The morning sun peeked through the sheer curtains, casting soft golden streaks across the spacious bedroom. The air smelled faintly of roses — Bella’s favorite fragrance — blending with the comforting scent of home.
But amidst the quiet, a soft giggle echoed.
“Papa... papa... paaa..."
A tiny voice, full of babyish blabber and innocence, danced through the air.
Ruhani Suryavanshi — now a little over two years old — toddled around the bed, her short curls bouncing with every step, her chubby fingers clutching a stuffed bunny almost her size. She was dressed in a tiny pink onesie, her cheeks rosy, her lips curved into a mischievous smile as she carefully navigated her way to the bed.
"Papa... paaa... up!"
Her high-pitched giggle followed as she climbed onto the bed, her tiny hands patting her father’s chest, her bunny smacking his shoulder repeatedly.
Vidyut stirred.
A slow smile crept across his lips — still closed, his eyes refusing to open — but the unmistakable happiness radiated from his entire being. His baby girl was here. His Ruhani.
She squealed again, pressing her face to his arm. "Papa seepin'?"
He couldn’t hold back the chuckle rumbling in his chest anymore. With his eyes still closed, Vidyut turned slightly, nuzzling his face into the pillow but sneaking his hand out to lightly grab Ruhani’s tiny waist.
"Papa’s seeping," he mumbled playfully, making his voice exaggeratedly sleepy.
Ruhani gasped — a dramatic one — and wriggled, trying to escape his gentle hold. "Nooo! Wake, Papa!"
Vidyut peeked one eye open, his lips twitching into a wider grin as he saw his daughter pouting at him, her bottom lip sticking out in what she clearly believed was a fearsome look.
"How can I wake up when my baby is so quiet?" he teased, closing his eye again, pretending to fall back asleep.
Ruhani's little brows scrunched, her mind working hard, and then —
Smack.
Her bunny’s paw landed square on his nose.
Vidyut let out a dramatic groan. "Oh no! I’m under attack!"
Ruhani squealed in laughter, clapping her hands. "Bunny got Papa!"
Unable to resist anymore, Vidyut opened his eyes fully, grabbing Ruhani and pulling her into his chest, making her giggle louder as she squirmed.
"You little troublemaker," he whispered, kissing the top of her head, his heart swelling with a kind of love he still couldn’t quite put into words.
She smelled of baby lotion and innocence — a scent Vidyut had grown addicted to over the last two years.
Every laugh, every step, every word Ruhani learned was a piece of magic, and every day spent with her felt like a dream he never wanted to wake up from.
"Say sorry to Papa for hitting him," he teased, nudging her nose with his.
Ruhani blinked, then cupped his cheeks with both her small hands. "Sowwy, Papa."
Vidyut’s heart melted into a puddle.
"That’s my girl," he murmured, pressing a kiss to both her cheeks.
Just then —
A soft knock at the door made them both turn.
There stood Bella — dressed in a simple, light blue cotton saree, her hair lazily braided over one shoulder, and the faintest hint of a smile tugging at her lips as she watched her husband and daughter’s adorable morning routine unfold.
Her gaze softened at the sight.
Vidyut — once the cold, brooding man who carried the weight of the world on his shoulders — was now wrapped around his daughter’s tiny finger.
"Am I interrupting something?" Bella teased, stepping into the room.
Ruhani’s face lit up like the sun. "Maa!"
Vidyut smiled, still holding Ruhani. "Your daughter is a menace," he said with a faux frown, though his adoration was clear. "She assaulted me with a bunny."
Bella laughed softly, walking over to the bed and sitting beside them. "That’s because you were too busy pretending to sleep instead of waking up when she asked."
Vidyut smirked, tucking a loose strand of hair behind Bella’s ear. "I was hoping my beautiful wife would wake me up with a kiss instead."
Bella flushed. "In your dreams, Suryavanshi."
Ruhani clapped again, seemingly unaware of their flirting but delighted by their closeness.
Vidyut pulled Bella into his other arm, now holding both his girls — his family — in his embrace.
Looking at them, he realized for the housandth time—
This was his everything.
And he wouldn’t have it any other way.
—
The house was quieter than usual.
Ruhani had left for her dadi’s place for a family function, her giggles and endless blabber leaving a strange emptiness behind. Vihaan was off in Kerala for work, and for the first time in what felt like forever, the house belonged to just Vidyut and Bella.
The silence wasn’t unfamiliar — it used to be their everyday reality before Ruhani came into their world — but now, it felt foreign, like something was missing.
