•·•·•·•·•·•·••●❍•❅•°•❈•°•❅•❍●••·•·•·•·•·•·•·•
Abhishek entered, fresh from his morning bath,
Malini slept on, in dream's gentle path.
Her saree ridden up, exposing skin so fair,
He sighed softly, walked closer, with loving care.
Gently he pulled the fabric down to her ankles sweet,
His fingers brushed her toes - she curled them in sleep.
Ticklish touch made her toes play hide and seek,
Abhishek smiled in amazement, his thumb began to tease.
He traced the soles, her feet curled, tried to stray,
Playful in sleep, Malini didn't know the play.
Amused, Abhishek watched her sleepy antics cute,
Time to wake up - "Malini, school's time, it's your route."
She twisted, whimpered softly, "nahi...na...",
Abhishek shook his head, laughing at her sleepy drama.
Childish behaviour, in morning's playful light,
He watched her, loving every sleepy, whimsical sight.
•·•·•·•·•·•·••●❍•❅•°•❈•°•❅•❍●••·•·•·•·•·•·•·•
16th April 1846
Calcutta, Bengal
ABHISHEK POV~
I step into the quiet room, the faint scent of sandalwood and old cotton lingering in the air.
Droplets of water trail down the side of my face as I rub my damp hair with a soft, slightly worn cotton towel, its fabric familiar and comforting against my skin.
The distant echo of temple bells fades behind me, replaced by the stillness of her breath.
A soft smile finds my lips as my gaze falls on her… peaceful, delicate, her chest rising and falling in a steady rhythm.
The golden early morning light spills across her features, catching the curve of her cheek and the loose strands of her hair fanned across the pillow.
She looks untouched by the world here, like a painting too sacred to disturb.
My gaze trails downward, and before I can stop it, a sigh slips past my lips— half amused, half helpless.
Once again, her saree has unraveled and gathered at her thighs, baring soft, vulnerable skin to the morning air.
She sleeps on, unaware, unbothered, as if the world and its modesty rules never existed for her.
I shake my head, a quiet chuckle rumbling in my chest as I take a step closer to the bed.
"Yeh ladki…" I murmur under my breath, crouching slightly. "Aise soti hai jaise koi jang jeet kar aayi ho."
[ THIS GIRL ….. SLEEPS LIKE SHE HAS WON A WAR ]
My tone is tinged with mock disbelief but laced in wonder, as if she's some puzzle I can't quite solve but don't want to either.
I reach out and gently grasp the hem of her saree, the fabric cool between my fingertips.
With slow, careful movements, I ease it down over her legs, guiding it back to her ankles like I'm tucking in a secret.
It's not just about modesty— it's instinct.
To shield her.
To preserve the peace of her sleep.
As I draw the saree down, my knuckles graze her thigh— warm and soft like the hush of dawn… and then slide past her calf.
She stirs faintly, shifting beneath the sheet, a low hum escaping her lips.
I freeze for a moment, my breath caught, unwilling to wake her yet unable to pull away.
I lower myself onto the edge of the bed, careful not to disturb the mattress too much.
My eyes fall to her ankle, slender and delicate, peeking from beneath the newly draped fabric.
Just above it, the smooth stretch of skin glows in the soft light… unmarked, unchained, yet unknowingly bound by the weight of a world she didn't choose.
I stare, not out of desire, but a strange, aching awe.
I tilt my head and gently touch her feet, taking them as my first prayer of the day, as if seeking my morning blessing from the divine itself.
My sacred morning blessing.
Her skin is still warm from sleep, delicate beneath my chilled fingertips, like rose petals left in dew.
My cold fingers trail across the velvet of her warm skin, a contrast so intimate it sends a wave of reverence through me.
The fine strands of soft body hair rise gently beneath my touch… tiny, almost invisible… but real, grounding.
She feels so human.
So young.
So alive.
As I move my thumb slowly along her ankle, it catches against a faint ridge… a tiny scar, barely there.
Likely a relic of a fall, a childhood adventure, a moment of clumsiness or play.
Perhaps— running barefoot, climbing trees, chasing dreams.
I press my thumb gently over it, as though trying to protect it retroactively.
My chest tightens at the thought.
How young was she when she got this?
Who tended to her?
Did she cry?
I lift my gaze to her face— soft, unguarded, utterly peaceful in sleep.
Her lashes flutter slightly, casting shadows on her cheeks.
