Ek darwaaza khula, toh sirf ek kamra nahi mila,

uske peeche chhupa mera ek aisa sach tha jo kabhi saamne nahi aaya.

Jo kuch maine kiya, jo kuch chhupaya—sab uske saamne tha,

Aaj pehli baar… meri kahaani, meri zubaan se thi.

I licked the last trace of jelly from my finger and set my hand back down as if nothing unusual had happened.

My father’s bewildered stare was still fixed on me across the table. The confusion on his face was almost entertaining. He clearly couldn’t decide whether I had lost my mind or simply developed the table manners of a child.

“Better this way?” he repeated, still frowning. “Beta, if the staff sees the future head of this family eating dessert with his fingers, what will they think? At least use a spoon. Or has your wife not taught you basic etiquette yet?”

I met his gaze steadily, keeping my expression perfectly composed.

“I’ll keep that in mind, Dad.”

Beside him, Akhil was failing spectacularly at hiding his amusement. That little shit was smirking into his napkin like he had just solved the world’s greatest mystery. His eyes flicked toward Paridhi for half a second before returning to me, sparkling with pure mischief. He knew. Of course he did. The boy was far too observant for his own good.

I ignored him.

Instead, I shifted slightly in my chair and glanced at the woman sitting quietly beside me. Paridhi’s cheeks were still faintly flushed. She was staring at her empty plate with intense concentration, clearly trying not to look at anyone. The soft rise and fall of her chest told me she was still recovering from what I had just done to her under the table.

A slow, private satisfaction settled deep in my chest.

One week of distance had been too long. Watching her try so hard to stay composed while I ruined her in complete silence had been the most entertaining part of this entire dinner. And the fact that she had come so quietly, so beautifully, only made the victory sweeter.

I reached for my water glass and took a slow sip, letting my knee brush lightly against hers under the table — a small, silent reminder that I was still very much aware of her.

My father was still muttering something about “this generation’s strange habits” to Dheeraj chacha. Akhil continued smirking like an idiot. And Paridhi… Paridhi sat beside me, warm and flustered, trying her best to pretend the last fifteen minutes had never happened.

I leaned back in my chair, completely at ease.

Dinner had turned out far more interesting than I expected.

I really missed my wife.

The thought settled heavily in my chest as I sat there, surrounded by family conversation that suddenly felt distant. The healing phase after we lost the twins had been the darkest stretch of my life. Everything had shattered before those two tiny heartbeats could ever take their first breath in this world. The silence that followed still lived somewhere inside me.

But I refused to let that ghost — the bastard who had caused it — continue breathing freely. Jagat’s downfall was already planned in careful, irreversible steps. Everyone who mattered was waiting for the moment we would finally erase him. That part was inevitable.

Right now, though, none of that mattered as much as the woman sitting beside me.

I needed her.

Not just the heat or the physical release. I needed to feel us again — the bond, the safety, the quiet understanding that only existed when it was just the two of us. And one day, I would bring our twins into this world. That was a promise I had already made to both of us.

I leaned in slightly, close enough that only she would hear me. My voice dropped to a low, private murmur against the shell of her ear.

“Come with me after dinner.”

I felt her body tense just a fraction beside me.

“The red room,” I continued, barely above a whisper. “Our room. The one beside the bedroom. Completely soundproof. No one will know we’re gone.”

I pulled back just enough to glance at her face, watching the way her lashes lowered and her breath changed. My hand rested lightly on the edge of her chair under the table, not touching her this time — simply waiting.

“I need you tonight, Paridhi,” I added quietly. “Just us. No ghosts. No past. Only you and me.”

The rest of the table continued talking, completely unaware of the private world that had just opened between us.

The gravelly rasp of her voice against my skin shattered the last remaining threads of my restraint. "Take me," she whispered, the words a breathless, desperate friction that cut straight through the familial chatter around us. "Take me right now, Eklavya."

A primal, heavy surge of possessiveness hit me so hard the muscles in my thigh turned to absolute granite beneath the table. I felt the sharp, sudden intake of her breath, felt the microscopic trembling of her skin beneath my palm where my hand gripped her thigh. She wasn't hiding behind the clinical, hollow mask of the last two weeks anymore. She was right here, entirely raw, bleeding her vulnerability directly into me, surrendering to the sanctuary I had been burning to give her.

