•| THIRTY FOUR |•
The next morning, you slowly stirred awake to the sound of soft giggles echoing through the room, the bright sunlight slipping past the curtains and falling gently across your face.
Your head throbbed faintly from last night, and you let out a small groan, squeezing your eyes shut before finally forcing them open.
The first thing you saw made your heart instantly soften—Kiaan’s cheerful laughter filling the room while Krish was on the floor doing push-ups, his muscles flexing effortlessly with each movement, and perched proudly on his back was Kiaan, holding onto his shoulders like he was riding a horse.
“Dad, you’re so strong!” Kiaan squealed excitedly, bouncing slightly as Krish lowered himself and pushed back up again with ease.
Krish let out a playful grunt, pretending to struggle dramatically before grinning at his son.
“Of course I am. I’m Kiaan’s Superman,” he declared confidently, puffing his chest slightly, making Kiaan clap his tiny hands in excitement.
You watched them quietly, propped up on your elbow, your lips curving into the softest smile.
The sight in front of you felt domestic, warm…
safe. For a moment, you forgot about your headache, about last night, about everything—until Krish’s eyes suddenly flicked up and met yours.
He caught you staring. A slow, teasing smirk spread across his lips, his gaze lingering just a second too long, and your breath hitched as memories of his confession—and yours—flashed in your mind.
Your cheeks flushed instantly, and you quickly looked away, pretending to adjust the blanket.
“Good morning, mummy!” Kiaan suddenly shouted before carefully sliding off Krish’s back and running toward you with his tiny arms open.
He climbed onto the bed and straight into your lap, hugging you tightly.
You winced slightly at the volume but hugged him back, pressing a gentle kiss into his hair.
“Good morning, baby…” you whispered hoarsely.
Krish stood up from the floor, running a hand through his slightly messy hair, his T-shirt clinging lightly to his toned frame from the workout.
He walked toward the bed and crouched down in front of you and Kiaan, his eyes softer now, affectionate yet mischievous. Without saying a word, he leaned forward and pressed a lingering kiss against your cheek. It wasn’t rushed. It wasn’t accidental. It was intentional. Warm. Claiming.
Your entire face burned as he pulled back, his lips brushing just slightly at the corner before he straightened up.
“Morning,” he murmured casually, as if he hadn’t just made your heart skip violently.
Before you could even process or respond, he walked toward the bathroom, leaving you flustered and speechless.
Kiaan noticed your red cheeks and burst into giggles.
“Mumma is blushing!” he teased innocently before leaning forward and planting a loud, exaggerated kiss on your other cheek.
You gasped softly, half embarrassed, half overwhelmed, hugging him tighter while trying to calm the rapid beating of your heart.
You smiled softly while tickling Kiaan’s sides, your fingers wiggling playfully against his ribs until the room filled with his uncontrollable laughter, his tiny hands trying to push yours away while he squirmed on the bed.
“Mumma stoppp… it tickles!” he squealed between giggles, his face turning pink from laughing so much.
You chuckled warmly, pressing a quick kiss to his forehead before smoothing his messy hair.
“Alright, alright… now go freshen up, okay? Brush your teeth properly,” you instructed in a gentle motherly tone.
Kiaan nodded obediently, still giggling as he hopped off the bed and ran out of the room, his tiny footsteps echoing down the hallway.
The moment he left, the room fell quieter, and you let out a slow breath while turning to make the bed, your hands mechanically straightening the sheets and fluffing the pillows.
But just as you were adjusting the duvet, flashes of last night came rushing back—the rain, the dance, the confession…
the kiss. Your hands froze mid-air. “Oh shit…” you cursed under your breath, your cheeks heating instantly as you bit your lower lip nervously.
Your eyes flicked toward the bathroom door, your heart beginning to pound louder with each passing second, anticipation and embarrassment mixing together.
After a few moments, the bathroom door clicked open, and instinctively your gaze lifted—only for your breath to hitch in your throat.
Krish stepped out with nothing but a white towel wrapped low around his waist, droplets of water still trailing down his neck and chest, disappearing into the fabric.
