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ये काली रात जकड़ लूँ
ये ठंडा चाँद पकड़ लूँ
ओ, ये काली रात जकड़ लूँ
ये ठंडा चाँद पकड़ लूँ
दिन-रात के बैरी भेद का
रुख़ मोड़ के मैं रख दूँ

तुझ संग बैर लगाया ऐसा
रहा ना मैं फिर अपने जैसा
हो, रहा ना मैं फिर अपने जैसा

मेरा नाम इश्क़, तेरा नाम इश्क़
मेरा नाम इश्क़, तेरा नाम इश्क़
मेरा नाम इश्क़, तेरा नाम इश्क़
मेरा नाम, तेरा नाम, मेरा नाम इश्क़

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I stared at her, watching every small detail with a hunger that went beyond reason. The way her nose scrunched slightly in frustration, how her eyes narrowed into slits as if she was trying to fight me without speaking the words. I noticed it all-the delicate twitch of her lips as she tried to keep them in a firm line, the redness slowly spreading to her cheeks, making her look like a ripe fruit, tempting me to take a bite.

My cherry

My hands clenched at my sides, resisting the urge to reach out, pull her closer, and smooth out that tiny wrinkle on her forehead with my lips. She was angry, yes, but I found her anger delicious.

Her innocence mocked me and thrilled me at the same time. She thought I couldn't see through her? That I didn't know she was thinking about me-worrying about me-just as I was about her? But I knew. I could read her like an open book, every page etched with emotions she couldn't hide, even if she tried. My Noor, so transparent, so unguarded, so painfully unaware of how much control she had over me.

When her lips parted and she said, "Hum... hum thoda aur khayenge," I felt something shift inside me.
(I... I'll eat a little more.)

"Mai bhi khaunga"

(I'll eat too)

A grin spread across my face before I could stop it, wide and unashamed. She glanced at me, her narrowed eyes still holding the ghost of her frustration, but no reaction to my smile. I didn't mind. Her little defiance was endearing-no, maddening. It was hers. Only hers.

I didn't wait for her to change her mind. I mixed the rice and vegetables with my hand, not caring about the spoon lying beside me. My fingers scooped the perfect bite, warm and soft, and I leaned closer. Her lips trembled just a little as I held the food to her mouth. Her eyes darted up to mine-hesitant, questioning-but she opened her mouth.

The moment my fingers brushed against her lips, a spark ran through me. As she took the bite, my fingertips slipped into the warmth of her mouth, grazing her tongue. My throat tightened. Her lips closed around my fingers, soft and warm, and I swore I felt her innocence seep into my skin, taunting my dirty thoughts. I swallowed hard, fighting the urge to keep my fingers there longer than necessary, to claim more than just this fleeting moment.

Pulling my hand back slowly, I watched her chew, oblivious to the storm she stirred within me. My eyes never left her face as I took a bite for myself, savoring the taste but savoring her more. Every little movement she made was imprinted in my mind-the flutter of her lashes, the way her lips curved slightly as she swallowed. I was obsessed, completely, utterly consumed by this woman who didn't even realize the power she had over me. And I didn't want to stop.

No, I wanted more. Always more.

Her bangles tinkled softly as she moved her hand, the sound pulling me from my thoughts and back to her. My gaze instinctively followed the movement, drawn to the slender wrist adorned with the bangles I had bought for her this morning.

Forty-eight sets

Forty-eight sets in all different colors. I couldn't help but imagine how beautiful she would look, her arms fully adorned with them, the hues dancing against the deep brown of her mehendi.

The memory of the morning came rushing back, warm and vivid. She had sat there patiently as Kavita applied the mehendi, her hand outstretched, still and delicate. I remembered her voice, soft but teasing, when she instructed Kavita to write "Aarth" instead of Siddharth. My heart had clenched then, a feeling so deep and unfamiliar that it rooted me to the spot.

Aarth.

Her Aarth.

She had claimed me in that moment, not with words, but with that simple act. It was a strange, heady feeling-a warmth spreading through me, threatening to break the walls I had built around myself.

