𝙒𝘼𝙍𝙉𝙄𝙉𝙂 - 𝙈𝘼𝙏𝙐𝙍𝙀 𝘾𝙊𝙉𝙏𝙀𝙉𝙏.

8 𝙈𝙊𝙉𝙏𝙃𝙎 𝙇𝘼𝙏𝙀𝙍

The sky was heavy with dark clouds, the promise of rain looming as a cool breeze swirled through the haveli.

Tara lay sprawled on the khatiya in the corridor, Mannu resting his head protectively on her enormous baby bump. His tail wagged occasionally, as though reassuring her that he was on guard duty.

With Kusum at the temple for bhajans and Manik off to the village fair with his chachu Suraj, the haveli felt unusually quiet. Too quiet.

Tara suddenly sighed dramatically, looking at Mannu.

"Mannu, do you know what would make this evening perfect?" She stroked his head with mock seriousness.

"Papri chat. Spicy, tangy, crunchy papri chat."

Mannu responded with a half-hearted wag of his tail, but Tara was already imagining the taste, her mouth watering. As if on cue, the rumble of Prithvi's jeep echoed in the distance.

When Prithvi finally stepped into the corridor, his dhoti slightly disheveled from the long journey, Tara wasted no time. She sat up, looking at him with the determination of a soldier preparing for battle.

"I want papri chat," she declared.

Prithvi blinked, caught off guard. "What?"

"Papri chat. I've been dreaming about it. I need it," she said, her tone dead serious.

Prithvi leaned against a pillar, folding his arms.

"You need papri chat? Tara, it's about to rain. And do you know how much effort it takes to make-"

"I don't care!" she cut him off, her voice a mix of desperation and impatience.

"You're supposed to keep me happy. Right now, the only thing that will make me happy is papri chat!"

Prithvi stared at her, his lips twitching as he suppressed a smile.

"Tara, I just drove for hours. Can't you crave something simple? Like a mango or some milk?"

"Mangoes are boring, and milk is for babies," she said, crossing her arms.

"I want papri chat." Her bottom lip quivered, and she fixed him with a look that could have rivaled Manik's best tantrums.

Prithvi sighed, rubbing his temples.

"You've officially lost your mind. You're worse than Suraj when he begged for jalebis during that monsoon."

"You're worse than Manik when he wants new toys!" Tara retorted.

Mannu barked softly, as if agreeing with her.

Prithvi threw his hands in the air.

"Fine! If I don't make you papri chat, you'll probably accuse me of being the worst husband in history."

"Exactly," Tara said smugly, reclining back on the khatiya as if she'd won a war.

A little while later, the kitchen was filled with the sounds of clattering utensils and muttered curses. Tara's craving was proving more complicated than Prithvi anticipated, but soon the aroma of freshly fried papris and tangy tamarind sauce filled the air.

When he returned, holding a plate piled high with papri chat, Tara sat up eagerly, her face glowing. "Finally!"

Prithvi handed her the plate with exaggerated flair.

"Your majesty's order is served. I hope this satisfies your royal palate."

Tara took a bite, moaning in delight. "Mmm, this is so good! You should open a chat stall. Forget the business, become a halwai!"

Prithvi chuckled, sitting beside her.

"If I become a halwai, you'll eat all the profits."

Tara giggled, licking her fingers.

"Worth it."

As the first raindrops began to fall, Prithvi wrapped an arm around her.

"You're lucky I love you," he said with mock exasperation.

"And I love you for making the best papri chat in the world," she said, grinning up at him.

Unbeknownst to them, this ridiculous craving-filled evening would soon be overshadowed by the biggest moment of their lives. But for now, they sat together, laughing in the rain.

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The rain had continued through the evening, a rhythmic downpour that filled the night with its soothing patter.

Tara had just finished her dinner, content and blissful after indulging in her beloved papri chat.

Mannu lay near her feet, his head resting protectively on her lap as if sensing something was amiss.

Prithvi had gone to fetch a blanket from their room when suddenly, Tara froze mid-conversation. Her hand instinctively went to her belly, her face contorting in discomfort.

A sharp gasp escaped her lips. "Ahhh!" she called out, her voice strained.

He rushed back immediately, his face etched with concern.

"Tara, what is it?"

"I... I think-" She winced, clutching her belly tighter as another wave of pain hit her. Her voice trembled. "It's happening The baby..."

Prithvi's heart dropped. For a moment, he was paralyzed, watching her struggle with the realization. Then he snapped into action.

"Mannu, stay," he commanded him, who whined but stayed put as instructed.

He crouched beside Tara, gently lifting her into his arms.

"Don't worry, I've got you," he whispered, his voice steady despite the storm of emotions inside him.

As he carried her toward the room, Tara clutched his arm, her nails digging into his skin as another contraction hit. "Prithvi, it hurts," she murmured, tears welling in her eyes.

"I know, Tara," he said, his voice soft and reassuring. "You're strong. You'll get through this. I'm here with you."

Once inside, he carefully laid her on the bed and called out for Kusum, who had just returned from the temple. Kusum appeared instantly, her face a mix of worry and determination.

"Prithvi, bring the midwife immediately! Go!"

"I'm not leaving her," Prithvi said firmly, his eyes locked on Tara.

Kusum softened but nodded.

"Fine. Then I'll send Suraj. We need to prepare." She left to make arrangements, leaving Prithvi alone with Tara.

As her contractions intensified, Tara gripped Prithvi's hand with surprising strength, her face pale and glistening with sweat. She didn't even realize how her nails were digging into his skin, leaving crescent-shaped marks.

"You're doing so well, Tara," Prithvi whispered, leaning close to wipe her forehead. "Just breathe."

