Page 38

It had been a long and tiring day.

I met everyone—everyone I’d known since childhood until now.

They all said they missed me.

And I missed them too.

Everyone I knew coloured me from head to toe: my family, my friends, the young girls, and the old women I used to talk to before I got married.

I was truly happy.

Looking at myself in the mirror, completely covered in colours, I felt loved.

Yet, there was one person, actually two, who hadn’t coloured me: my brother and my husband.

Well, I knew why my brother hadn’t.

But it surprised me that I hadn’t seen my husband since I last saw him with my father.

Was everything alright? I hoped he wasn’t upset with me, maybe for being playful, or because Agastya had coloured me first, not him.

I wasn’t sure why, but my heart felt heavy.

There was a restlessness, a dull ache in me perhaps, because I hadn’t eaten anything since morning.

He was probably out at work, perhaps to meet his Guruji, or maybe he was forbidden from playing Holi, as it was considered a joyous occasion.

I walked weakly towards the bathing room, a cloud of thoughts swirling in my mind.

Stripping off my coloured clothes, I let my long hair loose as I entered the swimming pool.

A few attendants joined me to help scrub the colours from my skin, applying herbal pastes and aromatic oils all over my body.

They washed my hair thoroughly, using several masks, ending with a lavender one to leave its gentle fragrance behind.

After the long, relaxing, yet thoughtful bath, I stepped out and changed into a cotton peach lehenga to be comfortable at night, yet decent enough for dinner in the dining hall.

I removed the extra jewellery, leaving my nose ring, bangles, waist chain, anklets, and headpiece in place.

“You all may leave.

And if anyone asks about me, please tell them I’m having dinner in the chamber,”

I told the attendants who were helping me dry my hair.

“Okay, Princess,”

they nodded.

I gave them a faint smile and watched as they left.

Night had already fallen, and I still had no idea where my husband was.

He couldn’t be with my parents or his brothers because I had been with them until the evening.

I didn’t want to overthink it, but something inside me… didn’t feel right.

My heart was unsettled, and a deep dread began taking hold.

Something was wrong.

Terribly wrong.

I could feel it in my bones.

A tight, chilling unease crept through me, and my body shivered as the winds shifted outside.

My eyes welled up with tears, uninvited.

As I stepped back, my toe ring caught on my flared skirt and pierced my skin.

A sharp sting shot through me.

“Ahh…”

My eyebrows pulled tight, and when I saw a drop of blood oozing from my toe, my heart sank even further.

I crouched down quickly, adjusting the ring back in place, and stared at the small wound, tears falling freely now.

A strange fear clutched my chest.

My instincts screamed, and not wasting a moment, I stood and ran to the door.

Swinging it open, I saw the soldiers stationed outside.

“Can you please search for Ranaji?”

I asked quickly.

They bowed.

“Yes, Princess.”

Two of them set off immediately.

I bit my lower lip and began pacing the chamber, waiting for the soldiers to return.

I even refused dinner and instructed the attendants not to inform anyone.

I didn’t want to cause a panic or worry anyone.

After what felt like ages, the soldiers finally returned.

I rushed toward them with hope and fear warring inside me.

“Did you find him?”

They shook their heads.

“Apologies, Princess… but we couldn’t find him anywhere.”

I froze.

Something inside me cracked.

Tears streamed down my cheeks as I whispered a silent prayer for his safety.

Time suddenly slowed as I kept waiting for him.

My eyes drifted up to the stars and the full moon, watching them shift ever so slightly, their movement almost invisible, quietly marking the passage of time.

It was past midnight.

The palace was slowly falling into silence.

Attendants and people had begun returning to their rooms and chambers.

I closed my eyes, my lips trembling as I whispered a prayer from my aching heart.

“Please, Mahadev… please… I’m begging you… keep him safe… please…”

And then a thought struck me.

Had he left a letter for me?

I immediately rushed towards the table, then to the dressing table, the couch, every corner, and finally the bed.

