DIVYA
Once the initial shock passed, I opened my mouth to speak, though the words felt clumsy on my tongue. "A gift? But why? I didn't bring anything for you," I said, my voice laced with guilt.
"That's okay," he replied calmly.
"No, it's not!" I whined, feeling the need to protest. "If you're bringing a gift for me, then I should bring something for you too. It's about equality," I said, crossing my arms with a small huff.
Raghav chuckled, the sound warm and unguarded. "It's fine, really. Let me spend money on you while you spend time with me," he said, watching me closely.
I blinked, confused. "What do you mean?"
He leaned forward, his voice low, carrying that undeniable charm. "Think of my money as precious as your time. The money I spend is the equivalent of the time you give. Isn't that equality?"
I couldn't help but giggle at his reasoning. Raghav had a way with words that could make anyone melt. And there was no denying that he knew exactly how to turn the simplest moments into something meaningful. His words struck a chord deep within me. For the first time, someone made me feel like my time-my very presence-was valuable.
For so long, my time had been treated as inconsequential, something to be taken without a second thought. My mother, especially, had called me home whenever she pleased, as though my schedule and desires didn't matter.
Raghav pushed a small black velvet box across the table, snapping me out of my thoughts. My heart raced as my fingers brushed against the soft material, the weight of the moment making my hands tremble. Slowly, I opened the box, and the sight inside took my breath away.
A delicate silver anklet lay against the velvet, its shimmering threads catching the light like strands of woven moonlight. Tiny diamonds sparkled along its length, while small ghungroos hung from it, adding an enchanting musical charm to the intricate design. It was a masterpiece, every detail so finely crafted it felt as if it had been made specifically for me. My breath hitched, and my mouth fell open in disbelief, mesmerized by the sheer beauty before me.
I stared at the anklet, my chest tightening with a mixture of wonder and vulnerability. This wasn't just a gift. It was a window into a side of Raghav I hadn't expected-someone who saw me, really saw me, in a way I hadn't anticipated. My fingers grazed the cool metal as I swallowed the lump in my throat.
"You said you liked Indian culture, so I thought you might appreciate some Indian jewelry too," Raghav said softly.
I bit my lip, fighting the tears that suddenly threatened to spill. How did he know? How could he possibly understand something so deeply personal? I turned away for a moment, blinking rapidly to keep from breaking down in front of him.
He was right. I loved Indian culture, but it was something I'd kept hidden for years. My parents, influenced by their Western ideals, had never supported my love for traditional Indian attire or jewelry. To them, anything that wasn't modern was outdated. It wasn't that I rejected modernity, but I cherished my roots. I loved where I came from.
Memories flooded back-memories of my mother's disapproval. The time I had secretly enrolled in classical dance lessons, only for her to find out and break my ghungroos, burning my dance dress before my eyes. The pain of that moment still lingered, a wound I hadn't fully healed from. And now, here was Raghav, unknowingly soothing that wound with a simple, heartfelt gesture.
"Thank you," I whispered, my voice barely above a murmur.
Raghav's eyes softened as he studied me. "Are you okay?" he asked, concern lacing his voice.
I nodded quickly, dabbing at my eyes with a tissue. "Yeah, just... something in my eye," I lied, forcing a chuckle to break the tension. "No one's ever made me feel so special before," I muttered, more to myself than to him.
Raghav's expression shifted, his gaze turning intense. "I don't know how others have treated you, but when you're with me, I'll treat you like a queen. Like you deserve to be treated," he said, his voice low and deliberate.
The sincerity in his words made my breath hitch, my heart pounding in my chest. I looked at him, our eyes locking, and for a moment, everything else faded away. There was no need for words. The intensity in his gaze, the quiet promise of something deeper, was enough.
Before I could respond, the waitress arrived with our dessert, breaking the moment. She placed the plates in front of us and quietly slipped away, leaving us alone once more. The dessert looked as tempting as everything else that evening.
The dessert in front of me looked almost too perfect to touch. It was an impossibly delicate tower of golden, flaky pastry, each layer separated by what seemed like clouds of cream. The top was dusted with powdered sugar, glistening like fresh snow under the soft light. I hesitated for a moment, just taking in its beauty. Could something this pretty really taste as good as it looked?
