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Abhi's introduction, a gentle start,
Malini's curiosity, a heart that sparks.
A pet name chosen, with a shy smile so free,
Abhi, a moniker, that suits him perfectly.
He tells her to walk tall, with her head held high,
A Laxmi in his eyes, a goddess to the sky.
Malini's heart swells, with gratitude so true,
A husband like Abhi, a treasure anew.
A coconut's metaphor, a comparison so apt,
Tough exterior, but nourishment that wraps.
Abhi's calm and gentle, a heart of gold,
Nourishing Malini, as she grows bold.
In a world that's harsh, he's a shelter so strong,
Educating her, righting wrong with every song.
Malini's heart beats, with love and respect so deep,
For Abhi, her Abhi, her guiding light to keep.
•·•·•·•·•·•·••●❍•❅•°•❈•°•❅•❍●••·•·•·•·•·•·•
14th April 1846
Calcutta, Bengal
MALINI'S POV~
He chuckles heartily, wrapping his left arm around my waist and his right hand gently caresses the back of my head.
"I didn't know my wife could be this bubbly," he says with a smirk, his voice laced with amusement.
His chuckle is warm, but it catches me off guard, and my face heats up as I scramble off him, suddenly aware of how close we are.
"You don't have to wrap your personality inside you for anyone, especially not me" He says, booping my nose with a grin, making me startle again.
He gestures for me to lay down beside him, his hand outstretched as if inviting me into a safe space.
There's a tenderness in his eyes that disarms me, yet I hesitate for a moment, unsure of how to bridge the space between us.
Finally, I slide down beside him, my heart racing with a strange mixture of peace and anticipation.
"Um.. What should I call you?" I ask, my voice barely above a whisper, as I nervously bite my lip.
The weight of tradition presses down on me, and I feel caught between the pull of what's expected and the strange, newfound sense of freedom he's offering.
"Call me Abhishek" He says, making me widen my eyes in shock.
"No! How can I?! You're my husband, I cannot call you by your name and you're older" I gasp, turning on my stomach and arching my back to lift my head up.
"Then call me whatever you want or like" He says with a shrug, his voice nonchalant, like he's offering me a choice that I never had before.
The way he leans back against the pillow, completely at ease, makes me feel both out of place and oddly free.
"Um.. ji?" I murmur, my voice small and unsure.
It feels awkward, foreign—like trying to wear shoes that don't fit.
I want to honor the tradition, but something about him, about us, doesn't feel like the 'ji' or the formality of it all.
"Am I like other husbands?" He asks with a raised eyebrow, his lips curling into a mischievous grin.
There's something teasing in his gaze, as if he's enjoying watching me struggle with this new territory between us.
I quickly shake my head.
"Um.. then, Abhi?" I whisper, my heart racing as the words leave my mouth.
It feels so informal, yet somehow right.
His sudden movement toward me catches me off guard, and instinctively, I raise myself on my elbows, as if trying to make more space between us, but the proximity only heightens the tension.
"Yes, phoenix" He whispers, his breath warm against the skin of my neck.
His voice is low, almost a caress, and a shiver runs through me, not just from the proximity but from the way he makes me feel like I'm something fragile, something precious.
"W-why do you always come this close?" I stammer, my voice trembling, a mix of confusion and something else—something warmer, more confusing.
My heart beats erratically in my chest, and I can't figure out if it's fear or anticipation.
"Because you're my wife. If not you, then who?" He whispers, his words simple but filled with a depth that catches me off guard.
There's no judgment in his voice, no pressure—just the quiet assurance that, for him, I am the only one who matters.
He leans back slightly, giving me space, but the warmth of his presence lingers.
He slowly lifts his hand, and with the gentleness of someone who knows the weight of his touch, he tucks a stray strand of hair behind my ear.
His fingers brush my skin, sending a flutter through me, and I close my eyes, the anticipation of his next move making the air feel heavier, charged.
"A bird is born to fly, not to be forced into swimming," He whispers, his voice soft yet firm, as if each word carries a truth he wants me to feel deep in my bones. "And those who've been forced forget who they are. Don't forget, Malini. Never forget who you are."
His thumb, rough yet tender, brushes against my cheek, sending a warm shiver through my skin.
I nod slowly, the weight of his words settling in my chest. It feels like he's unlocking something within me—a hidden strength I never knew I had, buried beneath the layers of fear and tradition.
"From today, walk with your head high," he commands, his voice a deep, reassuring rumble. "You are the Laxmi of my estate, and Laxmi never lowers her head, not even in front of me."
The words are a challenge, a promise, a truth that resonates within me.
His tone holds such authority that I can feel them sinking into my soul, igniting something inside me that I never thought I could feel— pride.
"Now sleep. You're tired" He chuckles softly, patting my head.
I quietly lay down beside him.
I lift my eyes to peek at him.
A smile tugs on my lips.
He's like a coconut.
Looking strict and dangerous from outside, but is soft and meaningful from inside.
Outside is tough and hard to never let the world know what he hides inside— the purity, humbleness, love, which can be tainted with a light exposure.
Today... he showed me a glimpse of what lies inside him—something fragile and pure, hidden beneath his tough exterior.
It's like I've caught a fleeting spark of his true self, and I want to dive deeper, to know all of him.
But if I push too hard, too soon, I fear I'll ruin it—his walls are not just barriers, but shields protecting something far more delicate.
No.
I have to find some other way.
Closing my eyes, I slip closer to him, the warmth of his body offering me a comfort I've never known.
I want to become like water—fluid, unnoticed, yet essential.
I'll find my way into his life, gently, through the cracks in his armor, seeping in like nutrients nourishing a plant.
And then, I'll become a part of him, not just in body, but in soul.
I hold him, not with my hands, but with my heart—nourishing him from within, like water feeding the earth.
We'll balance each other, shaping and shifting in ways neither of us fully understands yet.
With a soft sigh, I rest my head on his arm, the steady rhythm of his breathing lulling me into a sense of peace I've never known.
In this moment, I feel like I belong here, beside him.
Entered the room to lash on him— now resting my head on his arm like he's my wings, like a bird whose wings were chopped.
"Thank you, Abhi," I whisper, my voice barely audible, as if the weight of the gratitude I feel cannot be fully expressed in words.
The soft sound of his name on my lips is a prayer, a promise, a quiet acknowledgment of everything he's given me—his trust, his care, his love.
~ Comfort is the first level of love.
჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻.✾.჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻
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