I tore through everything in search of any note, any scroll.

And there, nestled between the pillows, my eyes landed on a golden scroll.

I snatched it up, my hands trembling as I unrolled it.

My heart skipped as I instantly recognised his handwriting.

My voice shook, my knees felt weak as I began to read:

“Yadi jeevan mein humne sabse adhik kisi se prem kiya hai, to woh aap hain, .

Keval aap.”

(If I have loved anyone the most in my life, it’s you, .

Only you.)

My brows furrowed.

That was it? Was this all he left behind?

What did it mean, Rudra? Why just this?

And then… the terrifying thought hit me.

What if something had happened to him?

A wave of fear crashed through me, and I broke into silent sobs, my body trembling, shivers running through me.

“Please… I beg you… please, come back… just once… please…”

I whispered through my tears.

Suddenly, the door flew open, and my head snapped up.

Through my blurred vision, I saw him, standing there, soaked.

His clothes dripped with water, his hair wet.

His face was red, his eyes, nose, and lips were swollen.

I couldn’t hold myself back.

I ran to him.

But I stopped just a few feet away, my whole body trembling.

In a broken voice, I asked, “Wh… what d-did… it… what did it mean?”

I threw the letter at his chest and broke down completely.

He began to cry, too.

And through my sobs, I stepped closer to him.

“Aisa...aisa ky...kya ho gaya...

Achanak...

Rudra...

aisa kya ho gaya...

Jo aapne itna bada nirnay...le liya... Kya ho gaya aisa?”

(Wha...

What the he...

What...

Happened, that you...

You went to... Went to take such... drastic step, Rudra? What the hell happened?) I asked in a shaky voice, in between hiccupped sobs, as I gripped the collar of his kurta, trying to make him look at me.

He burst into tears, keeping his head down, refusing to meet my eyes.

I wound my arms tightly around his shoulders, clinging to him as I wept.

“Aapko kuch ho jaata...

to hum jee nahi paate...

nahi jee paate hum…”

(If anything had happened to you...

I couldn’t have survived...

I couldn’t have lived...) My knees gave way, and I crumpled to the floor, tears pouring down my face.

“Aap kyun nahi samajhte...

mar jaayenge hum… nahi hai hum saksham swayam ko sambhaalne mein...

humne apna bhavishya aapke bina dekha hi nahi, Rudra...

aap kyun...

nahi... samajhte...”

(Why don’t you understand? I will die without you.

I’m not capable of holding myself together.

I have never seen a future without you, Rudra.

Why… don’t… you… understand?) My voice faded into near silence as I sobbed uncontrollably.

He dropped to his knees before me and pulled me into a tight, trembling embrace.

“I’m sorry… I’m so, so sorry.

I really am… I’m sorry,”

he cried, pressing his hand gently to the back of my head.

I clung to his shoulder, shut my eyes, and held him like he might disappear again.

“Why did you leave?”

I whispered through my cries. “Why?”

He hugged me tighter.

“I’m sorry… I’m so sorry… please…”

I lifted my head, cupping his neck and face with both hands, gently turning his face towards mine.

His eyes remained closed, brows furrowed, face wet with tears.

“What happened?”

I asked, wiping his tears slowly.

“Tell me… what happened, Rudra?”

His voice cracked as he finally spoke incoherently.

“I was wrong… I am wrong.

My whole life… everything… has been wrong.

I don’t know who I am anymore, .

I don’t know myself… I don’t know what I’ve become… Please… help me,”

he choked out.

“I don’t know who I am anymore.

It feels like… like something inside me has died.

I don’t want to live… I don’t know my purpose.

I can’t forgive myself.

I hate who I’ve become. I didn’t want to be this… , please… I only came back for you,”

he broke into sobs again, his voice fading into gasps.

“I love you so much… I’m sorry.

I’m so, so sorry for every time I hurt you.

I’m sorry for every tear you shed because of me.