Bella stood in front of the mirror, brushing her long, silky hair that now cascaded past her waist. The past two years had changed her in more ways than one — her body had grown softer, fuller in the most beautiful places. Her once slender frame now held a motherly grace — her breasts heavier, her hips curvier — but Vidyut never let her forget how much he adored her.
You’re perfect.
More beautiful than ever.
I fall in love with you every day.
His words echoed in her mind like a sweet melody, and she smiled softly, running her fingers through her thick locks.
She was so lost in thought that the sudden deep voice from the bathroom startled her.
“Bella!” Vidyut's voice rumbled from behind the bathroom door. “I forgot my towel!”
Her eyes narrowed instantly. "Vidyut Suryavanshi, are you serious?" she muttered under her breath, setting her brush down with a huff.
Grabbing a towel from the closet, she stomped toward the bathroom, flinging the door open just enough to shove the towel inside.
“Here!” she snapped. “You always forget something—”
But before she could finish, a strong, wet hand shot out from behind the glass shower door, grabbing her wrist.
“Vidyut!” Bella yelped, her bare feet slipping on the wet tiles as she tumbled inside.
The next thing she knew, the towel fell to the floor, and the glass door shut behind her with a sharp click.
Water poured down in a steady stream from the rain showerhead, drenching Vidyut’s already toned, glistening body. His chest heaved slightly — droplets sliding down the curves of his muscles — and his hair stuck to his forehead, making him look like a sinful dream.
“Vidyut, what the hell!” Bella hissed, trying to push against his hard chest, but his hands slid down her waist, trapping her against the cold glass.
Her baby blue saree clung to her like a second skin, turning sheer under the water. The fabric, once elegant and delicate, now outlined every curve Vidyut worshiped.
His dark eyes roamed over her — from the wet strands of hair stuck to her flushed cheeks to the curve of her neck where his lips ached to be.
And then lower.
To her swollen breasts pressed against his chest.
Her waist — the very place his hands loved to rest.
Her parted lips.
Her eyes.
His Bella.
His wife.
His everything.
Bella shivered, though not from the cold.
“Vidyut,” she warned, though her voice trembled, losing all its strength.
He leaned in, his lips barely brushing against the shell of her ear. "You’re so beautiful, Bella..." His voice was rough, gravelly — his desire spilling into every word.
Her heart slammed against her ribs.
“Stop—this is not—” She gasped as his fingers trailed up her spine, sending a jolt of heat through her veins.
He pulled back just enough to look at her face, his thumb grazing her lower lip.
“Why do you think I ask for a towel, hmm?” His smirk was sinful, his voice a low purr.
Bella glared at him, her cheeks burning. "Because you're a forgetful idiot?"
Vidyut chuckled, his hand sliding to her jaw, tipping her chin up. "No, sweetheart… because I knew you'd come."
She opened her mouth to snap at him, but his lips crushed hers — a kiss so deep, so raw, it made her toes curl.
The water rained down on them, soaking every inch of her as Vidyut’s strong arms wrapped around her waist, pulling her impossibly closer. Her wet saree slipped slightly from her shoulder, baring the smooth skin of her collarbone — a sight Vidyut couldn’t resist.
His lips left her mouth, trailing down her neck, his teeth grazing her pulse.
“Vidyut,” Bella whimpered, her fingers threading into his wet hair as he kissed a path down to her shoulder.
Her body betrayed her — arching into him, responding to every touch, every whisper of his breath against her skin.
He was drunk on her.
Everything about her.
Her scent, her voice, her curves — especially the way her body had blossomed after giving birth to their daughter.
Her once petite frame now had a softness he adored — her fuller breasts, her delicate waist, her wider hips — every part of her called out to him like a siren's song.
He loved her before, but now… now she was his addiction.
“Your hair…” Vidyut murmured, his hand slipping down to the curve of her hip. “So long, so soft… I told you I’d make them healthy again.”
Bella gasped as his lips brushed against her shoulder, his fingers tangling in her wet strands.
Her heart pounded, her head spinning. “Vidyut, we’re— we’re in the bathroom—”
He smirked against her skin. “So?”
She glared at him, still breathless. “You're impossible.”
He kissed the corner of her mouth. “And you love it.”
Water poured down in a steady rhythm, drenching them both under the rain shower. The sound of droplets hitting the tiles echoed softly, but all Vidyut could hear was the wild beating of his heart and the shallow, shaky breaths leaving Bella's lips.
