23. A Dreamy night ✨

siMat kar baho me unki jb mai soyi thi

aakh khuli to pakr na pass unhe mai royi thi

lge na nazar kisiki mai seene she liptu rhi unke

aankhe khuli swera hua mgr mai na jagi thi

bss yuh hi rh lmha pass ho vo mere yehi rbse dua mangi thi

Ha simat kar baho meh unki mai soyi thi

continue raghav pov

Her attempts to distract me were endless, but nothing worked. Her laughter echoed in my ears, while my eyes, filled with tears, wandered aimlessly. I whispered to myself, "By God, bacchi dikhti hai, lekin kitna theeka khati hai" (she looks like a child, but how spicy she eats). She almost made me cry today, pulling out emotions I didn't even know I had.

Then, in the middle of my confused thoughts, she said something. Her words were simple, but the way she said them felt heavy, like they carried a meaning only she knew. They always left me puzzled, but today... today, those words sent a strange, sharp feeling through my heart.

It felt like she wanted something—no, like she was waiting for something. Waiting for me to say her name. That beautiful name, filled with love and passion.

Siya.

But being a hukkum (leader), even I didn't have the right to call her by her name. In our society, men casually used women's names, but women were taught otherwise—"Pati ki umar ghat jati hai" (a husband's life is shortened if his wife says his name). Such rules, though baseless, were deeply ingrained, and no one dared to question them openly.

Still, as much as I knew, shouldn't the same rule apply to men? If someone is giving you respect, why shouldn't you do the same in return? Respect, after all, is a two-way street. But who was I to question centuries of customs that had dictated how relationships and identities functioned in our world?

Being a Rajput, traditions ran even deeper. In our kingdom, even in the royal family, it was strictly prohibited to say the king's name, and the same rule applied to the queen's name. Speaking their names aloud was seen as a breach of honor, a violation of the respect and reverence their status demanded.

It was the first and last time I said her name. Her name, so pure and filled with love, slipped out of my lips before I could stop myself. My voice trembled as if I had committed an unthinkable sin, and within seconds, I felt nervous—terrified, even. My heart raced, wondering what might happen to her because of my mistake. The traditions I grew up following loomed over me like a shadow, making me question whether I had just crossed a line that could never be undone.

If I am hukkum (leader), then she is my hukkum rani sa (queen). If I am the king, she is my only queen. If I am the lord, she is the lord's wife. It's always the opposite, but in my world, she holds a position one step higher than mine. Because no matter what anyone says, a queen is always more powerful than a man—a truth I have always believed in.

After so many failed attempts to steady myself, I finally composed my emotions. We sat comfortably on the sofa, the tension melting away as we burst into laughter at our own silliness. It had been so long since we laughed like this, from deep within our hearts, as if nothing in the world mattered except this moment.

"Hukkum sa... sorry ha, shayad kuch zyada hi theeka tha aapke liye" (Hukkum, sorry, I think it was a bit too spicy for you), Siya said with a mischievous smile as she watched me clean up the mess we had made with the plates and everything else.

Her tone was apologetic, but her eyes sparkled with playful guilt. I shook my head, laughing quietly. How could I ever blame her for anything when she held such a powerful place in my heart?

It's not that she didn't insist on helping, but I rejected her khwahish (wish) with a firm yet gentle smile, saying, "Humare hote huye aap karein, aisa toh nahi ho sakta, Hukum Rani Sa" (As long as I'm here, you doing this is impossible, My Queen).

To this, she didn't reply. Instead, she simply got lost in her own thoughts, her gaze distant and unreadable, as if she was wandering in a world only she knew.

After I finished cleaning and took everything to the kitchen, I returned to the room. The moment I stepped back inside, my mind weighed heavily with the things I had learned today—the truths that had surfaced and the mistakes committed by my so-called bastards of men. The betrayal, the carelessness—it was unforgivable. And with everything at stake, leaving her alone tonight wasn't an option, not even for a second.

I had decided. Tonight, I would stay in this room—my room—which had long since been claimed and conquered by my queen. The space no longer felt like mine but hers, and for once, I didn't mind.

As I entered her room, I noticed she wasn't there. The faint sound of water coming from the washroom told me where she was. Without giving it much thought, I made my way to the bed and settled into the side I was most comfortable in. My body, drained from the day's events, surrendered to the soft comfort of the mattress.

Barely five minutes had passed, and I was already on the verge of sleep. Exhaustion wrapped around me like a heavy blanket, pulling me deeper into rest.

Then, I felt it—small fingers, soft and delicate, lingering on my cheek. She was touching my face with her two baby-like fingers, as though trying to wake me up. Her touch was feather-light, curious, almost hesitant.