I’m begging you… This isn’t me.

I don’t know who I am. I don’t deserve you. I don’t deserve any of this…”

His words broke apart.

I couldn’t hold back and pulled him into a tight embrace, my tears flowing freely now.

He clung to me, burying his face in the curve of my neck, his body trembling violently with the force of his cries.

“You are Rudra Dev Singh,”

I whispered, holding him close.

“A man I love, insanely, completely.

I don’t just love you because I have feelings for you… I respect you.

I honour you.

You are a self-made man. A true warrior. A king not by birth but by will. You've earned everything you've achieved through your blood and fire. You're honest, you're raw, you're real. What you feel in your heart, you speak without fear. That’s rare, Rudra,”

My voice trembled, but I held his face in my hands, making him look at me.

“You love me.

You respect me.

You chose me.

You didn't turn away even knowing I spent a night with the king.

No man is greater than you. No one and I would shout that to the world with pride. You are Rana Rudra Dev Singh—the King. A man your people want to see on the throne. A man they’re waiting for.”

He looked like he was about to break all over again.

“Just because a few people kept the truth from you… Why are you punishing yourself for that?”

I asked gently.

“You were just a child.

Homeless, parentless.

You believed what they told you because your heart is pure.

Because you saw the good in everyone. That isn’t something to be ashamed of, Rudra. That’s something to be proud of.”

He began to cry again, harder than before.

“I love you so much,”

I whispered.

He sank lower, folding into me as I remained kneeling.

He pressed his head to my chest and knelt on the floor.

“I’m… so… sorry, … for hurting you… please…”

Fresh tears slipped from my eyes as I held him, brushing my fingers through his hair.

“Shhh… shhh… It’s alright, Rudra,”

I whispered.

He held me tighter, his wide palms trembling as they gripped me, desperate.

“I am sorry… I hurt you.

I hurt everyone…”

His voice trembled, almost cracking at the weight of what he was about to say.

“I thou...

I thought he was my father.

I thought he loved my mother...

I thought he accepted a slave woman for his wife…”

He paused, a sob catching in his throat, and the heartbreak in his eyes made my chest tighten.

“But I never thought he just used her, that he wanted your mother… just for fun,”

he whispered bitterly.

“I never knew his true intentions.

How could he? I believed he died fighting for the right.

I thought… he was honourable.

That he didn’t deserve to be killed because he was trying to do the right thing.”

His fists clenched at his sides.

“But no...

no.

That man was selfish.

A bastard. Hungry for women—as if they were just furniture to him.”

I felt his disgust and betrayal radiating.

It wasn’t just grief anymore; it was rage, sorrow, and shame all tangled together.

“I’m sorry, .

I’m so sorry.

For hurting you, for playing with your emotions, for leaving you behind… for forcing you to take such painful steps.

I’m sorry for hurting your family.

I don’t know what to do anymore. I don’t know anything. How will I face everyone?”

He broke down again, and my heart ached watching him unravel.

The rawness in his deep, bloodshot eyes was unbearable.

The pain was so real and sincere that my tears welled up again.

I had feared this moment.

I knew that once the truth surfaced, it would crush him.

And it had.

But still, he had to carry it.

That’s life. That’s the rule. No matter how brutal the truth is, we live with it.

“Hey,”

I said softly, trying to steady my voice, “Look at me, Rudra… Come here.”

He kept his head low, sobbing.

I gently cupped his cheek, guiding his gaze up.

“You’re all wet,”

I murmured, and, rising to my feet, I held out my hand.

“Come here,”

I said again, firmer this time.

I wrapped my fingers around his and pulled gently, helping him up.

He followed without resistance.

I led him to the couch, made him sit, and turned to grab a towel.

But before I could, I felt his hands around my waist, warm despite being soaked, trembling slightly.

He rested his forehead against my chest.

Even in this emotional wreckage, his presence did something to me, stirring something quiet and tender within.