His damp hair was pushed back, a few strands falling over his forehead, and the fresh scent of his body wash filled the air. You immediately looked away, your fingers gripping the bedsheet unconsciously.
“Samira, please bring my suit… it’s near the wardrobe,” he said casually while walking toward the mirror, completely unaware—or perhaps very aware—of your flustered state.
You nodded quickly without trusting your voice and walked toward the wardrobe, your heartbeat loud in your ears.
You carefully took out his ironed suit, making sure not to glance back at him, and placed it neatly on the bed.
You were about to slip out of the room, hoping to escape before your face betrayed you further, when his voice stopped you.
“Help me with it.”
You turned back, confused. “Huh?”
“I mean… help me with the tie,” he clarified, now wearing his shirt but leaving the collar open, the tie draped loosely around his neck.
He walked closer, closing the distance between you in a few slow steps before handing you the tie. You hesitated for a second before taking it from his hand, your fingers brushing his accidentally, sending a small spark up your arm.
Swallowing nervously, you stepped closer—so close you could feel his breath lightly fan over your forehead.
Since he was taller, you had to rise on your tiptoes, one hand steadying against his chest unconsciously while the other tried to loop the tie properly.
Your fingers fumbled slightly, not because you didn’t know how—but because his gaze was fixed on your face, intense and unreadable.
You could feel it… the way his eyes traced your features, the way your closeness affected the air between you.
Your lashes fluttered as you focused on the knot, your lips parting slightly in concentration.
“Stay still…” you murmured softly, more to calm your own racing heart than to instruct him.
Suddenly his hands slid to your hips, firm yet careful, making you gasp softly as your eyes shot up to meet his, wide and startled at the sudden contact.
“What? I’m just helping you stand straight,” he said innocently, raising his brows as if his touch was the most natural thing in the world, but the faint smirk playing on his lips exposed his mischief.
You swallowed, your throat going dry as last night’s memories flickered through your mind like flashes of lightning—the rain, the dance, his confession… that kiss.
Your fingers faltered on the tie for a second before you forced yourself to finish the knot. Before you could step back, he leaned closer, his breath grazing the shell of your ear, sending a shiver down your spine.
“You know… you looked really sexy in that red lingerie,” he whispered huskily, his voice low enough to make your heartbeat thunder in your ears. Instantly, heat rushed to your cheeks, painting them a deep pink as your lashes fluttered in embarrassment.
A breathy chuckle escaped him as he admired your flustered state, clearly pleased with the effect he had on you.
“D-done,” you stammered, stepping back hurriedly, desperate to escape his gaze. But before you could turn away fully, his fingers wrapped around your wrist, pulling you back.
The sudden tug made you lose balance, and you stumbled forward, colliding straight into his hard chest. “Ouch… Krish ji, leave me. I have many works to do,” you mumbled, trying to push him away, though your hands lacked conviction.
He didn’t budge. Instead, his hold tightened slightly as he tilted his head.
“What about me? I want my morning kiss.” Your breath hitched at his words. “I… I didn’t even brush my teeth,” you whispered nervously, wiggling in his hold, trying to hide your smile and your shyness all at once. “I don’t care,” he murmured, leaning in slowly, his gaze dropping to your lips.
Panic mixed with butterflies in your stomach, and at the last second you dodged, slipping out of his hold and rushing toward the bathroom. You quickly stepped inside and shut the door, your back pressing against it as you tried to steady your racing heart.
“Krish ji!! Wear your pants first!” you shouted from inside, face burning at your own words and his shamelessness. Outside, he let out a soft laugh, shaking his head at your adorably flustered reaction. “Cute,” he murmured to himself before finally getting dressed.
Meanwhile, under the warm spray of the shower, you closed your eyes as droplets ran down your face, but your mind wasn’t calm at all—it replayed his confession, his touch, the way he looked at you.
A shy smile curved your lips as you hugged yourself lightly.
“I love you so much…” you whispered to the falling water, your heart feeling fuller than ever.