38. FEELING SOMETHING
AAROHI:
I wake up warm. That is the first thing I realize.
Not the cold of Kashmir mornings, not the ache in my body, not even the faint soreness that usually greets me when I open my eyes.
Warmth. I'm wrapped in it. My cheek is pressed against something solid and steady. I can hear a heartbeat, slow and calm.
My fingers are curled into fabric, gripping it unconsciously, like I did in the night when fear had swallowed me whole. I open my eyes slowly. Veeransh. I'm in his embrace. One of his arms is around my back, firm but not tight, like it has been there for a long time.
My hand rests on his neck, my thumb just under his jawline, where I can feel his pulse. His other hand is splayed across my back, warm through the thin fabric of my nightwear. For a moment, panic sparks in my chest. I try to pull back. But then I remember. The pool. The dark. My fear.
The way I ran to him without thinking. The way he held me and said, I'm here. My body relaxes again before my mind can argue. He smells faintly of soap and something deeper, something grounding. His breathing is even. He's still asleep. I should move. I know I should.
But for the first time in I don't know how long, I feel safe. No rules. No fear. No waiting outside doors. No punishment waiting to happen. Just this quiet morning and his steady presence. My eyes close again without permission. Just for a moment, I tell myself. Just a moment more.
I clutch his shirt lightly, like if I let go, the feeling will vanish.
Like if I wake him, this softness will disappear and he'll turn back into the man who scares me.
I drift again, floating between sleep and awareness.
When I wake the second time, the room is brighter.
Pale sunlight filters through the curtains, painting the walls in soft gold.
Veeransh is awake. I know without opening my eyes. His breathing has changed. Slower. More aware. I keep my eyes shut, pretending to sleep, my heart beating faster now. I feel his gaze on my face. He doesn't move at first.
Then, very gently, his hand shifts on my back, just enough to adjust the blanket around me. I freeze. He could wake me. He should wake me. But he doesn't. I hear a soft exhale, like a sigh he didn't know he was holding. I peek through my lashes.
He's staring at me. Not with anger. Not with control. Not with calculation. Just quietly. Like he's trying to understand something he didn't expect.
I close my eyes again quickly. A few minutes pass.
Or maybe more. Time feels strange when you're pretending to sleep.
Then I hear his voice, low and calm. "We're going out today.
" I open my eyes slowly. He's still close.
Too close. His face is calm and unreadable, but not cold.
"Out?" I ask softly, my voice still rough with sleep.
"Yes," he says. "To see Gulmarg properly.
The snowfall points. You'll like it." I nod automatically.
He doesn't move away immediately. Neither do I.
The closeness lingers, awkward and gentle at the same time.
Then I realize my hand is still on his neck.
I pull it back quickly, embarrassed, sitting up a little too fast.
"I'm sorry," I say, heat rushing to my face.
"I didn't. I mean." "It's fine," he says before I can spiral.
His voice is firm, but not sharp. "You were scared last night.
Go get ready." I nod again. I slip out of bed, my feet touching the cold floor, and head toward the bathroom.
My heart is still racing, not from fear this time, but from something unfamiliar and confusing.
After getting ready, I wear warm clothes, layers like he told me.
I make sure my mangalsutra is in place. I fill my maang carefully this time, double checking in the mirror.
I don't want to make mistakes today. Outside, the world looks unreal.
Snow is falling softly from the sky, slow and lazy, like it has all the time in the world.
The mountains stand tall, wrapped in thick white blankets, their edges blurred by mist. It looks like a dream. We walk together, not too close, not too far. He points out places quietly, tells me names I can't pronounce properly. I listen, smiling and nodding, my eyes wide with wonder.
Snowflakes land on my hair, my lashes, my gloves. I laugh softly when one melts against my cheek. For a little while, I forget everything else. His phone rings. He checks the screen. "Suhana." He answers, putting it on speaker.
"Bhai!" her voice comes through, excited. "Guess what! Bua ji arrived today. She'll stay here for some days. She was asking about you both." "Oh," he says. "That's good." "She wants to talk to bhabhi," Suhana says immediately. "She said newlyweds ko nazar lag jaati hai agar baat na ho."
He looks at me. "Video call?" I nod quickly. "Yes." The screen lights up, and Suhana's smiling face appears, with an older woman beside her, kind eyes, curious expression. "Aarohi beta," bua ji says warmly. "Kaise ho?" "I'm fine," I say softly. "It's very beautiful here."