My stomach fluttered, an involuntary reaction to the way his big hands completely enveloped my waist, grounding himself in me.

“I'm so sorry,”

he whispered again, his breath brushing against my midriff, making goosebumps on my skin.

I placed the towel on his head and gently began drying his soaked hair.

“Calm down,”

I whispered.

And he sobbed again, deeper this time, his body still leaning into mine.

“I’m so sorry.

I’m not like that.

I didn’t know.

I’m sorry, ,”

he muttered again, his voice barely holding itself together.

“Shhh... shhhh…”

I gently hushed him, my fingers threaded softly through his long locks, combing them gently.

“You should change, Rudra.

You’re all wet,”

I whispered, my voice low and careful.

I stepped back, taking a breath to steady my own heart.

“Let me get you another pair,”

I added, already moving towards the dressing room.

He nodded slowly, lowering his gaze.

I returned with the same maroon pair he had worn earlier that morning, the one the attendees had neatly folded after washing.

I held it out to him.

“Go, change,”

I said softly, trying to hide the heaviness I felt in my chest.

Seeing him like this—so broken, unravelled me.

He stood up from the couch, and without thinking much, I stepped closer and gently took his hand in mine.

“Do you need help?” I asked.

He shook his head, wiping fresh tears off his cheeks.

Even though he denied it, I couldn’t stop myself and held his hand a little tighter.

“Come,”

I said, and led him into the bathroom.

Inside, I helped him sit on the stool and lifted his kurta over his head.

His eyes met mine, and I leaned to place a soft kiss on his forehead.

He closed his eyes at my touch.

I turned to fill a jug with water.

The silence between us was heavy, thick with everything he couldn’t say.

“Was it a pond...

or a river?”

I asked gently, pouring the water down his back.

He bowed his head slightly and whispered, “River,”

I filled another jug and slowly poured it over him again.

“And...

what made you do that?”

I asked, carefully watching him.

He inhaled deeply and lifted his eyes to mine.

Quietly, he said, “That I’m not good for you...

for anyone,”

He said, and I inhaled deeply, taking a step toward his back.

I poured another jug of water over his bare skin, and my fingers moved gently, rubbing his muscles softly.

“And...

what changed your mind at the last moment?”

I asked, my voice barely above a whisper.

He replied just as quietly.

“That you knew me from the beginning and still loved me.

Not for anyone...

but for you...

I have to live,”

His words sent shivers coursing through my spine, and without warning, tears began to escape my eyes again.

I turned away, stepping further from him, not wanting him to see me break.

I bit my lower lip and hugged myself as silent sobs left my chest.

I didn’t want him to hear them.

I heard the subtle sound of the stool shifting behind me, followed by the pad of his feet.

He stood up.

I quickly wiped my tears, trying to collect myself.

The silence between us stretched for a few moments.

I didn't know what to say.

I couldn't even guess how he must be feeling.

But I knew he was in profound pain.

What words could comfort a man who’d just discovered that the very foundation of his life was based on lies? His trust was shattered, his beliefs were distorted, his entire life was upended, and essentially, the pillars on which a person builds his life—the past, the beliefs, the facts, the circumstances—everything was a lie.

And, realising what he tried to do to himself, shook me to the core.

I expected anything but this.

But somewhere, I could understand.

He had no one—literally no one—by his side to live for.

The only thing he struggled for, worked hard for, and continued to survive for was avenging his father’s death.

And after twenty years, suddenly realizing that his father was the true culprit and had heinous intentions toward his mother and other women might have shaken him beyond repair; it might have pierced his heart in two.

Just then, without warning, he scooped me into his arms with a swift motion.

One arm curled beneath my knees while the other wrapped around my waist.

My hands instinctively coiled around his shoulders as I gazed at his face.

His chest was bare, still damp, and his fresh lower garment clung lightly to his skin.

“Rudra…”

I murmured, and before I could say anything more, he leaned in and placed a long, lingering kiss on my forehead.

