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Abhishek's teasing words, a playful breeze,
Malini's heart skips, her soul at ease.
A stomach's growl, a gentle jest,
She pushes him away, her cheeks aflame crest.
"Leaving me behind?" he asks with a grin,
"Yes," she says, her voice barely within.
He teases, "No food for you, my dear,
You love when I feed you, it appears clear."
Her eyes downcast, a shy delight,
He stops the game, his love shining bright.
He walks with her, side by side,
Her hand in his, a gentle, loving guide.
As they walk, her heart beats fast,
Her hand in his, a tender, loving grasp.
He sees her grow, her confidence bloom,
His love for her, a sweet, sweet perfume.
In this sweet moment, they're lost in love,
Their hearts beating as one, sent from above.
No need for words, their love speaks loud,
A love that's pure, a love that's proud.
•·•·•·•·•·•·••●❍•❅•°•❈•°•❅•❍●••·•·•·•·•·•·•·•
16th April 1846
Calcutta, Bengal
ABHISHEK'S POV~
A soft, almost embarrassed grumble rumbles from her stomach, cutting through the room's lingering stillness like a shy confession.
Her eyes widen, cheeks turning a vivid shade of rose as her hands fly to her belly.
I blink in surprise, then burst into a chuckle.
"Come on," I say, voice warm with amusement as I slide my palm around her waist and tug her a little closer, "let's go eat dinner before your stomach starts singing again."
"I–I'm not hungry!" she protests with a flustered laugh, but her fingers rub small circles over her stomach, betraying the lie.
Her gaze flickers downward as if her body just snitched on her.
"Oh really?" I smirk, narrowing my eyes and leaning in. "Because I could hear that loud and clear."
Without warning, I boop her nose with a playful tap.
She jerks slightly, blinking at the sudden touch with an adorably offended look.
"You!" she gasps, rubbing her nose with exaggerated offense. "I'll do it too!"
She reaches forward and boops my nose right back, a triumphant grin blooming on her face.
She giggles, the sound light and musical, like tiny windchimes dancing in the night breeze.
"Come, let's fill your empty stomach before it growls again," I tease, brushing my knuckles gently under her chin.
She narrows her eyes and pouts in mock annoyance, her lower lip jutting out just enough to make her look like a sulking child.
With a huff, she pushes me lightly away and slips off the bed with theatrical flair.
Her steps are fast but playful, her cotton dress swishing around her ankles as she walks ahead.
She throws me a single glance over her shoulder, eyes narrowed in challenge.
"Are you leaving your husband behind like this?" I ask, eyebrows raised, my voice laced with fake betrayal.
"Yes, I am," she answers sweetly, spinning on her heel to face me, arms folded over her chest in smug victory.
"Then who will feed you?" I ask, arching my eyebrows with a teasing grin, letting my voice drop just a hint lower, playful yet challenging.
"I can eat with my own hand," she retorts, tapping her cheek with her finger in mock innocence.
Her lips twitch as if she's trying to suppress a smile.
"Are you sure?" I drawl, sliding off the bed, the floor cool beneath my bare feet as I slowly close the gap between us. "I won't feed you then."
"Um… yes. I'm sure," she replies, but her voice quivers slightly at the end.
Her steps retreat, one after the other, as though instinct betrays her words.
A slow smirk curves across my lips as she matches each of my steps with a retreat of her own.
"Why are you backing away?" I murmur, each word deliberate, feeling the air shift as I herd her toward the wall.
"I-I'm not. I'm just… walking towards the do—"
Her sentence cuts short with a small gasp as her back hits the wall behind her with a soft thud, her eyes wide and startled.
I take the final step forward and place my palms flat against the wall, one on each side of her waist, effectively caging her in.
The scent of her— sweet, like cardamom and something softer, maybe jasmine… lingers in the air between us.
I lean in, letting my gaze fall to her lips for a fleeting moment before locking eyes with her again.
My smirk deepens, watching the flicker of emotions play across her face— nervousness, anticipation, a touch of shyness…. and something she tries to hide.
"So… you don't want me to feed you with my own hands?" I murmur, watching her bite her lower lip— nervously, shyly…. her teeth grazing the soft skin like she's unaware of what it does to me.
"I… I didn't say that," she stammers, fingers clenching the edge of her saree. "I just said I can eat with my own hands too…"
I glance down, noting the subtle rise and fall of her chest, her breaths slightly uneven.
Her fingers twist the saree's border as if it's the only anchor she has.
My teasing smirk softens into a tender smile.
Of course, she wants me to feed her.
She likes it when I feed her—
She just doesn't know how to say it.
"Okay, okay," I chuckle softly. "Enough teasing for today. Come, let's have our dinner."
I lean away from her, slowly drawing back, giving her space to breathe…. as much as she needs.
Her shoulders relax just a little.
I step toward the door, opening it with a quiet creak before walking out into the dim hallway.
My footsteps light across the cool floor.
A few seconds later, I hear her soft steps behind me— gentle, hesitant, but steady.
Her footsteps patter softly behind me, then slow until they fall into rhythm with mine.
I slow my pace instinctively…. her legs are smaller, her steps lighter.
A faint smile tugs at my lips the moment her fingers graze mine, hesitant at first, then sure.
She slides her hand into mine and intertwines our fingers with a quiet confidence that makes my chest feel warm.
I squeeze her hand gently, savoring the silence we share as we walk toward the dining room, side by side.
A rare calm settles over me.
She brings out a version of me I never knew existed— a softer one, gentler, more whole.
She's my wife.
Mine to walk beside.
Mine to hold through every moment, loud or quiet.
And I... I think I'm beginning to love this feeling.
~ Her hand slips in mine like she owns me…
And sure she does.
჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻.✾.჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻
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