"Show us!" Suhana says, turning the camera around from her side too. Veeransh lifts the phone, showing them the snow covered mountains, the falling flakes, the wide open white landscape. "Oh ho," bua ji laughs. "Sach mein jannat hai." She looks back at me on the screen. "Tum khush ho na beta?"
I hesitate for half a second. Then I smile.
"Yes," I say honestly. "It's fun here." Veeransh glances at me at that moment.
His expression changes just slightly. Like he's relieved.
Or surprised. Or something else I don't yet understand.
The snow keeps falling. And for the first time since my life changed, I feel like maybe, just maybe, this place is giving me a breath I didn't know I needed.
When we return to the resort, the warmth inside hits me immediately, melting the cold that had settled deep into my bones. I sit on the edge of the bed and start removing my sweater, my fingers a little stiff from the cold.
Before I can fold it properly, his voice comes from behind me.
"Don't sit like that," he says calmly. "Change into warm clothes first." I turn slightly, unsure what to say.
He walks to the cupboard and takes out a pair of warm pajamas and a soft T shirt, clearly not mine, but new. Probably arranged by him.
"For you," he says, holding them out. I take them with both hands.
"Thank you," I say softly, my voice still hesitant, like always.
I go into the washroom and change quickly.
The warm fabric feels comforting against my skin.
I tie my hair loosely and step back into the room.
And then I stop. He's standing near the mirror. Shirtless.
For a moment, my mind blanks completely. His back is towards me, broad shoulders, strong lines, muscles defined without effort. Not showy. Just solid. Like someone who carries weight, responsibility, and power in his body itself. I shouldn't be looking. I know that. But my eyes don't listen.
Then I see his reflection in the mirror. He's seen me. He turns. I look away instantly. My face heats up, my heart suddenly beating too fast, too loud. I focus very hard on the carpet, on the pattern, on anything that is not him.
"Sit on the bed," he says, breaking the silence. "Watch TV. Lunch will be here in five minutes." I nod quickly, almost tripping over my own feet as I move. He goes into the washroom, and only then do I let out the breath I didn't realize I was holding. What was that?
I tell myself firmly to stop thinking nonsense. I turn on the TV, but my mind keeps drifting, to the mountains, the snowfall, the way the world looked unreal today.
And to last night. I push that thought away too. Lunch arrives right on time. He comes out of the washroom wearing grey sweatpants and a T shirt, looking normal. Like the man I know. Like the man who scares me sometimes. Like the man who protected me last night.
We sit at the dining table. The food is warm and comforting. I eat slowly and carefully, like always. After a while, I gather the courage to speak. "When do we go back?" I ask softly. He looks up. "You don't like it here?" I shake my head immediately. "No. I like it. It's very beautiful."
I hesitate, then add, "But the week is almost over. I miss Suhana. And maa." His expression softens slightly. "Two more days," he says. "Then we go back home." I nod. "Okay." Something feels different today. Not bad. Just unfamiliar.
The closeness from last night still lingers between us, like an invisible thread I don't know how to cut, or if I even should. In the evening, he says, "Let's watch a movie." We sit on the bed. He switches off the lights. The room fills with the soft glow of the screen.
We don't talk. The silence isn't heavy. It's just there. After a while, my throat feels dry. "I want water," I say quietly, trying to stand. But in the dark, I misjudge the space. My knee bumps into his leg.
I stumble forward. Suddenly, I'm too close. My hand lands on his chest instinctively. My mouth is just inches away from him. The world stops. I can feel his heartbeat under my palm. Strong. Steady. My breath catches. Neither of us speaks. I try to step back, but my leg tangles in the blanket.
"I'm sorry," I whisper, panic and embarrassment mixing together. "I was standing for water and."
"It's alright," he says, his voice low but calm. He switches on the light. The moment breaks. He stands up, pours water, and hands the glass to me. I drink it quickly, my hands still trembling a little. "I want to sleep," I say, needing escape. He looks at me. "It's evening, not night."
"But." "If you sleep now, you'll miss dinner and medicine," he says firmly. "So no sleeping."
I nod and sit back obediently. Time passes slowly.
I sit there, pretending to watch the screen, but my body feels strange.
My heartbeat doesn't feel normal when he's near.
My expressions change without permission.
My chest feels tight, then light, then heavy again. I don't know what this feeling is.
I only know that something inside me is shifting, quietly and confusingly, every time he's close.
And that scares me more than the darkness ever did.