His lips were cold from the water, yet his touch was soft.

I blinked slowly, overwhelmed, as he began walking.

I didn’t stop him and closed my eyes instead, letting myself feel his warmth.

He carried me back into the bedroom and gently laid me on the bed.

I immediately held his hand and shifted slightly to pull him closer.

“Rudra,”

I called.

He sat close to me, and I cupped his cheeks to look into his eyes.

He held my wrist and gently kissed my palm, and I blinked nervously.

I began speaking of what was necessary.

“Jo kuch bhi hua, use hum parivartit nahi sakte.

Beete hue kal ki yahi to visheshta hai, ki wo kitna bhi bura ho, kabhi lautkar nahi aata.

Jo hua, hum nahi kahenge ki use bhool jaaiye, aage badhiye kyuki wo sab to kehne ki baatein hain.

Jaise hum kuch smrutiyaan bhula nahi sakte, waise hi aap bhi kadacchit jeevan bhar in anubhavoan se ubhar na paayein.

Kintu ek samajhdar vyakti humaare liye wahi hoga jo apne aanewale kal par apne ateet ke aansuoan ki cheetein bhi na padne de.

Aap bahut samajhdar hain, humse bade hain, bhinna-bhinna logo se mile hain, aap humse adhik samajhte hai ki aapke kal ke liye, hum dono ke kal ke liye kya uchit hai aur kya anuchit.

Jis prakaar se aapne jeevan jiya hai, aur aap yahaan tak pahunche hai, wo maatra aapki yogyata va parishram ka parinaam hai.

Usme anya kisi ka koi yogdaan nahi.

To aap kyun apne jeevan ko kisi aur ke liye dhwast kar rahein hain? Tanik drushti ghumaakar, apne aas-paas dekhein, log bhukmari se jujh rahein hain, anekoan rogoan se grast hai, apnoan ko gawakar bhi jee rahein hain.

Kisi aur ka na sahi, unka to saath dein jinhone aapka saath diya hai.

Ek raja hain ab aap, aapke jeevan par keval aapke mata-pita ka, humaara ya kuch logoan ka nahi, apitu aapki praja ka bhi adhikaar hai.

Isiliye hum aapse anurodh karte hain ki swayam ko akela na samajhein...

Aap jaise bhi hain, hum aapse humesha prem karte rahe hain, karte hain, aur sada ke liye karte rahenge,”

(We cannot change what has already happened.

That’s the thing about the past — no matter how bad it was, it never returns.

I’ll not say, ‘just forget everything and move on’, because those are just words people say.

Just as I cannot forget certain memories, perhaps you may never be able to rise above these experiences throughout your life.

But for me, a wise person is the one who doesn’t let even the stains of past tears touch their future.

You are wise, older than me, and have encountered many kinds of people.

You understand better than I do what is right and wrong for your future and our future.

Your life and the place you’ve reached are entirely the result of your capability and hard work.

No one else has contributed to that.

So why are you destroying your life for someone else? Just look around—people are struggling with hunger, suffering from many diseases, living on even after losing their loved ones.

If not for anyone else, then at least support those who have supported you.

You are a king now — your life is no longer just yours, your parents’, mine, or a few others’...

It belongs to your people as well.

So I request you, please don’t think you’re alone.

No matter what, I’ve always loved you, I still do, and I always will.) I said, and he just blinked blankly.

Leaning in, I pressed a soft kiss to his cheek, my lips trembling.

I whispered against his skin, “Praan baste hain humaare aap mein.

Aap udaas bhi hote hai na, to aatma ro padti hai humaari,”

(You are my life.

My soul cries even if you are even a little upset.)

He wrapped his arm around my waist and embraced me tightly.

I closed my eyes, sinking into him, hugging him tighter.

“I'm so sorry,”

he murmured, and I caressed his head gently.