How could something so small make me feel like I was soaring? She had accepted me in a way I didn't even know I craved. And even now, seeing her hand decorated with those bangles and the deep color of the mehendi, I felt something tighten in my chest. It wasn't just love; it was something deeper, something that felt more like surrender.

I leaned forward, scooping up the last bite of rice, and brought it to her lips again. She hesitated, her anger still evident in the way her brows knitted together, but she took the bite nonetheless. The corners of her lips twitched as if trying to resist a frown, but her displeasure only made her look cuter. I watched her in silence, my heart thudding loudly in my chest.

Her anger never unsettled me; it only made me want to pull her closer, to cherish her in ways I couldn't even put into words. Even when she was frustrated, like this morning, when she had tried to scold me for going without informing me, it didn't annoy me. It made me smile. Every time she asserted herself, claiming her place as my wife, I felt like I belonged somewhere-for the first time in my life.

I never thought someone could belong to me or that I could belong to someone else. And yet, here she was-mine in every sense of the word. My wife. My Noor.

My light in a world that had been so painfully dark for so long.

I don't know if this is love. I don't think I've ever been in love before. I don't think I've ever been loved before, not in the way that matters. But what I feel for her... it's different. It's consuming, like I'm being pulled into an endless ocean, and yet I don't mind drowning. I don't think I've fallen completely yet.

It feels like I'm still at the edge, still falling. And even this beginning, this small part of it feels like I can't breathe without her.

Noor shifted in her seat, and I realized she was watching me. Without a word, I stood and took our plate, walking to the sink to wash the dishes. I could feel her gaze on my back, probably wondering why I was doing this. But I didn't mind. My hands moved automatically as I scrubbed the plates clean, my thoughts entirely consumed by her.

She was my beginning and my end. Even if she didn't know it yet.

Noor was still sitting on the kitchen slab, her small frame perched there like she belonged to that spot, as though the world could pause just to watch her exist. My hands stilled at the sink when I noticed her biting her lip. It wasn't intentional; I knew that. She was deep in thought, unaware of how that small act sent a rush of fire straight through my veins.

Fuck.

I sucked in a sharp breath, gripping the edge of the counter. She didn't even have to try, didn't even know what she was doing to me. Her presence alone was enough to unravel me every time.

It didn't matter if she was walking into a room or sitting silently. She had this maddening effect on me. The way her teeth gently pressed against her lower lip, the soft curve of her mouth-it wasn't just a sight. It was a weapon, and I was utterly defenseless against it.

She shifted slightly, and I tried-God, I tried-to focus on something else. But my mind betrayed me, lingering on thoughts that I shouldn't have been entertaining. How it would feel to tilt her chin up and bite that lip myself, to claim the redness for me alone.

And then, as if the universe wanted to test my restraint further, Noor hopped off the slab with a soft little jump. It was such a simple movement, yet my eyes followed her, locked onto the way her body moved. She was small and delicate, and it struck me in that moment how much I wanted to shield her from the world while selfishly keeping her all to myself.

The faint sound of her anklet hitting the tiled floor echoed in the quiet kitchen. My gaze traveled downward, catching the way her anklet sparkled against her skin before I dragged my eyes back up to her face, desperate to appear neutral. But she didn't look at me. She brushed her hands against her Saree, and when she spoke, her voice carried a casual tone that contrasted sharply with the chaos in my mind.

"Hum room mein ja rahe hain," she said softly, turning away without waiting for my response.

(I'm going in the room)

And just like that, she was walking away, her back to me, her hips swaying in a rhythm I couldn't unsee. My eyes, unbidden, fell to the curve of her waist, the delicate chain that rested there, its faint swing teasing me with each step. Her anklet chimed again as her feet moved, the sound mixing with the heady scent of sandalwood and jasmine that lingered in the air around her.

I closed my eyes, inhaling deeply as though that would steady me. It didn't. The image of her, the sound of her, the scent she left behind-all of it wrapped around me, tightening its grip. My head fell back slightly as I exhaled, a defeated smile pulling at my lips.

