21. I Will Miss You

Ananya

Nestled in the warmth of his embrace, I didn't realize when sleep had claimed me. It was only when I felt myself floating, weightless, and cradled by something firm yet gentle, that my eyelids fluttered open. His face greeted me—the sharp lines of his jaw softened in the dim light, his eyes holding a tenderness that made my heart ache in the best way.

I was in his arms. Shaurya had lifted me as if I weighed nothing, carrying me as though I were the most precious thing in his world.

"Sleep, baby," he murmured, his voice so soft it felt like a lullaby. "I'm just taking you upstairs."

The gentle rumble of his voice and the way he called me baby made me melt. Without thinking, I tightened my arms around his neck, tucking my face into the crook of his shoulder. His scent—comforting and familiar—enveloped me, and I allowed myself to sink into it, trusting him completely.

He laid me down on the bed with the utmost care, as though I were fragile, a porcelain doll in his hands. The moment his arms left me, I stirred, the absence of his touch waking me fully. I blinked against the soft light, watching as he moved toward the cupboard, pulling out a pillow and a comforter.

"Where are you going?" I asked, my voice drowsy and barely above a whisper.

He paused, his hands stilling as he turned to face me. His smile was gentle, almost shy.

"I'll sleep on the couch downstairs," he said, as if it were the most reasonable thing in the world.

His words jolted me awake. My eyes flew open, chasing away any lingering sleep. That couch—small, rigid, and utterly unfit for someone his size—flashed in my mind, and the thought of him trying to contort his tall frame onto it made my heart twist.

"You're seriously thinking of sleeping on that couch?" I asked, incredulous, my voice sharper now.

He didn't respond right away, just closed the cupboard and gave me a look that held a thousand unspoken promises. But no—there was no way I was letting him do this.

"But you won't fit on it," I argued, sitting up straight, my voice laced with concern.

He chuckled softly, that warm, rich sound sending a flutter through my chest as he walked over to the bed.

"I know," he admitted, the teasing lilt in his voice unmistakable. "But back then, I never imagined I'd be bringing my girlfriend here one day, let alone needing extra bedding."

That one word—girlfriend—wrapped around my heart like a soft whisper. Heat bloomed across my cheeks, and I ducked my head, too flustered to meet his gaze.

"You can... you can sleep here," I said quietly, staring at my hands. My voice wavered slightly, but my resolve was firm. The thought of him waking up with a stiff neck or sore back because of that ridiculous couch gnawed at me. "If you don't mind, that is."

His eyes softened, the teasing gone, replaced by something deeper, more intimate. "Are you sure?" he asked gently. "I can sleep on the ground or something. You don't need to worry about me."

That did it. I shot him a glare, all my sleepiness vanishing as irritation bubbled up.

"Shut up and sleep here!" I snapped, my voice sharper than intended. "It's not like we're going to... you know... do the deeds or anything!"

The words tumbled out before I could stop them, and I instantly regretted how blunt I'd been. My cheeks flared again, hotter this time, and I refused to meet his eyes.

But Shaurya, of course, didn't make it any easier. His lips quirked into a crooked smile, his amusement barely contained. "The deeds, huh?" he repeated, his tone mischievous yet affectionate.

I groaned, flopping back onto the bed and yanking the blanket over my face. Why was this man so insufferable? And why did my heart keep doing flips every time he so much as breathed?

"Fine, I'll sleep here," he said finally, his voice tinged with amusement. "But only because you insist."

I peeked out from beneath the blanket, catching the faintest glimmer of something tender in his eyes before he turned away to settle on the other side of the bed.

"By the way, we can do the deeds... if you want us to," he teased, his voice playful yet daring. I sunk more into the mattress, clutching the blanket as if my life depended on it.

From behind, I heard his laugh—a deep, rumbling sound that made my heart skip despite my mortification.

My cheeks burned hotter with every second that passed. I couldn't move, couldn't face him. Why, oh why, did I say something so ridiculous?

"It's okay, Anya," he murmured, his voice closer now, filled with a warmth that melted some of my embarrassment. "I know you didn't mean it. No need to feel embarrassed."

Before I could even peek out, I felt it—a hand sliding over the comforter, resting lightly on my waist. My breath hitched as his touch sent shivers up my spine. His presence hovered near, his breath brushing against my face through the thin barrier of the sheet.

I peeked out hesitantly, my gaze meeting his, and the soft expression in his eyes stole whatever words I might've found.