With a gentle press of my fork, the top layer cracked with a satisfying snap-like the sound of autumn leaves crunching underfoot. I gathered a bite, cream spilling over the sides, and brought it to my lips. The moment it touched my tongue, I was speechless. The contrast of buttery, flaky pastry and rich, silky cream was pure magic. The pastry practically melted in my mouth, leaving behind a deep, caramelized flavor that lingered. The cream-smooth, light, and just sweet enough-was like a kiss of vanilla.
I closed my eyes, letting the moment wash over me. Each bite was an indulgence, a small act of decadence. The pastry shattered but melted in an instant, and the cream felt like it was floating on my tongue. It wasn't just dessert-it was a masterpiece. For someone with a sweet tooth like me, it was heaven.
When I looked at Raghav, I found him watching me with a soft smile, making me blush. "Won't you have some?" I offered.
He shook his head. "You enjoy. I'm not really into sweets."
Midway through my dessert, the sound of rain tapping on the streets caught my attention. I looked out the window to find it pouring, the world outside cloaked in a curtain of heavy rain. I glanced at Raghav, noticing the subtle tension in his posture.
"You don't like the rain, do you?" I asked softly. He nodded, eyes flicking to the downpour outside.
"Why?" I pressed, curious.
With a sigh, he took a sip of his wine. "Rain floods the streets, leads to traffic, makes people fall sick. It just causes problems."
"But rain also brings greenery, cools the air, and even helps reduce global warming," I countered with a small smile. "There are good things too."
He chuckled at my optimism. "You always see the good in everything, don't you?"
I leaned back in my chair, swirling the wine in my glass. "Everything has a good side and a bad side. If you focus only on the bad, you'll never see the beauty in anything. Everyone has something good in them-you just have to look for it."
I chuckled softly, taking a sip of my wine before muttering, "People often think I'm naïve, maybe even foolish, for always trying to see the good in others, even in the most unlikely people. But the truth is, I want to give everyone the benefit of the doubt. What if they're just one step away from redemption? What if they could become someone better? You never really know."
He smiled at me, something soft and thoughtful in his expression. "You have a unique way of seeing the world. You're too good for this place."
I blinked, unsure of how to respond to that. His words stirred something inside me, a warmth I didn't quite know what to do with. So I simply shrugged, finishing the last bite of dessert.
Afterward, Raghav paid the bill, and we stepped out of the restaurant. We stood under the awning, shielded from the relentless rain that still poured from the sky. I had hoped it would have stopped by now, but it seemed to only grow heavier. Across the street, his sleek black Bugatti sat waiting, glistening under the streetlights.
I took a deep breath, inhaling the fresh, earthy smell of rain-soaked earth. It calmed me, bringing a smile to my face. I glanced at Raghav and noticed his irritated expression, the way the rain seemed to sour his mood. I couldn't help but chuckle softly.
The rain came down in heavy sheets, drumming against the pavement in a relentless rhythm. He stood there, tense and brooding, hands tucked deep into his pockets, clearly irritated by the downpour. Water dripped from his hair, trailing down his sharp jawline, but he didn't move. He hated the rain-its unpredictability, its mess.
But I couldn't help smiling. To me, the rain was magic. It blurred the world, made everything soft and new, washing away the sharp edges of reality. It was a kind of freedom-a moment where everything else faded, leaving just me and the rain.
He stood rigid beside me, eyes darting impatiently toward the street, as though willing the storm to stop. But I couldn't just wait around.
"I can't believe someone could hate the rain," I mumbled, glancing at him. His eyes met mine, confused. Before I could think twice, I grabbed his hand-warm and rough against my skin-and pulled him into the downpour with me.
I laughed, my voice light as the rain soaked through my clothes, clinging to my skin. He resisted at first, his brows furrowed in disbelief, but something shifted when he saw me-the joy in my eyes, the carefree abandon in my steps. And then, with a low, resigned sigh, he let me lead him.
