SHANAYA’S POV

After dinner, the window still open and the breeze gentle, Kabir leaned in to press a kiss to my temple.

“You need a hot shower,” he murmured against my skin. “It’ll help the cramps.”

I looked up at him. That voice—husky and low—wasn’t just concern. It was laced with something else. A silent current. A pull I couldn’t name.

“I was thinking the same for you,” I said, arching a brow.

He gave me that crooked smirk that always made me weak. “I wasn’t offering you a suggestion, Shanaya. I’m joining you.”

I blinked.

“You’ve had a long day,” he continued, his fingers playing with a strand of my hair. “Let me help you unwind.”

There was a promise in his tone. One that made my stomach twist and my breath catch. I didn’t resist when he scooped me up in his arms, bridal-style, carrying me to the master bathroom like I weighed nothing.

KABIR’S POV

The bathroom lights were dimmed, the air warm with steam. I turned on the rainfall shower, the water cascading down in sheets as Shanaya stood near the mirror, watching me with wide, curious eyes.

“You sure?” I asked quietly, not because I doubted her—but because I respected her.

She nodded. “I want this.”

And that’s all I needed.

I walked over and helped her out of her clothes slowly—gently. Like unwrapping something fragile. Something priceless. I made sure to kiss every inch of skin I exposed, starting from her shoulder, her collarbone, the delicate curve of her spine. Her breath hitched with each kiss, her fingers tangling in my hair when I got down on one knee and pressed my lips to her belly—over the spot she’d complained was aching all day.

“I know it hurts,” I whispered. “But tonight, I’ll worship you until you forget it all.”

She closed her eyes, lips parting.



Shanaya’s POV

The water hit my skin like velvet. Kabir pulled me gently under the stream, his large hands sliding over my arms, down my back, not hurried—no, he wasn’t rushing this. He was studying me. Touching me like a man who had time. And ownership.

My back pressed to the cool marble wall as he leaned in, his lips brushing my neck, lower, slower.

“You’re so soft,” he murmured. “So warm.”

His hands found my waist and pinned me there—not forcefully, but firmly. Possessively.

I arched toward him, needing more.

“Patience, baby,” he said darkly, kissing the curve of my shoulder, nipping it just enough to make me gasp.

“You’re not playing fair.”

“I never said I would.”

He grabbed the body wash, working it into his hands, lathering it—then brought his palms to my chest, trailing the soap across my curves, down to my stomach, slipping between my thighs only just enough to tease.

I whimpered, biting my lip.

“I could do this forever,” he whispered into my ear, his voice pure sin. “Just stand here with you. Wash you. Worship you.”

The way his lips brushed my wet skin, the way his body aligned with mine—his arousal evident, his control barely hanging by a thread—it was too much. And not enough.

My hands explored him too—his sharp jawline, the hard lines of his back, the dripping strands of his hair, his chest that flexed beneath my fingers.

We were soaked, skin against skin, breath against breath.

“I want you,” I whispered.

He froze for a second—then growled low in his throat.

“Not tonight,” he said. “You’re sore. And you’ve had a long day. Tonight, I’ll hold you. Kiss you. Touch you—but I won’t take you until you beg.”

“Kabir…”

“I’ll take care of you, Shanaya. Just not how you think.”

And true to his word, he wrapped me in a towel like I was made of glass, carried me back to the bed, and let his mouth write poetry across my skin.

And though the night didn’t end the way lust demanded—it ended the way love insisted.

With me falling asleep, tangled in him, safe and utterly undone.

----

The silence of the room was deafening.

Not the comfortable kind — the kind that wrapped around you like a blanket. No. This was the kind that pressed into your chest, clawed at your throat, and made you want to scream just to fill the void.

Shanaya stood in front of the mirror, drowning in Kabir’s oversized black shirt, her arms wrapped around herself like they were the only thing keeping her from falling apart. Her eyes scanned her reflection — not in passing, but in pieces.

The way her stomach curved when she turned. The stretch marks crawling up her hips like memories that wouldn’t fade. The little red spots on her jawline. The puffiness around her eyes.

