•| THIRTY FIVE |•
After some time, you stepped out of the bathroom, your hair slightly damp and falling over your shoulders, the faint fragrance of your shampoo following you into the room. You adjusted the end of your dupatta absentmindedly while glancing around, only to realize Krish was no longer there.
“Probably in the dining room…” you murmured to yourself, trying to ignore the shy smile tugging at your lips. Composing yourself, you made your way downstairs, lightly humming your favorite song under your breath, your mood unusually cheerful and light.
As you reached the kitchen area, you paused mid-step at the sight in front of you. There stood Krish and Kiaan, both wearing matching tiny aprons—Kiaan’s slightly oversized and slipping off one shoulder—while Krish stood behind him, guiding his little hands carefully.
The counter was a mess of flour, cracked eggshells, and spilled milk, but neither of them seemed to care.
“What are you both doing?” you asked, walking straight toward them with your arms folded against your chest, trying to sound stern but unable to hide the amusement in your eyes.
Kiaan turned toward you instantly, his face smeared with a tiny streak of flour on his cheek. “Kiaan and Dad are making breakfast!” he announced proudly, puffing his chest just like his father earlier.
You nodded slowly, pressing your lips together to suppress a smile before your gaze shifted to Krish. He was already looking at you—not casually, not accidentally—but with that same teasing smirk that had been haunting you since morning.
His sleeves were rolled up, revealing his forearms dusted lightly with flour, and his hair fell slightly over his forehead as he leaned back against the counter, clearly enjoying your reaction more than the cooking itself.
Your throat went dry under his intense gaze, and you quickly looked away, pretending to inspect the chaos on the counter.
“Oh really? And what exactly are you making?” you asked, raising a brow. “Surprise,” Krish replied smoothly before adding, “But if you keep staring like that, I might burn the toast.” Your cheeks warmed instantly.
“I’m not staring,” you muttered defensively, though you were very aware that you had been. Kiaan giggled between you both, sensing the playful tension without understanding it fully.
Not trusting yourself to stay there any longer under Krish’s mischievous eyes, you quickly moved forward and lifted Kiaan off the counter carefully.
“Okay, Master Chef. Enough cooking for now. Come, I’ll get you ready for school,” you said, brushing the flour off his cheeks gently. Kiaan pouted slightly but wrapped his arms around your neck obediently. As you turned to leave, you felt Krish’s gaze follow you, heavy and lingering.
“Don’t run away from me,” he called out casually, though there was something softer beneath his tone. You ignored him—or at least pretended to—and walked upstairs with Kiaan in your arms, your heart beating faster than it should have.
Everyone was having their breakfast peacefully at the dining table, the soft clinking of cutlery and Kiaan’s occasional humming filling the otherwise calm morning atmosphere.
You focused on your plate, trying to appear composed, when suddenly you felt something brush lightly against your foot under the table.
You stiffened instantly, your fork pausing mid-air as your breath hitched.
Slowly, cautiously, you glanced up—only to find Krish already watching you with an infuriatingly calm expression. His foot brushed against yours again, this time deliberately, sliding slightly along your ankle.
You gasped softly and shot him a warning glare, subtly shaking your head as if to say stop it.
He only raised one eyebrow and smirked at your stunned face, clearly enjoying how easily he could fluster you.
You tried to pull your foot away, but he followed, his expression perfectly innocent as he took a sip of his coffee.
“Samira,” he said casually, as though he hadn’t just set your nerves on fire, “don’t you have uni today?
” His tone was smooth, teasing hidden beneath the surface.
You cleared your throat, trying to steady your voice.
“Umm… no. Our finals are coming soon, so we have study leave,” you replied, forcing a polite smile while discreetly kicking his leg in retaliation. He hummed thoughtfully and nodded.
“Good. That means you’ll have time to study properly,” he said, his eyes briefly softening before that playful glint returned.
Before the situation could escalate further, he turned to Kiaan.
“Kiaan, go bring your bag. We’ll leave now.
” “Okay, Dad!” Kiaan chirped cheerfully before dashing toward his room, completely unaware of the silent battle happening beneath the table.
The moment Kiaan disappeared, you quickly stood up, grabbing your plate.
“I’ll just keep this in the kitchen,” you muttered, eager to escape his teasing presence.
But before you could take more than two steps, a strong hand wrapped around your wrist and gently tugged you back.
In one swift motion, you found yourself seated on his lap.
“Ah—K-Krish ji!” you whispered in shock, your hands instinctively gripping his shoulders for balance.
“Shh…” he murmured softly, one arm securing around your waist.
“Why are you running away from me?” His voice was low, almost playful, yet there was a warmth in it that made your heart race.
“I’m not running,” you protested weakly, avoiding his gaze.
“You were teasing me under the table!” He leaned closer, his breath fanning your cheek.
“Teasing? I was just checking if my wife remembers I’m sitting next to her. ” Your cheeks burned at his words.
“Kiaan will come any second…” you whispered nervously, but he only smiled faintly before pressing a gentle kiss to your lips.
You froze for a heartbeat, startled, but the tenderness in his touch made your resistance melt.
Slowly, shyly, you responded, your fingers curling into his shirt as the kiss deepened just slightly—soft, lingering, filled with unspoken affection rather than urgency.
“Oh… Kiaan didn’t mean to disturb you. I’ll go wait in the car,” came Kiaan’s innocent voice from the hallway.
Both of you immediately pulled apart, your eyes widening in embarrassment.
You quickly stood up from his lap, smoothing your clothes while Krish cleared his throat, trying—and failing—to hide his amused smile.
“We weren’t—” you started, but Kiaan was already running toward the door, giggling mischievously.
Krish gently reached out and tucked a loose strand of hair behind your ear, his fingers brushing your cheek tenderly.
“Relax,” he murmured softly, his tone no longer teasing but warm and affectionate.
“We’re going to a party tonight. Be ready by seven…
and get Kiaan ready too, okay?” You blinked up at him.
“Party? What party?” “Office party,” he replied smoothly.
“And I want my beautiful wife beside me.” Your heart skipped at the way he said it so naturally, so proudly.
You nodded shyly. “Okay.” He leaned closer once more, this time only brushing his nose lightly against your temple.
“And Samira…” he added softly, “try not to run away from me the whole day.” You bit your lip, unable to stop your smile. “Only if you behave,” you whispered back.
He chuckled under his breath before finally standing up and heading toward the door, leaving you standing there flustered, breathless, and very aware that tonight was going to be another challenge for your already fragile heart.