Nandini's POV
Tonight was the night.
Not for romance.
Not for deep soul-bonding conversation.
Not even for piano key-smashing.
Tonight... was movie night.
After my legendary breakfast attempt and piano lesson fail (don't ask), I decided we needed something normal couples do. Like binge-watch a movie and fall asleep without biting each other.
So I tiptoed up to his study with a bowl of popcorn and said bravely:
"Movie?"
He looked up from his laptop like I just offered to hand over nuclear codes.
"What kind of movie?" he asked suspiciously.
"Romantic comedy."
"No."
"Action?"
"No."
"Horror?"
He raised an eyebrow.
"...Okay fine. Documentary?"
"...I'm listening."
Thirty Minutes Later
So that's how we ended up in the living room, both in PJs (okay I was in fuzzy unicorn pajamas, he was in rich-people black silk), watching a documentary about underwater volcanoes.
Romantic? No.
Peaceful? Not really. One of the volcanoes sounded like it was sneezing lava.
But the real problem was... distance.
We were sitting two feet apart on a six-foot sofa.
TWO. FEET.
Hello? I thought this was movie night, not a courtroom trial.
I stole a glance at him. He was sitting with one arm resting on the back of the sofa, dangerously close to my head.
Was this a signal?
Or was his arm just tired?
Should I scoot closer?
Would that be weird?
What if he thought I was making a move?
I reached for popcorn to distract myself.
Unfortunately, he did the same thing at the same time.
Our hands touched.
Our eyes met.
The popcorn bowl wobbled.
And we both pulled back like we'd touched FIRE.
"Sorry," I whispered.
"It's fine," he muttered.
We then stared at the screen extra hard like the lava documentary was the most thrilling thing on earth.
One Hour Later
I was slowly melting into the sofa. The popcorn was gone. The volcanoes had erupted. And my eyelids were starting to feel like mini dumbbells.
I thought I'd close my eyes for just a second.
Just one second.
...
...
...
Wait.
Why was my pillow so warm?
And... moving?
I blinked.
And saw a black silk shirt.
A chest.
A heartbeat.
OH MY GOD. I WAS SLEEPING ON MY HUSBAND.
I panicked internally, but when I looked up, he was still watching the screen—expression unreadable, eyes steady.
He knew.
He 100% knew.
And he didn't push me away.
WHAT WAS HAPPENING.
I sat up quickly, face burning, hair a mess.
"Sorry—I must've—uh—lava-induced coma."
He looked at me.
"Next time," he said slowly, "maybe pick a comedy."
Then stood up, stretched, and walked away.
Leaving me there...
Flustered. Blushing. And 99% sure I saw a smile on his face before he turned