Her breaths came in sharp, uneven bursts. "I... I can't," she whimpered.

"Yes, you can," he insisted, his voice low and firm. "You're the strongest person I know, Tara. Our baby is counting on you."

When the midwife finally arrived, the atmosphere shifted. The room became tense, filled with hurried whispers and the occasional groans of pain from Tara.

Prithvi stayed by her side, ignoring the midwife's suggestion to wait outside.

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The storm raged outside, thunder rumbling like a heartbeat in the dark sky. Inside the haveli, the air was heavy with tension.

Tara clung to Prithvi's hand, her grip so tight that his knuckles turned white, but he didn't let go. He sat beside her on the low cot, his free hand gently stroking her hair as beads of sweat rolled down her forehead.

"I can't," she whispered, her voice trembling with pain and exhaustion.

"Yes, you can," he said firmly, his voice steady despite the storm in his chest. "You're the strongest person I know, Tara. I'm here. We'll do this together."

Tara's cries filled the room as another contraction hit, leaving her breathless. The midwife worked diligently, issuing commands to her assistants.

"More hot water! Fresh bandages! Be ready for the second towel!" The urgency in her voice heightened the tension.

Tara's body arched as another wave of pain wracked her. She turned to Prithvi, her face pale but determined.

"Don't... leave me."

"I won't," he promised, leaning down to kiss her damp forehead.

The midwife finally looked up, a small smile breaking through her otherwise serious expression.

"The baby's crowning, one big push now!"

Prithvi gripped her hand tighter.

"You can do this, Tara. Just one more push."

Summoning every ounce of her strength, Tara bore down, her scream cutting through the storm. A moment later, the first cry of their child echoed through the room.

"It's a girl!" the midwife announced, lifting the tiny, squirming baby into the air.

Prithvi's breath caught as tears streamed down his face. He turned to Tara, brushing her hair back.

"Tara, we have a daughter. She's perfect."

But before they could fully absorb the moment, the midwife's voice rang out again.

"Wait! There's another one!"

Prithvi's head whipped toward her.

"Another one? You mean... twins?"

The midwife nodded, already preparing for the second delivery.

"Tara, we're not done yet. One more push." said Prithvi.

Tara's eyes fluttered, exhaustion evident in every fiber of her being. "I can't," she whispered.

Prithvi cupped her face, his forehead resting against hers. "You can, Tara. For our other baby. I'm right here."

With his words, Tara pushed again, a guttural cry tearing from her throat. Moments later, another loud cry filled the room.

"It's another girl!" the midwife said with a triumphant smile.

Prithvi's tears fell freely as he looked at his two daughters being cleaned and wrapped in soft cloths. But his joy was short-lived when he turned back to Tara and saw her eyes close and her body go limp.

"She's unconscious," the midwife said quickly, checking her pulse and breathing. "It's normal. She's lost a lot of energy, but she's stable."

Prithvi kept sitting beside her. He refused to let go of her hand.

The midwife nodded, moving to stitch and bandage Tara carefully. She worked with practiced precision, ensuring that Tara's wounds were tended to and the bleeding controlled.

"She'll need rest and care, but she'll be fine."

Prithvi sat beside Tara, his hand still entwined with hers, his other wiping his tears as he looked at his two daughters.

Prithvi stared at the tiny, delicate body of his daughters, their soft cries tugging at his heart.

"Tara," he whispered, kissing her hand, "you did it. You've given me everything I could ever ask for."

As the storm began to wane outside, peace settled in the room. Tara rested, her strength replenishing.

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Tara slowly opened her eyes, her vision blurry and her body heavy with exhaustion.

She felt a dull ache in her abdomen and a strange emptiness within, but the warmth of a large hand gently caressing her head pulled her from the haze.

Turning slightly, she saw Prithvi sitting beside her. His face was a mix of relief and exhaustion, his eyes soft with emotion.

His fingers moved tenderly over her hair, as if reassuring himself she was truly awake.

“You’re awake,” he murmured, his voice hoarse but filled with warmth.

She tried to speak but found her throat dry. Prithvi quickly poured water into a glass and helped her sip, holding the glass with one hand while steadying her with the other.

“How are you feeling?” he asked softly, setting the glass down and watching her intently.

“Sore,” she whispered, her voice barely audible. Her hand instinctively moved to her abdomen, feeling the bandages wrapped snugly around her. “Where…?”

Prithvi understood immediately. He placed his hand gently over hers, his thumb stroking her fingers.

“The babies are safe, Tara. You did it,” he said, his voice brimming with pride and tenderness.

“You’ve given us two beautiful daughters.”

Her eyes widened, and she stared at him in disbelief. “Two?” she whispered.

Prithvi chuckled lightly, leaning closer.

“Manik asked for one sister, but God thought he deserved two,” he teased.

A faint smile spread across her lips, though tears welled in her eyes.

“Two daughters…” she repeated, her heart swelling. “I want to see them.”

Prithvi nodded and stood.

“Wait here. I’ll bring them,” he said, pressing a soft kiss to her forehead before leaving the room.

Moments later, he returned with Kusum by his side. Kusum was beaming, her face glowing with pride.

She carried one baby, while Prithvi carried the other. Behind them, Manik trailed in, holding Mannu by the leash.

Manik’s face lit up when he saw Tara awake. “Maa!” he exclaimed, running to her side.

He climbed onto the bed carefully, mindful of her condition. Mannu followed, resting his head on the edge of the bed, his tail wagging furiously.

Kusum and Prithvi gently placed the babies in Tara’s arms. She looked down at them, her breath catching. The tiny faces nestled against her chest, their eyes closed and their soft skin warm against her.

