time. As the time passes intensity of the pain increased and at one point either you completely succumbed or became immune to every emotion. This is story of Vindictive Akshay and headstrong Smita. "I'll do as I please. Who are you to stop me? "Anger radiating from each cell of Smita. Her eyes were shooting daggers and pupils dilated.Nostrils were flared, muscles clenched and fist is ready to hit him. " Ah my feisty princess is back. "he remarks. " I am not yours infact I never was. "she snapped. He took calculative steps towards her and holds her waist tightly with one hand. " What are you doing?" Smita struggles in his arms. She moved her hands vigorously to free herself from his grip but no avail his grip tightened on her waist. He pulled her towards him. Her breast were touching his bare torso. Her each movement now igniting raw passion and desire. Her breath became uneven and her struggle subsides.Its good for her as her efforts is sterile in compare to his strength. His hand touched her neck and stopped at her chin. He lifts her chin and looked directly into her eyes. "kiss me. "he ordered her. His words felt like venom. It felt like someone pour molten lava in her ears. She tries to push him away but his grip strengthens. "You will kiss me today sweetheart. "his words ran shivers in her spine. " please "came a whisper from her. " You can leave AFTER KISSING ME" his emphasise words broke her hope. She stands on her tip toes, hold his face in her hands and placed her lips on his. His hand caressed her hairs and pulled her closer. He took all she have. When they were breathless he broke the kiss. "Forever mine, all mine, mine only . "he remarked. "Never yours." English is not my first language so you may witness grammatical errors.Complete
𝐙𝐚𝐡𝐢𝐫 × 𝐃𝐡𝐫𝐮𝐯𝐢 | 𝟑𝟏 × 𝟐3 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐑𝐨𝐲𝐚𝐥 𝐂𝐡𝐫𝐨𝐧𝐢𝐜𝐥𝐞𝐬: #𝟏 𝐁𝐥𝐨𝐨𝐝 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐁𝐞𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐲𝐚𝐥 She saw him more than once. And every time, her heart betrayed her; racing, stumbling, fluttering like a caged butterfly chasing a memory. Her breath shortened, her chest tightened, and still, she said nothing. Because it wasn't her place. Because she was never meant to be seen. Until she was. Until the day she stood before him, not as a stranger in the crowd, but as his bride. The wrong bride. He had seen her before. Once in passing, her eyes barely a flicker in his peripheral vision, dismissed for a prettier pair. The second time, he saw her through a vow sealed in blood and duty. And rage erupted. Exacting. Demanding. She wasn't supposed to wear that dress. She wasn't supposed to carry his name. But now that she does... There's no turning back.
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