Pratham

Lying on the bed, as I wait for Nitya to return with the oil, I find myself smiling at the ceiling. After so long I feel lighthearted joy creeping within me.

And it's only because of my lovely wife.

The door opens, and I smilingly gaze at Nitya as she steps inside the room. But my smile dims when I continue looking at her. Her face is too red and she looks flustered.

"Nitya?" I sit up on the bed, my smile now completely fading and replaced by a frown. "What happened?"

She seems a little frazzled, clutching the bottle of oil to her chest like it's some kind of shield. She doesn't say anything at first, her eyes darting around the room and the floor as if she is looking for an escape.

It only makes my concern grow.

"What's wrong?" I ask, climbing down from the bed and walking to where she is standing.

"It's nothing," she mumbles, but looking at her state I know it definitely is not nothing.

I move closer to her. "Tell me, Nitya. What happened?"

She glances at me for a moment and then sighs heavily. "Dhritiji, Shrutiji, and Namanji are here."

"Ah, yes. Bhaiyya had told me yesterday that he would be coming here today with Bhabhi and Dhriti. But I thought they were coming in the afternoon," I tell her. "Still, why do you look so flustered on seeing them? Did something happen?"

Nitya hesitates, and I am unable to figure out why she looks so embarrassed. Her fingers fidgets with the bottle in her hands, and he bites her lip before continuing, "When they asked me why I looked so tensed, I blurted out that..." She trails off, her face reddening even more.

"That?" I urge her to continue.

She squeezes her eyes shut and says, "That you are feeling sore all over from the last night."

I stare at her for a second, and then it hits me like a punchline to a joke. With the realization dawning, the laughter bubbles up. It starts low, and before I know it, I'm laughing, really laughing.

"Oh, no," I say through my laughter, clutching my stomach. "You said that?"

Nitya looks horrified as she stares at me and I quickly rein in my laughter. "I'm sorry. It was just too funny."

"It's not that funny," she murmurs, clearly mortified. "Yash bhaiyya and Namanji practically ran out of the apartment, and Shrutiji and Dhritiji were relentless in their teasing."

I lowly chuckle, squeezing her shoulder. "It's okay, Nitya. It's really no big deal. Let them think what they want."

"But how will I—" She abruptly stops, frowning as she looks at me. "You are standing and walking just fine, Prathamji. If your back was really hurting that badly, you wouldn't be moving around like this."

Oops.

Getting concerned after seeing her flustered, I had totally forgotten about my backache—or rather—pretend backache.

I immediately put my hands over my back. "Mm, ahh," I let out a low groan. "I was worried for you so I tolerated the pain while I talked with you." I attempt to sound convincing by hissing lightly as I slowly lean on the wall. "My back, my shoulders, my legs... I'm feeling sore all over."

Nitya crosses her arms and narrows her eyes, contemplating whether she should believe me.

"Prathamji, are you really—"

"Please, Nitya," I interrupt, reaching for her hand. "Help me in get back to the bed. I don't think I can stand much longer."

Concern mixed with slight amusement flits across her face and she shakes her head as she leads me to the bed.

I fully lean into the pretense, groaning and making it seem like every movement was a struggle to me.

After Nitya makes me sit on the bed, she keeps the oil on the bedside table and looks at me. "Umm, I'll massage your back now."

"You'll first need to take my t-shirt off," I tell her. "I feel too sore to do it myself."

At my words, Nitya freezes. Her eyes widening as if I have asked her to do something scandalous.

"Y-your t-shirt o-off?" She slightly stutters.

I bite back a smirk. "Are you thinking to massage my back over my t-shirt then?" I ask her. "Umm, I don't think it will be effective."

She doesn't say anything, but looking at her flustered face, I feel guilt creep in.

Did I push too far?

"It's alright, Nitya," I say gently, smiling at her. "You don't want to, you don't need to d—"

"No. I want to see your back," she blurts out, cutting me off.

I blink, surprised by what she said. She seems equally surprised too and her face turns red in record time.

"I, umm, if I'm going to, you know, give you the massage, I should see your back and checkout the muscles," she lowly groans, squeezing her eyes shut. "I mean, check the soreness in the muscles."

My lips twitch, amusement bubbling up. "You want to see my back and checkout my muscles?" I ask, raising an eyebrow.

"No! I mean, yes, but—" She flounders, looking everywhere but at me. "Just for the massage. Nothing else."

I was really enjoying teasing her. She just looked too adorable, blushing and flustered. But not wanting to push too far and make it awkward for her, I say, "Hmm, if that's the case, go ahead."