“They’re so small,” she whispered, her voice trembling. Her fingers traced their delicate features, her heart filling with an overwhelming sense of love.

“They’re perfect,” Prithvi said, sitting beside her and wrapping an arm around her shoulder.

Manik, sitting close to Tara, peered at the babies with wide, curious eyes.

“ Maa they are so small and soft ” he asked, his voice filled with wonder.

Tara nodded, her smile widening. “Yes, my Manik.”

Manik’s face lit up with pure joy. He leaned in to kiss one of the babies gently on the forehead.

“I love them a lot Maa. I’ll take care of them, always,” he promised, his little voice sincere.

Prithvi chuckled, ruffling Manik’s hair. “I’m sure you will, beta. But let them grow up a little first,” he teased.

Mannu, not to be left out, barked softly and nudged Tara’s arm with his nose, as if to say he’d protect the new additions to their family too. Tara laughed softly, reaching out to pat Mannu’s head.

Looking at the babies again, Tara’s eyes filled with tears.

“Their eyes and noses… they’re just like their Baba,” she said softly, her voice brimming with emotion.

Prithvi grinned.

“Let’s hope they inherit your kindness and patience and not your child like stubborn  ” he said, his teasing tone making her laugh through her tears.

Kusum watched the scene with her own eyes glistening.

“They’re already surrounded by so much love,” she said, her voice filled with pride.

As the room filled with laughter and joy, Tara leaned into Prithvi’s side, holding her daughters close. Despite the soreness in her body, she felt complete, her heart bursting with gratitude for the family she had been blessed with.

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2 𝙈𝙊𝙉𝙏𝙃𝙎 𝙇𝘼𝙏𝙀𝙍

It was a serene night, the cool breeze from the open window rustling the curtains gently. The room was dimly lit by the faint glow of a lantern.

Tara sat propped up against the headboard, a soft quilt draped over her lap as she nursed Kavya.

Her two-month-old daughter suckled quietly, her tiny hand resting against Tara’s chest.

Tara’s eyes softened as she looked down at her baby, marveling at how something so small could fill her heart with so much love.

Manik lay beside her, his little immature arm protectively draped over Kriti, who was fast asleep.

The two siblings had become inseparable in the past two months, Manik taking his role as the older brother with utmost seriousness. He had insisted on sleeping beside Kriti and Kavya every night, saying he needed to "guard" her.

At Tara’s other side, Mannu, their loyal dog, lay curled up, his warm body pressed against her. Ever since Tara's pregnancy, Mannu had rarely left her side, and now he seemed just as protective of the twins as Manik was. His soft snores blended harmoniously with the quiet sounds of the night.

Prithvi stood by the doorway, leaning against the frame with his arms crossed, a fond smile playing on his lips as he took in the scene.

His wife, his children, his home—it was a picture of everything he’d ever wanted. He walked over to Tara, crouching beside her.

“How’s our little Kavya doing?” he asked in a low voice, careful not to disturb the sleeping Kriti or Manik.

“She’s happy now,” Tara replied with a tired but content smile, shifting Kavya slightly as the baby continued nursing.

Prithvi chuckled softly. “And you? How are you feeling?”

Tara sighed, her gaze moving to Manik and Kriti.

“Tired, but... grateful. Look at them. Our family feels complete. Even Mannu is acting like another protective sibling.”

Prithvi laughed quietly, reaching out to gently pat Mannu on the head.

“He’s more disciplined than most kids I know. And Manik—he’s already behaving like a grown-up brother.”

Tara smiled, her eyes glistening with emotion.

“He adores them. I caught him singing to them earlier. He’s such a loving little boy.”

Prithvi’s chest swelled with pride as he looked at his family. He leaned closer to Tara, brushing a kiss against her temple.

“And you—you’re incredible, Tara. You’ve given me more than I ever dreamed of. I’ll never be able to thank you enough for this life.”

Tara looked at him, her eyes twinkling despite her exhaustion.

“You’ve given me this life too. And these four... they’re our greatest blessings.”

Prithvi’s gaze softened as he reached out to stroke Kavya’s cheek. The baby let out a contented sigh, her tiny fingers gripping Tara’s blouse as she dozed off mid-feed.

Tara gently shifted Kavya, wrapping her snugly in a soft blanket before placing her beside Kriti.

As Tara settled back against the pillows, Prithvi sat beside her, taking her hand in his. The room was quiet except for the soft breaths of their children and the rhythmic snores of Mannu.

In that moment, surrounded by the ones they loved most, Tara and Prithvi felt a profound sense of peace.

Their journey had been anything but easy, yet it had led them here—to this warm, love-filled home, where every challenge had been worth it.

And as the night deepened, they sat together, cherishing the life they had built and the beautiful chaos their children had brought into it.

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3 𝙔𝙀𝘼𝙍𝙎 𝙇𝘼𝙏𝙀𝙍

The afternoon sun had dipped low, casting a golden glow across the haveli courtyard. Tara sat under the neem tree, weaving garlands of jasmine while keeping an eye on her mischievous twins, Kriti and Kavya, now three years old.

The girls were busy playing with their father, Prithvi, and their elder brother, Manik, who had grown into a tall and protective 13-year-old.

Prithvi, seated on a charpai, was in the midst of a reluctant makeover session. Kriti, her tiny face scrunched in concentration, carefully applied a red bindi on his forehead.

Kavya, on the other hand, was focused on Manik, attempting to drape a dupatta over his shoulders like a bridal veil.

Manik squirmed.

“Baba, why do I have to do this? I’m not a bride!”

Prithvi chuckled, his lips twitching as he tried to keep a straight face.