The rain poured down in thick, cool waves, drenching us completely as we splashed across the street. My laughter echoed through the storm, wild and unrestrained. When we reached the other side, I turned to face him, drops clinging to my eyelashes, my breath coming fast, cheeks flushed from the exhilaration of it all.
He stood there, his once-polished, controlled demeanor utterly undone, and yet there was something different in his eyes now. Something softer, more vulnerable. He was watching me like I was the storm itself-unpredictable, wild, and utterly irresistible. His hand was still in mine, a steady warmth in the cold rain.
I smiled up at him, and in that moment, I saw the change. He was surrendering to something he couldn't fight any longer. Slowly, almost hesitantly, he reached for me, his hand brushing my cheek, wet and trembling. His eyes darkened with an intensity that made my heart race, and before I could catch my breath, he stepped closer, his presence invading the space between us.
The rain still fell, soaking us to the bone, but the world seemed to stop. There, in the middle of the storm, it was just us-two people caught in the downpour, letting the rain wash everything else away.
And then, he pressed his rough, cold lips to mine, and my eyes flew open in shock. I stood frozen, my body unresponsive, caught completely off guard.
His mouth was cold from the rain, but the kiss was warm, soft yet insistent. I stood frozen, my mind racing, heart pounding in my chest. It felt surreal, the rain still pouring down around us, drenching us in its rhythm as he kissed me like the storm had washed everything else away-his walls, my fears, the distance between us.
But I couldn't move, couldn't respond. My heart raced, not from the kiss itself but from the overwhelming realization that this was my first kiss. I never imagined losing it to someone like Raghav, and definitely not on our first date. I felt my pulse quicken as his lips pressed harder, sucking gently on mine, but still, I stood there, stiff and unsure, my thoughts in a whirlwind.
Then, just as suddenly, he pulled away, leaving me gasping for air, my cheeks burning with embarrassment. His eyes searched mine, confusion flickering across his face.
"Are you okay?" he asked softly, concern lacing his voice.
I nodded quickly, feeling my face flush even more. How could I possibly tell him the truth? That I wasn't experienced, that I didn't know what to do?
"I'm sorry for kissing you without asking," he said, regret darkening his eyes. "I thought you wanted-"
His words hit me like a wave. He thought I hadn't responded because I didn't want it, but that wasn't it at all. I just didn't know how.
"No, no, it's not that!" I blurted out, the words tumbling from my lips in a rush. "It's just... I don't know how to kiss. I've never... I mean, that was my first..." My voice trailed off as I realized what I'd just admitted, horror dawning on me. I clapped my hand over my mouth and took a few steps back, my face flaming with embarrassment.
Raghav's eyebrows shot up in surprise, and for a moment, I thought I saw amusement dancing in his eyes, softening the hard lines of his face. Water dripped from his hair, running down his neck, disappearing beneath the collar of his soaked shirt. I tried to look anywhere but at him, but then, suddenly, he moved. His arm wrapped around my waist, pulling me firmly against his chest. I stumbled forward, crashing into the solid warmth of him.
"So," he murmured, his voice low and teasing, "my angel is telling me I'm her first kiss?" His lips curled into a slow, knowing smile as I shyly nodded, too mortified to meet his gaze. He lifted my chin with one finger, forcing me to look up into his dark, stormy eyes. "You don't need to feel shy," he whispered. "If anything, I'm honored to be your first. And don't worry-just follow my lead."
Before I could react, he captured my lips again, this time softer, more patient. I hesitated for a second, remembering his words, then slowly, I followed his lead. I timidly sucked on his lower lip, earning a low growl from him that sent shivers down my spine. His grip on my waist tightened, and suddenly, I gasped as he pinched me gently, slipping his tongue into my mouth in the moment of surprise.
The kiss deepened, and I melted into him. His lips devoured mine, his tongue exploring, guiding me, teaching me. It was overwhelming, intoxicating, and I couldn't help but lose myself in it. The rain disappeared, the world faded, and it was just us-his mouth, his warmth, his touch. Our lips moved together in a perfect rhythm, every nerve in my body buzzing with electricity.
The taste of him was irresistible, a tantalizing mix of longing and vulnerability that sent shivers down my spine. It was unexpected, yet intoxicating, like discovering a hidden side of him that he'd kept guarded.
