The Art Of Love ✓

8.7|Fidaa: His Feelings|

"Uss Kauser ki bachi ne acha phasaya mujhe." His tone was that of a little boy.

"Toh aapko kya zarurat thi Aapi ke saamne galat lafz bolne ki. Aap ye sazaa deserve karte hai." Fida defended her dearest Kauser Aapi while setting their cupboard.

"Fida, kabhi toh meri side le liya karo. Ab mai tumhara shohar hoon. Pata hai Dadajaan kitna naraaz hai mujhse." Aziz complained to his wife while discarding his kurta.

Fida gasped looking at his chest. Not because she has seen him shirtless for the first time or because her husband has a swoon-worthy body, but he had a tattoo on his chest.

Her name, Fida, was engraved on his heart in bold italic letters.

"Aapne ye tattoo kab banwaya?" Her question caught him off-guard. This was not how he wanted to reveal his tattoo to her. He wanted it to be special. It was his wish to show her the tattoo of her name on their wedding night, but her condition didn't allow this.

"Kuch saal pehle... tumhari yaad mein."

"Dadajaan ko pata chala toh woh naraaz honge. Tattoo banwana haram hota haina." Her words held fear of outcomes.

He was disappointed. He was expecting her to smile, blush but she feared what if Dadajaan got to know about his tattoo.

"Fida, mai tumse pyar ke do lafz sun-ne ki ummeed kar raha tha." His words had no filter, he said what he felt. Disappointment.

He looked at her to find her eyes lowering, she realised her mistake. He moved closer to the cupboard, where she was standing. But not to hug her or kiss her, to get a kurta to wear. Fida kept looking at him until he wore his brown kurta. He was about to start with the few buttons of it, but one of its white button fell on the floor.

Fida smiled and brought sui-dhaga from a drawer of dressing table.

"Iss button ko bhi manzoor nahi ke aap mujhse naraaz ho jayein." She picked the said button from the floor, and romantically looked at her husband who looked away from her face.

She chuckled and gently held his collar. Her touch sent electric current into his body. He looked at her, into her eyes. He gulped, Romantic Fida is hard to resist.

Fida left his collar and first put thread into the pin. How effortlessly she did this task made Aziz wonder. He never succeeded in putting thread into pin, it was a torture for him.

She began with attaching the button to his kurta, solely focusing on the button. While Aziz kept looking at her, his upset mood long forgotten. Now he just craved some kind of intimacy with his wife.

His hands moved to her cheeks, and slowly started moving way down. Fida stiffened, her fingers stopped moving. Her entire focus was on not panicking at his touch.

His fingers traced her neck, making her close her eyes.

He is my husband.

He is my husband.

She kept repeating these words in her mind.

But as his lips touched her skin she couldn't control. She gasped in fear and pushed him away. Tears rolled down her eyes.

Aziz winced as the pin hurt his skin, it stinged. He pulled the thread and pin from the fabric, making the button again fall on the floor.

He looked at his wife who was now controlling her sobs.

"I'm sorry. Mai aapko dhakka nahi marna chahti thi. Lekin..." She apologized between her sobs.

"Lekin galti meri thi. Mujhe apni hadh paar nahi karni chahiye thi." He admitted his mistake.