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This chapter contains 16+ scenes, mature contain. Read at your risk. If you are not comfortable then don't read it..
Author's POV
They drove through the sparkling Parisian streets, but instead of heading back to the shared penthouse, Shivansh steered towards a second penthouse — a more private, romantic one he had secretly kept ready just for them.
As they stepped inside, Isha's breath caught again.
It was beautiful — soft lights, roses everywhere, gentle music playing — it was like a continuation of the fairytale.
And standing in the middle of the living room was a small table — set just for two — with dessert.
Shivansh turned to her, his voice low and teasing,
"You didn't think the night would end so easily, did you?"
Isha laughed breathlessly, her eyes shining.
No, she thought.
Not with him.
With him, the magic was only just beginning.
As they sat together on the cozy sofa of their private penthouse, soft music playing around them, the candlelight flickering gently, Isha couldn't stop smiling.
Her cheeks were flushed, her eyes sparkling, and Shivansh couldn't take his eyes off her.
Between laughter and light talks, Shivansh fed her a bite of the rich chocolate mousse, wiping a little off the corner of her lips with his thumb.
"You have no idea," he whispered, his voice rough with emotion, "how much I love you."
Isha's heart felt like it would burst. She placed her hand over his, their fingers automatically tangling. The world outside didn't exist anymore — it was just them.
Unable to stop herself, Isha leaned in, her lips brushing against his. Soft at first, just a gentle whisper of a kiss.
But Shivansh, unable to hold back, wrapped his arms tightly around her waist and pulled her onto his lap in one smooth motion.
Isha gasped softly, her hands flying to his shoulders for balance. Their eyes met — full of heat, love, and a little mischief — and then Shivansh claimed her lips again, deeper this time.
The kiss grew intense, messy, beautiful.
Isha wound her arms around his neck, pressing herself closer. Shivansh groaned softly against her mouth, his hands moving up and down her back possessively.
In the middle of the kiss, she mischievously pinched his waist lightly.
Shivansh let out a low growl against her lips in surprise, and instinctively, Isha also opened her mouth slightly — and Shivansh didn't miss the chance.
He slipped his tongue inside her mouth, deepening the kiss even more.
Isha whimpered softly, her fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt. She could feel his heartbeat pounding just as wildly as hers.
Without thinking, driven purely by emotion and desire, Isha's hands moved to the buttons of his shirt.
One by one, she started opening them, her fingers trembling slightly — half nervous, half excited.
The moment the shirt fell open, she pushed it off his shoulders, letting it fall from his shoulders but still on his body.
Isha's wide eyes took in the sight before her — his strong, sculpted abs, his broad chest, the powerful muscles of his shoulders.
She couldn't stop herself; she lightly ran her fingers across his chest, tracing every hard line, feeling the heat of his skin under her touch.
Shivansh's eyes darkened with need, his breathing heavy.
He leaned closer, pressing slow, hungry kisses down her jawline, to her neck, making her sigh and clutch him even tighter.
Half-laughing, half-gasping, he murmured against her skin,
"If you start, my love... I won't be able to stop."
Isha, feeling bolder than ever, whispered back with a playful glint in her eyes,
"Then don't stop..."
That was all it took.
In one smooth move, Shivansh stood up, carrying her in his arms easily, and walked toward the bedroom.
Isha clung to him, her arms around his neck, her heart racing so fast she felt dizzy — with love, with excitement, with longing.
As soon as they entered the bedroom, Shivansh gently placed her down, but before she could catch her breath, he pushed her lightly onto the bed, making her fall back against the soft covers with a surprised laugh.
Standing over her, he pulled off his shirt completely, throwing it aside.
Isha couldn't move. She just stared at him — at the way the soft golden light from the chandelier caressed his skin, highlighting the deep lines of his abs, the strength of his chest, the power in his broad shoulders, and the muscles flexing in his arms.
