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Abhishek's hand, a gentle guide,
Feeds Malini, with a loving pride.
Torn tortilla, a tender bite,
A love so pure, in the morning light.
But sister Ruchira, with words so cold,
Mocks and sneers, with a heart of mold.
"Black magic, she's cast on you, it's clear,
A day's not passed, and she's got you here."
Abhishek's calm, yet firm and strong,
"Respect her, as you respect me, all day long,"
Silence falls, like a winter's night,
Abhishek feeds Malini, with all his might.
Malini learns fast, with a loving heart,
Tears tortilla, and feeds Abhishek to start.
Their eyes lock, in a loving gaze,
Abhishek teases, with a playful daze.
He nibbles her thumb, with a gentle bite,
Malini's shy, and calls out "Abhi" in delight.
But his mother fumes, with a furious cry,
"How dare you, call him by name, you're not worthy to try!"
The room falls still, with a heavy air,
Malini's heart, with a mix of fear and care.
Abhishek's love, a shield so strong,
Protects her from the storm, all day long.
•·•·•·•·•·•·••●❍•❅•°•❈•°•❅•❍●••·•·•·•·•·•·•·•
15th April, 1846
Calcutta, Bengal
MALINI POV~
"But… I remember the vows I took last night," he begins, his tone a steady ripple in a room turned still. "I vowed to ensure her happiness and well-being. I vowed to stay loyal, devoted. I vowed to respect and love her. I vowed to stand beside her as a companion, with faith and mutual understanding. I made these promises in front of the sacred fire... and I won't hesitate to fulfill each one."
The syllables hang heavy in the air, sacred and dangerous all at once.
I slowly lift my gaze, drawn by the power in his voice.
I catch the side of his face— the strong jaw, the barely-there flicker in his eyes…. and suddenly something shifts inside me.
There's a flutter in my chest, like birds set loose.
A warmth blooms in my stomach, curling like steam from a morning cup of tea.
What is this feeling?
Safety.
Stillness.
A quiet kind of shelter.
A whisper of love.
I press my bottom lip between my teeth, fighting the surge of emotion swelling inside me.
Tears tickle the corners of my eyes.
I blink rapidly, not wanting to let them fall… not here, not now.
Never in my life have I heard a husband speak like this.
Not in front of his mother.
Not without fear.
And yet, here he is… unshaken, unafraid, and unwavering in his stance.
Silence devours the room.
It's not the usual kind.
It feels sacred.
Final.
The kind that shifts things forever.
My eyes widen, just slightly, as he lifts his hand…. holding a bite of soft tortilla, its edge soaked gently in the golden curry.
The aroma of spices— coriander, turmeric, and cumin… wafts up between us.
I glance up at him.
Our eyes lock.
There's something tender, something silent, something unshakably steady in the way he looks at me… as though I'm not just someone to be fed, but someone to be cherished.
Almost instinctively, I lean forward.
My lips part, and I take the bite from his fingers.
His touch— rough, warm, fleeting… grazes my lips, sending tiny tremors across my skin.
My breath hitches at the sensation.
I lean back quickly, startled by my own reaction, chewing slowly.
The taste is rich and comforting… but it's not just the food that stirs something in me.
It's him.
"It hasn't even been a full day since your wedding, and you're already siding with her?" his mother scoffs, curling her lip in disdain.
Her voice slices through the soft air like a cold wind.
"She must have done black magic on Bhaiya!" Ruchira gasps theatrically, clutching her chest and rolling her eyes with exaggerated flair.
My heart shrinks, but he speaks before I can even react.
"Enough, Ruchira," he says sharply, his tone no longer velvety— now it's steel.
Ruchira stiffens, her playful defiance instantly extinguished.
"I will not tolerate such words about my wife. She is my other half. You will respect her… just as you respect me."
His words land like a stone in still water.
I risk a glance toward Ruchira and catch her muttering bitterly under her breath, her eyes avoiding mine.
Out of the corner of my eye, I notice him once more—tearing a piece of the tortilla, dipping it slowly in the curry with practiced ease.
Then, he lifts his hand again.
Calm.
Assured.
Offering me another bite.
And before I even register it, my body leans toward him again, guided not by thought but by something gentler— trust.
Noticing the faint curve of a smirk dancing at the corner of his lips, I feel a flush of warmth rise up my neck.
My cheeks bloom with a soft blush as my mouth brushes gently against his fingers once more.
Why is he smiling like that?
There's a gleam in his eyes— mischievous, knowing, like he's well aware of the havoc he's causing in my chest.
Curious, I shift my gaze to his mother.
Her palm is clenched tightly into a fist on the table, knuckles whitening, and her jaw is locked.
Her nostrils flare with barely restrained fury.
A strange surge stirs within me… not fear, not guilt, but pride.
It rises like fire in my chest, quiet but bold.
And then, for the first time today, I decide to do something unapologetically mine.
I slowly tear a bite-sized piece from my tortilla, its surface still soft and warm in my fingers, dipping it deliberately into the bowl of curry.
The scent of roasted cumin and ghee rises up, strong and grounding.
Lifting my eyes to meet his, I raise my hand— small and steady… and offer the bite to him.
