Chapter 43: (Aaira's pov)

I was on the floor, playing with Aimin, who was engrossed in building a small tower with his blocks. Annabelle, lay curled up in a sunbeam, her gentle purring a soothing background to the quiet evening. Aimin looked up from his blocks, his small face filled with concern.

Aimin: Mum?

He asked softly. I met his gaze, trying to keep my smile steady.

Aaira: Yes, baby?

I replied, my voice as gentle as I could manage. He tilted his head slightly, his innocent eyes searching mine.

Aimin: You sad?

He asked, his little brow furrowed with worry. I shook my head slowly, trying to dispel the truth of my feelings. Aimin, sensing my hesitation, crawled over to me and wrapped his tiny arms around me in a hug.

Aimin: Get well soon.

He murmured, his voice a soft whisper against my ear.

Aimin: Dadda say Mum sick.

His words, though simple, were filled with a sincere wish for my recovery. I smiled at him, my heart swelling with affection and gratitude. I nodded, unable to find the words to fully express how much his gesture meant to me.

I hugged him back, holding him close for a moment longer, letting his small frame provide me with the solace I needed. As I pulled away, Aimin's smile was calm to my soul.

Aimin: I not worry you more.

I smiled at him, his voice sounded so small as if he was guilty, that he made me worry about himself.

Aaira: You don't have to do that, I love to worry about my baby.

There was a sudden smile on his lips, as he blushed deeply, his cheeks turning a shade of pink that was almost the same as his blocks. His fingers began to fidget nervously with the edge of his shirt, twisting and turning in a manner.

Aimin then reached out carefully and touched my forehead with the tips of his tiny fingers. His touch was soft, almost hesitant, but filled with an earnestness that was impossible to ignore. His eyes widened in surprise, and he quickly withdrew his hand, looking at me with concern and confusion.

Aimin: Hot, hot!

He said, his voice trembling slightly. I couldn't help but laugh softly at his innocent reaction, the sound of my laughter mixing with the purring of Annabelle in the sunbeam. I reached out and gently touched his warm cheeks, the heat from his tiny hands still lingering on my skin.

Aaira: Is it hot, sweetheart?

I asked, still smiling at his adorable display of concern. Aimin nodded vigorously, his blush deepening. His eyes were wide with a blend of worry and determination, as if he was trying to solve a great mystery.

Aimin: Mum, hot.

He repeated, clearly distressed about the heat he had felt. I leaned in closer, wrapping my arms around him once more and kissing his forehead softly.

Aaira: It's okay, baby. I'm fine. I think you just need to get used to feeling things. Your hands were a bit warm, that's all.

Aimin looked up at me, I continued to hold him, my heart full of love for this little boy who, despite his tender age, seemed to have an innate ability to care deeply for those around him.

The door to the room creaked open, and Aimin's head snapped towards the sound. He wriggled out of my embrace and dashed across the room with a burst of energy, his small feet pattering on the floor. Standing in the doorway was Jungkook, holding a tray of food. He glanced at Aimin.

Jungkook: Aimin, be careful.

He said gently, setting the tray down on a nearby table as he reached out to catch the little boy. Aimin clung to Jungkook's legs, looking up at him with wide, trusting eyes. I watched with a soft smile as Jungkook carefully lifted Aimin into his arms. However, Aimin's shout broke the moment.

Aimin: Mum hot!

Jungkook's eyes widened in surprise, and he looked from Aimin to me, his expression shifting from worry to something more complicated.

Aimin: Mum head hot!

Aimin repeated, his voice was tinged with distress. Jungkook's gaze lingered on me. He set Aimin down gently and took a step towards me, his eyes searching for mine.

Jungkook: Are you alright?

He asked, I nodded.

Aaira: I'm fine, just a bit warm.

Jungkook stepped closer, his expression shifting from concern to alarm as he reached out and placed his hand gently on my forehead. His eyes widened as he felt the heat radiating from my skin.

Jungkook: You're not just warm. You have a high fever.

I gasped softly, blinking in surprise at his diagnosis. My hand instinctively moved to my forehead, but Jungkook quickly took control, turning to Aimin with a serious look.

Jungkook: Aimin wasn't wrong. You're very hot.

Aimin looked up at Jungkook with worry and confusion, but Jungkook's focus quickly returned to me. Without another word, he gently helped me lay back on the bed. He then took Aimin by the hand, guiding him out of the room while giving me a reassuring smile.

A few moments later, Jungkook reappeared with a bowl of cool water and a cloth in his hands. He set the bowl on the bedside table and carefully dipped the cloth into the water. With practiced movements, he began to gently wipe my forehead, his touch was tender and soothing.

Jungkook: Just relax. This should help bring down the fever.

