Siya pov:
As the sun dipped below the horizon, casting a warm glow over the backyard, I stood in front of my shattered sculpture, my emotions in turmoil. Zian, approached slowly, his eyes filled with remorse.
My voice was trembling when I said, "I can't believe you broke it, Zian. That sculpture was so important to me. It represented months of hard work and emotions."
Zian face was regretful, "I know, Siya, and I'm truly sorry. It was an accident. I didn't mean to destroy something you cared about so much."
My eyes were getting teary "An accident? You should have been more careful!"
Zian was defensive and said "I do care, Siya!."
I was now frustrated with him now and said, "It's my passion, Zian. It's what keeps me going, and you should understand that!"
Zian softly said, "I do understand, but sometimes I feel like-"
I cut him in between and said, "When you broke that sculpture, it felt like you didn't respect that part of who I am."
Zian remorsefully said, "I didn't mean to disrespect you or your art."
I took a pause and said, " But breaking my sculpture was like breaking a piece of my heart." As I said he didn't say anything further more.
I sat in the dimly lit room, my heart heavy with unresolved emotions after the argument with Zian. The clock ticked loudly, the silence between us deafening. We both were ignoring each other the whole day until Dadi called us in her room.
Zian and I stood there, our faces taut with unresolved emotions, Dadi approached us with a knowing smile. "Come here, both of you," she said, her voice gentle but firm. "It's time to sort this out."
Reluctantly, we followed her to the cosy sitting area. My heart was still pounding from the heated argument we had just a few hours ago, and I couldn't help but wonder what our wise grandmother had in mind.
"Sit down," she instructed, pointing to the two chairs placed close together. We obeyed, though we couldn't look each other in the eye just yet.
Our grandmother retrieved a soft, knitted red scarf from a nearby shelf and stood between us. "Give me your hands," she said, extending her palms towards us. We hesitated, but our grandmother's gentle insistence broke down our defences.
She took Zian's hand in hers and then clasped my hand on top, effectively connecting us. "Now, hold on tightly," she advised with a hint of playfulness in her voice.
As we gripped each other's hands, I could feel the warmth emanating from Zian's touch. It was a strange mixture of comfort and vulnerability, reminding me of the deep bond we shared despite our disagreements.
"Remember the day you got married?" our grandmother asked, her eyes soft and nostalgic. "You were inseparable, always holding hands like this."
A bittersweet smile tugged at the corners of my lips as memories flooded my mind. Our grandmother's voice grew serious as she continued, "Life will always throw challenges your way, but it's how you face them together that matters. Holding onto each other's hands is a symbol of unity and support. It reminds you that you're a team, and no matter what happens, you'll face it together."
Tears welled up in my eyes as her words struck a chord within me. She was right. We were a team, and letting go of each other's hands in the face of adversity wasn't the answer.
"I know you two love each other deeply," my grandmother said, her gaze moving between us. "But love isn't always smooth sailing. It requires effort and understanding. So, promise me that you'll keep holding on, no matter what."
Zian and I exchanged a glance, and something shifted between us. The anger and frustration began to dissipate, replaced by a sense of understanding and love that had temporarily been overshadowed by our argument.
"We promise," I whispered, my voice choked with emotion.
"I promise," Zian echoed, his grip on my hand tightening.
Our grandmother beamed with satisfaction. "Good. Now, I'll leave you two to talk and work things out. Remember, love, is a beautiful journey, and holding hands along the way makes it all the more special."
She left us alone, and as the door closed behind her, Zian and I finally locked eyes. We didn't need words to communicate at that moment; our intertwined hands spoke volumes.
With renewed determination, we began to talk, to listen, and to understand each other's perspectives. The tension in the room eased, replaced by a sense of reconciliation and hope.
And so, with our hands joined together, we started on a new chapter of our story, reminding our wise grandmother that holding hands wasn't just a gesture; it was a promise to weather the storms of life together, forever united.
He pulled me closer, wrapping his arms around me. "I don't want that either. I'm sorry for my part. Let's promise, to listen each other and understand."
I rested my head on his shoulder, feeling a glimmer of hope. "Can we really fix this?"
"We can try," he replied softly. "We owe it to ourselves."
"I hope you will not roam around my sculpture again!" I exclaimed, trying to sound annoyed but failing to suppress a laugh.
He shrugged sheepishly, a playful glint in his eyes. "I'm sorry, I promise I'll remember next time." I crossed my arms, pretending to be stern.
His lips twitched into a grin, and he reached out to wrap an arm around my waist. "Well, how about this? I'll write 'I WILL NEVER ROAM AROUND HER SCLUPTURES' in big bold letters on my laptop as a reminder. Will that make you happy?"
I couldn't help but giggle at his attempt to appease me. "Okay, deal. But only if you promise not to forget again."
He pressed my hand to his heart dramatically. "I swear, I'll never do that again. I value my life too much to risk another lecture from you," he teased, earning a playful swat on his arm from me.
"You're lucky," I said, pretending to be exasperated.
"And I know that," he replied, his eyes softening with affection.