I was already ruined.

There was no denying it. She had me wrapped so tightly around her finger, and she didn't even know it. Three days. How the hell was I supposed to survive three days alone with her, in this small house, without losing every shred of self-control I thought I had? Every thought, every glance, every step she took pulled me deeper into a world I didn't want to escape from.

It wasn't a fight anymore. Noor had already won, and I was hers. Completely hers.
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I wiped my hands on the kitchen towel, staring down at the dishes now gleaming clean, the silence of the house wrapping around me like a blanket. But my mind wasn't quiet. It had been restless ever since I'd heard Kavita laughingly say this morning, "Mehendi ka rang jitna gehra, utna pati ka pyar."

That thought clawed at me, refusing to let go. It was silly, irrational even, but I didn't care. If there was any truth to it, then Noor's mehendi would have to be the darkest anyone had ever seen. Because my love for her-whether I could name it or not-was consuming.

And if love were a measure, then I wanted mine to bury the world in its weight.

Pulling my phone out, I leaned against the counter, my thumb swiping quickly to search for videos. "How to darken mehendi color." It was ridiculous, a grown man standing in his kitchen researching something like this, but I didn't care. Noor's hands, her soft palms, adorned with my name etched into the design-I wanted them stained so deeply with color that they screamed to the world she was mine.

The first video was quick to load, and some women chirped happily about home remedies. I jotted down mental notes, piecing together a plan.

Lemon and sugar syrup to seal the design, check. Clove fumes to lock in the stain, check. Avoiding water until the very last second-double-check.

My chest tightened as I imagined her hands, darkened with mehendi that spoke of love. A love I wanted God himself to know existed.

I slipped the phone back into my pocket, exhaling slowly, determination settling in my bones. Love wasn't just a word for me; it was an ache, a fire, a hunger.

I wanted to fall for her so deeply that even the concept of falling would become meaningless.

With that thought burning in my chest, I walked to our room, the door creaking softly as I pushed it open. Noor was standing in front of the mirror, her reflection catching the light just right, her hair falling in waves over her back. She was struggling with something, her fingers awkwardly trying to manage the dried mehendi on her hands.

Her small sigh escaped, and I took another step closer. She hadn't noticed me yet, her focus entirely on herself. That made it easier for me to stop just behind her, close enough to feel her warmth, to breathe in the faint mix of jasmine and sandalwood that clung to her skin.

I leaned forward, my lips dangerously close to her ear, and whispered, "Do you need some help, cherry?"

Her body tensed instantly, her shoulders stiffening, her breath catching audibly. I watched her in the mirror and saw how her eyes widened, a soft shiver running through her like a ripple in a still lake. She didn't move, but I could feel the way her pulse quickened, could almost hear the frantic beat of her heart against the silence.

For a second, I let the moment stretch, her trembling form against my steady one, and something primal surged in me. The need to claim her, to reassure her that no matter how much she trembled or how many walls she tried to put up, I would shatter every one of them.

I reached out, my fingers brushing against hers gently. "Let me," I murmured, my voice low, dark, possessive. She didn't pull away she never did, and that was enough.

For now.

I could feel her eyes on me through the mirror, and it was as if the world had quieted, leaving only the two of us in this moment. I leaned closer, my breath warm against her skin, and I saw it-how shy she was. The softness in her gaze, the faint tremble in her fingers as she hesitated.

And then she spoke, her voice barely a whisper, but it shot through me like a current.

"Zara pin khol de."

(Please open the pin)

I sucked in a sharp breath, the words barely sinking in before my mind caught up with them. Her hand gestured to her shoulder, where the saree was pinned, the fabric draped perfectly, hiding a part of her I wanted to uncover. I didn't move immediately, not out of hesitation, but because the weight of the moment made it feel like everything had stopped. She was asking me to touch her, to undo something I was dying to do.

I exhaled slowly, a deep, controlled breath, before I reached for the pin. My fingers brushed against the soft fabric of her saree, trembling slightly from the heat between us. Each movement felt like an eternity, but it was the kind of eternity I never wanted to end.