I didn't give the table a second to breathe. Setting my glass down with a clean, deliberate click against the timber, I stood up, my massive frame immediately cutting off the cousins' line of sight, creating an iron wall between my wife and the rest of the world. "Excuse us," I announced, my voice dropping into a smooth, unbothered rhythm that completely masked the electric storm raging inside me.

"Pari needs to rest. The sea air has caught up with her."

Keerthi chachi’s expression softened with instant, maternal concern, nodding quickly. "Of course, beta, take care of her. Go on, get some proper warmth inside."

I didn't wait for Akhil or Vishal to lob another teasing comment across the room. Sliding my arm securely around Paridhi’s waist, I hoisted her slightly against my side, absorbing her weight so the family wouldn't see the fragile unevenness of her steps or the way her knees were practically vibrating. I guided her out of the bright, chaotic dining room and into the dim, sprawling corridor of the villa. The heavy timber door clicked shut behind us, instantly sealing the voices away.

The moment the hallway swallowed us, the world shrank down to just the two of us. I slowed my pace, my dark eyes dropping down to look at her. Her eyelashes were still lowered, casting long shadows over cheeks that were completely flooded with a deep, burning crimson flush. Her breath was coming in shallow, ragged hitches, the sweet, intoxicating scent of her arousal hitting me in the quiet air.

"Look at me, Paridhi," I commanded softly, the deep vibration of my voice echoing against the stone walls. When her eyes finally lifted, the sheer, unadulterated need shining through the haze of her grief nearly broke me. She looked like a survivor clinging to her only anchor in a storm.

We reached the heavy, reinforced door of the red room—the private suite I had ordered to be built completely soundproof, a space where no echoes of the outside world, no ghosts of the highway, and no family obligations could ever reach us. I palmed the electronic lock, the quiet beep signaling the release of the deadbolt.

Opening the door, I didn't let her walk inside on her own. Slipping my other arm beneath the soft bend of her knees, I lifted her flush against my chest, bringing her small frame into the heavy, total safety of my embrace. She let out a tiny, trapped gasp, her fingers instantly digging into the fabric of my shirt as if she were afraid I would vanish if she let go.I stepped into the dimly lit room, the thick, soundproof door sweeping shut behind us with a heavy, vacuum-sealed thud. The silence was immediate and absolute. The outside world ceased to exist.

Setting her down gently so her back pressed against the dark, upholstered surface of the locked door, I crowded her space, pinning her between my body and the wood. The heat radiating between us was absolute fire. I reached up, my long fingers tangling into the soft strands of her hair, tilting her face up so she had no choice but to absorb the full, predatory gravity of my gaze.

I kissed her cheeks, pressing my lips deliberately against the burning crimson of her skin, wanting her to feel every ounce of the restraint I was losing. When I pulled back, I kept my eyes locked on hers, letting her see the raw, unyielding devotion burning in my gaze. She shivered under my stare, her hand reaching up to lightly anchor against my shoulder as she leaned in and kissed my left cheek.

A sudden, deep warmth spread completely across my chest at the touch—a quiet, healing balm that temporarily silenced the dark roar of my protective instincts. Then, she slowly stepped out of my embrace. She walked away from me, her small frame moving into the dim, amber glow of the room as she began to explore the private sanctuary I had built for her. I stood by the door, my arms crossed, watching her every movement like a predator guarding its prize.

Suddenly, Paridhi’s breath hitched completely.She froze right beside the massive, low-profile bed. Her gaze was locked onto the main wall, where a massive portrait hung under a soft, focused spotlight. It was an incredibly intimate, breathtakingly beautiful drawing of her—capturing a vulnerability so raw it felt alive. It wasn't a photograph. It was a masterpiece born entirely from the darkness of my mind, a visual echo of how I saw her when the rest of the world was asleep.

I had spent hours, days, pouring every ounce of my fixation into those lines, drawing her entirely from my own imagination.The absolute silence of the soundproof room was broken only by the frantic rush of her breathing. She turned her head slowly, her wide eyes reflecting a mixture of shock and profound confusion as she looked back at me.

"Eklavya... what is this?" she spoke to me, her voice trembling, a breathless whisper that echoed softly against the upholstered walls. I didn't answer right away. I crossed the distance between us with slow, measured steps, my boots making no sound on the thick carpet. I came toward her from behind, my massive frame casting a protective shadow over her as I closed the gap until the front of my shirt brushed the silk of her hair.

