Naina

When I was with Zayne, it felt like everything would be okay. He had this comforting presence that wrapped around me like a warm blanket, allowing me to almost forget my broken heart and the pain of everything that had happened to me. Almost.

The two-hour journey back to Kollam from the zoo was filled with the gentle hum of the car and the rhythmic sway of the road beneath us. Zayne sat in the back with me, his casual arm draped around my shoulder. I leaned my head against him, relishing the warmth of his body.

"Tell me something you've never told anyone else before," I mumbled, curiosity piquing my interest.

"Hmmm..." he started, scratching his chin thoughtfully. "I don't really have a lot of secrets. Let me think."

I smiled, imagining Zayne as someone who lived openly, without hidden corners. He seemed to ponder for a moment, and then he finally spoke, his voice almost a confession. "I never wanted to be a doctor."

I was taken aback. He was such a good doctor—kind, intelligent, empathetic, and driven. I had seen the positive impact he had on patients and their families. It was clear though why he would have chosen this path; his family owned a hospital, and they would have wanted him to take over at some point, to be the face of the institution.

"What did you want to be when you grew up?" I asked, intrigued.

"I wanted to be a cricketer," he replied, a hint of nostalgia in his voice.

My heart warmed at the thought; it was a dream every Indian boy had at some point in his life.

"I played for Kerala in the under-16 team. Only two of us from the team were chosen to attend a two-month coaching camp in England to train for the Indian team tryouts," he shared, a flicker of pride shining through his words.

I remembered him mentioning a couple of years ago that he had played cricket, but I hadn't realized he had actually had a shot at making it to the Indian team.

"I told my parents I wanted to go. That was the year they banned me from playing cricket," he said, his voice tinged with wistfulness.

"I'm sorry," I said softly, lifting my head off his shoulder to look him in the eye. I squeezed his arm gently.

He met my gaze, and I felt a blush creeping across my cheeks. "I'm not," he replied, a smile spreading across his face. "I'm exactly where I'm supposed to be."

I pictured Zayne on the cricket field, wearing the Indian team uniform, and a smile tugged at my lips. "I would have been a fan if you had made it to the team," I said playfully before laying my head back on his shoulder. "But then, I'm already a fan of you."

Flirting with Zayne came easily and I loved seeing the effect it had on him—the way his smile widened, his ears reddened and his eyes sparkled.

He kissed the side of my head gently. "Tell me something about you that no one else knows," he turned the question around on me, and my heart raced at the thought.

My mind immediately conjured the memory of Advik's hands around my throat, that chilling feeling that I could never fully shake off.

"Just tap on my shoulder if you need me to stop."

But there were so many other things that had happened between me and Advik that no one knew except for us. How I liked when he kissed my earlobe, how he sang to me softly in bed when I stayed over, how he counted our kisses until we reached a hundred, stopping only when we were both breathless. How he had driven all the way to Mangalore just to give me a hug because I was having a bad day.

But along with those tender memories, there were the darker ones—how he had lifted me by my shoulders, banging my head against the floor over and over until I closed my eyes, pretending to have passed out.

I let out a shaky breath, pulling my head away from Zayne's shoulder. I looked him straight in the eye, summoning the courage to share the only thing that truly mattered to our relationship. "Remember that day when you told me I was amazing and held my face in your hands?"

"Yeah?" Zayne asked, his brow furrowing in curiosity.

"I wanted to know how it would feel if you had kissed me," I said softly, feeling the weight of my confession. It was the truth, and I had never told anyone this before. I had been engaged to Advik, and I had no business wanting to know what it felt like to be kissed by Zayne.

I had chalked it up to a moment of weakness, a fleeting feeling that had swept over me. My relationship with Advik had been shaky after I received a message from an intern claiming she had a one-night stand with him. But I had turned away at the last moment; I would never have gone through with it. I wasn't a cheat.

Zayne was quiet for a moment, and I sensed that he didn't look as elated as I had hoped he would be.

"Why did you stay with him, Naina, if you wanted to be with me?" he asked, his voice steady but probing.

"I loved him," I replied, and then my heart dropped as I realized I had used the past tense with Advik for the first time.

"You were addicted to him," Zayne mumbled, and a surge of anger coursed through me. I was trying so hard to keep the conversation away from Advik.

"Zayne, there's a side to him that you don't know—the part of him that loved me enough to push me away when I tried to get back with him after... after the accident." I still hadn't admitted to Zayne what Advik had done to me that fateful morning.

"Maybe he didn't love you. Maybe he didn't want to get married. Maybe he just wanted out, and this was as good a reason as any," Zayne said, his voice cold and cutting.

I felt the wind get knocked out of me, as if I had been punched in the gut. I gasped and dropped my head into my hands, unable to breathe. Advik loved me. It had been real—all of it. He had told me that I was his forever, that no one else made him feel the way I did, that I had been everything to him. He loved me. I had given him everything. I had loved him with everything I had.

"Naina, Naina," I heard Zayne's voice, filled with concern. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry."

It wasn't his fault. No one would understand us. But I needed to pull myself out of this—this abyss that had been my life with Advik. I focused on Zayne's voice, letting it become clearer amidst the chaos in my mind.

"I shouldn't have assumed," he continued, gently rubbing my back.

I concentrated on the feel of his hand, the distant sounds of honking cars, the ringing of bicycle bells, the crows cawing somewhere far away. I focused on each breath I took, the steady sound of the car engine. The present—where I was, with Zayne. Zayne, who loved me and would never hurt me.

Slowly my breathing began to ease. I buried my face in his chest, feeling the warmth and safety that he offered. He held me close, his lips brushing the top of my head.