As I slowly slid the pin from the fabric, my eyes flickered to her face in the mirror. She was looking at me, her cheeks flushing a deep red, her breath coming a little quicker now. The sight of her-so exposed yet so utterly hers-had my heart racing, a wild thud in my chest that seemed to match the pulse in my veins.

I could feel my control slipping, bit by bit, as I carefully pulled the pin free. The soft rustle of fabric falling away only heightened the tension between us. I handed the pin to her, my fingers brushing against her skin, and I could feel the heat of her touch even though she didn't speak.

But then, I couldn't help myself anymore. My hand moved, sliding gently to the back of her neck, and without thinking, I pressed my lips to her soft skin, right where her shoulder met her neck.

I felt her tremble against me, her body stiffening, and for a second, I thought she might pull away. But she didn't.

She never does.

I kissed her again, this time along the length of her neck, moving from her shoulder to her ear. My lips tasted her skin, hot and sweet, and I couldn't stop myself. My hand slid lower, gripping the curve of her waist, feeling the smoothness of her skin under my fingertips.

Fuck!

And then my finger found the soft dip of her navel, sliding inside, and I couldn't contain the low groan that escaped me. The way her body responded to my touch, the way her waist molded perfectly beneath my hand-it was maddening.

I bit the soft spot where her neck met her shoulder, marking her as mine. Her breath hitched, and I could feel her shifting, her body leaning into me, her weight pressing against mine. And I could feel it-the unmistakable brush of her hips against my pants, the sudden tightening in my chest, in my stomach, and between my legs.

I didn't know how much longer I could hold on.

Her hand brushed over mine, hesitating for a moment as though she was unsure of herself. That hesitation was everything. I felt my body tense, my grip on control slipping. She wasn't pushing me away. She wasn't pulling me closer either, but her proximity was too much. Every small movement of hers pulled me deeper into the abyss of my own desire. I wanted more. Needed more.

My breath caught in my chest as I leaned in closer, feeling the heat of her body radiating against mine. The softest whisper escaped my lips, "You drive me mad, Cherry." My words didn't feel like a confession anymore. They felt like a declaration. She had no idea how close I was to breaking completely.

I kissed the curve of her neck, my lips lingering, as I felt her shudder beneath me. Her skin was like fire under my touch, and I couldn't stop myself. I wasn't sure if I was trying to claim her or if I was trying to burn myself alive in her presence.

Her cheeks flushed, a wave of heat rushing to them, but she wouldn't look at me directly. Her eyes flickered away as if trying to escape, but I wouldn't let her. I couldn't let her. I moved swiftly, pulling her into my arms, my body pressed flush against hers, feeling the frantic thrum of her pulse against me.

"You drive me to edges Cherry" I whispered, my lips grazing the edge of her ear. "Every time." I could feel her heart racing, her breath shallow as I slowly lowered her onto the bed. The weight of my gaze on her made her squirm, but she didn't resist. She was waiting for me. I could feel it.

I placed her in the center of the bed as though she was something fragile, something to be cherished, not be broken. Towering over her as I leaned in. My hand curled around her wrist, pinning it down gently against the soft fabric of the sheets. Her pulse was erratic under my fingers, the rhythm in her veins matching the chaos I could no longer contain.

"Noor," I said, my voice hoarse, laced with the hunger I could no longer disguise. "Every part of me, every piece of me, wants you. You don't know what you've done to me."

I leaned forward, hiding my face in the curve of her neck, her scent - Sandalwood & jasmine consuming every thought, every bounce of resistance I had left. My lips brushed against the sensitive skin of her neck, pressing a soft kiss, then another. Each kiss was a question, a plea, a promise. I moved lower, trailing my mouth down her neck, my lips claiming every inch of her skin. Her scent was intoxicating, and I couldn't get enough.

I felt her shift beneath me, her body responding to the tension between us. The way she trembled-just slightly, but enough for me to notice-only pushed me further into the storm of desire that was building between us. I couldn't wait anymore. I couldn't hold myself back.

