𝐒𝐚𝐤𝐬𝐡𝐢 ~ 𝐇𝐢𝐬 𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐢𝐝 𝐰𝐢𝐟𝐞 |𝟏𝟖+| - Chapter 17: Chapter 17

Author's POV:-
It was night when Arjun still didn't return from his work. Sakshi sighed as her eyes lands to the wall clock.
'Itne der kyu lag rahe hain ajj unhe??' she mutters and goes to the balcony to water the plants she has planted.
(“Why is he taking so long today?”)
Arjun has bought her some clay pots so that she could grow various types of plants in her free time.
She smiled as she saw the chilli plants were growing slowly.She tucks her pallu around her waist and started to clean the area which got dirty with soil.
On the other hand Arjun came inside and frowns on not finding Sakshi in the room.
'Yeh Sakshi kaha gayi ?? Neche bhi nahi dikha..' he mutters scanning the room.
(“Where did Sakshi go? She’s not downstairs either”)
His eyes then lands on the open door of balcony. He went there to see her kneeling cleaning the soil from the pot . She still didn't got to know that he is standing behind her and she was talking to herself.
"Itna tujhe khana khila rahi hoon... paani bhi de rahi hoon... ab zyada nakhre mat kar, jaldi se badi ho jaa, aur ek se badhkar ek khoobsurat phool dena," she whispered softly, caressing the little plant like it was a child.
(“I feed you so much… give you water too… now don’t act fussy, grow up fast and give me the most beautiful flowers,” )
Arjun, watching from behind, couldn’t help but chuckle silently. He slowly walked toward her, knelt down, and gently wrapped his palm over her eyes.
Startled, she gasped and stumbled back a little.
“Ahhh!” she screamed, clutching his hand in reflex.
“Kya chillaa rahi hai? Main hoon, tera Arjun,” he laughed as he uncovered her eyes.
(“Why are you screaming? It’s me, your Arjun,”)
Realizing it was him, she turned around with a sigh of relief.
“Ji! Aap bhi na... aise kaun darata hai? Dar gayi na main...” she glared playfully before standing up and rinsing her hands with water.
(“jii!! You scared me… who scares people like this?”)
He followed her and knelt slightly behind her, hiding his hands at his back. His eyes sparkled with mischief.
“Ismein darne wali kya baat hai? Ab mere alawa... tere itne kareeb kaun aa sakta hai, haan?”
(“What’s there to be scared of? Besides me, who else could even come this close to you, hmm?”)
Her cheeks flushed pink. She glanced at him from the corner of her eyes, lips curling into a teasing smile.
“Agar aa gaya toh?”
("What if someone does??")
His smile faltered for a moment. He knew she was joking—but the mere thought of another man coming close to his wife sent a surge of possessiveness through his veins.
He wraps his arm around her waist possessively from behind, 'Toh mein uska woh haal karunga ki woh tere kareeb toh kya ..tujhse nazrein milane se bhi uska pura sharir darr se kapne lage' he growled, his voice low and dangerous.
(“Then I’ll make sure his condition is such that he wouldn’t even dare look at you, let alone come near you. His whole body will tremble with fear at the thought of you,”)
His words sent a shiver down Sakshi’s spine. She looked into his eyes, now dark with intensity.
“Aap gussa ho gaye kya ji...? Main toh bas mazaak kar rahi thi...” she whispered, almost apologetically.
(“Jii did you get angry at me...? I was only joking…” )
He smiled, brushing his thumb under her chin, lifting her face to meet his gaze.
“Mujhe pata hai tu mazaak kar rahi thi... par jo maine kaha, woh bilkul bhi mazaak nahi tha.”
(“I know you were joking… but what I said was not a joke.”)
He grips her chin with his thumb making her look at his eyes..
'Tu sirf Arjun Shekhawat ki biwi hain...jitna haq mera hain tujhpar thikh utna hi haq tera hain mujh par... agar mere biwi ko koi aankh uthake bhi dekhe na...toh mein uska aankhe noch leta hu..jisse ki woh tujhe kya kisi aur k biwi ko bhi apne gandhe nazar se na dekhne ka himmat kar sake...' he whispers making her gulp in fear.
(“You are only Arjun Shekhawat’s wife… just like I have a right over you, you have an equal right over me. If anyone dares to even glance at my wife… I’ll gouge out his eyes so that he never dares to look at not just you, but anyone’s wife with dirty intentions again,”)
Sakshi swallowed hard, her words stuck in her throat. The seriousness in his tone, the fierce love in his eyes—it was overwhelming.