I could feel him breathing at my neck, his warmth steadying my heartbeat, and I slowly moved my palm over his chest.

“Humne aapki Holi bhi bigaad di,”

(I spoiled your Holi.) he added with guilt.

I let out a soft chuckle, and a fresh tear escaped down my cheek.

Lifting my head, I looked into his eyes and spoke quietly, “Humaare teej-tyohaar to sab aapse hain, Ranaji,”

(Every joy, every festival of mine begins and ends with you, Ranaji.)

He smiled and leaned in to kiss my cheek softly, slowly, yet full of love.

His lips trailed from my jawline to my ear, and in a breath that made my skin rise in goosebumps, he whispered, “Humein apne rang mein rang lo aaj, ”

(Colour me in your colours, .)

His deep voice sent a shiver down my spine, and my lashes fluttered shut.

“Hum aapke atirikt kisiko smaran nahi rakhna chaahte...

sab bhool jana chaahte hain,”

(I don’t want to remember anything but you...

I want to forget everything else.)

His breath swept along my ear and neck, sending waves of warmth through me.

“Rudra,”

I breathed out, lifting my gaze to his.

I could feel the heat of his breath against my face as our foreheads brushed.

I shivered when he whispered, “I don’t want to sleep tonight.

I want to hold you so close that all I could breathe, see, hear, feel, is you.

I want to be wrapped in you in every dimension.

I’ve never felt this before, . Before, I wanted you. But now, tonight... I need you like water. Like air,”

he said, inching closer, making me shift to the centre of the bed.

Darkness had filled the chamber, blurring what I saw and sharpening what I felt.

“I know I may be too old to crave like this...

but right now, I ache for something—something that holds your scent, your presence.

I want more, but not here...

not in your parents’ home,”

His voice lowered into a soft murmur as I felt his fingers delicately tugging at the threads of my blouse.

My lips parted, and I blinked, nerves fluttering in my stomach. “Rudra…”

I whispered, realising what he meant.

He loosened the final string and moved me gently, guiding me to lie back on the bed.

In the dim golden glow, I saw his face and eyes full of longing, love, and something deeper.

I felt timid, overwhelmingly so, watching his swollen, exhausted eyes trace over my body.

His fingers moved slowly, carefully sliding my blouse off my shoulder, as if I were something fragile-a delicate little doll in his care.

My breath hitched the moment the fabric left my skin.

A soft chill kissed my body, and my nipples rose instantly with the sensation.

My hands rested beside my waist, still and open, allowing him to see me fully.

His gaze moved over my chest, then down to my waist.

When his palm finally settled on my midriff, covering the space between my ribs and navel, I shivered from the heat of his touch.

It was gentle, thoughtful, and sensual.

I looked up at his eyes, still holding the ache of everything that had happened.

They seemed broken, confused, and afraid.

I reached up and brushed my fingers along his cheek.

He closed his eyes for a brief second, exhaling deeply at my touch.

“I want to suck,”

he whispered, barely audible.

I blinked, giving a small nod, and he leaned in, lying beside me.

He softly turned me onto my side and nestled close, burying his face in the comfort of my chest.

Slowly, he pulled the comforter up to my waist, wrapping us in warmth.

I could feel him breathe against my skin, the heat of his breath hovering over my bosom.

I shut my eyes and wrapped an arm around his neck, pressing a tender kiss into his hair.

My fingers ran through the back of his head gently, and my lips curved into a soft smile when I felt his mouth cupping my nipple.

I bit my lower lip, trying to suppress the moan building in my throat.

The night enveloped us in cold air flowing through the windows, warmth under the covers, our bare chests touching, a peaceful intimacy, and the torn layer of lies.

It made me smile as he held onto me tighter, sucking my nipple gently, like a baby, and kept licking, touching, and massaging my bosom until he finally drifted off to sleep.

And I, too, let go, wrapped in silence, my hand still resting on his hair.

I woke at dawn, barely light outside, to the same warmth and tenderness at my chest.

