Anirudh returned to his room, having finished the work for which his brother had called him early in the morning.

He entered the room quietly, not wanting to make any noise, thinking his wife, Niharika, was still asleep. But as he walked in, she wasn’t there.

Niharika had woken up long before. He wondered where she had gone at this hour. All the questions running through his mind were silenced by the sound of running water coming from the bathroom.

It took him no time to realize she was in the shower.

Sighing to himself, he hopped on bed in exhaustion because of waking early. Just as his were about close, he heard Niharika coming out from the shower, and what he saw made him

Speechless, Stunned and eyes wide in horror.

Without even realizing it, Anirudh’s cheeks flushed with heat, and he instinctively buried his face in the pillow. Niharika was still unaware that her husband had returned.

The bathroom door clicked open softly. Draped in nothing but a towel, Niharika stepped out, her damp skin shimmering under the soft light. She believed she was alone — certain that Anirudh wasn’t back yet — and casually made her way to the mirror to dry her hair.

Each movement made the water droplets dance along her slender legs, her bare shoulders glowing with the warmth of her recent shower. Anirudh, every bit the gentleman, kept his face hidden, trying to calm the storm building in his chest.

But curiosity got the better of him. Surely she must have dressed by now, he thought. Slowly, he lifted his head — only for his eyes to widen as the sight before him stole his breath away. There she stood, towel still clinging to her curves, blissfully unaware of her audience.

With a helpless smile, Anirudh covered his face again, silently cursing her innocent boldness.

Niharika, blissfully unaware of the man in the room, continued drying her hair, swaying a little to an imaginary tune. But then, for no particular reason, she twirled around—

—and her eyes landed on a figure sitting on the bed. A man. A man! With his face half-hidden behind his palm.

Her brain short-circuited.

Who is that?! When did he come in?!
Her heart leapt into her throat. Instinct took over — she let out an ear-splitting scream and dashed behind the curtain, clutching the fabric around her with trembling fingers.

“You—! Who are you?! How dare you—! GET OUT!” she yelled, her voice both furious and trembling. Her cheeks were on fire — a mix of terror, embarrassment, and indignation.

She yelled, peeking out of the curtain, while anirudh removed his hands from his face only to find her wife behind the curtain with eyes wide in terror and embarrassment. He smiled at her antics and stood up while saying. "It's me niharika darling, your husband". He teased, his voice full of warmth.

At his voice her face burned more and she wrapped the curtain more around herself trying to hide, while he just chuckled at her.

"You, idiot..can't you just say it already that you are back....I almost died" she said and glared at him peeking out of curtain, her cheeks still burning in embarrassment.

"Woah, it's not my fault darling....I was just trying to be respectful, you know.....maybe you should just warn me before you walk around like this." He said with playful smirk, stretching lazily.

"ANIRUDH! shut up". She shouted again, burning in pure embarrassment, her cheeks burned brighter and once again she disappeared behind the curtain.

"Woah woah, calm down darling.....and come out, I promise I won't look until you dress up." He laughed softly and said while closing his eyes dramatically with his hands.

Gathering her courage, Niharika peeked out, towel still snugly wrapped around her, her cheeks pinker than ever. “No peeking?” she asked shyly.

“Of course,” he said — though his fingers were parted just slightly, and his grin betrayed him. But then laughing he finally left the room and walked to balcony.

She dressed quickly in a simple white top and jeans, brushing a hand through her hair before softly calling him back in.
He entered once more, his eyes finding her in an instant. A slow, knowing smile touched his lips as he leaned casually against the doorframe, watching her.

She stood at the mirror, fingertips gliding over her skin as she worked through her skincare routine, trying to appear unaffected. But her heart betrayed her, beating faster with each passing second under the warmth of his gaze.

She told herself to stay calm, to focus — yet a faint blush rose to her cheeks, blooming with the quiet awareness that he was still looking at her... and not in any hurry to look away.

*****

Yuvaan entered the room and found her — Vaishnavi, fast asleep on the couch, her face partly hidden beneath the book she’d been reading while waiting for him.

His hard gaze softened the moment he saw her. A tender smile tugged at his lips as he noticed she was still wearing that same dress.

Silently, he moved closer, lowering himself to his knees before her. With great care, he lifted the book from her face and set it aside, not wanting to wake her.

For a moment, he simply looked at her — the softness of her features, the peaceful rise and fall of her breath. A gentle warmth bloomed in his chest. Smiling softly, he reached out and tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear, his fingers lingering for just a second longer than necessary.

In an instant, her eyes fluttered open like wide, sleepy kittens—and all traces of slumber were forgotten. A rosy flush of frustration bubbled back, and she shot upright, giving him a pouty glare. He swallowed hard, staring at her adorably angry face for the very first time.

He gulped hard. She turned her face away, giving him the silent treatment. He sighed, shifting from foot to foot, then tried again with all the sweetest pet names he could summon:

“S-sugar…”
…nothing.

“Buttercup…”
Again, silence.

He whispered again “Vaishu,” his voice trembling like a shy kitten.

"Vaishnavi, at least listen to me". his voice laced with frustration - not on her but the demanding work. As if she noticed his frustration not towards her but work, she finally turned her face towards him, the anger still visible but she was ready to listen.

"Speak". she demanded, and there he was, little bird opening his beak: “I… I’m sorry, Vaishu.... my darling, I—” He stopped, cheeks flushed with how close she leaned.

she said, leaning in so her face hovered near his—she was still perched on the couch while he sat on the floor before her. Her voice was firm yet gentle.

He gazed up at her, heart pounding beneath his chest.
She leaned forward, face inches from his, the soft curve of her cheek illuminated in the lamplight.

“I don’t need your apology,” she murmured, voice low and steady—more a caress than a reprimand.

He swallowed, breath caught in his throat, drawn by the warmth in her tone.

She paused, so close he could see tiny flecks of light in her eyes. Reaching down to brush his hair back from his forehead. His gaze softened, a hopeful smile slipping onto his lips.

Try to think of ways—how to pacify me, Mr. Singhania… this time, apology won’t work,” Vaishnavi said, leaning closer; her breath fluttered across his cheek, and her lips grazed his earlobe.

His breath hitched. His wife’s boldness sent a familiar shiver down his spine—the same way he used to give her.

She paused, her lips grazing the shell of his ear. He closed his eyes, reaching up through the space between them—ready to become her solace.

She backed off in an instant, a lazy smirk curling her lips, arms crossed over her chest. He groaned at the sudden loss of her warmth and the sweet scent of her skin.

He flopped onto the carpet dramatically, pouting at the empty space where her warmth had been.

She leaned against the couch, arms crossed, lips quirking into a triumphant grin.

“Best of luck, Mr. Yuvaan Singhania,” she teased, voice soft but sparkling.

He shot her a faux glare—eyes wide, cheeks puffed—before sighing:

“I’ll need more than luck… I’ll need a treasure map,” he muttered, eyes drifting to where her scent still lingered on the cushions.

She strolled off to the bathroom, her smirk playful but challenging.
“Figure it out yourself… Baby,” she tossed over her shoulder, voice husky and daring.

He blinked, heart thudding at the weight of that nickname—so tender, yet filled with promise. A slow grin spread across his face.

“I accept the challenge,” he whispered to the empty room, brushing his fingers to his lips, tasting the echo of her scent.

*******

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