“Because, beta, sometimes you have to humor your sisters. And besides, you’re looking quite dashing as a bride.”

Manik groaned, tugging at the dupatta. “Maa! Do something!”

Tara looked up from her garlands, biting back a smile.

“Manik, you wanted to spend more time with your sisters, didn’t you? This is what they call ‘quality time.’”

The twins giggled, their anklets jingling as they ran to fetch more “decorations” from Tara’s sewing basket. Kriti returned with a string of colorful beads, while Kavya held up a bright red chunni.

“Baba, hold still!” Kriti commanded, climbing into Prithvi’s lap.

“How will you look like a proper bride if you keep moving?”

Prithvi sighed dramatically, raising his hands in mock surrender.

“Alright, my little princess. Do your worst.”

Kavya giggled, draping the chunni over her father’s head.

“Now you look like Maa on her wedding day!”

Manik burst out laughing despite himself. “Baba, you actually do!”

Prithvi narrowed his eyes at his son. “Careful, beta. You’re next.”

Manik tried to escape, but Kavya grabbed his kurta.

“No running away, bhaiya! Brides don’t run!”

Meanwhile, Mannu, lay sprawled near Tara, wagging his tail lazily as if enjoying the show.

When Kriti tried to place a flower garland around his neck, he barked once and dutifully sat up, earning cheers from the twins.

The lighthearted chaos came to a halt when Kusum entered the courtyard, carrying a brass pot of water from the well.

She stopped in her tracks, taking in the sight of Prithvi and Manik adorned like brides, the twins giggling uncontrollably, and Tara laughing quietly from her spot.

“Ram-Ram! What’s going on here?” Kusum exclaimed, placing the pot on the ground.

Kavya ran to her, grabbing her saree’s edge.

“Dadi! We’re making Baba and bhaiya look pretty like Maa!”

Kusum shook her head, suppressing a smile.

“Hai Ram, these girls will be the end of us. Tara, why are you letting them turn the Thakur into a bride?”

Tara laughed, covering her mouth with her dupatta.

“Maaji, if the Thakur himself doesn’t mind, why should we stop them?”

Prithvi raised a hand dramatically, adjusting the chunni on his head.

“Exactly, Maa. If my daughters think I make a good bride, who am I to argue?”

Manik, however, wasn’t as amused. “Dadi, save me! They’re tying bangles on me now!”

Kusum finally let out a hearty laugh, waving her hand.

“Alright, enough mischief for one day. Tara, take your daughters before they start planning a wedding for their father and brother!”

But the twins weren’t ready to let go just yet. Kriti clapped her hands.

“No, Dadi! We haven’t finished! Mannu still needs a tikka!”

The courtyard erupted into laughter again as Mannu barked in protest and ran off, the twins chasing after him with a bowl of kumkum.

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The rain poured heavily outside, its rhythmic drumming on the tiled roof echoing through the quiet city bungalow.

In the living room, the children huddled near Kusum, their laughter softening as Suraj entertained them with tales of brave warriors and mythical lands.

Meanwhile, in the kitchen, Tara was busy rolling out dough for fresh puris. Kusum and Suraj came to stay with them  for few days.

The dim lantern light cast a warm glow on her face, her hair loosely tied, with a few strands sticking to her forehead from the heat of the stove.

She hummed softly, lost in her work, when she suddenly felt the unmistakable presence behind her.

Before she could turn, strong arms slid around her waist, and she was pulled back firmly into a familiar chest.

A shiver ran down her spine as she felt his wet hair brush against her cheek, the cool scent of rain mixed with the faint aroma of attar.

“ You !” she gasped, her voice a mix of surprise and amusement. “What are you—”

Her words were cut off as he spun her around and pinned her gently against the wall, his hands braced on either side of her.

His intense gaze locked onto hers, his damp kurta clinging to his broad frame. Tara’s heart raced, a nervous laugh escaping her lips.

“You’re laughing so much these days, aren’t you, Tara?” Prithvi said in a low, husky voice, his smirk barely visible in the dim light.

“I know exactly who gave the twins that idea to turn me into their doll.”

Tara tried to play innocent, but her smile betrayed her.

“What are you talking about? They’re just creative children, Thakur Saheb.”

“Creative?” he murmured, leaning closer, his breath warm against her ear.

“Don’t play coy with me, Tara. You’ve been plotting behind my back, and now you’ll pay for it.”

Tara’s eyes widened, her playful grin faltering. “What do you mean by ‘pay’? You wouldn’t dare!”

Prithvi chuckled softly, his voice dropping to an even lower tone.

“Oh, I dare, jaan. You’ll see exactly how much tonight.”

Her cheeks flushed as he straightened, his smirk growing more teasing. Tara tried to push him away, but he didn’t budge.

“Let me go,” she said, her voice wavering between command and plea.

“Not until you admit it,” he replied, his tone light but firm.

“Fine!” Tara finally confessed, laughing. “Maybe I suggested something, but it’s not my fault you’re such a good sport!”

Prithvi grinned, stepping back but not before placing a light kiss on her forehead.

“Good sport, huh? Just remember, Tara—this good sport knows how to get even.”

With that, he turned and walked away, leaving Tara both flustered and amused as she leaned back against the wall.

“This man will be the end of me,” she muttered, shaking her head with a smile as she returned to her cooking.

In the living room, Prithvi joined the others, his demeanor casual as though nothing had happened. But the glint in his eyes told a different story, one only Tara could understand.

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The house was wrapped in a serene stillness, broken only by the soft sound of rain hitting the tiled roof. The children had insisted on sleeping with Kusum, huddled around her as she narrated old folktales.

Their laughter and chatter had faded into the night, leaving the rest of the haveli quiet.