"Do you have any idea what you're doing to me?" I growled softly, my hands trembling with the intensity of my emotions. "Every time you look at me every time you breathe, I'm undone. I want you more than you know. I want to burn, and you... you're the flame."

I couldn't stop myself anymore. I pressed a kiss to the hollow behind her ear, my lips marking her, claiming her in ways that would leave no doubt in my mind. I wanted to see my mark there every morning. I wanted to see it when she woke up, and I wanted her to know it was me. Only me.

I can feel her hand tightening on my collar, her fingers trembling against me. The small pressure is subtle, yet it speaks volumes, telling me that she's not backing away, not rejecting me. She accepted me.

My lips brush against her ear, my voice low and thick with an uncontained need that I can no longer control. "Stop me, Cherry," I whisper, my words both a question and a command. "Stop me."

She doesn't say a word. Her eyes are shut tight, her grip on me tightening-her pulse racing, I can feel it through her fingertips. Still, she doesn't stop me. She doesn't pull away, not even when my breath hovers against her skin, warm and unsteady. The silence between us hangs thick and heavy, and in that quiet, I hear everything. I hear the unspoken invitation-the hesitation, yes, but also the quiet surrender. She's not pulling back. She's leaving it to me to decide just how far this goes.

My heart pounds in my chest, and for a brief moment, I hesitate. I adore her, respect her too much to rush this, to push her into something she's not ready for. But damn it, the hunger in me is building, and it's hard to hold back. I need her. I need to claim her in a way that goes deeper than anything we've shared so far. My hands tremble with the urge to touch her and possess her, but I still fight the instinct to go too fast to push her into something too soon.

Her body responds to mine in subtle ways, her breath shallow and uneven, a small invitation I can't deny. Slowly, my fingers slip to the knot of her blouse. My hands are shaking, but I force myself to be slow, deliberate. The fabric comes loose under my touch, falling just enough to expose the soft, silken skin of her shoulder. I can't stop myself; I slide the blouse from her shoulder, my fingertips brushing over her skin as the fabric shifts.

A small part of her breast is exposed, the swell of it barely visible, but it's enough to make my pulse race. I can feel her breath hitch in response to the movement, her body stiffening, the tension building between us like a quiet storm. I lean in, my lips just barely brushing the air around her exposed skin, the softest caress that sends a wave of heat through my body.

I can't hold back anymore. My hand moves, almost like it has a mind of its own. It slides up, gripping her other breast with a firm, possessive pressure, and I feel her shudder under my touch, her breath catching in her throat. The sound she makes-a soft gasp that vibrates through me-drives me wild. It's a sign, an invitation. She's gasping, She's letting me touch her, letting me have her in ways she hasn't before.

For a moment, I freeze. My heart races in my chest, and I feel the heat of her skin beneath my hand, the tension in her body that mirrors my own. I hear the soft, almost inaudible moan that escapes her lips, and it shakes me to my core. I want more of her, all of her. But still, I pause. This isn't just about physical hunger-no, it's deeper than that. I need her to feel me. To feel my obsession for her in every touch, every kiss.

My lips move from her shoulder to her neck, the skin there so soft, so delicate. I kiss her with a hunger that is impossible to ignore. My mouth traces her neck, a trail of soft kisses that speaks more than words ever could. I can feel her pulse under my lips, racing faster as my lips move lower, closer to where I need to be.

I shift slightly, moving my hand from her breast, down her body. My fingertips graze the soft skin of her waist, and it drives me crazy. She's so close, so close to the edge, and I know it's only a matter of time before I take her there. But I won't rush. No. I want her to feel every inch of this.

I kiss her again on the swell of her breast, harder this time, deeper. I'm marking her in the only way I know how, showing her just how much I need her, how much she's driving me insane. My hands grip her waist, pulling her closer to me, feeling the heat of her body against mine.

I can't get enough of her. She's mine, and I want her to know it.