Leaning down so my breath fanned the shell of her ear, I spoke to her softly, finally letting the heavy, nine-year-old secret bleed into the open. "I was obsessed with you nine years ago, Pari," I confessed, the gravelly rasp of my voice carrying an intense, unwavering weight.

"Back in 2017, you helped me after that horrific car accident. I know you did it out of the pure kindness of your heart, just a stranger helping another stranger on the road. But the exact moment my eyes landed on yours, my heart already knew whom I belonged to. I was entirely done for."

I paused, my hands rising to gently rest on her trembling shoulders, anchoring her against my chest as I forced her to face the truth of my darkness. "Yeah, I stalked you," I murmured, my grip tightening just enough to let her feel my reality. "I followed your steps, I collected your smiles, I drew you from memory and imagination when I couldn't have you near me. But that doesn't mean my obsession with you can ever go away. It has only grown into something absolute. Pari... I fucking love you, my jaan."

I closed my eyes, bracing my entire body to get anything from her. I was ready for a slap, a look of pure disgust, or the shattering sound of her walking away from my darkness forever. Stalking her, obsessing over her from the shadows for nine long years—I knew it was a confession that could break us completely.

But instead of a strike, I felt the soft, trembling heat of her palm sliding gently beneath my cheeks. The unexpected warmth of her touch made my breath catch. I opened my eyes, my gaze instantly locking onto hers, searching for the revulsion I was certain would be there. Instead, her wet eyelashes blinked, trapping a sheen of tears under the soft spotlight of the room. She looked up at me, her face tilted, completely upending the defense walls I had built around my heart.

"That's why I feel you're familiar too, Eklavya," she spoke to me, her voice a fragile, emotional murmur that tore right through the absolute silence of the room. "I knew one day you would tell me this. But..."

She stopped, her chest heaving as she blinked away the moisture clinging to her lashes. It was entirely unexpected. I had prepared myself for the absolute worst, expecting her to recoil from the monster who had followed her steps since 2017. But as I stared down into the pure, unfiltered depth of her eyes, there was no fear. There was no anger.

Instead, the dark pools of her gaze were screaming for the love we shared, a desperate, echoing hunger for the connection that had held us together through the worst night of our lives on that highway. She wasn't pushing my obsession away—she was pulling it into her own bleeding heart.

She blinked, and a single, heavy tear finally slipped past her wet eyelashes, tracing a slow path down her flushed cheek.In that quiet, suspended second, the absolute truth of who Paridhi was laid itself completely bare before me. She wasn't naive. She didn't look at my dark confession, my years of watching her from the shadows, or the hand-drawn portrait on the wall through the lens of a fragile, fairy-tale romance.

She understood the world—she knew its capacity for heartbreak, its cruelties, and the sharp sting of betrayal. She understood the heavy, suffocating depth and the dangerous shadows of the love I carried for her, a love that bordered on madness. Yet, standing here in the absolute silence of the soundproof room, she didn't shrink away from the darkness.

In a world full of fractured promises and empty words, she chose me. She looked past the monster I thought I was and chose to anchor her soul to mine, choosing me over nothing but the purest, most unyielding love.The realization hit my chest like a physical blow, fracturing the rigid control I had maintained since the moment we left the highway.

My large hands came up, my palms cupping her face, my thumbs tenderly wiping away the moisture on her cheeks as I leaned down, crowding her until our foreheads pressed together.

"Pari," I growled softly, my voice thick with a raw emotion that choked my throat. "You have no idea what you're doing to me. If you choose me, there's no turning back. You are stuck with my shadow for the rest of your life, jaan."

She let out a soft, watery laugh against my lips, her fingers curling tighter into the fabric of my shirt, pulling me down to close the final, agonizing distance between us.

Her words hung in the absolute silence of the soundproof room, a sudden, chilling echo from a past I thought I had completely mapped out.

"The day I saved you and pulled you to the hospital," Paridhi spoke to me again, her small voice trembling as her palms remained warm against my cheeks, "I heard a man telling this into his phone... 'Boss, he is alive and safe.' I didn't know who that person was, Eklavya. I got a sudden, terrifying chill right through my veins, and I just ran away from there."

The revelation sliced through my chest like a cold blade. For nine years, I believed she had simply walked away because she was an innocent stranger who had done her good deed for the day. I never knew she had crossed paths with the shadows surrounding my life even back then.