As we sat there, holding each other, the weight on my heart began to lift. It was just the beginning, but at least we were taking the first step towards healing our wounded relationship. At that moment, I knew that with patience, understanding, and love, we could find our way back to each other.
***
Zian said to make the same sculpture with me that he broke, so here we are Zian and I were making a sculpture together in our cozy little backyard. His strong, hands gently guided mine, our fingers intertwined in a dance of creativity and love. The cool, malleable clay seemed to respond to our touch, taking shape under our combined efforts.
"Siya, you have such a delicate touch," he murmured, his warm breath sending shivers down my spine. "It's no wonder the sculpture is coming to life with your magic."
I blushed, feeling a mix of pride and bashfulness. "Oh, stop it," I replied with a playful smile, trying to hide my joy.
He chuckled, his eyes sparkling with adoration. "No, Siya, this is a collaboration, and your touch brings a special charm to it."
I couldn't help but admire the way he wanted to make things right. He had this captivating aura that drew me in like a moth to a flame. As we continued molding the clay, he leaned in closer, whispering words that melted my heart.
"Do you know how much I cherish these moments with you?" he said softly, his gaze never leaving mine. "Creating art together, our hands joined, it feels like our souls are intertwining too."
I swallowed the lump forming in my throat, overwhelmed by the depth of his feelings. "I feel it too," I replied, my voice barely a whisper. "It's like our passion is being immortalized in this sculpture."
He paused, studying my face with tenderness. "That's exactly what I intended," he confessed, his eyes filled with sincerity. "Every curve and line we shape together represents the beauty of our journey, we share."
His words resonated deeply within me, and tears welled up in my eyes. In that moment, I felt an unbreakable connection between us, a bond that transcended the physical act of sculpting. We were creating something profound, something that spoke to our hearts.
As the sculpture took form, our emotions poured into it, making it more than just clay and art. It became a reflection of our relationship, a symbol of our commitment. In that intimate backyard space, we found solace in each other, and the world outside faded away.
His eyes sparkled with excitement, mirroring my own. "This is going to be something incredible, Siya," he whispered, his voice tinged with anticipation.
I chuckled softly, feeling a surge of creativity and affection. "I can already sense it. Our masterpiece."
With gentle guidance, he placed his hand on the clay, his fingers shaping it effortlessly. I watched in awe as he molded and carved, his focus intense yet relaxed. I couldn't resist the urge to playfully tease him. "Don't hog all the fun," I quipped, a mischievous glint in my eyes.
He grinned, his touch shifting from the clay to my cheek, smudging a streak of clay across it. Gasping in mock outrage, I retaliated, my laughter ringing out as I took a scoop of clay and playfully dabbed it onto his nose. "Oops, looks like you need a touch-up too," I giggled.
His laughter joined mine, the two of us now engaged in a friendly clay battle. Clay-covered fingers danced across our faces, creating a mess of laughter and joy. With each playful touch, a bond seemed to deepen between us, the sculpture momentarily forgotten as we reveled in this tender connection.
As the sun dipped below the horizon, casting a warm glow over our makeshift studio, we paused, our breaths ragged from laughter. My husband gently cupped my clay-streaked face, his eyes softening as he gazed into mine. "You are a work of art yourself," he whispered, his voice filled with a mixture of adoration and awe.
I felt a warmth spread through my chest, a rush of affection for the man who stood before me, clay-smeared and utterly endearing. "And you, my love, are the artist who makes every moment feel like a masterpiece."
In that tranquil moment, as clay-stained hands held each other close, we knew that this sculpture wasn't just a piece of art; it was a testament to our love, creativity, and the beautiful messiness of life we embraced together.
"I can do anything for you," he said softly, brushing a strand of hair from my face.
"I- I'm," I was not to complete my sentence when he kissed my neck, leaving a trail of hot and warm kisses down to my chest. I was breathing hard now.
"Zian," I moaned. He groaned, the vibrations sending sensations straight to my core. As he tried to pick me up, I stopped him. He backed away and looked at me confused.
"I'm feeling shy" I said while trying to avoid eye contact. "for sure,"He said concerned, stepping close to me, I slightly nodded and he carried us to our room.
He kisses me as if he wants to devour me and it feels incredible. He holds my face, deepening the kiss, our lips moving together. Our breaths quicken, I feel like I can faint at any moment because of the intensity of this kiss.
I melt in his arms. My whole body is electrified, blood running quickly through my veins, through my heart.
Zian presses my body against his, stealing a small moan from me. His lips move aggressively against mine, his tongue invading my mouth passionately sends shivers of pleasure all over my body.
Zian lift me up, He doesn't stop kissing me while he carries me and takes us to the shower. I stood under the shower and he stood with me and letting the water falls on us, I push my wet hair away from my face, he looked down at me.
My heart melted and my eyes stayed locked to his. At this point, it felt as if our souls were speaking. He leaned in and I kissed him softly. He put his hands under my thighs while looking into my eyes. Our souls intertwined just like the sculpture we had created together with our intertwined fingers and blushing hearts.
***
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