Tara stepped into her room, expecting Prithvi to still be awake and waiting. Instead, she found him lying on the bed, his long frame stretched out, his chest rising and falling steadily.

The soft glow of the lantern cast shadows across his features, making him appear both peaceful and irresistible.

She paused, exhaling in relief.

“Looks like he forgot,” she murmured to herself, recalling his earlier playful threat.

Quietly, she went to freshen up. The cool water felt heavenly against her skin, washing away the day’s fatigue.

Wrapping herself in a soft gamcha, she returned to the room, droplets of water trailing down her shoulders.

She stood by the wardrobe, unwrapping the garcha to change into her nightclothes. But just as the fabric slipped from her fingers, she felt a firm hand encircle her waist, pulling her back.

“Did you think I wouldn’t notice, Tara?” Prithvi’s voice was low, almost a growl, and it sent a shiver racing down her spine.

She gasped, clutching the gamcha to her chest as she turned to face him. His dark eyes gleamed with mischief, his hair still damp, and his shirt slightly unbuttoned. He looked every bit like a predator who’d cornered his prey.

“ You were asleep!” she stammered, her heart pounding.

His lips curled into a smirk.

“As if I’d fall asleep knowing you were planning to escape my threat.”

Her cheeks flushed as she tried to take a step back, only to find herself pressed against the wardrobe. His presence was overwhelming, his scent—a mix of rain and his musky attar—intoxicating.

“I-I wasn’t escaping,” she whispered, avoiding his piercing gaze.

“Hmm,” he murmured, his fingers trailing up her arm, igniting a fire wherever they touched.

“You think I’ll let you off so easily after what you did with the girls? Dressing me up like a bride and laughing so sweetly at my expense?”

“It was just for fun,” she tried to explain, her voice trembling as his hand slid to her waist, pulling her closer.

“The girls wanted to—”

“And you encouraged them,” he interrupted, his lips brushing against her temple.

“Do you know how much I wanted to wipe that smug smile off your face?”

Her breath hitched as his fingers tilted her chin up, forcing her to meet his intense gaze.

His thumb traced her jawline, his voice dropping to a husky whisper.

“What should I do with you, Tara? Hmm? You tempt me without even trying.”

She shivered under his touch, her heart racing as his lips grazed the corner of her mouth.

“You’re impossible,” she murmured, her voice a mix of frustration and surrender.

“And you’re irresistible,” he countered, his hands sliding to her back, holding her firmly against him.

“Do you know how beautiful you look right now, wrapped in nothing but this gamcha? Your hair wet, your cheeks flushed…”

She tried to push him away, but her strength faltered as his lips captured hers in a searing kiss. His hand slipped to the knot of her garcha, tugging it loose.

“No!” she gasped, clutching the fabric.

He chuckled, his breath warm against her skin.

“Relax, Tara. The kids are with Ma, and the house is ours tonight. Let the rain play its song while I…”

His voice trailed off as his lips found her neck, leaving a trail of heat in their wake.

Prithvi's voice dropped to a husky whisper as he tugged gently at the gamcha, his lips barely an inch from her ear.

“Do you know, Tara,” he murmured, his breath warm against her flushed skin,

“how much I envy this gamcha?”

Her eyes widened as she clutched the cloth tighter to her chest.

“What are you saying?” she stammered, her voice betraying her nervousness.

He smirked, his fingers trailing lightly over her bare shoulder.

“This gamcha gets to touch you, wrap itself around you, feel every inch of you... and I can only stand here, wishing I could do the same.”

“What are you saying!"” she gasped, her cheeks flaming as she turned away, only for him to pull her closer, his arms encircling her waist.

His lips brushed against her temple, his tone teasing yet thick with desire.

“It’s not fair, Tara. This piece of cloth is stealing all the moments that belong to me.”

Her heartbeat thundered in her chest as he lowered his mouth to her ear, his voice a seductive murmur.

“You’re mine, Tara. Every glance, every touch, every breath of yours... belongs to me. Not this gamcha.”

She tried to push him away, her protests weak as his fingers traced the curve of her back.

“You’re shameless,” she whispered, her voice trembling.

“And you’re irresistible,” he replied, tilting her chin up to meet his gaze. His eyes burned with an intensity that sent a shiver down her spine.

“Tonight, no gamcha, no rain, nothing else is allowed to come between us.”

Her lips parted, her words lost as he leaned in, his mouth capturing hers in a slow, sensual kiss, the gamcha slipping unnoticed from her grasp as the rain outside mirrored the heat building between them.

Prithvi’s arms slid under Tara, effortlessly lifting her off her feet as she gasped, clutching at his shoulders. His gaze bore into hers, filled with an intensity that made her heartbeat race.

Without a word, he carried her to their bed, the soft creak of the wooden frame barely audible over the rain's rhythm outside.

Gently, he set her down, his hands lingering on her waist as he leaned over her. Tara tried to sit up, but he pressed a finger to her lips, silencing her.

“Not a word, Tara,” he commanded, his voice low and tender. His eyes roamed over her, a flicker of hunger igniting in their depths. “Tonight, I’ll give my wife of what she think shamelessly in her own mind "

Her breath hitched as he turned toward the lantern on the bedside table. With a quick flick, he extinguished its soft glow, plunging the room into shadows broken only by the silvery moonlight filtering through the rain-slicked window.

The sound of fabric rustling reached her ears, and she froze, her fingers gripping the edge of the sheet tightly. The faint sound of his kurta being untied sent a wave of nervous anticipation through her. Her heart raced as she heard the soft thud of the fabric hitting the floor.

“You’re nervous?” he asked, his deep chuckle vibrating in the cool night air as he took a deliberate step toward the bed.