A wisp of hair clings to her temple, rising and falling with every breath.
"She's still a child…" I murmur, my voice barely more than breath, my fingers continuing their reverent path along her ankle.
In age, in innocence, in wonder, her fragile dreams are still untouched by the world… the darkness I've seen.
Her ankle…. so delicate it feels like spun glass—rests trustingly in my hand.
"It's her childhood… and I— I want to make it golden," I whisper, the words barely audible as I lean forward, pressing a reverent kiss to her tiny toes. "And want to fill it with memories… not haunt it with shadows."
My voice cracks softly, not from sadness, but from the weight of the promise I make in silence.
A faint smirk pulls at my lips as I feel her toes twitch and curl in response— instinctive, delicate, and oh so her.
Even in sleep, she reacts to me.
She's so ticklish…. so alive, so untouched.
Unable to resist the mischief bubbling in my chest, I place a feather-light kiss on her toes again.
She flinches just slightly, her leg twitching in sleepy protest.
The silver anklets wrapped around her ankle jingle in protest… tinkling like distant wind chimes carried on a morning breeze.
And in that soft sound… her innocence sings.
Like a mischievous prayer, I press my lips again, this time over her smallest toe.
She shifts under the blanket, a soft squeak escaping her throat in sleep, and her anklets jingle like wind chimes touched by breeze.
Their delicate sound twirls around the silence of the room like music only I'm meant to hear.
Straightening up, I shift closer to her, the thin quilt rustling softly beneath me.
Her chest rises and falls with a slow rhythm… peaceful, unaware.
I reach out and gently rake my fingers through my hair, grounding myself before leaning toward her.
"Malini… Malini," I whisper, my voice low, careful not to startle her.
My fingers brush across her forehead, warm and slightly damp from sleep, tracing the soft strands of hair clinging to her skin.
"Malini… wake up. It's morning," I murmur, tapping her cheek with feather-light strokes, the pad of my thumb lingering for a second on her jaw.
"You have to go to school too, remember?" I add, my tone is playful and coaxing.
"Naahii— ahm," she mumbles, her voice slurred with sleep as she shifts away, curling onto her side with the stubbornness of a child refusing the morning sun.
Her back now faces me, hair tumbling over the pillow like ink spilled in moonlight.
"Wake up, Phoenix," I chuckle softly, raising myself onto my knees, hovering just above her like a protective shade.
"Don't you want to go to school?" I tease, knowing well she doesn't.
"Naaahh— I want to sleep," she grumbles, her words muffled as she buries her face deeper into the pillow, wrapping her arms around it like it's a fortress from responsibility.
I sigh, amused, watching her stubborn sleep-drunk defiance.
Her lashes flutter slightly, lips parted in a soft pout.
There's a serenity in her that tugs at something gentle inside me.
Carefully, I slide my hand beneath her left arm, the skin of her side warm and delicate under my touch.
My arm snakes around her waist with deliberate slowness, drawing her toward me.
She feels light, fragile almost… like the morning dew that I used to touch in my childhood, but with fire hidden deep within.
She groans again, shifting with sleepy resistance, her body trying to twist away, but I tighten my grip just enough to stop her.
My palm rests on the curve of her waist, holding her there… not to trap, but to anchor her to me.
"Malini," I murmur, my voice deep and low, dipped in mock authority. "Wake up now… or I'll have to use my ways."
My tone is rough, edged with amusement, but firm enough to jolt her from her dreams.
She clicks her tongue in mild annoyance, a soft sound of defiance, before her slender frame arches like a waking cat.
Her back curves gently, arms stretching above her head, the blanket slipping slightly down her shoulder.
The sleepy stretch draws a low sigh from her lips, warm and unfiltered— soft, feminine, completely unguarded.
I watch her rub her eyes with the back of her small palm, her fingers brushing over her lashes as if trying to erase the remnants of dreams.
Her motions are slow, drowsy… like a child waking after a midday nap.
She blinks a few times, trying to focus… her lashes fluttering slowly like the wings of a lazy butterfly.
Then, her gaze lifts to meet mine.
Sleep still lingers in her eyes— half-lidded, hazy, soft.
But when our eyes lock, something flickers between us… something tender… and entirely real.
~ Watching her toes curl is becoming my new morning habit.
჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻.✾.჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻
How is the chapter?
Which scene did you like the most?
What are your thoughts about this chapter?
What do you think will happen in the next chapter?
Love you my readers 🎀