He was still playing with my nipple, half asleep, half awake.

I stretched my arms with a faint smile, which made the bud slip from his lips, and I whispered teasingly, “Not fed up yet?”

He opened one eye, smiling sleepily.

“Not getting anytime soon,”

he murmured, then closed his eyes again, pulling me closer and taking my nipple back into his mouth.

I chuckled softly and turned my face away, gently pushing his head aside.

“It’s hurting now, Rudra,”

I whispered.

But he caught my hand and pulled me back, making me lie flat on the bed.

Hovering above me, he looked into my eyes and teased, “It’s tasty.”

Without giving me a chance to respond, he leaned down again and cupped my nipple with his lips.

I inhaled sharply, a half-laugh escaping as I closed my eyes.

“You’re behaving like a baby,” I said.

He cupped my bosom with one hand and murmured against my skin, “Yes, your baby...

a new life,”

I let out a deeper chuckle and pushed his face away once more.

“Please, it’s hurting now,”

He finally lay on his side, and I quickly pulled the comforter up over my breasts, covering myself.

“Let me sleep for a bit,”

I muttered, turning my back to him.

But he immediately slipped closer and hugged me from behind.

I shut my eyes again, trying to fall back asleep as it was still early in the morning, but his voice came softly near my ear, “Looking at your beautiful face… I just remembered yesterday was Holi.

And I didn’t even get the chance to colour my wife,”

I sighed and mumbled, half-drowsy, “Not now, Rudra.

I’m really tired,”

I was nearly asleep, but the moment I heard him quietly slip out of bed, I became alert.

His footsteps were soft, but I could tell he walked towards the dressing table.

And I heard the faint clink of bangles and jewellery being moved, and then his quiet return.

He sat behind me and gently touched my cheek.

“I hope you’re not wasting my vermillion, Rudra,”

I said sleepily, sensing his smile even without turning to look.

He raked his finger lightly down my arm, from my neck to my shoulder, and down to my fingertips.

I slowly blinked my eyes open, following the movement.

My skin… it was streaked in deep red.

He had coloured me with vermilion.

I looked up at him.

“I don't want to play now,”

I whined, furrowing my eyebrows.

He chuckled and, gently cupping my neck, tilted my face toward him before leaning in to playfully peck my lips.

“Don’t sleep, , please,”

he muttered softly, and I closed my eyes, replying in a sleepy murmur, “What am I supposed to do then, Rudra, if not sleep?

He kissed the corner of my lips and muttered gently, “Maybe… feed me a little more.”

My eyes flew open, and I glared at him, annoyed.

Throwing off the comforter, I pointed at my sore nipples with a frown.

“Look at these.

These bruises prove how much I've already fed you, with no milk!”

He chuckled, moving toward me, eyes locked with mine, and softly cupped my breast again.

“This one now,”

he said, without missing a beat.

I let out an irritated breath.

“Fine then.

Lie on this side, I want to sleep.”

He shifted, and I turned on my side to face him.

Pulling the comforter up to my shoulder, I relaxed, feeling used to his touch now, and comforted by it rather than aroused.

And, I didn't realise when I dozed back again to sleep.

When I woke up a while later, he was still asleep.

His face was relaxed, and a bit of drool was at the corner of his mouth.

I smiled widely.

Leaning in, I kissed his hair softly.

As I moved to get out of bed, he immediately pulled me back into his arms.

“You’re not sleeping?”

I asked softly.

Without a word, he took my nipple into his mouth again.

“Your kiss woke me up,”

he mumbled sleepily.

“I love you…”

He said, looking up at me with half-lidded eyes.

“I want to take you back home,”

he breathed sensually.

I smiled weakly and asked, “Why so?”

He pressed his face against my chest and replied in a quiet murmur, “I want to break this restraint I’m holding onto.

And I can’t let you fall sick here, in your parents’ home.”

A deep shiver ran down my spine.

***