"Aditya, be a man. Come on, shoot him." The ten year old boy shivered, afraid to pull the trigger of the gun that was too heavy for his small hands. Stuffing in a deep breath, he aimed the metallic weapon straight ahead, eye level to the man who stood in front of him, as a sacrifice, fully tied from head to toe.

His father's words again stung his ears, "You worthless boy, don't make me regret giving birth to you."

At that his fingers twitched as he pulled the trigger. The sound echoed the basement, Aditya fumbling back at the powerful recoil of the gun. Ahead him now laid the dead man, who he had killed.

His first kill.

He blinked his eyes open, staring at the white ceiling above him. For a moment, his life was normal, his mind was wiped free of memory.

Someone squeezed his hands, and he turned his head, bewildered. And then he saw her. The events that took place came crashing down him. Falling. Dragging. Pain. Dying.

His hands dwelled into the soft sheets beneath him. He was safe. In her presence. In their room. With his wife.

He moved his hands out of hers, the action feeling constrained. Pushing back a sleeve, Aditya noticed that his waist was bound in soft white linen. He thumbed one of the bandages.

"How are you feeling?" Her voice was weak and low and she looked tired, as if she had not slept for days. The wetness on her cheeks confirmed that she was crying.

His attention was distracted by the horrible throb of his back. He sat forward, to take some of the pressure off, and he felt cloth dig into the skin of his stomach.

Lifting up the edge of the shirt, he stared at his torso, which was wrapped in layer upon layer of bandages.

He ran his thumb over the linen. “Who did this?”

She bit down her lips before saying. "A doctor came in a few days ago. They removed a bullet. Luckily it missed your kidney by an inch. I was instructed to have the wounds cleaned everyday. I did it."

"How long was I out?"

She sat down on the bed next to him, "A week."

A week? GODDAMMITTT! He missed out too many days.

Immediately he started to get up, but the pain was so brutal that he let out a groan, his head rolling back to the headboard of the bed again.  He clutched the wound on his abdomen. This wasn't the first time he got hit by a bullet, he had worse experiences, stabbed an inch away from the heart, almost had his veins slit but why the hell did this particular wound hurt so damn much?

"Stay still. You could open your wounds again. They are stitched." But he did not listen to her words, because by then he was already on his feet. The first thing he did was make his way towards the bathroom. But before he could take his first step, he tripped. He was expecting the fall, but soft, feminine body, hugged him tight from the side, lifting him up midair from falling, making him steady on his feet.

"I told you not to get up." She gave him a warning with her eyes.

"I need to take a bath." He manage to say, putting aside his ego.

Shradha didn't say a word, but rather she led him to the chair close to the bathroom. She stumbled on her feet a few times, her little body unable to hold his big weight but still somehow she managed. His wife was stronger than she looked.

He closed his eyes for a while relieved at having sat in a chair.

Hooking her fingers in the cloth of his shirt, Shradha ripped it open, pushing it off of him as best she could. His torso was still a mottled mess of bruises and bullet holes, the injuries distorting the shimmering markings that ring his pecs. Her eyes found the other gunshot scars that dot his shoulders, chest, neck, arms, legs, and in one case, just above his collarbone. It was scars he earned in the long run, a new one was added now.

She lightly touched the skin beneath his abdomen.

At the press of her fingers, Aditya's eyes fluttered open, focusing on her.

“What are you doing?” he asked. There’s both confusion and suspicion written all over his features.

"I'm taking care of you."

Aditya caught her hand, his eyes burning bright as he spoke, "I'm fine Shradha."

"No you are not."

"I've endured worse."

"Doesn't mean I can't help. Stay still." With that she slowly started removing his bandage. Rolling and rolling, with such concentration that she bit down her lips hard every time he winced in pain, uttering apologies quickly.

He looked down at her, noticing the small mole above her upper lips. How come he never noticed that?

She accidentally touched his wound and he winced in pain immediately. Her head chipped up to apologise, but she stared at him with her mouth open at how both their faces were close to each other.

His eyes kept shifting from her lips to her eyes, not sure which one to pay more attention to. He wanted a taste of her lips, right now. Suddenly the pain he felt wasn't an issue anymore.

He moved his thumb over her lower lip again, and she felt that simple touch everywhere.His hand slid to her neck, tilting her jaw up, his gaze still pinned to her lips.

"Why do you make me hurt so much?" She whispered out, her soft breath brushing his beard. "Don't ever leave me like that. You promised me protection and I will have no protection without my protector."

He grabbed her chin, forcing her to look at him. His eyes searched hers, and they’re raging with pain. Pain of losing him.

All at once, he pulls her into his lap, her legs hanging on either side of the chair. It hurt him, but right now, this moment, was worth the pain he was feeling. And slowly, ever so slowly and gently, he connected their lips.

It was the most gentle he had ever been with her.

For one long, agonizing moment, she froze beneath his lips.

Just when he expected her to pull away, she let out a small noise, something that sounded like want and defeat and surprise all wrapped into one. And then her lips were pressing back against his, meeting him, stroke for stroke.

Hesitantly, her hands thread themselves into his hair. She cradled his face, her kiss soft, so exceedingly soft.

Taking his cue from her, Aditya placed his palm against her, his fingers brushing the skin of her cheek.

She pulled away, her eyes bright with heat.

His skin puckered, even as his eyes met hers. His gaze returns to her mouth, and whatever restraint he had left, now crumbled. His lips were back on hers, stronger and surer than before.

He kissed her eagerly, leaning into her until his warm chest pressed against her soft ones. She let her hands drift over his face like she was trying to memorize him by feel. Her thumbs brushed over his closed eyes and those enviable lashes, they skim over his temples and cheekbones.

This time she battled for dominance, as she kissed him angrily, pouring out all the frustration she had. She pulled away once again, only to stare at him with anger and hurt. "Why do you hurt me so much? I want to hate you but . . ." She let out a sob angered at herself for feeling this way. Despite what he did, she still hopelessly wanted him. "I can't stop myself from wanting you more."

Remorse and guilt filled up his lungs and he found it difficult to breathe for a while.

"Do not ever leave me like that." She grabbed a fistful of his hair, making his head rise up. Aditya was now fully at the mercy of the woman who sat on his lap.

With that she once again softly connected her lips into his. It was a kiss of despiration and he fell into it. He liked being her first priority. To have someone wait up for you, want you, that was a first in his life.

They kiss for what feels like hours or days not getting tired but the urge to breath had them panting. They both pulled away, but Shradha softly placed her forehead against his.

"Am I hurting your legs?" She asked referring to how she was sitting on his lap. Rubbing his cheek against hers, he says nothing except but hum in delight.

"It's worth the pain."

For a long while, neither of them spoke, they were too busy catching their breaths but then Aditya took the initiative.

"What happened while I was out?"

She shook her head. "Nothing happened. Ashish has it covered."

He met her gaze once again, reading them. "Why do you do this? This caring? This display of affection?"

Tears cornered her eyes, as she swallowed hard, "I don't know. But you are my husband and the only thing I have close to calling as mine."

That was the only answer he needed and wanted. Because that title only mattered.

Her husband.