The fact that someone was already watching me, reporting my survival to a 'boss' while I lay bleeding, made the dark puzzle pieces of our lives shift violently into place. Jagat. Or someone even deeper in the corporate trenches of the Raizada empire.A fierce, lethal surge of protective fury flared up in my veins, but looking down at the wet sheen of her eyelashes, I buried the monster instantly.

She didn't need my rage right now, she needed my absolute, unyielding protection. I leaned down, pressing my forehead firmly against hers, my long fingers sliding into the silk of her hair to anchor her completely against my chest.

"Don't worry, jaan," I said to her, my voice dropping into a low, gravelly rasp that carried the full, terrifying weight of a Raizada promise. "While I am here, no one is ever going to do anything to you again. I am your shield."

I paused, my stardust eyes darkening into a pitch-black, predatory depth as I looked straight into her soul, letting her see the ruthless king who was ready to burn the world down to keep her safe. "We will both make them suffer, Pari," I murmured against her trembling lips, the chilling vow vibrating between our bodies.

"Every single person who is currently enjoying our miserable life, everyone who had a hand in that highway incident, everyone who took our twins from us—they will bleed for it. We will make them pay for every tear you shed."

She didn't flinch from the darkness in my words. Instead, she let out a shallow, ragged breath, her fingers tightening their grip on my shirt as she pulled herself even closer into the absolute sanctuary of my embrace, ready to face the shadows by my side.

A heavy, suffocating silence swallowed the room as our shared vow settled into the air. The terror of her old memory and the raw fury in my chest burned between us until the friction became completely unbearable. I didn't want to think about the ghosts anymore. I didn't want to think about the faceless bastard at the hospital or the monsters on the highway. I only wanted her.I leaned down, my massive frame completely eclipsing her beneath the soft amber spotlight, and sealed our dark pact with a passionate, deeply healing kiss.

It was a desperate, chaotic collision of lips that washed away every ounce of the residual fear clinging to her soul. I poured nine years of unspoken obsession, weeks of agonizing grief, and the absolute promise of my protection straight into her mouth. She gasped against my lips, her fingers tangling fiercely into the hair at the nape of my neck, pulling me closer until there was no space left between our bodies.

The raw, primitive heat of her surrender broke through my remaining walls, grounding us both in the absolute reality that we were alive, we were together, and we were dangerous. When I finally pulled back, our breathing came in ragged, synchronized hitches, the sweet scent of her arousal thick in the quiet air. Her lips were swollen, a deep, beautiful crimson flush completely flooding her cheeks as she looked up at me through wet, heavy eyelashes.

She took a shallow breath, her palms smoothing down the dark fabric of my shirt before she turned her head slightly to look back at the large portrait on the wall—the intimate, hand-drawn masterpiece I had created entirely from my memory and imagination. A soft, teasing glint suddenly cut through the emotional haze of her gaze.

She looked back up at me, a shy, breathtakingly beautiful smile pulling at the corners of her lips.

"I want you to draw me," Paridhi spoke to me, her voice dropping into a breathless, intimate murmur that made my heart do a sudden, violent thud against my ribs. "The photo is half, don't you think, hubby?"

My jaw set into a rigid line as a sudden, scorching wave of heat traveled straight down my spine. The word hubby left her lips like a quiet challenge, a deliberate provocation that completely upended my control. My stardust eyes darkened into a predatory, ink-black depth as I looked down at her, my hand sliding from her waist to firmly wrap around the warm curve of her hip, anchoring her against the hard line of my body.

"Half?" I growled softly, the gravelly rasp of my voice vibrating against her skin as I crowded her back against the upholstered surface of the wall. "You want the full picture, jaan? Every single line?"

She didn't lower her eyelashes this time. She kept her gaze locked onto mine, her chin tilted up in quiet defiance, her fingers tracing the collar of my shirt as she silently dared the monster to take exactly what he had been sketching in the dark for nine long years.

She turned and walked back toward the bed.

The soft pad of her bare feet against the dark floor was the only sound in the room besides the low hum of the city far below the glass. Halfway there, she bit her lower lip — just slightly, almost thoughtfully — and the small, unconscious gesture sent a violent shiver straight down my spine. It pooled low and heavy, making my cock twitch hard against the confinement of my trousers. My entire body reacted before my mind could catch up: shoulders tightening, breath deepening, every muscle coiling with restrained hunger.

I stayed where I was.

