image and sentence formation credit to chat gpt
The Softness They Shared
Soft morning light spilled across the gardens of Mithila, bathing every leaf and blossom in a gentle glow. Dewdrops clung to the petals like tiny pearls, and the air carried the delicate scent of jasmine and fresh earth. In the middle of the garden paths, Urmila moved gracefully among the flowers, her fingertips brushing lightly against the blooms as though greeting old friends.
Lakshman followed a few steps behind, a wicker basket in hand—though he seemed far more focused on her than on the flowers. Every so often, he would pretend to inspect a plant, only to glance up again when she wasn’t looking.
Urmila finally turned, catching him in the act. “You know,” she said, raising an eyebrow, “we came here to collect flowers, not stare at them.”
Lakshman straightened immediately, looking terribly serious. “I am collecting,” he said. “I just haven’t… chosen which ones yet.”
“Oh?” she asked, laughter dancing in her eyes. “Is the prince of Ayodhya suddenly unsure of himself?”
He cleared his throat and bent over a bright marigold as if it required intense study. “I’m being selective,” he insisted. “These flowers are for the puja. They must be perfect.”
Urmila stepped closer, her skirts brushing softly against the grass. “Or perhaps,” she teased gently, “you’re distracted.”
Lakshman froze, still bent halfway toward the marigold. Slowly, he straightened and met her gaze. “I’m not distracted,” he said firmly. Then, after a pause: “Maybe just a little.”
Urmila laughed—soft, warm, and utterly disarming. She reached past him to pluck a cluster of jasmine. “Here,” she said, placing them in the basket he held. “Start with these. They’re simple, but beautiful.”
He looked down at the flowers, then at her. “Like you,” he said before he could stop himself.
The words hung in the air, surprising them both. Urmila’s hand paused midway to another blossom, and her cheeks turned the faintest shade of pink. She didn’t look away, though; instead, she smiled—a small, shy, but unmistakably pleased smile.
“You’re unusually sweet today,” she murmured.
Lakshman shifted his weight awkwardly, a little embarrassed by his own honesty. “You bring it out of me,” he said quietly. Then, in a braver voice, “I didn’t know gathering flowers could be… pleasant.”
Urmila pretended to examine a nearby hibiscus, though her smile had only grown. “That’s because you usually treat everything like a battle drill,” she teased. “Even gardens.”
“That’s not fair,” he protested. “I’m perfectly calm.”
“You just tried to interrogate a marigold.”
Lakshman sighed dramatically. “I’ll never hear the end of that, will I?”
“Not a chance.” She plucked the hibiscus and laid it gently in his basket. “But don’t worry. Your secret is safe with me.”
They continued walking through the garden, side by side, the basket slowly filling with colorful blossoms. Every now and then, their hands brushed as they reached for the same flower. Each touch lingered a heartbeat longer than necessary.
At one point, Urmila stopped before a rose bush, reaching for a soft pink bloom—only to draw her hand back with a tiny hiss.
Lakshman immediately stepped closer. “Did it prick you?” he asked, concern tightening his voice.
“It’s nothing,” she said quickly, embarrassed. “Just a little thorn—”
But he had already taken her hand gently in his own, examining the tiny mark on her fingertip with a seriousness that made her heart flutter. “You should be careful,” he murmured.
“I am,” she whispered, looking at him rather than the rose.
Their eyes met, and for a moment the garden fell utterly silent around them, as though nature itself paused to watch.
Then Urmila playfully pulled her hand free. “We’re supposed to be working,” she reminded him softly, though her cheeks were still warm.
Lakshman exhaled, a small smile tugging at his lips. “Right. Working.”
They finished gathering the flowers, but neither hurried to leave. The morning stretched around them like a secret they shared—light, warm, and full of quiet affection.
When they finally walked back toward the palace, Lakshman glanced at the overflowing basket and said, “We gathered more than enough for the puja.”
Urmila nodded. “Yes. It seems today was… productive.”
He looked at her sidelong. “Very.”
Their hands brushed once more—this time not by accident—and they didn’t move them away.
Edited by cuteamanboy - a day ago
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