“You’re always so bold with your words during the day, calling me shameless. But now...” He paused, his tone darkening, “Now, you’re quiet. Why?”

Her fingers twisted the sheet as his presence loomed over her. She didn’t answer, her lips parting slightly but no words coming out.

His weight dipped the bed as he leaned closer, the warmth of his bare skin radiating against her, a stark contrast to the chill of the room.

“Say it, Tara,” he murmured against her ear, his lips grazing her earlobe. “Say my name.”

She turned her head away, refusing to look at him, but her body betrayed her resolve as she trembled beneath his touch.

Prithvi chuckled darkly, leaning closer, his lips trailing a slow, torturous path down the side of her neck.

“You’ve never called me by my name. Why?” His hands moved to her wrists, gently but firmly pulling them away from the sheet she clutched, pinning them above her head.

“Are you afraid of me?” he teased, his lips brushing against her collarbone.

“Or are you afraid of what I make you feel?”

“ It’s not li- like that....” she stammered, her voice barely a whisper.

His lips paused just above the curve of her breast, his breath hot against her skin.

“Not like that,” he growled, his tone demanding.

“Say it properly. Say it like you mean it.”

"You think you can resist me, Tara?" he murmured, his deep voice low and teasing.

"I-I don't know what you're talking about," she stammered, her cheeks flushed as she averted her gaze.

Prithvi chuckled, the sound deep and wicked, making her heart skip.

"You’ve never been good at lying to me." His fingers traced the outline of her jaw, tilting her face toward him.

Before she could protest, his lips captured hers in a slow, sensual kiss that left her breathless. Tara's hands pushed lightly against his chest, but her resolve wavered as his fingers slid to the sides of  her breast.

"Stop," she whispered, though her voice lacked conviction.

He pulled back slightly, his smirk widening.

"You don't want me to stop," he said confidently, his hands brushing the damp hairs off her shoulders. The cool air kissed her bare skin, sending a shiver down her spine.

His mouth moved to her neck, leaving a trail of kisses that made her body hum with anticipation. Tara squirmed, her hands now clutching his shoulders as she struggled to maintain her composure.

"Say my name, Tara," he murmured against her skin, his lips moving to the hollow of her throat. "Just once."

She stiffened, her pride flaring. "No," she said firmly, though her voice wavered.

Prithvi’s smirk turned into a mischievous grin.

"You’re testing me, aren’t you?" His hand slid down her body, fingers grazing the sensitive skin of her inner thighs. She gasped, her body arching instinctively as he teased her mercilessly.

"Say it," he demanded softly, his voice both commanding and laced with playful warmth.

Tara gritted her teeth, shaking her head stubbornly. "I won’t."

Prithvi’s eyes narrowed, his teasing taking a darker edge. His lips descended to her chest, taking her soft skin into his mouth.

His tongue flicked over her soft breast nipple while his free hand slipped inside her inner thighs, brushing against her most sensitive spot.

Tara’s breath hitched, her body betraying her resolve as heat pooled low in her belly. She clenched her fists, determined not to give in.

"You’re stubborn," Prithvi remarked, his voice filled with both amusement and challenge. His fingers began a slow, torturous rhythm, drawing soft gasps from her lips. "But so am I."

Her head tilted back, her breaths coming in ragged pants as he continued his relentless torment. Her body trembled under his touch, the tension building unbearably, but she still refused to relent.

"Prithvi," she whispered, her voice laced with frustration and longing.

He paused, his fingers stilling for a moment. "That’s not enough," he said firmly, his tone brooking no argument. "Say my name, Tara. Properly."

Tara’s eyes snapped open, defiance flickering in their depths. "I won’t give you that satisfaction," she said, though her voice trembled with the strain of resisting him.

Prithvi smirked, leaning close until their foreheads touched. "Oh, you will," he murmured, his fingers resuming their sweet torment. His mouth returned to her breast, his teeth grazing the sensitive skin before his tongue soothed the ache.

She writhed beneath him, her body betraying her mind as waves of pleasure threatened to consume her. The tension grew unbearable, her breaths turning into soft whimpers.

"Say it," Prithvi urged, his voice a low growl. "Or I’ll keep you like this all night."

Tara bit her lip, her pride warring with the overwhelming sensations coursing through her. She clenched the sheets beneath her, refusing to break.

Minutes passed like an eternity, Prithvi’s touch driving her to the brink again and again, only to pull back at the last moment.

Her resolve crumbled, her body trembling as she finally whispered, "Prithvi…"

He stilled, his breath catching at the sound of his name on her lips. "Louder," he demanded, his voice rough with emotion.

She hesitated, her lips trembling before she cried out, "Prithvi!"

A victorious grin spread across his face as he finally allowed her the release she craved. Her body arched beneath him, her cries echoing in the quiet room as she reached her peak.

Prithvi gathered her into his arms, his lips brushing her temple as her breaths slowed. "That wasn’t so hard, was it?" he teased, his voice filled with both pride and affection.

Tara buried her face in his chest, her cheeks burning as she mumbled, "You’re insufferable."

Tara’s body trembled beneath Prithvi as he moved his length inside her with deliberate, controlled thrusts, every stroke claiming her in a way that left her breathless.

Her legs wrapped around his torso instinctively, drawing him closer, but she still refused to give him what he demanded.

“Say my name again jaan,” he growled softly, his voice rich with command. His lips found her collarbone, sucking gently before biting just enough to make her gasp.

“I’m not stopping until I hear it again, Tara.”

Her breath hitched, her fingers digging into his shoulders as she shook her head stubbornly. Even now, as her body responded to him so willingly, her pride held firm.