Jungkook's movements were deliberate and careful as he continued to change the strips on my forehead. The cool cloth, dipped in the water, felt soothing against my heated skin. Each time he lifted the cloth away and replaced it with a fresh one, the cooling sensation brought a momentary relief.

The room was quiet except for the faint sound of the occasional rustling of the cloth in the bowl of water. The evening light filtered softly through the curtains, casting a gentle glow that seemed almost surreal given the intensity of the moment.

Jungkook: This should help a bit more.

He said softly, his voice almost a whisper. He adjusted the cloth on my forehead, ensuring it covered every spot that felt warm. His fingers brushed against my skin with an tenderness that spoke volumes more than any words could.

I closed my eyes, focusing on the soothing effect of his care. The fever was draining me, yet i couldn't make myself feel it, his presence was making me feel calm. As he set the bowl aside, Jungkook lay down beside me on the bed. His body, warm and solid, pressed gently against mine as he wrapped his arm around me in a light embrace.

Jungkook: I missed this.

The closeness was unexpected, and for a moment, I was taken aback. I could feel the rhythm of his breath against my side, a steady, calming presence. I wanted to protest, to argue the pointlessness of his apologies when so much had gone wrong, but the sincerity in his actions was undeniable.

Jungkook: I'm sorry.

His voice was muffled against my shoulder, filled with a depth of emotion that seemed to span the breadth of our past arguments and misunderstandings. I nodded slightly, not trusting myself to speak. Yet, i tried to muster a response.

Aaira: It's okay.

I whispered, though part of me felt it wasn't really okay.

Jungkook: I mean it. I'm sorry for everything.

His voice was firmer this time, as if he was struggling to find the right words to convey his regret. I shifted slightly, turning my head to look at him.

Aaira: If saying sorry could heal everything between us, then I'd be sorry too.

My voice carried a note of bitterness, a reflection of the lingering wounds that his apologies could not fully mend. Jungkook fell silent, his hold on me tightening just a fraction.

Jungkook: I know words don't fix everything, but I want to try. I want to be here for you, for us.

Aaira: I appreciate that, My Lord.

He didn't respond immediately, his silence speaking volumes. Instead, he continued to hold me. His arm around me was a silent promise of his willingness to try, even if words alone could not erase the past.

The minutes ticked by as we lay there, the room filled with the soft rustle of the sheets and the gentle hum of the evening outside. The cooling cloth on my forehead was replaced with a fresh one, and Jungkook's hand remained steady on my side.

The room grew quieter as the night deepened, the occasional rustle of the sheets blending with the soothing sounds of the evening outside. The cooling cloth on my forehead continued to bring relief.

Jungkook: Just focus on resting.

He whispered softly, his voice a low murmur as if not to disturb the fragile peace we were sharing. His hand gently stroked my arm, the touch both soothing and grounding. Gradually, my eyelids grew heavy. The peaceful silence made it difficult to stay awake, and I could no longer fight the pull of sleep.

I nestled closer to him, allowing the warmth of his embrace to envelop me. In the quiet of the night, as sleep claimed me, the boundaries between past and present seemed to blur. As I drifted off, the night passed in a serene stillness, the room bathed in the soft glow of moonlight filtering through the curtains.

***

The soft patter of rain against the window stirred me from my slumber. I blinked groggily, the lingering effects of the fever still making my head spin slightly. I turned my head, expecting to see Jungkook beside me, but the space next to me was empty.

I sat up slowly, feeling the room swaying just a bit. The rain's gentle rhythm was a soothing backdrop, and I felt a faint smile tug at my lips as I remembered the secret library Jungkook's always found in. I wanted to see him, even if just for a moment.

I carefully climbed out of bed, my legs feeling a bit unsteady beneath me. The coolness of the floor against my bare feet was refreshing, and I took a deep breath to steady myself. I walked slowly towards the door, the sound of the rain growing a bit more pronounced as I moved closer to the corridor.

As I stepped outside, the gentle light from the lamps reached my eyes, making it hard to open them. I paused for a moment, listening intently. The rain was a constant, rhythmic murmur, but beyond that, there was only the quiet hum of the house settling for the night.

I made my way down the corridor, the soft padding of my footsteps mingling with the rain's pattern. My mind was fuzzy, I approached the entrance to our grand library.

The door to the library was slightly ajar, a sliver of light spilling into the corridor. I pushed it open gently, peering inside. As i walked in the big door closed behind me, I smiled at the nostalgic smell of the books in this rainy season.

The library was silent, save for the occasional drip of rain against the window panes. I moved toward the secret passage and noticed that the door was slightly open. It seemed Jungkook must be downstairs. I carefully descended the narrow stairs.

As I reached the bottom of the stairs, I could see Jungkook through the spiralling stairs, his back turned to me. He was seated at the pottery wheel, his hands covered in clay, working with a focused intensity.