She stared harder.

And then it hit her —

She hated this body.

She hated herself.

A single tear slipped down her cheek.

She didn’t even hear Kabir come in.

Didn’t notice his presence until he gently said, “You okay, baby?”

She froze. Swallowed hard. And asked the question before she could stop herself.

“Do you really think I’m beautiful?”

Kabir stopped mid-step, his brows furrowing. “What?”

She turned toward him, the storm already brewing in her voice.

“Do you… ever look at me and wonder if you could’ve had someone… better?”

The air left the room.

Kabir’s jaw clenched. “Shanaya… where the hell is this coming from?”

She laughed, bitter and broken. “From the mirror. From the world. From every time I see someone flawless. From every moment I suck in my stomach around you. From every night I cover myself in the dark because I’m scared you’ll see the parts of me I can’t stand.”

Kabir’s face dropped. “Don’t. Don’t say that.”

“Why not?” Her voice cracked. “It’s the truth. I’m not the prettiest girl you’ve seen, I’m not the skinniest, I’m not the easiest to deal with. I get moody, I shut down, I overthink every little word you say. I ruin moments with my anxiety. And sometimes I look at myself and all I see is damage.”

Her voice broke completely, and she pressed her palm against her mouth to keep from sobbing.

“I try so hard to be enough for you, Kabir. But there are days… there are days I can’t even be enough for myself.”

Kabir walked toward her slowly, like one wrong move might break her into pieces. He didn’t speak immediately. He just pulled her into his chest and held her. Held her like she was sacred.

And when he spoke, his voice was almost shaking.

“You want to know what I see when I look at you?”

He cupped her face, his thumbs brushing away the tears.

“I see a girl who walked into my life with color on her fingertips and turned my entire world from black-and-white to chaos and light. I see fire behind your softness. I see courage in your silence. And when you think you’re being too much, Shanaya — I swear to God, it still never feels like enough. I crave every part of you.”

She broke. Right there. Fell into him like she was drowning and he was the only thing keeping her afloat.

“I hate how much it affects me,” she whispered, voice ragged. “How much I let the world tell me I’m not good enough. That I’m not skinny enough, perfect enough, quiet enough. Sometimes… sometimes I don’t even know how to love myself.”

Kabir pressed his forehead against hers. “Then let me love the parts you can’t. Let me trace every scar until you see what I see. Let me whisper ‘you’re beautiful’ so many times, you start to believe it even when I’m not there.”

She let out a small, broken laugh.

“I know it’s not fair… putting all my weight on you.”

“I don’t care.” His voice was fierce. “Put it on me. All of it. The pain, the insecurity, the rage, the ache — I’ll take it. I’d carry it all just to see you smile for five goddamn seconds without doubting yourself.”

And then, softly:

“I didn’t fall in love with a perfect woman, Shanaya. I fell in love with you. The girl who overthinks texts, who hides behind sarcasm, who cries when no one’s looking — that’s the girl who owns me.”

She blinked at him, vulnerable, cracked wide open.

And whispered, “I’m scared, Kabir. That you’ll wake up one day and see someone prettier. Someone easier. And you’ll leave.”

He kissed her like a promise. Like a vow.

“If I ever leave,” he whispered, “I’ll take you with me.”

She laughed, choked on a sob.

And for the first time in forever — she felt seen.

They crawled under the covers, her limbs tangled with his, her head on his chest, his fingers gently stroking her arm. She whispered into the dark:

“Thank you for loving me… even when I’m hard to love.”

He kissed her temple and pulled her closer.

“You’re never hard to love. The world just made you think you were.”

---

AUTHOR'S NOTE :

This chapter is one of the closest to my heart.

Because sometimes the loudest wars are the ones we fight within.

This one’s for every girl who’s looked in the mirror and didn’t feel enough.

For every tear that fell in silence, for every doubt screamed into a pillow.

For every heart that just wanted to be seen — as it is.

Shanaya's pain might be fiction, but it’s born from truth.

And if you saw yourself in her…

I hope you felt held.

—Vrinda

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