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Trishalini POV

I felt his fingers touching my feet. I tried to pull my toes out of his hold, but he looked determined.

And, speaking of determination, I could not help but notice his desperation to know what was bothering me.

Truthfully, I was in a constant battle with myself. I couldn't quite grasp what was bothering me. It felt like I was entangled in a web of his expectations, unable to break free. The thought that he married me for his father's sake was a heavy burden, making me feel like I was just a means to fulfil his desires.

I was just a way to bring his child into the world—nothing more and nothing less.

Remembering it, I tried to pull my feet back again, but suddenly, he lifted his gaze and glared at me. I could see the slight anger on his face.

"You do not have to do this. I'm fine. This is not your problem," I asserted, and he averted his gaze.

"Everything related to you is only my concern, Trisha," he said, and I looked away. The thunder of emotions caged me, the brutal reminder that the foundation of our marriage was revenge and punishment. And, he must never cross that. Neither should I.

I knew his family was welcoming and good to me. But they were mostly doing it to keep him happy. They did not want to lose their son. And somewhere, I was the way in that. By accepting me, they proved that they loved him.

So, technically, no one cared what I was thinking or wanted. Especially myself.

I was missing my father insanely. I was missing my cottage and the cows. I was missing everything about my old life. It was like I never existed. No one knew me, and I was happy about that. But suddenly, everyone was paying attention to me, wanting to see and judge how beautiful I was.

I did not ask for any of this, but I did desire to be near him. It was only to be near and talk to him, but not a strong one or something I was serious about.

"Isshhhhhh," I winced in pain all of a sudden and came out of my chain of thoughts. My sight fell on him, taking the toe rings off. The swelling and thrushes were terrible and painful.

"Why did you not tell me that you were hurting?" he asked, and I blinked silently, fighting my tears not to roll down.

"Why does it matter to you that I was hurting?" I asked, and he gulped, staring into my eyes.

"You are my wife, my friend, and it does matter to me that you are hurt," he said, and I tried to pull my feet back.

He held them firmly, and I shook my head. "We are not friends. Friends do not threaten and punish each other," I said, and he replied in the same tone. "Friends do not hide things from each other, either,"

"That's why we cannot be friends anymore," I clarified and looked away.

"As you wish," he said, pulling the other toe ring from my toes. "But, since you are here because of me, It's my responsibility to take care of you," he added, and I lowered my gaze.

He also pulled the third toe ring out, and I looked at my foot.

"You do not have to wear them anymore. I will talk to Maasa," he said, and I gulped to hear him. "This holds greater significance in married life, Yuvraj. It tells everyone that I am your wife," I said, and he looked at me.

"Everybody does not need to know that you are my wife. Only I have to know that you are my wife, and I know it. I do not need this materialistic reminder to know that I am married to you, and you are married to me," he said, and I gulped silently.

He caressed my feet, and I could not help but feel odd. Husbands were not meant to touch their wives' feet; he was not just a husband. He was the Prince, the next King, and seeing him touch my feet made me feel odd at best.

"It must be hurting badly," he said, caressing the tip of my toes, and I slowly pulled my feet back.

"I am perfectly fine," I tried to say, and he lifted his gaze to look into mine. I could not help but feel the untold warning behind his intense eyes. I knew he would not like it if I did it one more time. He was born stubborn.

"Show me the other feet," he said before touching the toes of my other feet. Slowly and gently, he pulled out the toe rings, and I looked at my feet. They looked horrible.

"Thank you," I muttered, but it did not seem like he was done. As he stood up and walked to the burning oil lamp, my heartbeat stopped when he held the hot lamp in his hand and dropped the oil in his palm.

"You will get burned," I warned him, but he did not listen and came back to me.

"This will ease the pain," he said, waiting until the oil in his palm cooled. Then, he rubbed his palms together and placed my feet in his lap.

"You can lay down," he suggested, and I shook my head. How could I lay down in front of him, and that too, keeping my feet in his lap?

"No one is watching," he assured me, and I could not help but feel comfortable under his protective eyes. I knew, over everything, he would never hurt me. I knew that whatever he said was his anger. And, because he expected more from me. He expected me to tell him the truth.

But it was not my place to tell him about the King's health. He himself did not want his family to know about his health, and I could tell his son, against his wish.

"Trisha," he said, and I blinked silently and lowered my gaze before lying down. Exhaling deeply, I kept my gaze fixed on him because I could not see anything else.

I winched in pain when he touched my feet. But, the pain felt good, coming from his hands. They felt slightly rough against my feet. But my feet were nothing against his hands. I was ugly.