Paridhi stopped at the edge of the mattress. A faint flush colored her cheeks, and I could see the residual shyness still lingering in the way her lashes lowered for half a second. But it did not win. The atmosphere between us was too thick with safety, too heavy with the intoxicated heat we had built. Her confidence held firm.

Without looking away from me, she reached up and pulled her top over her head in one smooth motion. The fabric whispered as it left her skin. Next came the long skirt — unhooked, pushed down over the soft flare of her hips, and left to pool at her feet. She stepped out of it carefully.

What remained was a delicate set of pink lace.

The bra cupped her breasts in soft, sheer fabric. The matching panties sat low on her hips. But my eyes did not stay on either of those things for long. They dropped, inevitably, to the thin, pale scar that curved across the lower part of her stomach — the quiet, permanent reminder of everything she had endured. Of the twins we had lost before they ever took a breath. Of the pain she had carried in silence while still choosing to remain mine.

Something deep and fierce tightened inside my chest.

I wanted to worship that scar.

I wanted to drop to my knees, press my mouth to it, and tell her with my lips and tongue that it only made her more sacred to me. That every mark on her body was proof she had survived, and that I would spend the rest of my life making sure she never had to survive alone again.

Paridhi’s voice pulled me back.

“Draw me like this,” she said softly.

The request was quiet, but it carried the weight of a command. She stood there in nothing but pink lace, chin slightly lifted, waiting. She had not asked to be fully bare. She had not needed to. One request from her was enough. If she wanted the full picture — every line, every truth — then the lace would come off as well.

I could control myself.

I forced my breathing to stay even. My hands remained at my sides even though every instinct screamed to close the distance and touch her. Instead, I let my gaze travel over her slowly, memorizing the way the soft light kissed her skin, the way the scar looked almost silver against her warmth, the way she stood there offering herself to my eyes and my charcoal without fear.

“All right,” I said, voice low and rough. “Like this.”

I turned toward the side table where my sketchbook and charcoal already waited, every movement deliberate, controlled. Behind me, I heard the soft rustle of fabric as she settled onto the bed — and I knew, without looking, that the pink lace would not remain for long.

She nodded.

I inhaled a slow, steadying breath and walked toward the bed.

Every step closed the distance between us with deliberate control. The air felt heavier the closer I got — warm with her scent, thick with the quiet tension that had been building since the moment she asked me to draw her. My pulse thudded low and hard, but I kept my expression composed.

Paridhi’s fingers moved to the clasp of her bra. She unhooked it without looking away from me and let the soft pink lace slip down her arms. Next came the matching panties. She stepped out of them carefully, leaving both pieces on the floor, and then settled onto the edge of the mattress. She lay down on her side, facing me fully, one knee drawn up just slightly.

I reached for one of the pillows and gently slid it under her head, adjusting it until her neck rested comfortably. She lifted her left hand and rested it lightly across her forehead, the soft underside of her arm framing her face. The angle was perfect — intimate, vulnerable, and completely open.

Her eyes found mine.

“Is it okay?” she asked quietly.

I let my gaze travel over her slowly, taking in every detail. The soft curve of her waist. The gentle weight of her breasts against the mattress. The pale scar across her lower stomach. And lower still — the soft, intimate place between her thighs, where a faint dusting of cute baby hair grew naturally. It made her look even more feminine. Softer. Warmer. Something I wanted to worship with my mouth and hands for hours.

“Yeah,” I said, voice low. “You look more womanhood there.”

A faint flush rose across her cheeks.

“Shut up, please,” she muttered, though there was no real heat in the words.

A soft chuckle escaped me.

If I had to be completely honest with her, the sight of her like this — bare, relaxed, and trusting — hit me harder than any staged pose ever could. The little trail of soft hair between her legs only heightened the effect. It was natural. Intimate. Completely hers. And it made my mouth go dry with the urge to drop to my knees and press my lips against it until she forgot how to breathe.

But I controlled it.

I forced myself to step back.

Turning away from the bed took more effort than I wanted to admit. My body was tight with restrained hunger, every muscle aware of the naked woman lying only a few feet behind me. Still, I walked toward the couch, picked up the sketchbook and charcoal, and sat down.

Only then did I allow myself to look at her again — fully, openly — and begin to draw.

I settled onto the couch and opened the sketchbook across my thighs.