“No,” she whispered, though her voice trembled with need.

Prithvi smirked, his dark eyes burning with determination.

“You think you can hold out?” he murmured against her skin, his tone a dangerous mix of amusement and promise.

“Let’s see how long that lasts.”

With that, he shifted slightly, angling his hips, and thrust into her deeply. The new position had her crying out, her nails raking across his back as the pleasure built with every movement.

He didn’t relent, his pace unhurried but devastatingly precise, making her feel every inch of him.

“Say it,” he demanded again, his voice firm, his thrusts slow yet maddeningly deep.

Tara bit her lip, her stubbornness warring with the sensations overwhelming her. She clung to the last shred of resistance, shaking her head weakly as her body betrayed her, arching into him.

Prithvi chuckled darkly, his hands gripping her hips as he held her firmly in place.

“You’re close, aren’t you?” he taunted, his lips brushing against hers without giving her the kiss she craved.

“But you won’t get there until you say it again.”

Her moans grew louder, her head tossing against the pillow as he drove her closer to the edge, his relentless rhythm pushing her to the brink of madness. Her pride cracked, but she still held on, refusing to give in.

“Say it, Tara. Say my name ” his voice rough with desire

Tara whimpered, her resolve crumbling as he thrust deeper, harder, the pleasure building to an unbearable peak. She clawed at his back, her body arching into him as tears pricked her eyes from the intensity.

“Prithvi,” she finally gasped, her voice breaking as her release crashed over her like a tidal wave.

He groaned deeply, his pace quickening as he chased his own climax. “Again,” he commanded, his voice thick with passion.

“Prithvi,” she cried, louder this time, her voice raw with emotion and surrender.

Prithvi’s thrusts grew deeper, his movements deliberate and commanding, coaxing her to the edge of bliss yet holding her on the precipice. His eyes bore into hers, dark and smoldering with a mix of challenge and desire.

“Prithvi,” she cried, her voice louder this time, raw with desperation and surrender.

“That’s it,” he murmured, his hips driving into her harder, his pace intensifying as his control began to slip. “Say it again, Tara. Don’t stop.”

Her breath hitched, her body trembling as she felt him claim every inch of her.

“Prithvi…” she moaned, her voice barely above a whisper.

“Louder,” he growled, his hands gripping her hips tighter, his thrusts deep and unrelenting.

“Let me hear you.”

“Prithvi,” she gasped, her voice trembling with every powerful thrust. “Prithvi… Prithvi…”

“That’s my girl,” he rasped, his movements becoming faster, almost punishing, each thrust pushing her further into a haze of bliss.

“Say it again, Tara.”

Her cries grew louder, her body arching against him, her mind and soul succumbing to the heat he ignited within her.

“Prithvi...... Prithvi” she chanted, her voice raw and desperate, filling the room as he drove her closer to the edge.

“That’s right,” he groaned, his pace relentless, each sound she made only fueling his desire. “Keep saying it. Again.”

“Prithvi,” she moaned, her voice breaking as he claimed her completely, her name falling from her lips like a sacred mantra, each word fanning the fire that consumed them both.

He pushed her higher and higher, her cries of his name spurring him on, his pace becoming almost brutal as he brought them both to the precipice of oblivion, together.

After their intense climax, both of them lay entangled, their breaths ragged and bodies glistening with the aftermath of their passion. Prithvi’s arms remained wrapped around Tara, his lips brushing tenderly against her temple as he tried to steady his breathing.

But Tara, still trembling from the fire he had ignited within her, wasn’t ready to let the night end. Her eyes, darkened with a newfound boldness, locked onto his. Slowly, she pushed herself up, her hands trailing over his chest, feeling the rapid beat of his heart beneath her fingertips.

“Tara,” Prithvi murmured, a flicker of surprise mingling with desire as she straddled him, her movements deliberate and unhurried.

“Shh,” she whispered, placing a finger against his lips. “It’s my turn now.”

Prithvi’s breath hitched as she leaned forward, her lips grazing his jawline before trailing a path down his neck. Her hands explored him with a confidence he hadn’t seen before, each touch leaving him trembling beneath her.

“Tara…” he groaned, his voice low and filled with anticipation, as she pressed her lips to his chest, her kisses leaving a trail of warmth.

She shifted her hips, teasing him, her movements deliberate and torturous as she took control. Prithvi’s hands instinctively gripped her waist, his eyes dark with hunger as he let her lead, unable to resist her newfound dominance.

Tara’s pace was slow at first, savoring every moment, but the fire between them reignited quickly.

Her name fell from his lips like a prayer, his voice hoarse and raw as she pushed him to the edge all over again. She had him completely at her mercy, and for the first time, she relished the power she held over him.

In that moment, it wasn’t just about passion—it was about their connection, their love, and her newfound confidence in their intimacy. Tara had taken charge, and Prithvi was more than willing to surrender to her.

As the intensity of their second union reached its crescendo, Tara collapsed onto Prithvi’s chest, her breathing heavy and her heart pounding against his. Prithvi’s arms encircled her, pulling her close as if he never wanted to let her go.

Silence enveloped them, save for the sound of their breaths mingling. Prithvi ran his fingers through her damp hair, his touch gentle and soothing. Tara rested her head against him, her fingers tracing lazy patterns over his chest.

“You surprise me every day,” he murmured, his voice a mixture of pride and tenderness. “My Tara.”

She smiled softly, her face still flushed. “Maybe I’ve had a good teacher,” she teased, her voice barely above a whisper.

Prithvi chuckled, the deep rumble of his laugh vibrating through her. He tilted her chin up to meet his gaze, his eyes warm and filled with adoration. “You’ve always had this fire in you, Tara. You just needed to let it burn.”