Without opening my eyes, I reached out, grabbed her hand gently, and pulled her into my arms. My movements were slow but firm, leaving no room for resistance. At that moment, I wasn't in the mood for conversation or anything else. All I wanted was one precious hour of uninterrupted sleep, nothing more. With her safely in my arms, I let the warmth of her presence lull me back into a world of rest.

She stayed calm and silent for a moment, then softly whispered, "Aap yaha sovoge..." (You will sleep here?).

Her voice, so soft and cute, carrying that simple question, brought me more comfort than I could explain. Without even thinking, I replied, "Ji..." (Yes).

I didn't know when sleep completely took over me. In the quiet of the room, wrapped in the warmth of her presence, I drifted off, still holding her by the wrist. Her petite figure lay perfectly under me, safe and close. The world around us seemed to fade, leaving only the stillness of the night and the steady rhythm of our breaths.

I didn't know if I was wrong or right—she was 12 years younger than me. That fact lingered in my mind, a question I couldn't shake off. But what amazed me was how destiny had played its role, how the one who had never lost control could lose it the day he saw her in her worst condition. That question still haunted me, yet in this moment, I didn't want to think about it. All I wanted was to live the moment I was in, because it felt... beautiful.

My eyes slowly opened when I felt a soft touch on my chest, as if someone's fingers were tracing something, drawing invisible patterns. The gentle movement was familiar, and who could it be if not my rani sa (queen)? It was her, her touch, so light, so delicate, as if she were exploring the quiet space between us.

As my eyes slowly opened, I found her head resting under my neck, her fingers gently playing on my chest. The warmth of her presence made my heart skip a beat. She was so cute, so innocent, and I couldn't help but kiss her temple, feeling the tenderness of the moment.

Without moving an inch, I quietly asked, "Aapko neend nahi aayi?" (Aren't you sleepy?).

Her reaction was swift, almost as if I had startled her. In the blink of an eye, she looked up at me with those big, cute eyes, filled with emotions I couldn't decipher. There was a mix of confusion, surprise, and something deeper I couldn't put my finger on.

It seemed like she was trying to reassure herself, as if making sure she wasn't dreaming. She fluttered her eyes, her gaze flickering, and for a brief moment, I felt like she was gathering her thoughts, trying to understand the reality of the situation. It was as if she was questioning what had just happened, and yet, in that silence, I could feel the vulnerability in the air.

A butterfly in my arms, feeling the joy in my heart,

I love the way it fluttered—may it remain the same forever.

As it is now forever in my heart, in my arms, I felt like I was lost in her eyes, caught in the depth of the emotions swirling within them. She continued speaking softly, her voice a tender hum, "Vooo... ummm... voh hume kuch khana hai..." (Umm... we want to eat something...).

The moment she mentioned food, my eyes questioned her without my permission, almost like abhi (now)? I hadn't expected her to be hungry at this hour.

To that, she pouted, just like a little baby, making me smile even in the midst of my confusion. Unable to hold back, I teasingly asked, "Aapki aankhon se lagta hai aapko bilkul neend nahi aa rahi hai..." (It looks like you aren't sleepy at all from your eyes...).

As expected, she replied with a playful shake of her head, like an obedient child, "Bilkul bhi nahi..." (Not at all).

Her innocence and sincerity always managed to catch me off guard, but in that moment, I couldn't help but laugh softly, feeling like I was in a dream where time stood still.

I just shook my head, knowing she had slept all day, which probably explained why she wasn't sleepy at this hour.

Slowly, I reached for the phone near me, which was her new phone, with my picture on the wallpaper. I noticed she hadn't changed it.

As I looked at the time, the sudden light from the screen made her hide her face in my chest, and to my surprise, it was already 2 AM.

"Rani Sa, aap sure hain? Aapko raat ke 2 baje kuchh khana hai?" (My Queen, are you sure? You want to eat something at 2 AM?). I asked, and to my surprise, she looked a bit offended, her eyes narrowing slightly.

Realizing my mistake, I quickly rephrased, trying to soften the words, "I mean, it's not good for health, na baby..." (I mean, it's not good for your health, right, baby?).

The "baby" slipped out before I could stop it. I wasn't sure why I said it, but I was 2000% sure it wasn't intentional.

"Hukkum sa..." She just said those two words, and they were enough to make me want to do anything for her. The way she said them, with that soft, cute voice, stirred something deep inside me, making my heart race.

I slowly got up first, my movements almost robotic, as if I were still caught in a daze. But then, I looked down at her, and oh, sorry, my missus—she was still lying on the bed, calm and serene. She wore that black plazzo and black kurti, the one with the knots on the shoulders. My mind raced, and I couldn't help but think... if those knots opened... then...

Oh my freaking god! What was I even thinking? What had gotten into me? I had to shake my head, trying to snap out of these thoughts. Focus, focus, focus... I muttered to myself. What happened to my brain? I really need to schedule a psychiatric appointment now... This wasn't normal.

SUkriya ji 😌

Love you all ❤️

Byyee