He was perfection. Raw, beautiful, strong — and yet the way he looked at her, with so much love and tenderness, made her heart ache.
Slowly, Shivansh crawled onto the bed, hovering above her, his eyes never leaving hers.
He brushed a soft kiss on her forehead, then her closed eyelids, then the tip of her nose, before finally capturing her lips again in a kiss so deep and emotional that Isha felt like she would melt right there.
There was no rush, no hurry — only love, longing, devotion.
As their bodies tangled together, hearts beating in a wild, shared rhythm, the night stretched ahead of them — infinite, perfect, only theirs.
And for the first time, in the city of dreams, under a sky full of stars, Shivansh and Isha belonged completely, entirely, and forever to each other.
Shivansh sat on the edge of the bed, his gaze locked on Isha, who lay there, her breaths shallow, her eyes wide and shimmering with anticipation and love. She looked like an angel — fragile, beautiful, breathtaking — and he couldn't believe she was his.
With trembling fingers, he reached for the hem of her dress, pulling it up, inch by inch, revealing the smooth skin beneath. His knuckles brushed lightly over her thighs, making her gasp softly. When he finally pulled the dress over her head, tossing it aside, he froze for a moment, just looking at her.
There she was — lying on the soft sheets in nothing but her delicate lingerie — her curves glowing under the soft golden lights, her chest rising and falling with every shallow breath. His throat tightened at the sight. She was so vulnerable, so trusting.
He climbed onto the bed beside her, his knees sinking into the mattress as he leaned over her again.
Slowly, carefully, his hands moved to her earrings, unclasping them one by one, setting them gently aside. His lips brushed over her earlobes as he worked, sending a shiver down her spine.
Next, he removed the slender chain from around her neck, kissing the hollow of her throat once it was bare. His fingers slid to her wrists, unfastening her delicate bracelets, and he pressed kisses along her arms as he bared her inch by inch.
Piece by piece, he removed every small barrier between them — the thin bracelet sliding from her wrist, the rings from her fingers — until there was nothing left but her soft, bare beauty.
She just lay there, bathed in the faint golden glow of the room's light, a vision so pure that it made Shivansh's chest ache. He cupped her face, tilting her head up so he could see every trembling breath she took, every beat of the heart that belonged to him.
"You're... breathtaking," he whispered, voice thick with emotion.
His mouth found the curve of her neck, pressing slow, open-mouthed kisses against her sensitive skin. Isha whimpered softly, her fingers threading into his hair, tugging him closer. His teeth grazed her collarbone lightly, then he sucked gently, marking her with the tenderness only he was allowed to give.
When there was nothing left but her undergarments, he paused — just drinking in the sight of her.
His Isha. His Jaana. His queen.
Flushed cheeks, trembling lips, half-lidded eyes full of devotion and need.
He leaned down, pressing a tender kiss on her forehead.
Then another one on her temple.
Another on the tip of her nose.
Another one, slower and lingering, on her soft lips.
Isha whimpered, tilting her face up, seeking him, but Shivansh took his time.
He kissed along her jawline, down to the sensitive skin under her ear, savoring every reaction he pulled from her.
His hands reached behind her, unclasping her bra with an effortless move. The fabric slid away, and he felt her shudder beneath him.
He pulled back just enough to admire her bare beauty, his eyes burning with need and reverence.
"You're so beautiful," he rasped, voice thick with emotion."You're perfect," he said, his voice almost a growl, thick with need and reverence.
Without waiting, he dipped his head down, taking one soft peak into his mouth, sucking gently, swirling his tongue around it until Isha gasped and arched into him, desperate for more.
His free hand roamed across her body, cupping, squeezing, teasing her other breast until it too received his attention. He alternated between them — sucking one while his hand teased the other — making her whimper and moan under him, her body writhing helplessly against the mattress.
Every kiss, every flick of his tongue, every graze of his teeth was a silent declaration of his love.