When we finally pulled apart, breathless and flushed, I opened my eyes to find him staring at me with an intensity that made my heart skip a beat. For the first time, he smiled-a real, genuine smile that softened the harshness in his features. The rain had been forgotten, as had his earlier annoyance. Now, there was only us, standing in the middle of the downpour, drenched but utterly alive.
He rested his forehead against mine, his breath warm against my skin. "Thank you," he whispered, his voice rough with emotion. "For giving me your first kiss. I promise I'll cherish it for the rest of my life." His hand brushed my cheek gently, reverently, and I felt tears prick at the corners of my eyes.
"And I promise," he added, his voice low and serious, "to claim all your firsts, no matter how small. Because from this moment on, angel, you belong to me."
My breath hitched at his words, and I felt my heart swell with a strange, overwhelming happiness. No one had ever spoken to me like that-like I was something precious, something worth cherishing. His words washed over me, filling all the empty spaces I hadn't even realized existed, and for the first time in a long time, I felt truly seen.
The rain had softened to a gentle drizzle by the time we reached the car. Raghav took a step back, holding the door open for me, always the gentleman despite his hardened exterior. I hesitated for a moment, glancing down at my soaked clothes, not wanting to dirty the luxurious leather seats of his expensive car. But then I shook the thought away and slipped inside, feeling the warmth of the car envelop me instantly.
He slid behind the wheel, his presence commanding as he started the engine. I leaned back in my seat, closing my eyes for just a moment. His kiss still lingered on my lips, the memory of it sending a shiver down my spine. The coldness of my damp clothes began to sink in, and I couldn't help but tremble slightly. Without missing a beat, Raghav noticed and turned on the heater, filling the car with a comforting warmth. He always seemed to know what I needed, even before I did.
I gazed out of the window, watching the rain as it continued to fall lightly, creating a soft, rhythmic patter against the glass. There was something beautiful about it now, something magical. The rain was no longer just rain-it had become the backdrop to a memory I would never forget. Our first kiss.
A different kind of happiness bloomed within me, knowing that the rain had become the silent witness to our first kiss. I licked my lips, the ghost of his touch still there, and a small smile tugged at the corners of my mouth.
When we arrived at my apartment, he parked in front of the building and got out to open my door once again. I stepped out, clutching the bouquet of flowers and his gift tightly in my arms. Our eyes met, and in that brief moment, the world seemed to shrink to just the two of us. He cupped my face in his hands, his thumb gently brushing my cheek, and he leaned in to place a soft, lingering kiss on my lips.
"Change into something warm and take a hot bath," he murmured, his voice low and caring. "Don't forget to take some medicine, or you'll catch a cold." His fingers threaded through my damp hair, and the tenderness in his touch made my heart swell. I nodded, feeling overwhelmed by how much he cared, by the way he seemed to notice the little things no one else ever had.
"Goodnight," I whispered, tiptoeing to plant a soft kiss on his cheek before turning to head inside. My heart felt light, giddy, as if it had sprouted wings. As I entered the building, I glanced back and saw him still there, waiting. His car didn't move until I was safely inside. My smile widened. He really is a gentleman, isn't he?
But then, in the back of my mind, the reminder of who he truly was-the dangerous man who ruled the underworld-surfaced briefly. And yet, none of it seemed to matter anymore. I knew the real Raghav now, the man behind the title. Someone who was sweet, who cared deeply, even if the world forced him to be someone else.
Inside my apartment, the first thing I did was place the flowers in a vase, letting their beauty brighten the room. Then I slipped out of my wet clothes and stepped into a warm shower, letting the heat chase away the lingering chill of the rain. My thoughts were full of him, of the way he kissed me, the way he looked at me, the way he cared. Wrapped in my pajamas, I crawled into bed, pulling the duvet up around me, and as I closed my eyes, all I could think of was Raghav. His smile. His kiss. His care.
With those thoughts circling in my mind, I drifted off into a peaceful sleep, feeling more cherished than I ever had before.
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Hey my lovely readers,
I hope you liked today's chapter. The most awaited scene finally came. I hope you liked their first kiss. Kiss under the rain is a real feeling.
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