My lashes were forced low, and my heart began to calm down when he gently massaged my feet with the oil. It sent a sense of ease through me. My feet hurt the whole way.

I could not help but find him insanely beautiful in the dim lighting of the den. This was the most precious thing about him. He never made me feel low. He never behaved like a prince before me until recently, when he asked me to marry him.

The way he stopped me from calling his name and corrected me with 'Yuvraj', a part of me ached.

His fingers moved from my toes to my heel. And suddenly, I could not but feel a slight tickle, and a smile appeared on my face.

"That's enough," I said once he was done applying the oil to both my feet, and he looked up at me.

"You should have told me that it's hurting you," he said, and I slowly moved aside and shifted to the ride side of the old mat.

"And, what did you have done?" I asked before sitting up, and he looked at me, shifting beside me.

"I would have picked you up," he said, and I chuckled.

"What? You cannot think that I can pick you up," he asked with the knit and challenging brows, and I shook my head.

"You can pick up the whole world on your head. Who am I?" I said, and he looked at me with questioning eyes.

I gulped, waiting for him to look away so I could take the dupatta off me and use it as a comforter. It was getting cold here.

"What?" he asked, finding me looking at me.

I cleared my throat. "It's getting cold here," I said, and he lowered his gaze with confusion. "Oh, so?" he asked in a slow voice, and I looked away.

I did not know what he was thinking, but I really hoped that he was not thinking that during this time. We were around the temple.

"Should I go and fetch a comforter?" he asked, and I lifted my gaze to look at him. He also looked at me. His eyes were soft, and in no condition I could leave him alone. The wild animals would be out, and I did not want to be alone there.

I shook my head slowly and lowered my gaze. I knew he was watching when I untucked the dupatta from my waistband and opened its pleats.

"We can use it," I tried to say, but my voice hardly came out. I did not know, but it made me feel timid. And, somewhere good.

He immediately looked away and cleared his throat before laying back.

"I do not need it. You can... use it," his words lost their strength, too, and I could not help but lay down silently. The mat could hardly fit both of us, so when we lay down, our arms touched.

I immediately shifted on my side and faced the other direction. My dupatta covers me to my shoulder. The rocky and uneven floor beneath us was uncomfortable.

Suddenly, I felt him shifting to his side, too, and he blocked the coldness from behind without touching me. It felt good.

I closed my eyes, waiting for sleep to come and take the awkwardness between us away. Even Daadisa was not here, so I could avoid him. 

The sleep was nowhere, and it was pure silence. I could not hear anything but the noises of our breathing. My slight movement would make my anklet bells and bangles tickle, causing a painful and embarrassing disturbance.

The more I wanted to sleep, the more awake I felt. Knowing that he was asleep behind me was different. What would I say if he tried to touch me?

And, to make it worse, it was getting even colder.

Suddenly, I felt him shifting closer, and my eyes widened with shock. I could feel his chest closer to my back.

There was a brutal silence between us. It was threatening me. But, he would not do anything, I knew.

I kept waiting and waiting, but he did not move any further.

So, I closed my eyes.

When I was about to fall asleep, I felt him shifting closer to me again. This time, his chest touched my back, and he slowly moved inside the dupatta, which was not very big to cover us both.

I gulped silently and asked.

"Are you feeling cold?"

"Umm-hmm," he hummed almost against my ear, and a shiver ran through my body. His voice felt deep, something that could bring goosebumps all over.

It was not always like this. His voice was soft and soothing when he was young. But now, it was manly, kingly, and, most importantly, seductive.

"I want to hug you," he muttered in a slow voice, and I lay frozen. My eyes were always shut, but my skin could see as clearly as theirs.

He shifted closer, and I inhaled deeply, feeling his warm chest against my back.

He slowly pushed his bicep under my head, and I could not help but gulp timidly.

"Are you okay?" he asked slowly, and I tried to behave as if I were asleep. I did not reply, nor did I open my eyes.

I did not have the courage to talk in such a situation.

Suddenly, I felt his hand under my head, reaching for my left hand. I opened my eyes slowly and noticed his fingers opening my closed finger and looking at my palm.

He shifted his face closer and placed his cheek on mine. He was not putting all his weight on it, but it felt comforting.

I could hear his breaths even clearer now, and his warmth was soothing me.

"Seeing you wearing bangles and anklets for someone else is maddening," he whispered slowly, only for me to hear. I blinked silently, watching our fingers touch each other.

My hand was relatively significantly smaller for his. He could crush me in moments.

"Why?" I asked, unable to stop myself.