When her hands fisted the sheets and her hips began to move unconsciously, he smiled against her skin, kissing a path lower — down her stomach, across her waist, to the sensitive skin of her hips.
He hooked his fingers into the waistband of her last remaining piece of clothing.
When he saw none — only blind trust and burning love — he slowly, sensually slid the garment down her legs, leaving her completely bare before him.
Pausing only for a heartbeat — giving her one final look, making sure she was still with him — he slowly slid her panties down her legs, tossing them aside.
Isha lay bare before him, glowing, trembling, waiting.
For a moment, he simply looked at her — drinking her in, memorizing her with eyes darkened with desire and adoration. His thumb brushed along the soft skin of her thigh, and Isha whimpered, her hands resting lightly on his shoulders, needing his warmth, his touch.
But he also known she doesn't want him to go down but she can't say anything because she was lost in pleasure.
He knelt between her legs, his hands gently parting her thighs, exposing her most sacred place to his adoring gaze.
Shivansh's breath hitched in his throat.
"You're mine," he whispered roughly, his lips brushing against her skin as he began to trail kisses lower, reverent, teasing, loving.
She was perfect. Wet, swollen, glistening for him.
He lowered his head without hesitation, pressing a soft, reverent kiss against her inner thigh first — teasing her, building her need — before his mouth found her.
Isha gasped, her body quivering in anticipation, her heart racing faster than ever before.
Isha cried out, a broken, needy sound that made him groan in response.
His tongue flicked softly at first, tasting her slowly, savoring every sweet drop she gave him.
Then he grew bolder, lapping at her with long, steady strokes, sucking gently at the sensitive bundle of nerves, driving her wild beneath him.
Her fingers found his hair, tugging desperately, her hips bucking, but he held her steady, devouring her like a man starved.
When she gasped his name, shuddering, he slid a finger inside her, feeling her tight, wet walls clench greedily around him.
He added another, stretching her carefully, gently, while his mouth never left her, worshipping her with each stroke of his tongue and thrust of his fingers.
Isha shattered around him once, her body convulsing with pleasure — but he didn't stop.
Again, and again, he brought her to the edge and over, until she was a trembling, whimpering mess beneath him, her body slick with sweat and pleasure.
Only when she was gasping, begging for mercy, did Shivansh pull away, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, his eyes dark and full of love and hunger.
He climbed up the bed, pulling her trembling body into his arms, whispering against her ear, "You're mine... Only mine."
Isha clung to him, her heart pounding wildly against his chest, her soul completely surrendered to the man who loved her like she was his entire world.
Shivansh kissed her forehead tenderly, his heart swelling with an overwhelming tenderness he had never known before. Isha lay there, exhausted, her face flushed and glowing with a soft, innocent satisfaction that made her look even more beautiful.
He brushed a few stray strands of hair away from her face, lingering for a moment, memorizing every line, every breath.
Then, with a reluctant sigh, he slipped off the bed, walking quietly to the washroom. He turned on the taps, adjusting the water carefully — making sure it was perfectly warm and soothing for her sore, sensitive skin. He added a few drops of calming lavender oil, letting the faint scent fill the air.
Once the tub was ready, he returned to her.
Without saying a word, he gently scooped her into his arms. Isha blinked up at him, dazed but smiling, her body weak yet trusting as she curled into him.
When the first touch of water hit her skin, she winced slightly, her body tensing from the sensitivity. Shivansh was right behind her, stepping into the bathtub with her, his arms cradling her against his chest, shielding her from the world.
"Easy, sweetheart... I'm here," he whispered against her temple, kissing her hair.
He moved with infinite care — softly washing her, massaging her skin with slow, soothing motions. His touch was respectful, gentle, almost reverent, as though afraid she might break if he pressed too hard.
It wasn't about passion anymore.
It was about love. Pure, overwhelming love.