Tara’s cheeks warmed, but she didn’t look away. For the first time, she felt wholly his—every part of her, body and soul.

As sleep began to claim her, Prithvi kissed her forehead, holding her securely against him. “Rest now,” he whispered. “We’ve got all the time in the world for more surprises.”

And in the quiet of the night, wrapped in each other’s arms, they found not only passion but a deep, unspoken understanding that bound them closer than ever.

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The sun hung low in the sky, casting a warm glow over the sprawling family haveli. The air was thick with the smell of jasmine and the sound of rustling sarees, as everyone gathered for the family photo.

Kusum sat in the center, her face calm and serene as always, despite the flurry of activity around her.

She wore a bright red saree, its intricate golden borders catching the sunlight, her silver hair neatly tucked beneath a gajra of fresh flowers.

On either side of her sat her grandchildren—Kavya, Kriti, and 13-year-old Manik. The two young girls, only 3 years old, could hardly sit still.

Kavya tugged at Kriti’s hair, causing her twin sister to giggle loudly, which made the photographer shake his head in mild exasperation.

“Sit still, beta,” Kusum murmured gently, adjusting her granddaughter’s pallu as Kavya stood up and began to run around, her little feet pattering against the stone floor.

Manik, standing behind the two girls, tried his best to maintain his composure, but even he couldn't resist the urge to laugh at their antics.

He grinned awkwardly at the photographer, trying to look as dignified as possible.

His 13-year-old face was a picture of uncertainty, caught between childhood and adolescence, unsure of whether to be serious or join in the chaos around him.

“Manik, help me hold them together,” Kusum instructed, motioning for him to gently corral his younger sisters.

Kavya, in her usual playful mood, managed to escape his hold, running toward her mother, Tara, who was standing at the side, watching the scene with a fond smile.

Tara waved, encouraging Kavya to go back, but the little girl’s giggles only grew louder, making everyone laugh.

The photographer, with a sigh of patience, adjusted his camera and shouted,

“Ready, everyone! Look this way!”

For a split second, the children stopped, still and quiet, as the flash of the camera went off, capturing the moment.

But as soon as the photo was taken, the giggles and playful squabbles erupted again, the photo shoot turning into a merry chaos.

Kusum chuckled softly to herself, her heart full as she watched the children—her legacy—bask in the sunshine of their youth. The laughter and commotion of the moment were perfectly captured, just as it was—the simple, pure joy of a family united in love.

This photo, though slightly messy, would forever be a cherished memory of the early days of her grandchildren’s lives, reminding them all of the warmth, the laughter, and the love that filled the haveli in those innocent days.

The final family photoshoot was simple and sweet. Prithvi and Tara stood side by side, smiling warmly at the photographer.

Their children, Manik, Kavya, and Kriti, were positioned in front of them. Manik, now 13, sat proudly in the center, his sisters on either side, looking up at him with smiles that reflected their innocence.

Tara and Prithvi shared a loving glance as they stood tall, their arms around each other, while Manik held his sisters close.

The photographer took the shot, capturing the warmth and love that filled the moment. It was a picture of a family who had been through so much, but stood united, stronger than ever.

The children, though playful and full of energy, knew the importance of the moment. The soft rustling of the leaves in the background and the quiet warmth of the evening sun made the scene feel timeless.

The family posed for one last shot together, smiling, their hearts full. In that simple moment, they were a perfect picture of happiness, love, and togetherness.

And with that, the story of their journey, their growth, and their bond came to a close—a sweet little family, forever etched in time.

As the final photograph was taken, the family stood together, a portrait of love and resilience. Tara and Prithvi, hand in hand, their hearts bound by years of shared struggles, looked down at their children—Manik, now a young man, Kavya and Kriti, their laughter still fresh in the air. In that simple, quiet moment, everything they had endured seemed to dissolve, replaced by the warmth of the love that had carried them through it all.

The flashes of the camera caught more than just their smiles. They captured the journey of a woman who had once been broken, now whole and standing tall beside the man who had been her rock. It wasn't just a picture; it was a testament to their battles, their growth, and the unspoken strength they found in each other.

Tara thought back to when she first met Prithvi—the uncertainty, the fears that had clouded her heart. She had never imagined this life, this family, this peace. She never knew that love could be so tender, so constant.

Now, with every beat of her heart, she understood. The journey hadn't been easy, but it had been theirs. Every tear, every hardship, every moment of doubt, had led them here.

And now, as the evening sun cast its final glow on them, Tara realized something she hadn’t truly grasped until now—this love, this family, was her home.

And Prithvi—his strength, his unspoken devotion—had carried her, guided her, and now, stood beside her. They had been through so much together, and in that moment, she could feel the depth of their connection, stronger than ever before.

Looking at their children—Manik, Kavya, and Kriti—Tara felt her heart swell. These were the faces of their future, the faces that would carry their legacy forward.

The laughter that echoed around them, the way Manik protectively held his sisters close, the way Kavya and Kriti clung to their brother —it was more than she could have ever dreamed of.

And as the photograph was snapped, Tara knew this moment would live on in their hearts forever. Not because of the picture, but because of the love they had created together.

The love that had withstood the test of time, the love that had healed them both, piece by piece.

And as the family gathered, hands entwined, hearts bound by the unspoken promise to never let go, Tara whispered in her heart, "This is everything."

This was their story—the story of two souls finding their way back to each other, the story of family, of resilience, of love that refused to be defeated.

A story that would be carried through the years, through the generations, forever etched in their hearts.

Goodbye, for now. May the echoes of their love live on, in every page, in every breath, in every tear shed.

-: 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐄𝐍𝐃 :-