His gaze lingers on mine, something unreadable flickering in his eyes.
After a breath of pause, he leans in— no hesitation, no shyness.
And takes the bite from my fingers.
But he doesn't just eat.
He lingers.
His eyes stay locked with mine, and the world slows down.
My breath stumbles as I watch him close his lips around my fingers, warm and deliberate, the heat of his mouth making my skin tingle.
A soft gasp escapes me before I can stop it.
My fingers tremble.
Goosebumps ripple across my arms.
My heart begins to pound violently, each thud echoing in my ears.
I know he's doing this on purpose.
He's teasing me.
Daring me.
Silently speaking without words in front of everyone, as if to say— I don't care who sees it.
I snatch my hand back, eyes widening slightly, and shoot him a subtle glare— flustered and flinching… but he's unbothered.
His gaze holds mine, unwavering, intense.
I look away first.
I have to.
My breath is caught somewhere in my throat, and my skin still burns where his lips had been.
He tears another bite for me, placing it gently before me as if offering a sacred gift.
Slowly, the buzz of the dining room dulls, fading into a blur.
The clinking of cutlery, murmurs of conversation, even the stiff air radiating from his mother… they all dissolve.
In this moment, there's no one else.
Just him and me.
A world within a world.
His mother's hawk-like stare, his sister's curious eyes, his aunts' taunts… they melt into shadows.
Only he remains… present, real, and impossibly close.
I take a small bite, my fingers brushing against the warmth of the food he just fed me.
The rich spices tingle on my tongue, but it's not the taste that holds my attention— it's him.
Out of the corner of my eye, I see the faintest smile tug at the side of his lips— slow, sly, and secret.
My heart skips.
Avoiding his gaze, I tear another piece of tortilla and dip it carefully in the curry.
The soft tortilla absorbs the flavor, its warmth seeping into my fingertips.
I raise it hesitantly, offering it to him.
A fragile act of trust.
A bold act of defiance.
I dare to steal a glance at him.
He leans forward, eyes glinting, lips curved in a smirk that says far more than words ever could.
My breath hitches… unsure if it's the anticipation or the heat blooming beneath my skin.
Slowly, he opens his mouth and takes the morsel… but he doesn't pull back.
His lips linger on my fingers.
Not by accident.
With purpose.
A slow, calculated touch… his warm mouth grazing my skin, igniting a trail of sparks along my nerves.
I instinctively begin to pull my hand back… but I'm stopped.
His fingers wrap gently yet firmly around my wrist.
The touch isn't harsh… it's grounding, electric.
A soft gasp escapes my lips, but there's no time to comprehend.
In one fluid motion, his lips part again… and this time, he doesn't just linger.
He bites.
Gently.
Secretly.
A teasing nip of his teeth on the pad of my index finger.
It's playful, but possessive.
Innocent, yet dangerous.
A jolt runs through me, like warm water hitting cold skin.
My breath catches in my throat, and I freeze, eyes wide.
"A-Abhi…" I whisper, my voice trembling, so faint that I barely hear it myself.
His head tilts ever so slightly.
Then— he looks up.
His sharp eyes meet mine.
Piercing.
Steady.
Time halts.
My heart hammers inside my rib cage, like a drum in a war march.
I can feel each beat pulsing through my body, echoing in my throat, my ears, my chest.
There's no smile on his lips now…. only fire in his gaze.
Clearing my throat, I attempt to withdraw my hand, but his grip stays strong— unwavering, warm, and firm against my trembling fingers.
My heart stutters.
My body wants space, but some part of me doesn't want to let go either.
The warmth between us breaks like fragile glass as a sharp throat-clearing slices through the moment.
I flinch, the sound jolting me like cold water.
My gaze snaps to the front, and there they are— his mother, aunts and sister… all sitting like statues carved in disapproval.
Their eyes, sharp and unforgiving, rake over me like I'm something misplaced in their perfect world.
"A–Abhi…" I whisper, my voice barely holding itself together as I awkwardly tug at my hand, panic rising like heat in my chest.
My fingers squirm, desperate to slip free, but he holds on… still calm, still unbothered.
"Hmm?" he hums, his voice like smooth velvet, tinged with mischief, as he leans in.
His presence surrounds me— warm, teasing, too close.
I instinctively lean back, spine tingling as that low, deep hum vibrates through the air and skates across my skin like a secret only I can hear.
"Abhi!" I gasp— louder than I intend.
My voice breaks free from my throat in a startled yelp, drawing attention I never meant to seek.
Embarrassment floods me, hot and heavy, while panic prickles under my skin.
"I'm hearing, Phoenix," he murmurs, voice low and threaded with playful heat.
Then— slowly, deliberately… his teeth graze the pad of my index finger again.
A teasing bite.
A farewell.
My breath hitches.
A shiver ripples through me.
Only then does he release my hand, his smirk smug and satisfied, as if he's fully aware of the chaos he's just left behind in my chest.
"You! How dare you call your husband by his name?"
The shrill voice slices through the quiet dining air, sharp as broken glass.
My eyes dart toward his mother, now standing slightly forward, her glare burning holes through me like blazing coals.
~ Her innocence is like the first rain in arid land.
჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻.✾.჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻
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