He noticed the fear in her eyes and pulled her into a warm, tight embrace.
"Tu kyun itna darr rahi hai mujhse, haan?" he asked softly, rubbing her back with a tenderness that contrasted his earlier rage.
(“Why are you getting scared of me, hmm?”)
She shook her head slowly against his chest, unable to find the words to explain what she was feeling. After all, this was the first time she had seen this side of Arjun—a side that could burn the world for her... and hold her like she was the most fragile thing in it.
'Bas aapko aise pehali baar dekha na toh...' she whisper clutching his kurta into a fist.
(“Jii it’s just… I saw this side of you for the first time,”
He chuckles in response.
She looked up at him, hesitation flickering in her eyes.
“Ek baat puchu aapse?”
("Can I ask you one thing??")
He raised his eyebrows, signaling her to go ahead.
She looked down, then back at him—her voice trembling with a question that weighed heavy on her heart.
“Agar kisi din mujhse koi bohot badi galti ho jaaye... phir aap bhi aise hi gussa karenge? Chillayenge mujh par?”
(“If one day… I make a huge mistake… would you get angry like this too? Would you shout at me?”)
He gently cupped her cheek, his thumb grazing her skin with affection.
“Woh toh nirbhar karega ki tune woh galti jaan ke ki... ya anjane mein, hai na?”
(“That would depend… did you make the mistake knowingly, or unknowingly?”)
She nodded slowly, her gaze not leaving his.
“Agar anjane mein kiya, toh maaf kar dunga... par agar jaan ke kiya...” he paused, his voice turning serious.
(“If it was unknowingly, I’ll forgive you… but if you did it knowingly…” )
Her breath hitched.
“Phir kya karenge? Maarenge mujhe?” she asked softly, fear flashing in her eyes.
(“Then what would you do? Hit me?”)
He shook his head, his hand still steady on her cheek.
“Main maarunga bhi nahi... chillaoonga bhi nahi. Bas puchunga—kyu kiya? Mujhe sirf sach chahiye. Jhoot bilkul pasand nahi hai. Agar tune bina kuch chhupaye sach keh diya na...”
(“I wouldn’t hit you… wouldn’t shout either. I’d just ask—why did you do it? I only want the truth. I don’t like lies at all. If you tell me the truth without hiding anything…”)
“Agar aisa kuch ho jaaye jisme log mujhpe ungli utha rahe ho... par maine woh kaam na kiya ho... tab bhi aap bharosa kar paayenge mujhpe?” she interrupted, her voice cracking.
(“What if something happens where people are pointing fingers at me… but I haven’t done anything wrong… will you still be able to trust me?”)
He looked into her eyes with unwavering certainty and nodded.
“Bilkul karunga. Kyuki mujhe tere upar poora bharosa hai. Agar khud ki biwi pe hi bharosa nahi karunga... toh phir kis par karunga?”
(“Of course I will. Because I trust you completely. If I can’t trust my own wife… then who else would I trust?”)
Her eyes welled up with unshed tears. A smile found its way to her lips as he leaned in and pressed a soft kiss on her forehead.
"Ab yeh sab baatein chhod, aur chal mere saath… tujhe kuch dikhana hai," he said, grabbing her hand and pulling her along playfully.
(“Now leave all this talk, and come with me… I have something to show you,” )
"Ab kya laye mere liye?" she giggled, trying to keep up.
(“What have you brought for me now?”)
"Tujhe kaise pata maine kuch laya hai tere liye?" he asked, raising an eyebrow with a mock-serious expression.
(“How do you know I brought something for you?”)
She grinned mischievously.
"Kyuki aap toh har roz kaam se aate waqt kuch na kuch le aate ho... toh laga aaj bhi kuch laye honge."
(“Because you bring something for me every day after work… so I thought maybe today too.”)
He chuckled.
"Sahi pakda. Aur is baar, jo laya hoon na, usse dekh kar tu bohot khush ho jayegi. Dekh woh box... khol ke dekh isme kya hai."
He gestured toward the large box resting on the floor.
("You guessed it right..And this time, what I’ve brought will make you really happy. Look at that box… open it and see what’s inside.”)
Curious, she walked over, sat down, and began opening it. As the contents revealed themselves, a soft gasp escaped her lips.
"Yeh… yeh toh…!" she stammered, her eyes wide in disbelief.
(“This… this is…!”)
"Haan," he smiled, his eyes twinkling, "ab tu jab chahe silai kar sakti hai… apni silai machine."