I pressed another kiss to the soft curve of her breast, the warmth of her skin igniting a fire that consumed me. My lips lingered, tasting, savoring, each kiss a desperate plea. A groan slipped from my throat, too caught in the craving that twisted within me. My hand tightened around the fullness of her other breast, and I felt her breath catch, sharp and shallow, as if she were being pulled under by the weight of this moment.

Her fingers tangled in my hair, pulling me closer, urging me to stay. But it wasn't enough. It only urged me lower, deeper, as I moved, unable to control the relentless pull she had on me.

I felt the hardened peak of her nipple beneath my palm while my lips traced the growing firmness through the fabric. My pants tightened, and a dry ache settled in my throat. Just the faintest touch of her and breathing became a struggle. I took the small, hardened nub between my lips, lightly grazing it with my teeth, just enough to coax a soft moan from her.

"Aarth..." she whispered, her voice trembling. I responded by flicking my tongue, savoring the warmth of her clothed nipple, feeling its shape and softness against the tip of my tongue, unable to stop myself.

I couldn't get enough of her, no matter how much I tried. Her nipple hardened beneath my lips, and I sucked gently, my mind spiraling as I felt the softness of her breast, the weight of it pressing into my palm. They were perfect, bigger than I ever imagined, soft, full, just waiting for me.

I gripped her, feeling the tenderness, the flesh yielding under my touch, and it was maddening. My pants tightened even more, the pressure unbearable, my body aching for more of her, desperate for everything she could give me.

I pulled her nipple between my teeth, just the right amount of pressure, just enough to make her moan softly. The sound was like fire in my veins, and I couldn't stop, couldn't pull away. My tongue flicked over her clothed nipple, feeling it shift under my touch, begging for more.

Her body trembled beneath mine, the soft curve of her breast in my hand driving me crazy with need. I wanted to taste every inch of her, and it was becoming harder to breathe. My mind was lost in her. She was all I could think of, all I could feel.

I looked up at her, my lips still sucking on her soft, swollen nipple, her body writhing beneath me. Her hair was scattered across the bed, a beautiful mess, her forehead marked with the smudge of sindoor, a symbol of everything she was to me. Her cheeks were flushed, her eyes half-closed, her lips parted as she gasped for air. She was so fucking beautiful, so perfect, I couldn't stop staring. Each breath, each soft sound she made was a prayer to me, something I would never forget. This moment, this woman-she was mine.

I reluctantly left her nipple, my lips trailing up to her face, kissing her cheek, tasting the salt of her skin, before I kissed her forehead with a reverence that only I could feel for her. Slowly, she opened her eyes, her gaze hazy with pleasure, tears shimmering in her eyes, and it was like the world stopped. My hand caressed her cheek, and I couldn't help but adore her more, even in this intimate chaos. She was mine, and I would cherish her forever.

"Bahut khubsurat hai aap cherry, sab kuch bhula deti hai mujhe," I murmured, my voice thick with possessiveness, pressing a kiss near her chin. Near the mole that always catches my attention.

(You are very beautiful, Cherry, you make me forget everything.)

Her breath hitched, a shudder running through her as she whispered,

"R-Ruk j-jaiye."
(P-Please stop.)

But I couldn't stop. The way her body responded to me, how she surrendered so completely, made it impossible. I was lost in her. I needed more.

I could see it in her eyes, the way her breath faltered, the way her body trembled-she wanted to stop, and when she wanted to stop, I would listen.

My lips left her skin, but my gaze lingered on her, still burning with a possessiveness that wouldn't wane. The heat between us was undeniable, a storm I didn't want to let go of, but I would. For her.

I moved up, pressing a soft kiss to her forehead, my touch tender, as though I couldn't bear the idea of letting her go. I couldn't take my eyes off her: her cheeks flushed, her bangles broken, scattered across the bed like small fragments of her.

The scent of mehendi still lingered,, the intricate design darken by now, just like the intensity of this moment. A part of her remained untamed, untouched by the chaos that consumed us.