His hand still rested on my waist, his touch steady yet comforting. There was no teasing now, no playful smirk—just an unwavering tenderness that made my heart ache in the most beautiful way.

Gathering courage, I nodded slowly, letting the comforter slip down further. Without breaking eye contact, I turned toward him, seeking the comfort I knew only he could give.

Tentatively, I wrapped my arms around his torso, pressing myself into the steady strength of his frame. His arms came around me instantly, pulling me closer, and the comforter shifted as he joined me beneath it, cocooning us together.

The world outside faded away as I rested my head against his chest, listening to the steady rhythm of his heartbeat. His arms enveloped me completely, shielding me from every worry and every thought.

In his embrace, there was nothing but peace, nothing but us.

"Good night, Anya," his voice whispered above my head, soft and velvety, like a gentle caress in the quiet night.

Before I could process the warmth in his tone, I felt it—a feather-light kiss pressed to my temple. My heart stilled for a moment, only to take off in a wild rhythm that left me breathless.

Anya.

He called me Anya. Not Ananya—formal and distant—but Anya. His Anya.

The realization sent a swarm of butterflies swirling in my stomach, their delicate wings brushing against every inch of my being. I bit my lower lip to hold back the ridiculous grin threatening to take over my face, pressing my cheek against his chest to hide my flushed cheeks.

His heartbeat was steady, and soothing, yet somehow it matched the flutter in my own. I closed my eyes, letting the warmth of his embrace wrap around me like a cocoon.

"Good night, Shaurya," I murmured, my voice barely above a whisper, afraid to break the magic of the moment.

His arms tightened around me slightly, as though he, too, found comfort in this closeness.

And just like that, as his steady breathing became my lullaby, I let myself drift off, safe and cherished in the arms of the man who was slowly becoming my everything.

***

I felt the sun's warm rays sneaking through the curtains, dancing on my face, nudging me from my sleep. Groaning softly, I turned my head and snuggled deeper into the comfort of my pillow. But something was different. My pillow was firm, strong... and radiating warmth.

Frowning slightly, I burrowed further into the inviting cocoon, pulling the duvet over us. It felt too comforting to leave, as if this warmth was meant to shield me from the day's worries.

"Anya, wake up, baby. We need to leave," a soft, familiar voice murmured near my ear, laced with affection.

I wasn't ready to wake up—not today. My body resisted the pull of reality, clinging stubbornly to this stolen peace. Ignoring the voice, I sighed and pressed closer to the warmth.

Fingers—gentle and soothing—trailed through my hair, and then I felt it. A kiss. Featherlight, placed on my temple with such care it made my heart skip even in my half-asleep state.

No one had ever woken me up like this. Not my family. Not my friends.

A curious tug at my heart made me crack open one eye. I peeked beside me, only to freeze when my sleepy gaze landed on him.

Shaurya.

The thing I had been clinging to wasn't just my pillow—it was him.

My eyes shot open, and I jerked back instinctively, my movements fumbling as the duvet tangled around me.

But then the realization struck me like a lightning bolt.

This wasn't my bed. Not my room.

"Don't tell me you forgot everything that happened yesterday," Shaurya said, his brow quirking in mock confusion, though the teasing glint in his eyes betrayed his amusement.

His words snapped me back to reality. Of course, I remembered. My sleepy mind just needed a moment to catch up.

"Of course, I do, Shaurya," I mumbled, sitting up and rubbing my eyes, trying to look composed.

"Thank god!" He let out a relieved chuckle, his lips curving into that devastating smile that could melt glaciers. Before I could react, he leaned in and placed another kiss on my forehead—soft, lingering, and entirely too distracting.

And then he stood up.

I blinked, and my breath caught as my eyes drank him in. The soft morning light framed him like a scene out of a dream, his hair, messy and adorable fell onto his forehead in lazy strands. His sharp jawline, a masterpiece sculpted by the gods themselves, moved subtly as he ran a hand through his hair.

And those eyes. Oh, those mesmerizing, deep eyes that seemed to hold galaxies within them. They were still slightly heavy with sleep, but the way they glinted with humor as they caught me staring...

Then there were his lips—soft, pink, and inviting, like they held secrets meant only for me.

And don't even get me started on his body. His broad shoulders, the ripple of muscles as he stretched, the way his shirt clung to his chest just enough to hint at the strength beneath.

Uff!

This man was walking sin.