He was smoking, and the sight of him, with his face and arms smeared in the earthy substance, was unexpectedly intimate. I hesitated for a moment, not wanting to interrupt his creative process. His concentrated effort, paired with the slight sweat glistening on his skin, painted a picture of artistry.

The cigarette in his hand was lighted, creating a small layer of smoke in the air, I hate it when he smokes, he took small light puffs of his little cigar. Jungkook seemed unaware of my presence, absorbed entirely in shaping the clay. His movements were methodical, a rhythm of practiced skill and concentration. I watched, transfixed by the quiet grace of his work.

I took a deep breath and slowly approached, careful not to make any noise. Jungkook's shoulders tensed slightly as he felt the subtle shift in the air. He turned his head slowly, his eyes meeting mine.

Jungkook: Aaira?

His voice was low, carrying a note of concern as he set aside the clay-covered tools and wiped his hands on a nearby cloth, as he covered his artwork under a rich red cloth. His gaze softened, as his eyes took in my presence.

Jungkook: You should be resting.

He stood up, the clay still covering parts of him. I could see the earnestness in his expression, the way his concern for me remained polite.

Aaira: I wanted to see you.

I replied, Jungkook stepped closer, his eyes searching mine as if to gauge my condition.

Jungkook: You need to get back to bed.

His tone was gentle but firm, and I could see the conflict in his eyes as he tried to balance his concern with his desire to comfort me. I nodded.

Aaira: I just wanted to be near you for a while.

Jungkook moved closer to me, his hands gently resting on my waist. His touch was warm and reassuring, grounding me in the present moment. His eyes, never left mine as he guided me back toward the stairs at a distance.

Aaira: I hate it when you smoke.

He took another puff of the cigarette, sarcastically. I pulled out the cigarette from his hands, as I threw it in the ground, I stared at him, he just give me a small smile. Sucking his lower lips, before it curled up in a smirk.

Jungkook: I love it when you care.

Aaira: I love it when you listen to me.

Jungkook: You should be resting.

He pulled me closer, looking deep inside my eyes, searching for any sign of distress.

Jungkook: Let me take care of you, atleast now.

Aaira: My lord, you don't need to...

Jungkook shook his head, his expressions were serious yet tender.

Jungkook: No, Aaira. This is important to me.

His gaze softened as he gently slid his fingers down my belly, his touch light but deliberate. He guided me towards a comfortable spot on a nearby sofa, his movements were very careful as if he were handling something precious.

Jungkook: I've been preparing something special for you. An apology gift.

His words were gentle, I smiled faintly, touched by his sincerity, but there was a part of me that still felt conflicted.

Aaira: You don't need to go through all this effort. I understand.

He shook his head again. He leaned in, his lips brushing softly against my forehead. The kiss was gentle.

Jungkook: I know, but I need to show you that I'm committed to making things right. It's important to me that you know how much I care.

He stepped back slightly, his hand still resting on my waist as he looked at me. I saw the earnestness in his eyes, the way he was trying to convey his feelings through both words and actions.

Aaira: Thank you. It means a lot to me.

Jungkook nodded, his expression softening as he guided me back toward the stairs. As he helped me settle in, draping a warm, soft blanket over my legs. His touch was careful and considerate. Once I was comfortable, he stood up and moved toward the pottery wheel.

I watched Jungkook, I noticed the way his muscles shifted with each motion. He moved with a beautiful grace. The dim light of the library cast a soft glow over him, highlighting the defined contours of his physique and the focused intensity in his eyes.

Jungkook was blocking my view of the sculpture, his back turned to me as he worked. I could see the faint outline of his body through the distance, the way his muscles tensed and relaxed as he shaped the clay. I found myself mesmerized by the sight of him at work.

As he continued, his movements became more fluid, the clay taking shape beneath his expert hands. He occasionally glanced over his shoulder, his eyes meeting mine with a small smile. Despite the barrier of his body blocking my view, the curiosity of seeing what he was creating kept me captivated.

The rain outside, combined with the soft light of the library, made the atmosphere feel intimate and serene. Each time Jungkook shifted or adjusted his stance, I found myself drawn to the rhythm of his movements, the way his body seemed to merge seamlessly with the creative process.

After a few moments, Jungkook finished his work and carefully covered the sculpture with a rich red cloth. He took a deep breath, turning towards me with a satisfied look. His eyes softened as he approached, and he sat down beside me on the sofa, his hand still resting gently on my leg.

Jungkook: I hope you'll like it.

He said softly, I could see the warmth in his gaze, a reflection of the care and effort he had put into the creation. I reached out and placed my hand over his, feeling the reassuring warmth of his touch.

Aaira: I'm sure I will.

I replied, my voice carrying a note of appreciation. Jungkook smiled, his expression filled with relief and affection. He leaned in closer, his face a breath away from mine, and his eyes searched mine for a reaction.

Jungkook: I wanted to make something special, something that would show you how much you mean to me.

