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Malini's panic, a fear so real,
Late to rise, a new bride's ordeal.
Abhi's calm voice, a soothing breeze,
Fear not, my love, you're safe with me.
You married me, not my family too,
I'll shield you from blame, and see you through.
You're the Laxmi, of my estate so fair,
This is your home, where you'll always be cared for.
His words, a balm, to her worried soul,
Malini's fears, slowly start to unfold.
She can sleep, she can wake, at her own sweet time,
Abhi's love, a refuge, where she'll always shine.
In his eyes, she's free, she's herself,
No longer bound, by societal wealth.
Abhi's love, a flame, that burns so bright,
Guiding her, through life's darkest night.
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15th April, 1846
Calcutta, Bengal
ABHISHEK'S POV~
"I'm late! I'm the new bride! I have to wake up early!" She yelps, her hands fumbling with the folds of her saree as she tries to straighten her hair.
The once pristine fabric now clings awkwardly to her, twisted by her frantic movements, her fingers trembling slightly as they push stray strands away from her face.
The sight is endearing, yet I feel an unexpected rush of affection.
The cool morning air brushes against my skin, and I move toward her with a calm purpose.
"It's okay. You're the bride, but you're the queen of my estate. You don't have to worry," I say, my voice soft but firm, trying to calm her with my presence.
"But… but your mother—" She trails off, her words laced with hesitation, and her gaze drops quickly, as if she's suddenly unsure of herself.
The weight of tradition presses on her, and she lowers her head in deference, a small nervous movement that tugs at my heart.
I take a deep breath, trying to control the sudden urge to shield her from everything outside of the space we share.
"This is my estate and so does yours. Not my mother's. Her estate is her husband's," I say, my tone steady but carrying a sharp edge of finality.
I grab her wrist gently, tugging her closer to me, her soft skin warm under my fingers.
She gasps, startled by the sudden pull, her body jerking slightly as she stumbles forward.
I sit down on the edge of the bed, and with a steady hand, I guide her to stand between my legs.
The proximity forces us to breathe the same air, and I can feel the slight tremor in her form as she stands before me, her eyes wide and searching.
"You're connected to me. Not to my mother or my father or anyone else," I say softly, my fingers curling around the loose strands of her hair.
I gently twirl a lock around my finger, my touch lingering longer than I intend, feeling the silkiness of her hair, the warmth of her neck, and the vulnerability that radiates from her.
"But… she's your mother, and they're your family," she whispers, her voice quiet and uncertain, her fingers nervously twisting the edge of her saree.
"Listen," I begin, my voice steady but gentle, "remember one thing— respect is never taken just by position. It's earned, woven into the fabric of time... and that takes years."
I pause, letting my words settle between us, the weight of them hanging in the air.
The flicker of uncertainty in her eyes makes me soften, my thumb gently brushing over her cheek, as if to reassure her of the sincerity behind my words.
"Just because you're now married to me doesn't mean that you need to force yourself into my lifestyle, to change yourself. And she's my mother—she's my responsibility, not yours."
The warmth of her skin under my palm is soft and delicate, a constant reminder of how fragile she is in this new world we share.
I watch her for a moment, waiting for the understanding to reach her.
She looks up at me, her eyes squinting slightly in thought, her lips parting as she speaks, "But… what if she asks me why I woke up late?"
I lean in a fraction closer, my breath mingling with hers as I answer, my voice light, trying to suppress the smirk tugging at my lips. "Just say I didn't let you sleep the whole night."
Her eyebrows furrow in confusion, and I see her hesitation as she tries to understand.
"But… you let me sleep comfortably," she responds, tilting her head as if she's trying to reconcile the truth with the lie.
The way she looks at me, half-amused and half-puzzled, makes me want to laugh, yet I hold it in.
I gaze into her eyes, serious now.
"You trust me?" I ask, my voice a quiet challenge, my gaze intense and unwavering.
Her eyes flicker to mine, deep with uncertainty, but then, slowly—hesitatingly—she nods.
I smile softly, my hand still resting on her cheek, and I lean in a little closer, the air between us thick with unspoken understanding.
"Then just say the words I told you now," I murmur, my voice barely above a whisper, urging her to believe in me, in the role I play in her life.
I gesture for her to lean closer, a subtle invitation.
I feel the warmth of her breath on my skin as she leans in, her body coming just a little closer to mine.
The moment feels suspended, as if the world has paused, waiting for her next move.
As she leans in closer, a mischievous grin spreads across my face.
I pinch her neck gently with my thumb and forefinger, just enough to make her flinch.
Her skin is soft and warm, and the small movement stirs something deeper within me.
"Ahh! What are you doing?!" she yelps, her voice high and startled.
Her body tenses, and she tries to pull away, but I'm already one step ahead.
"Shhh… stay silent for a few seconds. I'm not eating you," I whisper, my voice low, teasing. "It's for the words I told you to say."
I wrap my arm around her waist, pulling her back toward me, preventing her escape.
The faint smell of jasmine from her hair envelops me as she squirms, the softness of her form pressing against mine.
She winches as I rub her skin between my fingers, the delicate sensation of her body under my touch sending a strange warmth through me.
I caress the spot gently to soothe her, my fingers tracing the path of where I had pinched her.
I watch her skin slowly turn a soft shade of red, the color spreading like a faint blush across her neck.
"Why did you do that!?" she exclaims, her tone sharp with indignation.
But before I can answer, she raises her hand and pinches my neck in return. "I'll do it too!"
I hiss at the sudden sharpness of her tiny nails digging into my skin, the pressure making my heart skip a beat.
The little pain is fleeting, but it sends an unexpected thrill down my spine.
"Revenge completed!" she declares proudly, her eyes sparkling with satisfaction as she crosses her arms over her chest.
I tilt my head, a smirk tugging at my lips, my eyes narrowing in amusement.
"It's not completed, phoenix," I murmur, leaning in closer.
The warmth of her breath mixes with mine, the air between us crackling with tension. "It'll be one day—but by me."
~ You're the laxmi of my estate.
჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻.✾.჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻
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