(“yes and now you can stitch whenever you want… with your own sewing machine.”)
Tears welled up in her eyes as her fingers gently ran over the brand-new sewing machine. Her dream—sitting right in front of her.
She sobbed, overwhelmed.
"Itni mehngi hogi na ji yeh… bohot paise lag gaye honge?" she asked, her voice trembling with emotion.
(“This must be expensive… you must’ve spent a lot of money on it?”)
He sighed, crossing his arms.
"Tu shukriya kehne ke bajaye yeh sab puchh rahi hai mujhse?"
(“Instead of saying thank you, you’re asking me that?”)
She pouted adorably.
"Bohot bohot shukriya ji… par kya karu, itna kharcha kar diya aapne mere liye..."
(“Thank you so, so much… but what can I do, you spent so much on me…”)
He shook his head with a soft smile, pulling her up by her hand.
"Kuch kharcha nahi hua. Bas tu khush hai na? Phir sab badiya hai."
(“It wasn’t an expense. You are happy right??Then everything’s perfect.”)
She smiled nodded in tears.
'Aise rone se nahi chalega..bata de raha hu...roz nay nay kapde banana parega tujhe..' he said making her grin.
(“If you cry like this, it won’t do… I’m warning you… now you’ll have to make new clothes every day,”)
Next morning, as usual, Arjun was getting ready for work. He stood in front of the mirror, buttoning up his shirt, when suddenly—snap—one of the buttons came off.
Sakshi was folding the blanket on the bed when her eyes drifted toward him.
"Kya hua, ji?" she asked, walking over to him with a gentle concern in her voice.
("What happened jii??")
He turned toward her, holding the shirt where the button had come off.
"Tut gaya... ab kaise jaun bahar?" he asked with a sigh.
(“It broke… how do I go out now?”)
"Ji, toh yeh kurta aap de dijiye, main sil deti hoon," she replied softly, already pulling out the sewing box from the drawer.
(“Give me the kurta, I’ll stitch it right away,”)
"Tu yahin silai kar de… main toh yahi pehen kar jaaunga," he said with a straight face, though mischief was already playing in his eyes.
(“Stitch it right here… I’m going to wear this only,”)
"Aise kaise karun? Aap toh bahut lambe ho, ji..." she mumbled, measuring his height with her eyes.
(“How can I do it like this? You’re so tall…”)
"Toh charh jaa bistar pe, phir" he teased, making her giggle.
(“Then climb onto the bed,” )
She picked up her saree pleats and climbed onto the bed instantly.
"Ab thoda paas bhi aa ja... itni door khadi rahegi toh silai kaise karegi?" he said, curling his finger asking her to come closer.
(“Come a little closer… if you stay this far, how will you sew?”)
She blushed, scrunched her nose playfully, and was about to step forward when he suddenly pulled her by the waist, making her gasp. Her eyes widened as her hands flew to his shoulders for support.
"Kya kar rahe ho, ji? Abhi gir jaati toh?" she asked, flustered.
(“What are you doing jii? I could’ve fallen!”)
"Main hoon na... tujhe aise hi pakda hai kya, sirf girne se bachane ke liye?" he whispered, his voice low and husky, pulling her even closer until their chests lightly touched.
(“I’m here… do you think I’m holding you just to keep you from falling?”)
He brushed his nose against her softly.
She giggled under her breath and began sewing the button onto his shirt, trying to focus despite his intense gaze. Her cheeks warmed as she felt the weight of his eyes on her.
He admired her lovingly—the soft kajal outlining her eyes, the small nose pin gleaming, the red bindi on her forehead, and the vermilion that bore his name filling her hairline.
But then his gaze moved to her wrists, noticing the gentle clinking of her choodiyan. Everything seemed perfect… until he noticed something missing. A small frown appeared on his face.
She was wearing her usual bangles—but not the gold kangan his mother had gifted her.
Without a word, he took both her wrists in his hands, startling her.
"Kya kar rahe ho, ji? Abhi sui lag jaati na aapko!" she scolded him lightly, concerned.
(“What are you doing? You could’ve pricked yourself with the needle!”)
But he didn’t listen. He looked up at her, his brows knit with sudden seriousness.
"Maa ka jo kangan tujhe diya tha… woh kahan hai? Tere haath mein toh nahi hai," he asked quietly, eyes searching hers.
(“The maa's kangan which I gave you… where is it? It’s not on your wrist,” )
Her hands froze. Her smile faded. And in that very moment, her face turned pale, fear clouding her expression as she met his gaze.