The charcoal felt familiar between my fingers — dry, slightly rough, grounding. I lifted my gaze to her one last time before beginning. Paridhi lay on her side exactly as she had positioned herself: left hand resting lightly across her forehead, body open and unguarded, the soft amber light tracing every curve. The pale scar on her stomach caught the glow like a quiet silver line. My throat tightened at the sight of it.

I started with the slope of her shoulder.

The first strokes were clean and controlled. Line by line, I began capturing the gentle weight of her breast against the mattress, the soft dip of her waist, the natural, feminine dusting of baby hair between her thighs that made her look even more real, more mine. My hand moved with practiced precision, but my body was far less disciplined. Heat sat heavy and low in my stomach. Every time my eyes returned to her, the pressure in my trousers grew tighter.

After several minutes I paused.

The room felt too warm. Or perhaps it was simply her.

Without thinking, I reached up and pulled my shirt over my head in one smooth motion. The fabric left my skin with a soft rustle. Cool air touched my bare chest and shoulders, but it did nothing to ease the heat building under my skin. I tossed the shirt aside and returned to the sketchbook, rolling my shoulders once to loosen the tension.

Across the short distance, I felt her attention shift.

Paridhi’s eyes had been half-lidded, relaxed in the pose. Now they opened fully. Her gaze dropped to my bare chest and lingered — tracing the hard lines of muscle, the faint shadows under my collarbones, the way the light moved across my skin as I leaned forward over the page. A soft flush rose higher on her cheeks. Her lips parted slightly. For a moment she looked completely distracted, the carefully held pose slipping as her breathing changed.

I kept drawing, but I watched her from under my lashes.

She caught herself almost immediately.

Her lashes lowered. She drew in a quiet, steadying breath and forced her body back into the exact position she had chosen — hand on her forehead, hips angled toward me, expression carefully composed once more. But the faint color on her cheeks remained, and the subtle rise and fall of her chest had grown a little faster.

A dark, private satisfaction curled low in my gut.

I continued sketching in silence, charcoal whispering against paper, the only other sound the soft, uneven rhythm of her breathing. Every few strokes I looked up again — at the scar I wanted to worship, at the soft place between her thighs, at the way she was trying so hard to stay still while the sight of my bare upper body clearly affected her.

I could control myself.

But the longer I sat there drawing her like this, the more difficult that control became.

After a few more minutes, I finally set the charcoal down.

The last lines had settled into place — the soft curve of her hip, the quiet strength in the scar across her stomach, the intimate openness of her body against the sheets. I stared at the finished drawing for a long second, then closed the sketchbook and stood.

Paridhi’s eyes followed me as I crossed the short distance to the bed. I sat on the edge of the mattress and turned the page toward her without a word.

For a moment she simply looked.

Her lips parted. The soft flush on her cheeks deepened as her gaze moved slowly over every detail I had captured. She looked almost stunned — as if she couldn’t quite believe that the woman on the paper was her.

“It’s…” she began, then stopped. Her voice came out softer than before. “Eklavya… it’s beautiful.”

I watched the way her eyes lingered on the drawing, completely mesmerized. A quiet pride mixed with something far more possessive stirred in my chest.

Then she asked, almost shyly,

“But how will you frame it?”

My jaw tightened instantly.

The thought of anyone else — any other man — laying eyes on this version of her made something dark and territorial rise inside me. This drawing belonged to me. The way she looked in it, open and trusting and completely mine, was not something I would ever allow another pair of eyes to see.

I reached out and brushed a strand of hair away from her face, my voice low and firm.

“Baby, your husband is multi-talented.” A small, controlled smile touched my mouth, but my eyes stayed serious. “Don’t think about it. I’ll frame it myself.”

She blinked up at me, still holding the sketchbook carefully, as if it were something fragile.

“You will?”

“Yes.” I leaned in closer, close enough that my bare chest nearly brushed her arm. “No one else is going to touch this. No one else is going to look at you like this. Only me.”

The quiet intensity in my voice made her lashes flutter. She glanced down at the drawing once more, then back up at me, a soft, complicated emotion moving through her expression — shyness, warmth, and something deeper that made my chest tighten in response.

I stayed there on the edge of the bed, watching her, already deciding exactly where this piece would hang… in a place only the two of us would ever see.

She carefully set the sketchbook aside on the bed and came toward me.

I didn’t hesitate. The moment she stood in front of me, I lifted my head to meet her. But before anything else, I leaned in and pressed a slow, reverent kiss against the gold of her mangalsutra chain. The cool metal rested against my lips for a heartbeat. That small, sacred thread of belonging grounded me more than anything else in the room.

