11

Dhruvs

I stirred awake as the golden morning light kissed eyelids, coaxing him from sleep. I blinked, adjusting to the soft glow filling the room, and turned his gaze toward the window. There she stood—effortless, radiant—her fingers brushing against the curtain as she pulled it open, inviting the sun into their world.

His breath hitched slightly at the sight of her, draped in the delicate folds of a saree, its fabric flowing like liquid silk over her form. Droplets of water clung to the ends of her damp hair, catching the light as they trailed down her back. Her skin, a porcelain canvas warmed by the sun, glowed in the morning hush. His gaze traced the gentle curve of her waist, the way it swayed ever so subtly as she moved. Then, his eyes lingered on her lips—rosy, soft, slightly parted, as if lost in thought.

I admired her, mesmerized not just by her beauty, but by the quiet poetry of her presence—the way she made the simplest moments feel like eternity.Iwalked out of the bed and walked towards her ,she didn't notice till ,I turn her around, caging her against the window and me. Her hands rest on my hard chest and I lean in before I can think. My lips brushing against her, almost tentative,her eyes flutter as I look at her, "May I?" I ask, my voice sleepy and rough.

she nods her head.