"I do not know," he muttered slowly, and I felt him putting his other hand on my waist over the dupatta.

"I do not know why it ached my heart. It felt like I would lose you forever," he said, and I slowly moved my head to look upon his face.

"Why were you scared of losing me?" I asked, staring into his eyes. They were closer to me, more than ever. His thick brows were attractive, along with the dark lashes. He had an exquisite manly face that people could watch for long.

He gulped, and slowly, I felt his hand on my waist, holding my right hand. He pressed my fist with him, and I could not help but inhale sharply.

He was way too more muscular than me.

"I do not know," he muttered, and I noticed his gaze dropping to my lips. I was caged.

My heartbeats raced, and I could not help but feel my lips quivering. He could not stare at my lips like this. It did not feel suitable for a few reasons. Or it felt different. I did not know what exactly it was.

He lifted his gaze back to my eyes as if he was questioning something. It twisted my stomach badly. I could feel my heart coming out of my chest at any moment. I could not even run from here. And he did not have any reason to stop.

But my heart did not feel good. It's not exactly well, but it's not very bad either.

Suddenly, he brought his lips closer to mine, and I immediately pushed my face back, pressing against his bicep even more. My lips parted, breathing heavily with the fear, and my eyes fell close.

I was shaking.

His lower lip quivered between my lips, and his upper lip almost touched me below my bose.

Our lips merely touched each other's. But they were dangerously close, and we both could feel each other breathing into each other.

My fingers of both hands had fisted tightly against his, and I could not help but lay frozen.

He pressed his forehead against mine, and I could feel that he was stopping himself.

Or I stopped him.

Suddenly, he lifted his face a little up, and I immediately looked away. It was very close. I could feel my heartbeats audible. My cheeks had turned red, and he gently pressed his lips behind my ear, and I shut my eyes closer.

I heard him groan inaudibly and whisper very slowly. "I am sorry. Your lips are... inviting," his words made me feel even more timid.

I could not believe he was the same man who did not even dare to look into my eyes. How could he make me feel this?

I had never felt it before.

It was like lightning had struck me all of a sudden.

"Have you always felt like this about me?" I could not stop myself from questioning him, and he replied against my ear. "No,"

"Even I do not know why I feel all of this all of a sudden," he added, and I closed my eyes, trying to calm myself down.

"We are in the temple," I reminded him, and he sighed deeply. It sent shivers all across my nerves if it was so deep.

"I know," he muttered.

And I did not say anything else. Neither did he. We both lay frozen like this, not talking to each other, not looking at each other, but at each other.

His body did not make me feel cold, and in a few moments, we both calmed down.

His hands were still touching mine, and his cheek was still against mine, but it was calm.

And thankfully, after some time, we both fell asleep.

I woke up at my usual time and found his weight slightly discomforting. My lashes battled to open as I was dead tired from the trek.

But, we could not sleep much; otherwise, we would be late to reach the convoy. Also, I was hungry.

His cheek was still on mine, and his hands were also holding mine. I could not help but slowly pull my hand out of his hold.

"Yuvraj," I muttered in a slow voice and shifted a little to lie on my back. But the dupatta slipped off my stomach when I tried, and his hand felt warm against my belly.

I immediately felt alert.

"Yuvraj," I said again, but he seemed to be sleeping with all sorts of comfort.

I could not help but hold his hand and gently push it away. Suddenly, he inhaled deeply and opened his eyes.

His sleepy eyes met mine, and he asked.

"What happened?"

His voice flipped something inside my stomach, and I shook my head.

He immediately placed his head on my shoulder, and I could not help but exhale deeply.

Why was he so young?

"Get up; I am not your mother," I said, referring to the way he had his head on my shoulder and trying to push his hands away from my stomach.

But he immediately pulled me closer, and I felt him snaking his hand around my belly. My eyes widened with shock.

"Do you not dare bring my mother between us," he warned me, and I could not help but stay frozen. The way he touched the curve of my bare waist fearlessly sent shivers into my body.

"Okay, I am sorry," I muttered, holding his wrist, trying to push him away.

"If you keep sleeping, we will get late," I said, and suddenly, he placed his leg over mine.

"What are you doing?" I immediately asked, trying to push him away.

"Sleeping," he whispered in a sleepy voice, and I shook my head.

"Yuvraj, we will get late. Daadisa would be worrying for us, and the soldiers might begin searching," I told him, and he opened his eyes, inhaling deeply.

"It took me six years to place my head on your shoulder and you cannot even stay shut for a while," he muttered and immediately pushed me away.

What the hell?

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