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Abhi's fingers dance, through her silken hair,
Applying oil, with a gentle care.
Malini asks, with curious eyes,
"What's your passion, your heart's deepest prize?"
He smiles sly, and whispers low,
"My passion's a secret," making her pout and show.
Disappointment's fleeting face, a child's delight,
Abhi chuckles, at her playful plight.
The game begins, with a mischievous grin,
"Secret" she says, to every question within.
Favourite food, colour, book, and sweet,
Each time, she repeats, the secret treat.
Abhi teases, with a question so light,
"What's your name?" he asks, with a gentle might.
Malini's mistake, a secret she'll confess,
Abhi chuckles, at her adorable tenderness.
As they ready, to face the day,
Abhi thinks of future, in a loving way.
What will it bring, this new life they've begun?
Only time will tell, but love's just begun.
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15th April, 1846
Calcutta, Bengal
ABHISHEK'S POV~
"Knowledge only grows. It never fades. And it's passed down from generation to generation," I add, my voice taking on a more tender tone.
I smile, my thumb brushing lightly over her wrist, feeling the warmth of her skin beneath my touch.
She sucks in a breath, her chest rising slightly, and I notice the way she instinctively clutches the edge of her saree's pallu, the fabric soft and delicate in her fingers.
There's something about her....something that makes me want to protect that innocence, that fragile determination she carries.
She attempts to pull her hand back, but I tighten my grip on her wrist just enough to hold her in place, not harsh, but firm enough to remind her that I'm here.
I feel the pulse in her wrist beneath my thumb, steady and strong.
I chuckle softly, the sound low and warm, before I gently grab her shoulder, turning her back to face the mirror.
Our gazes meet in the reflection, and I see the subtle shifts in her expression as she looks at herself, perhaps thinking about the words we've just shared.
"... Um… What about your hobbies and passion?" Her voice is lighter now, an attempt to shift the subject, though there's a playful curiosity in her tone.
She reaches for another wooden comb to detangle the next section of her hair, the soft sound of the comb sliding through her locks filling the space between us.
"My hobbies are gardening and feeding the birds..." I murmur, my voice dropping lower as I gently push a section of her hair, now neatly detangled, over to the front.
I can't help but notice the delicate way she handles the comb...her fingers wrapping around the handle with such care, as though she's cherishing the process.
"And my passion—" I lean in close, my breath warm against her ear, "It's a secret."
A low chuckle escapes from my lips at her reaction.
She squints her eyebrows, a playful pout forming on her lips as she frowns, clearly disappointed by my cryptic answer.
There's something about the way she reacts to me....always trying to figure me out....that pulls me in further.
I tilt my head, a mischievous grin spreading across my face.
"What's your favorite food?" I smile, clearing my throat to keep my tone light and playful, trying to draw her into the game.
Her eyes glint with defiance as she crosses her arms, lips curling into a pout.
"It's a secret," she huffs, rolling her eyes dramatically.
The corners of her lips twitch, though, betraying her feigned annoyance.
I bite my lip, stifling a laugh, as I watch the way her eyes narrow and the soft flush creeping across her cheeks.
The energy between us feels electric....light, teasing, yet something deeper stirs in the space we share.
"I've never heard of a food dish named 'SECRET'," I say with a grin, wriggling my eyebrows playfully. "From which region is this?"
Her lips part in mock indignation, but the playfulness shines through in her eyes.
"That's a secret too!" she huffs again, turning her face sharply to the side as though trying to hide a smile.
I chuckle softly, my heart racing a little faster, enjoying her playful resistance.
There's something irresistibly endearing about her....so confident, yet so innocent in her stubbornness.
"What is your favourite colour?" I ask, leaning closer, my voice soft with curiosity, savoring the moment.
"SECRET!" she declares loudly, repeating the word with such emphasis that I can't help but laugh.
She doesn't even lift her eyes to meet mine through the mirror, keeping her gaze fixed on the comb in her hand as if she's trying to distract herself from the banter.
But I see the corners of her mouth twitch again.
She's enjoying this too.
"Which is your favourite book?" I press on, my curiosity piqued by her secrecy.
"SECRET!" she responds without hesitation, her voice playful yet teasing, her fingers deftly working through the hair in front of her.
"Your favourite sweet?" I ask, the question slipping out before I can stop it.
"SECRET!!" she repeats with exaggerated fervor, her voice rising slightly.
I can't contain my laughter anymore.
"Your name?" I ask, leaning in closer to her, whispering the question, watching her every move, savoring the way her lips form the word before it even leaves her mouth.
"SECRE—" she halts abruptly, her breath catching in her throat as she hears my breathy laugh escape me.
"You're such a cute girl," I murmur, my smile widening.
I watch her face closely as she narrows her eyes at me, her expression a mixture of amusement and mock annoyance.
It's impossible not to feel my heart skip a beat at the way she reacts to me.... so fiercely yet so sweetly.
Her voice is laced with mock indignation as she grits her teeth, rolling her eyes. "And you're such a devil husband."
She snatches her hair from my hand, the motion sharp but playful, a touch of sass in her every movement.
I watch her, a grin tugging at the corners of my lips.
"Your husband," I tease gently, my voice low and warm.
My gaze flicks to her delicate fingers as she begins parting her hair, dividing it into three sections, her hands moving swiftly, as if the motions are second nature to her.
There's something mesmerizing about the way she works, with such confidence in something so simple.
"Unfortunately," she mutters under her breath, but I catch the faintest smile that tugs at the edges of her lips.
She's always trying to hide her softness behind that tough exterior, and it never fails to make my heart skip.
I sigh, shaking my head with a soft smile.
"Okay, okay… I'll not tease you now. Come, we have to go outside now," I gesture toward the door, still smiling.
As I say this, I see her stiffen for just a fraction of a second, her body language changing as she seems to brace herself for something.
My heart clenches with a soft understanding.
This world she's entered, with all its intricacies and expectations, is a heavy one.
I move toward her, and with a gentle pat on her head, I soften the moment.
The touch is light, almost affectionate, but also reassuring.
"I'm with you," I say, my voice steady, "You don't have to worry about anything."
I take her hand in mine, feeling the slight tremor of her palm.
She nods, her movements slow but deliberate.
"And remember the thing I taught you to say if anyone asks you why you woke up late," I remind her, the hint of a smile still on my lips as I watch her nod again.
Her hand feels clammy in mine, a subtle sign of the nerves she's trying to hide.
Without thinking, I squeeze her palm gently, my touch steady and comforting, hoping it reassures her in the way words cannot.
A genuine smile tugs on my lips as I feel her fingers intertwine with mine.
The connection, so simple yet so profound, gives me a sense of calm in this whirlwind of emotions.
I don't need any grand gestures to know how much this moment means to us.
We're here, together.
With a soft exhale, I walk toward the door with her, guiding us both outside. The air outside feels fresh, cool against my skin, and yet, there's a warmth growing in my chest, a warmth that I can't quite place but know comes from her presence beside me.
She's strong.
I know this.
I've seen her face trials before, and yet she keeps moving forward, unbowed.
But as her husband, it's my duty to protect her.
To shield her from everything, even the things we can't predict.
Even if it's my own family that stands in the way.
For a moment, I close my eyes, letting the stillness of the moment settle over me.
The weight of responsibility, the quiet determination in my chest, the bond we share— it all feels like a promise I'm willing to keep.
I slowly walk toward the veranda, each step measured but calm.
Let's see what today holds for us.
We'll face it together.
~ When love starts with laughter.
჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻.✾.჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻
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