Battling Insecurity|| Two Shot (PART TWO pg2-- COMPLETE)

So. This is a weird two shot. I'm just bored. LOL. 

It's supposed to focus on the rocky relationship a husband and wife face after marriage. No marriage is perfect, and I am sure even our dearest ArHi are not an exception to that. 

If you like my writing, you can check out my writing index to read more of my FFs, SSs and OSs. Please remember, a comment and a like puts a smile on my face. They are always so deeply appreciated. I shall update part II soonish. :) 

Aamir18's Writing Index

Thank you, 

Zee <3

Okay. So this ended up sucking. I'm really sorry, in advance. Thank you for reading though. I am attaching the link to my index, regardless. 

Aamir18's Writing Index

Thank you, 

Zee <3

"Arnav ji? What are you doing?"

He stood up and took her hand gently in his own, placing a light kiss on her open palm. 

"Baby. I've really... really missed you. I want to take you out tonight"

Khushi felt her heart bloom with the love she forgot existed within her. There stood her caring husband, smirking his signature smile, his eyes shining in the glory of his prior mischief. She noticed the traces of grey now speckled in his dark brown hair, the wrinkles that crinkled at the corner of his eyes. Arnav had aged, she had realized. But oh, how devilishly handsome he appeared. Her hands itched to touch him... something they had not been motivated to do in months. But still, she hesitated.

"But Arnav... the kids?"

"Khushi. You and I both know, they will be absolutely fine."

What was this excitement that coursed through her veins? This peculiar sentiment? Her heart galloped as she nodded and retreated back to her room, whispering she'll be ready soon. A night with her husband seemed to be a strange concept of the ancient past. Memories of his arms around her, the sweat on his body, the crumpled bedsheets... they all seemed faded and obsolete. She opened her cupboard, a collection of saris and suits, dupattas and lingerie that had accumulated through the years of married life. She reached for the usual... the white, cotton bra and panties, the pale yellow chudidar, but stopped suddenly. Today, she felt different. She felt alive and dangerously beautiful. Sexy. And before better judgement would entrap her, she reached for the attire hidden in the depths of her bottom, restricted drawers. Welcome anxiety encompassed her as she fingered the red lace panties that she had disowned after the birth of Radha. Now where was that matching bra? Perhaps she'd still fit. 

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Arnav stirred as the scent filled the room. Scent of the past. A more colorful past. The smell of cloves and cinnamon. Cardamom. Khushi had stopped wearing this perfume months ago, and had adopted a more delicate, floral scent instead. But the incense of their passionate moments of the past clouded Arnav in the desire of his newly wed self. He turned, and the air was knocked out of his lungs. 

There she stood. An angelic beauty. His eyes trained over her body-- the fuller hips, the larger breasts. The baggy suits and chudidars had hidden these uncanny changes. The mauve material of the sari clung to her every curve. Her hair was released from it's tight chignon and lay cascading down her back. Her wide, hazel eyes lined in the black she never sported. Epitome of freedom. Khushi had never looked so beautiful. 

"I know. It looks so stupid. I don't know what I was thinking. I'll go change"

He grabbed her by the hand and pulled her towards himself, the feel of her soft frame against his hard one arousing him. He whispered huskily into her ear, "you look ethereal", before he kissed her birthmark gently, but purposefully. 

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Dinner had been soothingly cathartic. To talk to his wife over the hectic developments of his life had brought him peace. To hear her stories of the children and the family had brought him happiness. But most of all, they are reveled in each other's abandoned company. Khushi's face shining in the lure of the candlelight had awakened every dormant desire, and he wanted nothing more than to spend the night in her embrace. 

So when they returned to their bedroom for the night, Arnav locked the door and turned to kiss his wife. And she responded. Passionately. Skin found the pleasure of intimate contact, long forgotten and buried. The room echoed with the scandalous sounds of pants and moans... muttered into their seclusion and privacy. As he disposed of his sweater, revealing his toned skin and muscular frame, she became suddenly conscious. 

"Stop Arnav. You don't want to do this"

Arnav gaped at her as if she had spoken nonsensical gibberish, angry at the inconvenience of her interruption. "Khushi, I can assure you there is nothing I want more. I know it's been a whi--" 

"Look at me. I'm not the same Khushi" He watched as she traced the long marks around her hips and stomach, stretched with Radha's pregnancy. She gestured to the clasps of her blouse, tightened at the third hook instead of the first. "I'm not beautiful, Arnav" And he could not help but chuckle. In fact, he laughed wholeheartedly. "Khushi. These are the signs of Radha, darling. Our love and togetherness. You have never looked so breathtakingly beautiful. Because you are mine... in every sense." He traced the faint scars along her skin, and pulled her in for another kiss. As he captured her lips in his own and fingered the clasps of her blouse, she finally fell at ease with herself. With them. She was his. In every way. She believed his every word. 

And that night, as they made long repressed love, their life resonated with a unspoken promise. A promise to retain the sanctity of their relationship. To thrive in love again.