I nodded, his hand gently squeezed mine, and he leaned in to press a soft kiss to my forehead. As he pulled back, I met his gaze with a smile.

Aaira: Thank you. It means more to me than you know.

His face showed how excited he was to show me his artwork, he moved towards the red cloth. He gestured for me to follow, and I nodded, rising carefully from the sofa. Each step felt measured, my legs still a bit wobbly from the fever, but the warmth of Jungkook's hand in mine provided steady support.

As we approached the covered sculpture, I felt my heart race. Jungkook's fingers gripped the edges of the red cloth, and with a deep breath, he looked at me, his expression both hopeful and apprehensive.

Jungkook: Go ahead. Pull it off.

His voice was soft, almost reverent. I took a final deep breath and carefully grasped the edge of the cloth, my fingers trembling slightly. With a slow, deliberate motion, I began to lift it away.

The moment the red fabric was fully removed, the sculpture came into view. My breath caught in my throat as I took in the intricate details of the clay model. It depicted a scene so vividly alive: Jungkook and I, captured mid-kiss, the figures so finely sculpted that every line, every curve, seemed to tell our story. He had beautifully shaped both of us crying.

── ᯓᡣ𐭩 ──"His sculpture revealed my true self, naked and scarred, yet undeniably beautiful."── ᯓᡣ𐭩 ──

The tender expressions on our faces, the way our bodies were entwined, the delicate details of the hair, the meaning of the falling tears, and the clothing-all of it was rendered with an artist's sensitivity and love.

I could see the subtle play of emotion in the clay, tears welled up in my eyes, and I struggled to blink them away, overwhelmed by the beauty and the sentiment captured in the sculpture. I looked up at Jungkook, my voice barely a whisper.

Aaira: It's... it's beautiful.

His eyes softened as he looked at me, seeing the tears that glistened in my eyes. He reached out and gently touched my cheek, his thumb brushing away a stray tear.

Jungkook: I wanted to capture this moment, to show you how much you mean to me. Even though words fail sometimes, I hope this will convey what I can't always express.

I nodded, my emotions were too strong to put into words at the moment. The sculpture before me was more than just a piece of art; it was a symbol of our shared moments, our struggles, and the love that had endured through everything.

── ᯓᡣ𐭩 ──"He sculpted us kissing, but it was the tears that left our eyes, that gave the sculpture its deepest meaning."── ᯓᡣ𐭩 ──

I took a deep, shuddering breath and stepped closer to the sculpture, my fingers lightly tracing the contours of the clay. Jungkook's presence beside me stayed focused on me, and I could feel the sincerity in every gesture he made.

Aaira: Thank you. My words can't describe what this actually means to me, My Lord.

Jungkook's arms slid around me, enveloping me in a warm and comforting embrace. His hold was gentle yet firm, his body pressing against mine in a reassuring cocoon. He rested his chin on the top of my head, the quiet strength of his presence easing the emotional tumult that had stirred within me.

The delicate fragrance of the rain, his perfume and the earthy scent of the clay mingled around us, adding to the tranquil ambiance. His voice was tender and soothing, whispered into my ear, breaking the silence with its gentle warmth.

Jungkook: Let it dry for now. We can admire it more in the morning. But for tonight, let's get some sleep, my love.

With a loving glance, he picked me up with effortless grace, cradling me in his arms as if I were the most precious thing in the world. His touch was both firm and tender, supporting me securely while being mindful of my recent illness.

As he carried me through the softly lit corridors of our home, the rhythm of his heartbeat and the warmth of his body provided a soothing counterpoint to the chill of the night air. We crossed corridors after corridors, and floors after floors.

The comforting sway of his steps and the soft hum of his voice were lullabies that guided me towards a much-needed rest. With every step he took, the world outside faded away, leaving only the intimate space we shared and the promise of a peaceful night to come.

As we reached our respective bedroom, he gently laid me on the bed, ensuring my comfort before settling beside me. He nestled into the soft sheets, pulling the covers around us both as he positioned himself close to me.

With a soft sigh of contentment, he wrapped his arms around me, his embrace was firm and protective. His head rested lightly on my chest, his breath creating a warm, rhythmic pattern against my skin.

The steady rise and fall of his breathing, combined with the soothing pressure of his body against mine, created a cocoon of calm that seemed to erase the day's worries. In this peaceful closeness, I could feel the weight of his love and the depth of his commitment, providing a sense of solace that allowed me to drift into a restful sleep, cocooned in the warmth of his presence.

───────── ᯓᡣ𐭩 ─────────

"The kiss immortalized in marble is more than art-it's his apology, in the chisel's precise touch, the sculpture embodies his love, care and concern. As if his very existence hinges on the precision of his regret that he wants to be forgiven about."

───────── ᯓᡣ𐭩 ─────────

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