We sat in silence, but my heart pounded with anxiety as we neared his home. I felt overwhelmed, wishing I had taken up the offer to stay in a hotel instead of facing his family.

"Right in time for dinner!" his mother greeted us warmly, wrapping her arms around Zayne in a hug before giving me a scrutinizing side-eye.

The atmosphere shifted as Zayne's aunt and uncle joined us, along with his lively cousins filling the room with chatter.

I made my way to the washroom to clean my hands, then took a seat at the dining table.

"Help me serve," his mother instructed, and without thinking, I stood up abruptly, only to drop my glass of water. The liquid spilled, but Zayne caught the glass just before it hit the floor.

"Great reflexes!" I exclaimed, a small smile breaking through the anxiety. Our earlier conversation about cricket flashed through my mind, reminding me of his athleticism.

It took a moment, but Zayne smiled back at me, flexing his arm teasingly and winking.

I rolled my eyes, laughing, before serving everyone at the table. Once I settled back into my seat next to him, I tried to shake off the remnants of our earlier discussion and plastered a smile on my face, engaging in conversation with everyone.

"So, do you cook, Naina?" asked Vijaya aunty, her eyes curious.

"A little," I answered truthfully. I had taken a crash course in cooking just before my wedding, and I had been practicing different recipes on my roommate during my days off. Some turned out well, while others... well, let's just say they were edible.

"My Umma is the best cook in all of Kollam," Zayne declared proudly, a spark of joy lighting up his features.

I laughed; he was always happiest when he was indulging in tasty food. I remembered how, during our first year, we would explore hidden gems in Mangalore, his face lighting up with delight whenever we stumbled upon amazing dishes.

"What's funny, Naina?" Vijaya aunty asked. "You don't think Sulu makes good food?"

I quickly shook my head. "The food is amazing! I wish I knew how to cook like this," I replied sincerely.

For the rest of dinner, they largely ignored me, a welcome reprieve that allowed me to collect my thoughts. I focused on the clinking of cutlery, the laughter around the table, and the warmth of Zayne's presence beside me.

Zayne's mother was a truly exceptional cook, and I found myself eating more than I normally would have. The highlight of the meal was the fallooda she had made for dessert—sweet, fragrant, and utterly delightful.

After dinner, I felt exhausted. I helped clear the dishes, before following Zayne to his room. I felt sweaty and dirty after the long day, and we took turns in the shower.

When we climbed into bed, I curled up against Zayne without even thinking about it, mirroring how I would have with Advik. Confusion washed over me. This was Zayne—how could I be so physically free with him?

I made to shift away, but his arms encircled me, drawing me back into his warm embrace. Nights with Zayne were beautiful yet so confusing! It had been just over four months since we had gotten married and about seven months since I had broken up with Advik. When had I started feeling something for Zayne?

Because I did feel something—it was more than friendship or mere physical attraction. But it wasn't love. It was something else entirely. I listened to the rhythm of his heartbeat quickening as his hands roamed up and down my back. I could feel my own heart racing in response.

"Zayne?" I whispered, lifting my head from his chest to meet his gaze.

"Hmm?" he replied, his voice a low growl.

"Kiss me," I said, my heart pounding as I spoke the words.

His lips found mine, and his hands caressed my back, then my arms, and shoulders, finally settling at my neck as he kissed me. It felt different—intense and good. I opened my mouth for him, and he grunted softly before slipping his tongue inside. Every part of me throbbed for him, for Zayne, and I pressed myself against him, my fingers threading through the back of his hair.

In an instant, he rolled on top of me, his hips pressing down against mine. I could feel his manhood nestled between my thighs; he wasn't thrusting, but there was a subtle movement that sent sparks of warmth throughout my body. Suddenly, he stopped, kissing my jaw before rolling onto his back, breathing hard.

I was panting too, confused about why he had stopped. Had I done something wrong? I realized that it was the first time, that I was able the one halting things when they got heated.

"Zayne," I called softly.

"Yeah, Naina?" His voice was breathless.

"Why did you stop?" I asked, feeling a pang of embarrassment wash over me.

"I wanted to do things to you that you aren't ready for," he replied, still sounding breathless.

"How do you know I'm not ready?" I challenged, but my heart raced as soon as the words left my lips—not in an excited way, but with a touch of anxiety.

He looked at me, his expression serious. "Are you?"

I shook my head, and he smiled softly.

"You?" I asked tentatively.

"I've been ready since the day you told me you were Dr. Naina, first-year PG," he said, playfully mimicking my voice with a high pitch.

I grabbed the spare pillow and playfully hit him with it.

"Oh, this time, you're going to get it," he declared, sitting up and grabbing his pillow in retaliation. But I was too quick for him, dodging his swing.

It felt like déjà vu; the last time we had a pillow fight, he had lost because he had been hesitant to hit me inappropriately.

I moved away from the bed, picking up my own pillow and hitting him again.

"Oh Naina," he laughed, getting up and chasing after me. He playfully smacked my butt.

I laughed and I aimed my pillow at him. He swerved, and I tried again, but he caught my wrist effortlessly, pulling me toward him.

With both my wrists held behind my back by one of his hands, I parted my lips in anticipation of another kiss He smiled and began to tickle me instead. Laughter erupted from my lips as I squirmed. I wondered if he realized that his hands were in all the inappropriate places that he had previously avoided.

And just like that, his playful touches began to feel undeniably sexual. A small moan escaped my lips instead of a laugh, catching me off guard.

I couldn't help it, could I? Tickles and sexual touch were both transmitted to the brain by the anterior spinothalamic tract, and right now, my brain was one confused mess.

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Thank you for reading.

Remember that you are amazing, and there is a reason for everything. You are going to be okay.
❤️Faiza