Biting her lower lip, she reaches for the hem of my shirt and pulls it over my head. Her blush deepening as her eyes dart between my bare chest and everywhere else in the room.

"You don't need to do it if you don't want to," I say, giving her an out.

"I want to," she replies, and nodding at her, I lie down on my stomach.

After waiting for a few seconds, I feel a jolt of warmth spread through me as soon as her hands make contact with my back.

Her touch is tentative at first, her fingers gently pressing on my skin, but soon, she finds her rhythm, her hands becoming firm yet soothing.

I close my eyes, relishing in her touch that's making my heart race. Every stroke of her hands sending heat through my body.

It isn't the massage—it's Nitya, so close, her breath tickling my skin every now and then, her presence evoking something deep and tender within me.

I wonder if she also feels the same.

Is her heart racing too?

Is she as affected by this as I am?

The questions gnaw at me, and I'm unable to resist my urge to know.

So, I slowly shift just enough to glance over my shoulder.

And what I see takes my breath away.

Nitya is leaning over me. Her face flushed and her breathing a little faster than normal. Her lips are slightly parted, her chest rising and falling with every breath. Gazing at her, I feel a surge of love, affection, and desire.

But then, out of nowhere, a memory creeps in.

"Do you think you deserve to be happy after what you did to me?"

Sandhya's voice hits me in such a way that it falters my heart for a moment and causes my chest to tighten with guilt.

Do I deserve this?

After everything I have done, do I deserve Nitya's love and care?

My mind races, battling the surge of guilt rapidly rising within me. The fear that I will somehow ruin things with Nitya begins to claw at me, causing my whole being to freeze due to it.

"Prathamji?" Nitya's voice breaks through the haze, pulling me back to the present.

Her hands rests on my shoulder as she asks, "Are you okay?"

I look at her, gulping the lump formed in my throat as I see her watching me with slightly furrowed brow, her eyes filled with care and warmth.

That warmth is for me. Her care is for me. She is here with me.

I push aside the remnants of my past. I won't let it steal this from me. I won't.

"I am fine," I tell her.

Nitya's eyes searches mine for a second, as if trying to make sure, and then she gives a small nod, going back to the massage.

Sighing softly, I continue gazing at her. I don't know if I deserve to be happy or not and it doesn't matter. What matters to me is her—Nitya. The woman I love. And I'll spend my whole life giving her the happiness that she deserves.

With the rush of emotions overwhelming me, I suddenly turn around to lie on my back and grab her hands.

"I love you," I whisper, my voice raw, filled with the emotions swirling within me. Squeezing her hands, I pull her toward me, closer, needing her near. "I love you so much."

Looking at Nitya as she stares at me with wide eyes and lips parted slightly, I feel that those three words aren't enough. That they can't express everything I feel for her. So, I do the only thing that makes sense to me—I pull her even closer and kiss her.

The moment my lips meet hers, I feel like something inside me has unraveled. I kiss her softly, tangling my hands in her hair, holding her close to me, as my lips move against hers. I want her to feel everything through it—how much I care for her, how much I love her, and how much I need her.

Nitya's response is immediate and just as fervent. She kisses me back with equal passion, her breath mingling with mine as we deepen the kiss.

I feel her lean into me, her body pressing against mine as the kiss becomes more intense. Everything else ceases to exist, and all that matters is this—two of us, locked in this moment.

With a sudden surge of need broiling within me, I shift our positions, flipping us so that Nitya is now lying beneath me. Her body sinking into the mattress, while I hover over her.

Our lips part for just a second, enough for me to see the flush on her cheeks, her chest rising and falling quickly, her lips swollen from our kiss. She looks breathtaking.

I lean down again, claiming her lips with more urgency this time. The kiss is rougher, and she matches me with same intensity, same hunger. Our breaths come in sharp gasps between kisses, the heat between us nearly overwhelming.

My hands move down to her waist, gripping her tightly, pulling her closer to me, wanting to feel every inch of her body against mine.

She moans softly into my mouth, and it sends a shiver through me, driving me wild. My lips travel to her jawline, trailing slow kisses there, working my way to her neck. I am about to go further down but her voice stops me.

"Wait," she whispers, panting as her hand gently presses against my chest.

I pull back, hovering over her, breathless, as I meet her gaze. I can see my desire reflected in her eyes, but her expression has shifted.

"I need to talk with you about a few things," she says, her voice soft, yet carrying a weight that sends a sharp jolt through me.