The soft, golden light of the morning sun filtered through the wooden jaali of the window, casting intricate patterns on the walls. I woke up to the faint sound of birds chirping outside and the distant hum of morning prayers from the temple nearby. As my eyes adjusted, I became aware of the warmth beside me.
A dull ache spread through my body as I shifted slightly, a reminder of the intimacy we had shared the night before. The soreness was unfamiliar, yet it wasn’t unwelcoming - it was a silent mark of how close we had been, a moment I hadn’t thought I would ever experience in this way. My cheeks burned at the memory, and I closed my eyes for a moment, willing myself to steady my thoughts.
My husband lay next to me,he was still holding me in his embrace. It felt as if I was the most precious thing to him. His arms around me gave a sense of warmth and security, making everything else fade into the background. My heart fluttered in a way I couldn't explain, and I felt both safe and cherished in that moment.
His face serene in sleep. For a moment, I just watched him - his slightly tousled hair, the faint shadow of stubble on his jaw, and the calmness that radiated from his face. My heart swelled with emotions I couldn’t quite name.
I had entered this marriage with apprehensions, bound by the expectations of my family and society. But last night… last night had been different. He had been different. The way he looked at me, spoke to me, and made sure I was comfortable - it was unlike anything I had expected.
I looked at him for a long while, unsure of what to feel. Was this love? Was this connection, this tenderness, a sign of the journey we would take together?
As I shifted slightly under the weight of the blanket, another realization struck me. Beneath the covers, there was no protective layer of clothing, no modest separation to shield me from the truth of what had transpired. Heat rose to my face as I averted my gaze, unsure of how to process this vulnerability.
I tightened the blanket around myself, my thoughts swirling. My mind replayed snippets of the night - the hesitant questions he had asked, the care in his touch, and the quiet reassurance he had offered me when I needed it most.
He stirred beside me, and his eyes fluttered open. When his gaze met mine, a small smile played on his lips.
"Subah ho gayi", he said softly, his voice deep and still laced with sleep.
(It’s morning.)
I nodded but said nothing. My throat felt dry, and I was unsure of how to respond. What could I say? That I was grateful for his kindness? That I had begun to see him as more than just my husband in name? Or that the way he looked at me now made me feel something I hadn’t expected - safe.
There was so much I wanted to say, but for now, a simple smile felt like enough.
"Aap thik ho?" he asked gently, his hand brushing against mine under the blanket.
(Are you okay?)
I nodded again, but my silence didn’t seem to bother him. He shifted slightly, resting his head on his hand as he looked at me with an expression I couldn’t quite decipher.
"Main jaanta hoon sab naya hai", he said, his voice steady. "Lekin hum saath mein seekh lenge."
(I know all this is new,But we will learn together.)
His words were simple, yet they carried a depth that touched something within me. I managed a small smile, though my heart raced. I didn’t say much, but perhaps I didn’t need to. His presence, his patience - it was enough for now.
Raghav's POV:
As I lay beside her, I couldn’t help but replay the events of the night before. The trust she placed in me, the vulnerability she allowed me to see ,
it was overwhelming, humble even. I had approached her with hesitation, not wanting to hurt her, yet wanting to make her feel cherished. And when she had whispered her consent, I knew I would spend my life ensuring she never regretted it.
This morning, seeing her beside me, her cheeks flushed, her silence thoughtful, I could sense that she was processing everything. But when I noticed her shifting uncomfortably, a pang of worry hit me. Was she in pain? Had I been too careless?
I turned to her, my voice soft yet concerned. "Dard ho raha hai?"
(Are you in pain?)
She looked at me, her gaze unsure, before replying, "Ji...Thoda sa."
(Just a little.)
The guilt clawed at me immediately.
"Chinta mat karo. Main tumhare liye garm paani lata hoon. Aap usmein naha lo, tumhe aaram milega",I offered, already deciding to do whatever it took to ease her discomfort.
(Don't worry. I'll bring warm water for you. You can take a bath in it; it will help you feel better.)
Her brows furrowed slightly. " Raghav ji, Agar kisi ne dekh liya toh kya sochenge?"
(Raghav ji, What if someone else sees? What will they think?)
The way she said my name, Raghav ji, with that gentle tone, felt like a melody. There was a warmth in her voice that caught me off guard, making me feel something deep inside. It was as if hearing my name from her lips carried a different weight, one that stirred something within me,something I couldn't quite place.
I gave her a reassuring smile. "Koi nahi dekhega. Bas hamare kamre ke paas hi paani garam karne ka matka hai. Main jaldi le aata hoon."
("No one will see. The water pot for heating is just next to our room. I’ll be quick.")
Determined, I began to get up from the bed, only to suddenly realize, I had no clothes on. The realization hit me like a gust of wind, and before I could stop myself, my cheeks turned crimson, the heat spreading to my neck and ears.
I grabbed a towel from the nearest table in a hurry, wrapping it clumsily around myself as I avoided her gaze. My heart thumped loudly, more from embarrassment than anything else. Without saying another word, I hurried out of the room, determined to heat the water and come back before anyone noticed me.
As I stepped into the cool morning air outside our room, I couldn’t help but smile despite the awkwardness. This woman, my wife, was already beginning to mean more to me than I thought possible. And I would do anything to make sure she was happy and comfortable.
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