Warm Love|✓

07

𝘼𝙢𝙞 𝙟𝙚 𝙩𝙤𝙢𝙖𝙧
[𝘣𝘦𝘯𝘨𝘢𝘭𝘪]
𝘐 𝘢𝘮 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳𝘴

[ At Netaji Subhash Chandra Bose Airport, Kolkata]

Within an hour we reach the airport. As soon as the door of my side is opened, I am being snatched by my forearm and dragged towards the back gate. If this continues my arm will get dislocated from its socket.

"Hey we are going in wrong direction. The entrance is that side." I suggested him as he is taking me towards back side. I planned to shout for help, once I get in a crowded place. And airport is the most secured place, with military standing at every bay. But the more, we were going away from the main forum, the more my heart is leaping with fear.

"Shhh... Just keep walking." He hush me.

"It's Just be get dragged." I correct him to get on his nerve but later one choose to keep quiet. I try to twist my wrist, hitting my other fisted hand on his biceps, but to no avail he leaves me.

"If you don't know how to walk, then let me help you by carrying you in my arms."
He grunts.

I look at his stoic face. He has a definite jaw, long pointed nose with plum reddish lips with five o'clock shadow. He looks away forward, giving me a view of his side profile. My forceful husband is can surely take a stand out in the fashion world, as nothing less than a model, with those sharp contrasting features.

"Love what you see!" He must have felt my gaze. Uh, now I have to act normal. I can't satisfy his ego, by giving him a direct reply.
"Love? Huh, I was not even looking at you." I roll my eyes to exaggerate it.

"When did I say you were looking at me."

Hearing him has me, mentally facepalm myself. Uff it's always has to be me. I glare at him which he to reciprocated.

"Sir the jet is ready." A voice interrupted our glaring session. I turned towards the source of voice. He is a middle aged man with a grin which is especially indicating that he is trying to buter his boss. By looking at him he does look somewhat like a Bengali but I might be wrong.