Paridhi’s hand came up to cup the side of my face. Then she bent down and pressed a soft kiss to my forehead.

My eyes closed for a second.

She was my everything.

If I had to name the single best thing the universe had ever given me, it would be her — my wife. The woman who had survived so much and still chose to stand in front of me like this, bare and trusting. A quiet, fierce gratitude tightened in my chest until it almost hurt.

She lowered her head further and took my lips.

I kissed her back immediately, one hand sliding up to the back of her neck as I deepened it. The kiss turned slow and consuming, full of everything I hadn’t said out loud. Her mouth was soft and warm, and the faint taste of her still lingered from earlier. I poured the weight of my relief, my hunger, and my devotion into the way my lips moved against hers.

When she finally pulled back just enough to speak, her breath mixed with mine.

“I want a roleplay,” she whispered against my mouth.

A low, rough sound left my throat. I stayed close, lips brushing hers as I answered, voice thick with emotion.

“Sure, sweetheart… but not before I truly feel you first.”

My hands settled on her waist, thumbs stroking the soft skin just above her hips. I needed the real connection first — no characters, no games. Just her body against mine, her breath in my mouth, the quiet proof that she was still here and still mine after everything we had lost.

I pulled her closer until she stood between my knees, forehead resting against hers, and let the moment settle around us before either of us moved again.

I didn’t rush.

I laid her back against the sheets and took my time with every inch of her. My mouth followed the path my eyes had already memorized — the soft underside of her jaw, the slope of her collarbone, the gentle weight of her breasts. When I reached the pale scar across her lower stomach, I slowed even further. I pressed open-mouthed kisses along the thin line, lingering there with quiet reverence, as if I could somehow rewrite every painful second she had endured.

Paridhi’s fingers slid into my hair. Her breathing grew uneven. Soft, broken sounds left her lips each time my tongue traced the sensitive skin just below the scar and lower still. I worshipped her slowly, thoroughly — with my mouth, my hands, the full weight of everything I felt for her. By the time I finally settled between her thighs and tasted her properly, she was trembling, thighs resting over my shoulders, completely open and trusting.

I stayed there until she came undone against my tongue, quiet and shaking, my name a fractured whisper in the dim room.

━━━━⊱⋆⊰━━━━

Some time later, the air between us had softened into something heavier, warmer.

I rested above her on my forearms, still catching my breath, forehead pressed to hers. Her skin was flushed and damp, lips swollen from my kisses. For a long moment neither of us spoke. The only sounds were the quiet city far below and the steady rhythm of our hearts beginning to slow.

Then Paridhi’s voice came — soft, breathless, almost shy against my mouth.

“Daddy… and good girl.”

The words were barely more than a whisper, but they landed with quiet certainty.

I pulled back just enough to look at her. Her eyes were dark, still hazy from everything I had just done to her, yet there was a clear request in them. The roleplay she had asked for earlier. The one she wanted now that I had already taken the time to truly feel her.

A slow, dark heat stirred low in my gut.

I brushed my thumb across her lower lip, voice dropping into something deeper, rougher.

“Is that what my good girl wants?”

Her soft, answering breath was all the confirmation I needed.

I didn’t give her time to catch her breath.

I reached for the small tray I had prepared earlier — a tub of melted dark chocolate, a dish of ice cubes, and a thin bottle of warm honey. The moment the first drop of cooled chocolate touched the soft skin just above her navel, Paridhi’s stomach jumped. A sharp, startled sound left her throat.

“Stay still, good girl,” I murmured, voice low and rough. “Daddy’s going to taste every inch of you.”

I dragged the chocolate in a slow, deliberate line down the center of her stomach, watching it glisten against her flushed skin. Then I followed it with my tongue — hot, flat, and unhurried — licking up every trace until nothing remained but the faint sweetness and the salt of her. She trembled. Her fingers twisted into the sheets.

Next came the ice.

I took a single cube between my teeth and pressed it against her left nipple. The sudden freezing contrast tore a broken cry from her. Her back arched hard off the mattress. I held the ice there until the bud tightened into a stiff peak, then replaced the cold with the scorching heat of my mouth, sucking deeply, greedily. The mix of temperatures made her thighs clamp around my waist.

“Fuck… look at you,” I rasped against her breast. “Already dripping and I’ve barely started.”

