Warm Love|✓

52

Somebody needs to tell me. Before this naïve heart falls in his divine euphoria. Where darkness, an addicting element of his, will catch my eyes , snatching me from the world.

I remove the clip from my hairs, letting it cascade down my shoulder. The length reaching till my hip bone. He likes my hair down. I bit my lips, in excitement, a joyful emotion making my heart flip in summersaults.

My face glowing, a shine blinding my eyes. I take the jhumka, wearing it on my ears.

Is this how it feels to be loved?

If it does, I want to wake every morning just to get this butterfly of emotions, and believe that fairytales exist.

Applying sindoor, on my head, I move out of the wardrobe. A broad shoulder welcomes me flaunted through the white shirt. I walk towards the vanity table, clearing my throat, to grab his attention.

He glances over his shoulder, smiles at me, and gets back on his phone call. My eyes enlarge. Just a smile. I deserve better. I make my way towards him, slipping in the small gap between him and the table. He cocks his brow at me, but I give him my sheepish smile. He once again goes back to his call, barking some orders.

Who even calls him early? I grim mentally. I take the comb, moving it through my hair, trying to grab his attention, but he snatches the comb ducks his head, on hand pressing the phone on his ear, and other setting his hair. I gape at him.

Was he ignoring me? Since he opened a part of him.

He tugs the comb in my hair, and I forced to take it. Snaking his arm past my waist, his skin touching my naked skin, and evoking a jittery sensation. I catch his mischievous eyes through the mirror, his breath fanning on my neck through my neck.

He takes the small dainty attar bottle, rolling the cap out and rolling the bud on his neck, wrist. In between flexing his neck. I pursue my lips. A blooming saffron smell chills the air, twisting my mind.

"Do the work and call me." He pronounces the order, and cuts the call, and slides it in his pocket.

"Kiraz look here." He adds. And like that I find myself following him, turning on my heel.

I look up, catching his eyes. He rolls the attar on his inner wrist, and seamers the liquid on my neck by his hand, tuck at the saree, exposing my blouse and apply some on my cleavage, then engulfing my waist and rubbing on my skin. I momentarily felt like loosing my breath at the evoking sensation, enough to put my intellect at a sleeping mode.

He ducks his head, rubbing the tip of his nose on the curve of my neck. "Now you smell like me." He leans more closer, kissing his lip on the nuptial chain.

Before I could wrap my hand on his neck, he retreats. My hands in the middle, watching him going back and seating on the bed, wearing his shoes. I twist my lips, punching him and thrashing him in my mind.

"Kiraz, did you choose?" His questions bring me out of my thought, bringing me at the edge.

"About that," I woven my fingers at my back, continuing, "I would go with online." I whisper dejectedly. My mood turning sour. Wearing his socks, he walks towards me, kiss my forehead softly, then moving towards my lips, connecting it with his.

The kiss was soft and filled with assurance and a sense of security.

"I'll get you in the best institute, when I get back, we'll discuss about it. Okay?" I aimlessly nod my head. He moves away, a blankness engulfing me.

"Reyansh." I call him. He takes his silver wrist watch, clicking it against his wrist.

"Yes, my lady."