One night, heavy rain lashed against the windows. Power was gone, their room lit by soft candlelight. Gunnu curled up on the bed, restless, while Abhinav sat reading a book.
She caught herself staring—at the veins on his arm, the curve of his jaw, the calm in his composure. Heat flushed across her cheeks. What am I even thinking…
He looked up suddenly, eyes locking with hers. Something unspoken burned in the space between them. She laughed nervously, shifting. “Don’t… don’t look at me like that.”
“How am I looking?” His voice dropped lower, rougher.
Her heartbeat stumbled. “Like I’m… like I’m not the same silly girl you married.”
He closed the book and set it aside. In two strides, he stood beside her. His hand brushed her hair, slow, careful. “You aren’t silly,” he murmured. “You’re mine.”
That night, restraint cracked. Not in fire or rush, but in quiet vulnerability—touches hesitant but real, glances trembling as both crossed into forbidden territory at last. For Gunnu, innocence bloomed into unknown emotions. For Abhinav, the soldier found surrender.
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