My cheeks flushed as my thoughts took a decidedly naughty turn, my sleepy brain clearly lacking any filter. Morning Ananya, stop being such a menace!

"Anya?" His voice broke through my spiraling thoughts, his brow quirking again, this time in genuine curiosity.

I blinked rapidly, snapping my gaze up to meet his, praying he couldn't read my mind.

"Uh... yeah, what?" I stammered, my cheeks burning as his smirk deepened.

He leaned casually against the bedframe, crossing his arms, looking every bit the confident man who had caught me red-handed in my little moment of admiration.

"Nothing," he said with a teasing glint. "Just wondering why you're looking at me like I'm your morning coffee."

"But it's okay," Shaurya said, his smirk deepening as he caught me mid-stare. "I'm all yours to ogle at, so I don't mind. But we are getting late, my adorable sleepyhead."

His words snapped me out of my shameless boyfriend-appreciation session, and I quickly grabbed my phone. The screen flashed 8:00 a.m.

"Freaking 8?!" I bolted upright, panic surging through me. "Shit!"

I dashed into the bathroom, hastily brushing, washing up, and doing whatever I could manage in record time. I realized I didn't have any spare clothes, so I emerged wearing my previous day's outfit after freshening up a bit.

But my eyes fell on a neatly placed bag lying on the bed.

It hadn't been there when I ran into the bathroom. Did Shaurya bring it? But how? He'd only left the room ten minutes ago.

"Shaurya, this bag?" I called out, descending the stairs. I found him standing in the kitchen, his back to me, casually chopping something on the counter. The domesticity of it all—the man I loved in his kitchen, doing something so mundane yet utterly captivating—made my heart skip a beat.

He turned around with a smile, a knife in one hand, and said, "That's for you. I asked someone to bring those over."

His words eased my worries, and I nodded, ready to retreat upstairs when his voice stopped me mid-step.

"Anya," he called softly, scratching the back of his neck in what looked like rare awkwardness.

"Yeah?" I asked, turning around.

"I didn't, uh... I didn't arrange for the innerwear," he admitted, the tips of his ears turning slightly pink.

Heat rushed to my cheeks faster than I could process his words. My embarrassment shot through the roof, and I hastily nodded, mumbling something unintelligible before rushing upstairs like my life depended on it.

After a quick shower, I slipped into the clothes he'd thoughtfully arranged for me. While I had to make do with my old innerwear, the absence of any new ones felt like a relief. The thought of Shaurya handling that just yet would've been mortifying.

"You go and take a shower, Shaurya. I'll handle the rest," I suggested, my voice a bit more breathy than usual as I descended the stairs. He nodded, but before I could turn around, I felt him behind me, a sudden warmth enveloping me.

Without a word, he removed his apron, and before I could even react, he slid it over my head, pulling the straps tight behind me. His hands lingered on the fabric, and then—oh god—he hugged me from the front, his chest pressing against my back, making my heart skip a beat. His breath against my neck and the feeling of him so close made butterflies erupt in my stomach.

"I'll be back in 15 minutes," he murmured, placing a soft kiss on the top of my head.

But before I could say anything, I found myself unable to resist.

"Don't you think you're kissing me too much?" I raised an eyebrow, a teasing smile curling on my lips.

He froze in his tracks, a grin playing on his lips. Slowly, he turned around and started toward me, each step drawing him closer. In reflex, I took a step back, a playful smirk matching his.

"Do you have a problem, sweetheart?" His voice was low, warm, and dripping with that irresistible charm. He tucked a strand of hair behind my ear, his fingers grazing the delicate skin of my neck. His face was so close, his lips nearly brushing my skin, and I could feel his breath dance across my cheek. A shiver ran down my spine.

"N...no," I stammered, my pulse racing.

His eyes never left mine as he leaned in, brushing his rough stubbled cheek against mine, and I couldn't help but close my eyes, my body flooding with heat.

"Good," he whispered in my ear, and the shivers came back, stronger this time, as his lips lingered just at the edge of my earlobe. He was so close, I could feel his words like a pulse against my skin, each syllable lighting a fire inside me.

His body caged me in—between the kitchen counter and him. I grabbed the edge of the table behind me, my knuckles white with tension.

"And we just started, sweetheart," he murmured, his voice a low growl. "I want to kiss and worship every inch of this beautiful body of yours, only yours."