Warm honey followed. I drizzled it in thin, sticky trails over the soft inner curves of her thighs, watching it slide toward the place I wanted most. Then I lowered my head and cleaned every drop with long, filthy strokes of my tongue, working higher until my mouth finally covered her completely. The taste of honey mixed with her arousal nearly undid me. I groaned against her cunt and pushed two fingers inside her at the same time, curling them hard while my tongue lashed her clit without mercy.

Paridhi shattered with a raw, high scream. Her hips jerked violently against my face as she came, wetness flooding my mouth and chin. I didn’t stop. I kept licking and thrusting my fingers through the orgasm until she was sobbing my name and trying to twist away from the intensity.

Only then did I rise over her.

I wiped my mouth with the back of my hand, eyes locked on her dazed, tear-bright face, and pushed inside her in one deep, claiming thrust. The tight, scorching heat of her took me to the root. A guttural sound tore from my chest.

“That’s it… take all of me, baby.”

I fucked her hard and deep, the wet sound of our bodies filling the room. Every thrust forced another broken moan from her throat. Her nails dragged down my back in long, burning lines. Her teeth grazed my shoulder, biting down when I hit a particularly deep angle. I answered by latching onto the side of her neck, sucking and biting hard enough to leave a dark mark while my hips snapped against hers without rhythm or mercy.

Her head fell back against the pillows, mouth open, eyes glassy. The sheets beneath us were already a mess of chocolate smears, honey, melted ice water, and the slick evidence of how many times she had come. The entire room smelled like sex and sweetness.

This was our private universe — filthy, beautiful, and completely sealed off from the rest of the world.

I gripped her thigh harder, folding it higher against my chest so I could drive even deeper, and growled against the wet skin of her throat.

“Come again for Daddy. Right now. Make a mess all over my cock like the good girl you are.”

Her body obeyed before her voice could.

I had to be careful with her.

Her body was more flexible than strong — something I had deliberately trained into her during the long healing phase. Self-defense first. I needed her to be able to stand on her own feet if the worst ever happened, if something took me away from her or threatened her when I wasn’t there. Physical strength, emotional resilience, mental steel. I had built all of it into her slowly, patiently. Tonight I would not undo that work by being careless.

I lay back against the pillows and gently guided her with me.

“Come here, love.”

I pulled her carefully until her back rested against my chest. My arms slid under her knees, hooking her legs securely over the crooks of my elbows so she was open and supported. The position left her completely held by me — full nelson, modified so she wouldn’t strain. I felt the soft tremble in her thighs as I lined the head of my cock against her entrance.

She moaned softly, the sound trembling.

“Eklavya…”

Her head fell back against my shoulder. I turned my face into her hair and spoke low against her ear.

“I’m right here, my love. If it’s too much, just say it. I’ll stop immediately.”

She mumbled a quiet, breathless “okay.”

I pushed in slowly.

The tight, wet heat of her welcomed me inch by inch until I was fully seated. A deep, controlled groan left my chest. I planted my feet firmly on the mattress and began to rock my hips in long, deep strokes — not fast, not brutal, but thorough enough that she felt every inch of me dragging against her inner walls.

Her moans rose like music.

Soft at first, then higher, broken, each one vibrating against my chest. I could feel everything. The way her walls fluttered and clenched. The subtle, spongy texture of her Skene’s glands swelling under the pressure of my cock with every upward stroke. The knowledge of what that meant sent a dark, possessive heat through me.

I kept the rhythm steady and deep, arms locked securely under her knees, holding her open and safe against me.

“That’s it,” I murmured against her temple. “Just feel me. I’ve got you.”

Her breathing turned sharp and uneven. Her body began to tighten in that familiar, exquisite way. I felt the exact moment the pressure inside her broke.

A sudden, powerful gush of wetness flooded around my cock and spilled down my thighs. Paridhi cried out — high, shocked, and completely undone — as she squirted hard. The clear release pulsed out of her in waves with every deep thrust I continued to give her. It soaked the sheets beneath us, warm and abundant, the hottest, most beautiful sight I had ever witnessed.

I held her tightly through it, still rocking into her with controlled strength, watching over her shoulder as she trembled and spilled for me again and again.

“Fuck… look at you,” I rasped, voice rough with awe. “That’s my girl. Let it all out. I’ve got you.”

I kept her locked safely in my arms as the last pulses left her body, both of us breathing hard in the quiet, private universe we had created on the bed.

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