34 ~ Scar #2
She pressed herself against my chest, holding me tightly.
I closed my eyes.
For the first time since waking up in that hospital, I felt peaceful.
Her warmth, her familiar scent, the quiet rhythm of her breathing against me, it was enough to make everything else disappear for a moment.
I rested my chin lightly against her head and held her closer.
I didn't know what was going on inside her mind.
I didn't know why her hands had trembled or why that smile had looked so wrong.
But I knew one thing, no matter what I didn't want to let go.
She helped me out of the hospital, but before we left, I stopped her.
"Kisiko kuch batana mat."
(Don't tell anyone about this.)
She looked at me for a moment before nodding. "Okay."
I didn't want my family to know.
Not yet.
There was no reason to turn what had happened into a bigger issue than it already was. I was fine. Completely fine. Whatever Samaira had given me was out of my system, and the doctor had cleared me to go home.
So we left without telling anyone the truth.
The entire ride back, however, something felt wrong.
Chahat was quiet. Too quiet.
Usually, She would complain about something, tease me for no reason, ask questions she already knew the answers to, or simply say whatever came into her mind.
Today, there was nothing.
She sat beside me, looking out of the window most of the time.
I glanced at her several times. "Are you tired?"
She shook her head.
"No."
"To phir itni chup kyun ho?"
(Then why are you so quiet?)
She opened her mouth but didn't say anything.
Maybe everything that happened had affected her more than she was letting me see.
We went upstairs to our room.
The moment we entered, she turned towards me.
"Sit."
I stared at her. "I can stand."
"Kartik." There was something firm in her voice.
I almost smiled.
There she was. My stubborn wife.
I sat on the edge of the bed, and she immediately began arranging the pillows behind me.
"You need to rest."
"I'm perfectly fine."
"You were in the hospital."
"For a few hours."
"You still need rest."
I looked at her.
She looked right back at me.
I couldn't help the small smile that appeared on my lips.
"You've become very bossy."
"And you're becoming very difficult."
She pulled the blanket over my legs and then looked at me as if making sure I wasn't about to get up.
I caught her hand before she could move away.
I pulled her closer.
She landed on my lap, her body settling against mine. She gasped, her hands coming up to my chest, trying to create distance.
But I didn't let her.
I held her waist, keeping her there.
"Kartik..."
"Main theek hoon," I said softly. "Relax."
(I'm fine.)
She glared at me.
"Nahin. Tum theek nahi ho. You were drugged. Tumhe aaram karna chahiye."
(No. You're not fine. You were drugged. You should be resting.)
I smiled again.
A slow, lazy smile that made her cheeks flush.
I pulled her closer.
She gasped again, her body pressing against mine. Her hand was still on my chest, warm and soft. I could feel the rapid beat of her heart beneath my palm.
"Aaj tumhe dekh kar nazar hatane ka mann hi nahi kar raha," I said, cupping her cheeks.
(I can't even take my eyes off you today.)
Her eyes narrowed.
"Abhi bhi hosh mein nahi ho kya?"
(Are you still not conscious?)
I laughed.
A low, rough laugh that rumbled through my chest.
I cupped her neck. "How can I be in my senses when you're this close?"
I could feel her pulse beneath my fingertips, rapid and wild. I could feel the warmth of her skin, the softness of her curves.
I buried my face in her neck.
She gasped.
I kissed her neck.
Her skin was soft and smooth against my lips. I could feel the warmth of her body. I could feel the way she shivered beneath my touch.
"Kartik..." she breathed.
I didn't stop.
I kissed her again.
Her eyes fluttered closed.
I felt her body relax against mine. Felt her hand slide from my chest to my shoulder. Felt her fingers curl into the fabric of my shirt.
She was melting into me and I was drowning in her.
I pulled back just enough to look at her.
Her eyes glazed with desire. Her lips were parted. Her cheeks were flushed.
She was beautiful.
She was always beautiful.
