Talab - Chapter 23: Chapter 23

Arohi's period lasted four days, and during each one of them, John was her anchor. He pampered her in every way—made her a soft chocolate cake, massaged her aching back, and even let her rest in his arms while he read aloud his favorite book.
During those days, their bond deepened—not through touch, but through care.
Even Alex, John's closest friend, became someone Arohi could call a brother. She enjoyed pampering him with delicious Indian food, and the way he teased her reminded her of the brother she never had.
Life, for once, felt simple. It felt... safe.
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Present Evening
John had called to tell her he'd be late from work and not to wait up. Arohi smiled. That gave her time.
She decided to dance—something she hadn't done in ages.
She slipped into a soft, flowy outfit, tied on her ghungroos, and set the music.
The beats began—
Dha Na Dha
Tatdha Tatdha
Dhi Titkit Dha...
The room filled with rhythmic echoes of classical footwork and the haunting melody of "Mere Dholna Sun / Aami Je Tomar."
Her expressions were divine, her grace like poetry in motion. She twirled, her anklets singing to the floor.
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John's POV
I came home earlier than planned to surprise her. But the real surprise was mine.
The moment I stepped in, I heard music—classical Indian beats weaving through the air like magic.
Curious, I walked to our bedroom and paused at the door.
There she was.
My wife.
Dancing.
With a soul that danced through her expressions and feet that painted stories on the floor. She wasn't just dancing; she was living. Glowing. Radiating beauty.
When she finally stopped, breathless and smiling, I clapped softly.
Startled, she turned—and the moment her eyes met mine, they widened in shock.
Red creeping up her cheeks, she dashed into the bathroom.
⸻
She didn't come out for almost an hour. When she finally did, she was still shy, eyes low.
"It was beautiful," I told her, walking up.
"You looked like an angel. I'm your fan now!" I teased in a dramatic tone.
She hugged me tightly, catching me off guard. But I wrapped my arms around her, holding her close.
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That Night
After dinner, we lay on the bed. I pulled her into my arms, her back resting against my chest. My fingers slid gently under her shirt, almost instinctively reaching for her bra hook.
She stiffened.
"Ahh... w-what are you doing?" she stammered.
I sighed and closed my eyes. "Wife... I know you're uncomfortable in your bra while sleeping. Why do you still wear it?"
She turned slowly, her eyes searching mine. Her lips parted, hesitating.
And then she spoke—her voice barely a whisper.
"I... I heard once... someone saying a girl got divorced because her husband didn't find her attractive. They said... he used her and left. I guess... somewhere in my heart, I feared... that if you ever saw the real me... you'd feel the same."
⸻
I froze. Her words sliced through me.
I removed my hand and got up, walking to the balcony, needing air—not to cool down from desire, but from heartbreak.
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John's POV
She thinks I could ever use her?
I gave her my heart. My respect. My care. And she still thought it was all lust?
It wasn't about physical touch. It never was.
It was about the way she smelled like jasmine after her bath. The way she said "ji" shyly. The way she danced tonight, lost in herself.
She didn't understand what she meant to me.
⸻
I felt her hand on my shoulder. I turned.
Her eyes were full of tears.
"I'm sorry," she whispered. "I should never have said that. Please don't cry. I didn't mean to hurt you..."
My voice cracked.
"You did hurt me, Arohi. You really did. You don't know how much it breaks me to hear that you think my love is lust. I've never touched any woman with love before. Only you. And it's not because you're my wife... it's because you're you."
"I would never force anything on you. I want you to enjoy it just as much. I want us to share love—not just passion."
"If there's no trust between us, then what do we have?"
⸻
Her knees gave way as she dropped to the floor.
"No... no, please... don't say that. I'll do anything... just don't leave me. Make me your slave if that's what it takes. But don't leave..."
Her words pierced through me. And before she could spiral deeper into her fears, I knelt down, pulled her into my arms, and hugged her tightly.
"Arohi," I said firmly. "Never say such a thing again. You are not my slave. You are my heart. My world. My soulmate."
She trembled in my arms.
Then, without another word, she pressed her lips to mine.
⸻
It was her first move.
A silent apology. A desperate request to stay. A promise of trust.
I kissed her back—firm, intense, full of all the love and frustration I had bottled up.
When we pulled back, we were breathless. Eyes locked. Souls bare.
I lifted her in my arms and laid her on the bed.
She whispered, "Ji... can you help me... remove this?"
She tugged at her bra strap shyly.
I looked at her, stunned.
"Are you sure?"
She nodded. "I trust you."
And in that moment, I knew... we weren't just husband and wife.
We were healing—together.