She was a vision.
Her baby blue saree clung to her like a second skin, turning translucent under the cascading water. The fabric traced every curve he worshiped — the soft swell of her breasts, the dip of her waist, the curve of her hips — every inch of her calling to him, just like it always did.
It didn’t matter that they'd been intimate countless times over the years — every time he touched her, every time he kissed her, she still reacted like it was their first night together.
And God, did he love that.
Vidyut's hand slid down her back, his fingers trailing over the wet silk that hugged her form. He cupped her waist, his thumb brushing slow circles against her bare skin just above her saree's pleats.
His dark, intense eyes met hers — burning, asking, begging.
“May I?” His voice was hoarse, barely above a whisper, but it sent a shiver down Bella’s spine.
Her lips parted, and for a moment, all she could hear was the rain of the shower and the thunder of her heartbeat.
Then, with a soft nod and a breathless "Yes," Bella gave him her permission — her trust — once again.
Vidyut’s hand moved with reverence, finding the delicate end of her saree. Slowly, achingly slowly, he unraveled the soaked fabric from around her waist, each pull of the pleats sending a wave of anticipation through Bella’s body.
The saree pooled at their feet, a puddle of silk and water.
His gaze, dark with desire yet soft with love, dropped to her blouse — the thin, wet material clinging desperately to her skin. The delicate embroidery outlined the swell of her breasts, and Vidyut swore he forgot how to breathe.
He leaned in, pressing his lips to her throat, tasting the mix of water and Bella's intoxicating scent.
Her fingers dug into his bicep, clinging to him like he was the only anchor keeping her grounded.
Even now — after years of being his wife, his lover, the mother of his child — she still melted beneath his touch like it was the first time.
And Vidyut felt his heart twist in his chest at the realization.
His lips traveled lower, brushing along her collarbone, stopping right at the valley between her breasts. The thin blouse stuck to her skin, her heaving chest rising and falling with every shaky breath.
He lifted his gaze, his fingers tracing the delicate strings at the back of her blouse.
Silence.
A question lingering in his eyes.
Bella swallowed hard, her hands still gripping his arm. There was something so raw about this moment — the way he asked for her consent at every step, even now, even after all these years.
A silent promise.
That he'd never take anything she wasn't willing to give.
With her heart thudding wildly, Bella gave him the answer he sought — a soft, almost pleading nod.
His fingers worked the strings loose, each knot coming undone until the blouse slackened.
And then it slid off her shoulders, the delicate fabric slipping from her skin and joining the saree at their feet.
Bella stood there, stark naked under the shower, her bare body bathed in the soft cascade of water.
Vidyut didn't move for a moment.
He simply stared — not at her body, but at her.
At the woman who had given him everything.
Her love.
Her trust.
Their daughter.
Her entire heart.
A shaky breath left his lips.
"You're... beautiful," he rasped, his voice raw with emotion and desire.
Bella's cheeks flushed a deep crimson, her instinctive reaction still to cross her arms over her chest, even though Vidyut had seen and worshiped every inch of her countless times before.
But before she could, Vidyut gently grasped her wrists and placed her hands on his bare chest.
“Don't hide from me,” he whispered, pressing his forehead against hers. “Not now… not ever.”
Bella's heart ached at his words.
She leaned in, brushing her lips against his — a soft, tender kiss that quickly turned desperate as Vidyut's hands roamed down her waist, pulling her closer until there was no space left between them.
Water slid down their skin, mixing with the heat radiating off their bodies.
His lips trailed down her jaw, along the column of her neck, and lower — his kisses following the curves of her body like a silent vow.
Bella's head fell back, a soft moan slipping from her lips as his mouth lingered over the swell of her breast, his hand splayed across the small of her back, holding her steady.
"Vidyut…" she whispered, her voice a mix of longing and love.
He pulled back, just enough to meet her gaze — his thumb brushing tenderly across her lower lip.
"You’re mine," he murmured, his voice both a promise and a plea.
Her hand slid up his chest, stopping right over his heart, feeling its wild rhythm beneath her palm.
"And you," she whispered back, "are mine."
Vidyut’s lips crashed against hers once more, the water continuing to pour down around them — but the fire between them burned hotter than any flame ever could.
In that moment — with their hearts racing, their bodies pressed together, and the silent language of love and trust passing between them — it wasn’t just about desire.
It was about them.
Husband and wife.
Lovers.
Best friends.
And two souls who had chosen each other — again and again — every single day.
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