But this...this was something else.
"Chahat," I murmured.
I looked at her for a long moment, unable to stop the smile that tugged at my lips.
My hands remained cupping her cheeks, my thumbs brushing gently across her skin.
"I think..." I paused, almost surprised by my own words. "I think I'm falling for you, Trouble."
Her eyes widened.
I felt the change in her immediately.
Her heartbeat seemed to fastened beneath my touch, and her fingers tightened around my shoulder as though she needed something to hold on to.
I smiled faintly, and somehow, the smile refused to leave my lips, not even for a second.
"Maine kabhi nahi socha tha ki yeh main kisi se bhi kahunga," My voice softened. "Mujhe bohot accha lagta hai jab tum mere paas hoti ho. I always crave your presence... your touch."
(I never thought I'd say this to anyone but I feel so good when you're around.)
She simply stared at me.
For once, my talkative, mischievous wife had nothing to say.
I didn't give her the chance to hide behind another teasing remark.
I leaned closer and kissed her.
It wasn't playful this time.
It was slow at first, then deeper, carrying everything I hadn't known how to put into words.
My arms tightened around her, holding her close as if I had finally found something I didn't want to lose.
And for those few moments, there was nothing else in the world.
Just her and me.
And the feeling that perhaps, somewhere between all our arguments, teasing, and stolen moments, I had fallen much deeper than I ever intended to.
I barely gave her time to catch her breath before I leaned in again.
I turned her back and hovered over her.
My hand slid to the back of her neck, drawing her closer as my lips found hers once more.
This kiss was different.
There was an urgency to it, as if neither of us wanted to think about what tomorrow might bring. I kissed her slowly at first, then with a hunger I found so difficult to control.
Her fingers curled into the front of my shirt.
The small movement sent a rush through me.
I could feel the warmth of her body against mine. The softness of her breasts pressing against my chest. The warmth of her lips. The way her body fit perfectly against mine when she instinctively moved closer instead of away.
My restraint was slipping.
Her fingers fisted in my shirt, pulling me closer.
I groaned, "Fuckkk..."
I was losing control.
Every touch, every sound, every breath she took was driving me further into madness. My body was aching for her. My mind was consumed by her. My heart was hers completely.
I couldn't help myself.
I reached for her hand.
I caught her hand gently and lifted it above her head, pressing her wrist against the mattress.
I paused.
Her eyes met mine.
She didn't pull away.
Instead, her breath caught, and her fingers relaxed beneath my hold.
"Kartik..." she breathed.
Something dark and heated flickered through my gaze.
Desire. Raw, undeniable desire.
I lowered my face until my forehead rested against hers, breathing heavily as I tried to regain control.
"You're making it very difficult for me to behave, Trouble."
She looked at me, her pupils dilated as she bit her lower lip.
I kissed her again, losing myself in the warmth of her presence, while somewhere in the back of my mind, one thought remained painfully clear.
I wasn't simply attracted to my wife anymore.
I was falling for her.
Hard.
My lips were still against hers when I slowly pulled back.
For a moment, I stayed above her, my breathing uneven, my forehead nearly touching hers.
Then Chahat's gaze shifted. Her eyes moved from my face to my chest.
She suddenly went still.
Her fingers brushed against my chest, and I noticed her gaze fall to the scar beneath my open collar.
It was usually hidden, but with a few buttons undone, the mark was clearly visible, running across my upper chest, uneven and brutal against my skin.
She gently pushed my collar aside and traced it with her fingertip.
"Yeh kaise hua tha?"
(How did this happen?)
Her touch was soft, but the question dragged memories I had buried deep inside me.
I caught her hand gently, stopping her fingers.
I didn't want to remember that time.
Not tonight. Not with her looking at me like that.
It had happened years ago, when I was younger, and even now, the memories carried a weight I didn't want to lift.
I wasn't hiding the scar from her.
I simply didn't like talking about what had happened.