His hands slid down to my waist, gripping tightly, pulling me closer, and I felt my breath catch in my throat. Every nerve in my body screamed as his words sunk in. My thighs involuntarily clenched, and I could feel him noticing, his gaze sharpening.

His grip tightened on my waist, pulling me even closer, and a soft whimper escaped my lips. My chest felt tight, my heart racing, as I found myself lost in the intensity of the moment. Then, as quickly as it began, he pulled back, pressing one last, lingering kiss to my cheek.

I stood there, breathless and flushed, my fingers touching the spot he kissed as my heart hammered in my chest. I could still feel the heat of his touch, the lingering effect of his words, and I knew I'd be blushing like a fool for the rest of the day.

My thoughts scattered, broken by the sudden ding of the toaster. I flinched slightly, my heart racing for a moment as I snapped back to reality. Slowly, I steadied my breath, my pulse still erratic, as I reached for the bread and pulled it out of the toaster. The crisp warmth of it in my hands seemed to ground me, but I couldn't shake the lingering thoughts from last night. As I poured the orange juice into the glasses, my mind wandered back to him—Shaurya.

After everything we'd shared, after everything we were, I couldn't help but feel a tightness in my chest as I carried everything to the dining table. The thought of us being apart from the day after felt like a physical ache.

The quiet anticipation that hung in the air seemed to thicken as I set everything down, and just as I finished, Shaurya walked in. His presence filled the space, and suddenly, everything felt right again. We settled into breakfast, eating in silence for a few moments, both lost in our own thoughts.

But then, as I sat there, the realization hit me again, a heavy weight pressing down on my chest. The thought of us being apart... it made my hands shake slightly as I reached for the butter, my fingers brushing against the smooth surface, but all I could think about was how I would miss him. How I'd miss the way his laughter filled the room, the warmth of his body close to mine, the quiet moments and those night talks we shared.

The morning sun kissed my skin as we made our way to the hotel, the familiar rumble of the bike beneath us keeping me grounded. But with every twist and turn, I couldn't shake the overwhelming feeling of needing him. As his body pressed against mine, my arms wrapped around him instinctively, holding him tighter, not wanting to let go.

I buried my face into his back, feeling the cool wind brush past us. But the warmth I craved was only from him. The thought of us being apart for the next few days filled me with a sudden panic, like the air had been knocked from my lungs. How would I survive without him this close?

I tightened my hold around him, my fingers digging into his shirt, the rhythm of his heartbeat almost in sync with mine. The bike roared on, but the only sound I cared about was the steady hum of his presence, the undeniable connection we shared.

I couldn't shake the tightness in my chest, that heavy feeling in my heart. Being with him every day for the past few months had made me crave his presence like an addiction, a sweet kind of dependence that was impossible to ignore. Now, I didn't know how I would manage without him, without the warmth of his touch, the comfort of his presence.

"What happened, Anya? Why are you crushing me with your hug?" Shaurya chuckled, his voice vibrating through his chest as he caressed my hands around his torso with one hand, the other steadying the bike with expert ease.

"I will miss you from tomorrow," I pouted, rubbing my cheek against his back, my heart tightening just thinking about the days apart.

"I will miss you too, Anya," he replied softly, his voice carrying a mix of affection and sadness. "But I'll try to contact you whenever I can. And you too, leave me a text whenever you can. We'll meet whenever we can." I could hear the heaviness in his tone, and I immediately regretted bringing it up. Why did I have to mention it?

I snuggled closer to him, my arms tightening around him as if to reassure him, and whispered against his back, "We'll make it work, Shaurya." I felt him relax a little, the tension easing from his body. I planted a soft kiss on his back, feeling the warmth seep through his jacket.

"Not fair, madam," he teased, his voice playful again. "You kiss me rarely, and my jacket got it instead?" He whined cutely, and I couldn't help but giggle at how adorable he sounded.

"Fine, fine, I will give you one once we reach the hotel," I murmured, giving his back another quick kiss, a playful spark igniting between us despite the bittersweetness in the air. "Better now?"

"Much better," he smiled, his tone light, and I could feel the warmth of his grin through his back.

We continued the ride, both of us lost in the rhythm of the road, our minds at ease with the promise of staying connected, of making the distance feel smaller with every message, every call. The remaining distance between us was filled with quiet smiles, the kind that spoke volumes even when words couldn't. And in that moment, I realized that no matter how far apart we might be, I'd carry the warmth of this hug, this moment, with me every second.

**************

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