Taha Pov ³
And then there was the moment in the bedroom.
I Wasn’t blind. I saw everything—the way she avoided my gaze, her hesitant movements, the way her hands trembled when she thought I might be watching.
Her nervous energy filled the room, palpable and almost amusing. When she reached for a pillow and headed toward the couch, I decided enough was enough.
Told her to use the bed. She is my wife, after all. She belongs beside me, not on some corner of the room as if she’s an outsider.
She froze mid-step, and for a moment, I thought she might drop the pillow. I could practically hear the gears turning in her head. Her hesitation was written all over her face, her indecision loud in the silence. Did she think I’d bite?
When she stayed rooted in place, I looked up from my book, meeting her gaze. Her reaction was immediate—her breath hitched, her fingers tightened on the pillow, and I could see her panic rising.
The nervousness in her eyes was almost too much to ignore. I don’t like repeating myself, and I made sure she understood that with the tone of my voice, letting her name roll off my tongue.
It surprised me, how natural her name felt when I said it.
Her response was just as I expected. She stumbled her way to the bed, her steps unsure, her presence hesitant. And when she finally lay down, she curled up at the very edge, as if the mattress would burn her if she came too close. It was almost ridiculous, but I said nothing.
The silence in the room stretched long and heavy. I could feel her warmth through the shared blanket, her presence impossible to ignore.
The faint scent of sandalwood and soft floral lingered in the air, drifting toward me without permission. 𝘐𝘵 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘥𝘪𝘴𝘵𝘳𝘢𝘤𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘪𝘯 𝘢 𝘸𝘢𝘺 𝘐 𝘥𝘪𝘥𝘯’𝘵 𝘸𝘢𝘯𝘵 𝘵𝘰 𝘢𝘥𝘮𝘪𝘵.
𝘏𝘦𝘳 𝘩𝘢𝘪𝘳 𝘴𝘱𝘪𝘭𝘭𝘦𝘥 𝘢𝘤𝘳𝘰𝘴𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘱𝘪𝘭𝘭𝘰𝘸 𝘭𝘪𝘬𝘦 𝘪𝘯𝘬 𝘢𝘨𝘢𝘪𝘯𝘴𝘵 𝘢 𝘣𝘭𝘢𝘯𝘬 𝘤𝘢𝘯𝘷𝘢𝘴, 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘰𝘶𝘨𝘩 𝘸𝘦 𝘸𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘪𝘯𝘤𝘩𝘦𝘴 𝘢𝘱𝘢𝘳𝘵, 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘸𝘢𝘳𝘮𝘵𝘩 𝘴𝘦𝘦𝘱𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘳𝘰𝘶𝘨𝘩 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘩𝘢𝘳𝘦𝘥 𝘣𝘭𝘢𝘯𝘬𝘦𝘵, 𝘮𝘢𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘱𝘳𝘦𝘴𝘦𝘯𝘤𝘦 𝘶𝘯𝘥𝘦𝘯𝘪𝘢𝘣𝘭𝘦.
The tension between us was obvious, though I stayed silent, letting it build. I wasn’t one for unnecessary conversations, and I wasn’t planning to break the silence.
𝘉𝘶𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘯… 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘉𝘢𝘨𝘶𝘭𝘢 𝘪𝘯𝘤𝘪𝘥𝘦𝘯𝘵 𝘤𝘢𝘮𝘦 𝘵𝘰 𝘮𝘪𝘯𝘥.
I had been quiet about it all evening, controlling the irritation that had simmered in me since the dining table fiasco. 𝘛𝘩𝘦 𝘢𝘶𝘥𝘢𝘤𝘪𝘵𝘺 𝘰𝘧 𝘩𝘦𝘳—𝘤𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘮𝘦 𝘉𝘢𝘨𝘶𝘭𝘢—and the way Ayyan had turned it into a full-blown joke was still fresh in my mind. 𝘙𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘯𝘨𝘦 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘪𝘯𝘦𝘷𝘪𝘵𝘢𝘣𝘭𝘦.
And so, I broke the silence.
I felt her flinch at my voice, her body stiffening immediately. Even without looking, I knew she was panicking. Her breathing turned shallower, and I could almost feel the heat of her embarrassment radiating from her side of the bed.
The satisfaction was immediate. I didn’t even need to see her face to know she was mortified.
Her mind was probably spinning, screaming at itself, desperate for a way to vanish from existence.
I dropped the final blow, my little masterpiece of revenge: 𝘔𝘳𝘴. 𝘉𝘢𝘨𝘶𝘭𝘢.
The nickname rolled off my tongue with a satisfaction I hadn’t felt in ages. Revenge for calling me bagula was sweet, and her stunned silence told me I’d hit my mark perfectly.
She froze again, no doubt wishing the ground would swallow her whole. Her breathing turned uneven, and I could almost imagine her face burning red under the moonlight.
I closed my eyes with a faint smirk, satisfied. The night had shifted, and for the first time, I realized just how easily she could disrupt my world—even if she didn’t know it yet.
I could hear her breathing turn more uneven. She curled herself into a tighter ball, likely stewing in her thoughts, wishing the ground would open up and swallow her whole.
𝘈𝘯𝘥 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵, 𝘐 𝘧𝘦𝘭𝘭 𝘢𝘴𝘭𝘦𝘦𝘱, 𝘶𝘵𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘭𝘺 𝘤𝘰𝘯𝘵𝘦𝘯𝘵, 𝘬𝘯𝘰𝘸𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘐 𝘩𝘢𝘥 𝘴𝘶𝘤𝘤𝘦𝘴𝘴𝘧𝘶𝘭𝘭𝘺 𝘴𝘵𝘰𝘭𝘦𝘯 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘱𝘦𝘢𝘤𝘦 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘯𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵.
Author ~
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Comments
Dr Sweety
aap ku smajh me nai aaitho ek bar dusre chat stories dekhiu aap ku idea aata
novel jiasa padna boltho bore hojati Masha allah aap ki story bhohat quboosurat se present kare
2025-01-29
1
Dr Sweety
authy shall I say something ABT story
2025-01-29
1
Ari 🍃
hahahaha 🤣🤣🤣sweet revenge of taha 🤣
2025-02-08
3