I brushed the strands of hair from her face, my hand lingering there, tracing the curve of her jaw, before slowly pulling away. I couldn't stand being away from her, but I needed to feel in control to make sure she felt this as much as I did. I leaned down, pressing another kiss on her forehead, softer this time, as if I couldn't get enough of her closeness, her warmth. Every inch of her called to me.

I pulled back, my eyes still locked on her, my chest heaving with the need to be closer, but understanding the moment needed space. I moved to stand, but something kept me there, just slightly out of reach. I couldn't bear the thought of fully letting her go. I needed to feel her, to know she was still mine.

With a slow, deliberate movement, I stepped away, glancing at her one last time before heading toward the washroom, my mind racing with everything that had just happened, everything I wanted, and the part of me that couldn't control the depth of my obsession for her.
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The cold water of the shower hit me like a shock to my system. I needed it to cool down, to suppress the heat that had built up inside me. But it wasn't working. All I could hear was her moan in my head. All I could feel was her soft skin pressed against my lips. I closed my eyes, trying to push the thoughts away, but they only came at me stronger, more vivid.

Her warmth lingered on my skin, the feel of her body so close, her softness filling my mind. I imagined her skin, her curves, every inch of her under my hands. I could almost feel it, her breast in my palm, the way it felt so delicate, yet it took up my whole hand. She was perfect, her softness making my heart race. I couldn't stop thinking about it, about how much I needed to touch her, to feel her.

The more I tried to control it, the worse it got. I couldn't keep my thoughts clean. My hand moved on its own, down my body on my hard on, driven by the desperate need. Even under the cold water, I burned with desire. Every breath, every memory of her body, was enough to push me to the edge.

"My cherry..." I whispered, voice hoarse, my body trembling as I thought of her. "Noor"

The images of her came faster, harder-her skin, her softness, the way she'd react to my touch. I imagined taking her in every way, holding her, tasting her, and it was too much. My body moved off its own accord, my hand stroking, faster, needing more. I couldn't stop.

"Fuck ... no, Fuck... you're mine... all mine," I breathed out, not regretting a damn thing. No, I was lost in her-completely, utterly lost. My pulse quickened, my body tensing as I reached the edge, and with one final, desperate push, I came, my breath catching in my throat.

I rested my forehead against the shower wall, trying to regain some control, but it was impossible. My chest heaved as I tried to steady myself, my mind still spiraling. She was all I could think about, all I wanted.

Finally, I forced myself to calm down. I stepped out of the shower, wrapped a towel around my waist, but the heat of her still clung to me. I could feel her, see her in my mind, and it made me ache all over again.

I walked into the room, my eyes immediately finding her. She was curled up, asleep, her body covered with the duvet, but the sight of her like this... it made something tighten in my chest. Her blouse was undone, one shoulder slightly exposed, the fabric falling off her as she slept, leaving her bare skin vulnerable, begging for my touch.

I couldn't take my eyes off her. There was something about the way she lay there, so exposed, so pure in her sleep that it made my heart race. I moved closer, my gaze never leaving her. She was mine, and I couldn't wait to have her, again and again.

But for now, I watched her, savoring the sight of her, knowing that nothing would be the same once I touched her again.

I couldn't look away from her hands, her skin still marked with the rich, dark stain of mehendi. The intricate patterns from hours ago lay across her palms like a secret, deep and alive. The stillness of the room held its breath, as did I. A soft breath left her lips, and my gaze moved to her skin, the warmth in it, the delicate curve of her fingers-everything felt so... perfect.

I moved silently, not even pausing to consider my actions, just instinct. I dressed as though the world around me no longer existed. The kitchen felt distant, but my feet carried me there as if drawn by some invisible force. The bowl, the lemon, the sugar-my hands worked, each movement deliberate, and I knew the syrup would darken the henna, make it deep and rich, like the thoughts that consumed me when I saw her.

When I returned, I was quiet again, kneeling beside her, taking her hand in mine with a tenderness that didn't need to be spoken. Her hand felt like the earth, warm and alive beneath my fingers. Every inch of her was a part of something deeper than I could ever explain. Only this need to touch, to care, to make this moment linger, to make it unforgettable.

