ISHQ-E-MOHABBAT

53. " Deep " , "Doll"

As I held the silver necklace in my hand, negotiating the price with the vendor, a sudden wave of nostalgia washed over me. I was transported back to a different time, a different place, where someone special would buy me necklaces like this one.

I remembered the way he would carefully select each piece, his eyes scanning the stalls with a determination to find the perfect one. The way he would smile when he saw the look of delight on my face as he fastened the necklace around my neck. The way his fingers would brush against my skin, sending shivers down my spine.

I could almost hear his voice, whispering sweet nothings in my ear, "You look beautiful, Jaana. This necklace was made for you."

My eyes misted over, lost in the memory. The vendor's voice brought me back to the present, "Madam, price ki baat kar rahe hain?" (We're discussing the price, ma'am).

I took a deep breath, composing myself, and continued the negotiation, the memory still lingering in my mind like a whisper.

I walked through the bustling streets, weaving past vendors and shoppers with ease. I loved street shopping, the thrill of finding hidden gems and unique treasures was exhilarating. As I stopped to admire a beautiful scarf, I felt a gentle tug on my arm.

"Hey, Jaana, can I come with you?" Abhimaan asked, his eyes sparkling with enthusiasm.

I turned to him, a smile on my face. "I love that you want to spend time with me, but I need a little 'me' time today, okay?"

Abhimaan's face fell, but he quickly recovered. "Oh, okay. I understand. I'll just stay back and let you have your shopping spree."

I leaned in and kissed his cheek. "Thanks for understanding, Abhimaan. I promise to make it up to you soon."

With that, I continued on my way, losing myself in the vibrant colors and lively energy of the market. I felt a sense of freedom and independence wash over me, savoring the rare moment of solitude.

As I haggled with a vendor over a beautiful silver necklace, I couldn't help but think that sometimes, a little "me" time was essential to recharge and rediscover oneself. And Abhimaan, my loving husband, understood that.

As I held the silver necklace in my hand, negotiating the price with the vendor, a sudden wave of nostalgia washed over me. I was transported back to a different time, a different place, where someone special would buy me necklaces like this one.

I remembered the way he would carefully select each piece, his eyes scanning the stalls with a determination to find the perfect one. The way he would smile when he saw the look of delight on my face as he fastened the necklace around my neck. The way his fingers would brush against my skin, sending shivers down my spine.

I could almost hear his voice,  "You look beautiful, doll . This necklace was made for you."

My eyes misted over, lost in the memory. The vendor's voice brought me back to the present, "Madam, price ki baat kar rahe hain?" (We're discussing the price, ma'am).

I took a deep breath, composing myself, and continued the negotiation, the memory still lingering in my mind like a whisper.

Later that day ,

As I turned the page of my book, I could feel Abhimaan's gaze on me, but I was too engrossed in the story to look up. I was curled up on the couch, lost in the world of words, when Rajeev, Abhimaan's assistant, approached us.

"Sir, your appointment with Mr. Rathore is scheduled for now," Rajeev reminded him.

Abhimaan nodded, still looking at me. I could sense his reluctance to leave, but I didn't want to interrupt his meeting.

"I'll go to your room, Abhimaan," I said, marking my page and closing my book. "You can focus on your meeting without distractions."

Abhimaan smiled, his eyes crinkling at the corners. "Thanks, Jaana. I'll join you soon."

I got up from the couch, leaving him to his meeting, and headed to his office bedroom , feeling the comfortable silence of the space enveloping me.

My eyes remained fixed on the page, but my mind wandered as I heard the familiar voice of Mr. Rathore. I couldn't help myself, my curiosity piqued, and I found myself tiptoeing towards the door, eager to eavesdrop on the conversation.

I slowly opened the door, and my heart skipped a beat as I saw him standing there, his profile facing me. He was engaged in a business conversation with Abhimaan, but my presence seemed to sense him, and he turned around. Our eyes met, and the years melted away. I whispered his name, "Deep," and my voice cracked with emotion.

I took a step closer, and he opened his arms, a warm smile spreading across his face. I fell into his embrace, but instead of a romantic hug, I wrapped my arms around him in a tight, sisterly squeeze. "Deep, it's so good to see you!" I exclaimed, my tears of joy soaking into his shirt.

But as I held him, I couldn't help but notice the subtle tension in his body, the way his arms hesitated for a moment before returning my hug. And when he whispered "My doll" in my ear, his voice was low and husky, filled with a emotion that went beyond brotherly love.

From my perspective, it was a innocent hug, a reunion between siblings long separated. But as I looked up at Deep, I saw something in his eyes, a flicker of longing, a deep affection that went beyond familial love. And in that moment, I realized that Deep's feelings for me went far beyond those of a brother.

My heart skipped a beat as I pulled back, my eyes locked on his, searching for answers. But Deep's face was a mask of calm, his smile still warm and friendly, giving away nothing. I smiled back, my mind racing with questions, as we stood there, locked in a silent understanding that our reunion was only the beginning of a complicated journey.

As Deep and I hugged, I sensed a sudden tension in the air. I pulled back, and my eyes met Abhimaan's. His gaze was intense, his eyes narrowed, and his jaw clenched. He strode towards us, his long strides eating up the distance.

"Jaana," he said softly, his voice low and husky, but laced with a possessiveness that made my heart race. He reached out and pulled me to his side, his arm wrapping around me like a shield.

I felt a flutter in my chest as I looked up at him, his eyes burning with a fierce protectiveness. "Do you know him, Jaana?" he asked, his voice dripping with a quiet intensity.

I turned to Deep, my eyes locking onto his. "He's the only family I have now," I said, my voice barely above a whisper. "He's my best friend."

Abhimaan's grip on me tightened, his fingers digging into my skin. I could feel his possessiveness like a palpable force, a flame that had been ignited and was now raging out of control.

As Abhimaan's arm wrapped around my waist, I felt a surge of excitement and love for him. I beamed with pride as I introduced the two men in my life. "Deep, this is my husband, Mr. Abhimaan Shekhawat," I said, my voice filled with joy.

Deep's eyes widened in surprise, and a slow smile spread across his face. "Ah, the king of Rajasthan Abhimaan," he said, his voice dripping with amusement. "I've heard so much about you."

Abhimaan's grip on my waist tightened, his fingers digging into my skin. I could sense a hint of jealousy in his touch, a possessiveness that made my heart race.

"Likewise, Deep," Abhimaan replied, his voice low and husky. "Jaana has told me a lot about you too."

The tension between the three of us was palpable, a mix of friendship, love, and possessiveness. But as I looked into Abhimaan's eyes, I knew that he would never let me go, and I was grateful for his love and protection.