To see her smile. Because of me.

I pressed the cotton to her palm, the syrup spreading across her skin, darkening it just as it darkened my thoughts. Each motion was slow, deliberate, as if I were committing something sacred to memory, something I never wanted to forget. I could feel her skin-smooth, soft, yet there was strength in it. Her hand in mine was a tether, keeping me grounded even as my heart raced.

I moved to the other hand, and again, I applied the syrup, my fingers brushing her skin, feeling the faint pulse beneath. There was nothing else now. Only this.

I looked up, and for the first time, I noticed the way her face was bathed in the soft light of the morning. The sun kissed her skin, lighting up the warm brown of her complexion like it was the most precious thing in the world. She wasn't pale. She wasn't dark. She was the perfect shade in between, glowing with life, with a softness that made my chest ache. Her eyes-those eyes-like deep pools of amber, soft yet sharp, revealing more than I could ever know. Her lips, full and inviting, held a silent promise, a mystery in their shape. Her nose, perfectly sculpted, brought balance to the softness of her face.

I found myself mesmerized. The light framed her face like a halo, and for a moment, I forgot everything but her. My fingers, once again, gripped the cotton in my hands as I began the next task-heating the pan. There was no hesitation. There was no thought beyond the need to see this through, to make sure it was perfect, as if each little action would bind me closer to her, to this moment that felt like it was both fleeting and eternal.

I walked into the kitchen, the clove burned in the heat, and I could smell the richness filling the room. I moved back to her, pressing it gently to her skin, watching as the warmth spread, as though the heat could somehow pull her closer, connect us in some way I couldn't name. I didn't need to name it. I just needed to act on it.

Back to the kitchen, back to the pan, to repeat the process. My thoughts swirled, but there was no room for doubt. There was no room for anything except the devotion in my hands as I cared for her, as I did these small things, not because she needed them, but because they were what I had to do-there was the act I can do for her.

Each moment passed. Time didn't matter. I gave her hand the clove steam to thd one last time, and when I looked at the clock, it was late-early, really. 2 am

But that was unimportant. The only thing that mattered now was her. The way the light caught the high cheekbones, the way her lips parted slightly as she slept, as though they were waiting for something.

I kneeled beside the bed again, my gaze fixed on her. The soft brown of her skin, the gentle curve of her jawline, the way her hair fell across her face like a dark veil. It was all there-perfect, beautiful, endless. My heart raced again, but it wasn't just the heat of the moment. It was the realization that in this silence, in this moment, I had everything I never thought I deserved.

Nothing else mattered.

I leaned closer, just enough to feel the heat of her breath, just enough to know that she was real, that she was with me, in this moment my peace, my solace, without any need for words.
.
.
.
.
.
.

I returned from the kitchen, the weight of the night settling in as I approached her. The soft glow of the room seemed to fall perfectly around us, making her even more radiant. My heart beat in time with the pulse of the quiet, and as I laid beside her, my hand instinctively found her waist, pulling her closer.

She felt warm, the softness of her skin against mine grounding me. I buried my face into the curve of her neck, inhaling deeply, her scent wrapping around me like a whisper of peace.

There was something intoxicating about her-something I could never put into words, but I felt it with every fiber of my being. My lips found her chest, pressing a soft kiss over her breast, and I couldn't help but linger there, lost in the sensation of her closeness.

I kissed her again, gently, reverently, as if the moment might slip away if I didn't savor it. I let my face bury deeper against her, feeling the steady rise and fall of her chest beneath me. My arms wrapped around her, holding her as though she was the only thing that could make me feel whole.

There was no need for words, no need for anything more than this. In this moment, with her in my arms, I found everything I had been searching for. Peace. Solace. She was the one thing that could calm the storm inside of me.

I closed my eyes, pressing my lips softly against her once more, feeling the warmth of her body beneath mine. And like every time I sleep beside her with her in my arms, knowing that with her everything else was nothing but distant noise.

And she was my solace.

My cherry.
_

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