After making sure every inch of her was clean and comforted, he carried her out, wrapping her in a fluffy towel. His hands worked patiently, drying her hair with the softest touch, kissing her forehead whenever she shivered.
Then he grabbed one of his own shirts — a loose, oversized white one — and carefully helped her into it. The fabric swallowed her small frame, and she looked impossibly adorable and fragile.
He smiled to himself, his heart aching with how much he loved her.
Scooping her back into his arms, he walked over to the large sofa near the window. Made her lie there for some time.
He spread out a fresh, soft bedsheet, on the bed and then carefully laying her down.
She stirred slightly, murmuring something incoherent, but when he tucked her under the warm blanket, she sighed contentedly, her small hand clutching the fabric.
He crouched beside her for a long moment, watching the way her lashes fluttered against her cheeks, the slow, steady rise and fall of her chest.
Then, knowing he needed a moment for himself — to calm the storm she had left inside him — he kissed her forehead once more and slipped quietly into the washroom.
Behind the closed door, he took care of himself, washing away the remnants of the overwhelming hunger he had held back — because tonight wasn't about him. It was about her.
It took him almost 30 to 45 minutes to calm himself, to settle the aching need she had unknowingly left burning inside him.
Finally, he stepped out of the bathroom, wearing only a pair of loose joggers, his hair damp, his body relaxed.
The room was quiet.
The soft afternoon light streamed through the curtains, casting a warm golden glow on everything.
And there she was — curled up under the blanket, her small frame lost in his clothes, sleeping so peacefully, so trustingly.
Shivansh crossed the room in three strides, his heart full.
He slid into the bed beside her, pulling her into his arms without a second thought. She instinctively cuddled closer to him, her cheek resting against his bare chest.
He wrapped his arms around her, tucking the blanket securely around them both.
And for the first time in a long, long time — Shivansh slept.
Not because he was tired.
Not because he had no choice.
But because his heart was finally at peace.
He held his world in his arms, and nothing else mattered.
As the quiet night faded into a chaos morning, neither of them stirred.
Wrapped in each other's warmth, in the cocoon of new promises and silent love, they drifted deeper into sleep.
Even in dreams, their hearts found each other — a love that was tender, fierce, and utterly unbreakable.
And in that peaceful slumber, a new chapter of their forever had quietly begun.
The first rays of sunlight fell softly through the sheer curtains, bathing the room in a golden glow.
The soft morning light filtered into the room, weaving golden patterns across the sheets.
Shivansh was already awake, his head resting comfortably against the headboard, a lazy, satisfied smile playing on his lips. His dark eyes, heavy with adoration and something more primal, were fixed solely on the girl lying beside him.
Isha.
His Isha.
She was curled up like a kitten, her messy hair falling across her flushed cheeks, breathing softly, completely unaware of the way she looked — utterly breathtaking.
As if sensing the intensity of his gaze, Isha stirred.
Slowly, her eyelashes fluttered open, and her beautiful black eyes blinked sleepily.
The first thing she saw was him — Shivansh — already awake, already watching her with that intense, heated gaze.
For a second, she simply stared back at him, confused in her half-asleep state.
But then, like a sudden bolt of electricity, memories of last night crashed into her mind — his kisses, his touches, the way he had held her, worshiped her.
Her eyes widened, her entire face heating up instantly.
A small, broken whimper escaped her lips, and she turned her head away, burying her face into the pillow to hide her embarrassment.
Shivansh chuckled softly, the sound deep and affectionate.
He leaned down, brushing a soft kiss to the crown of her head.
"Good morning, my jaana," he murmured, his voice thick with love.
Isha shook her head into the pillow, refusing to meet his eyes.
She could feel her heart hammering against her ribcage, every nerve ending alive just because he was so close.
"Are you… crying?" Shivansh teased lightly, noticing the wetness at the corner of her eye.
"I am not crying!" she mumbled furiously, but her voice cracked slightly, betraying her.
In one swift move, he pulled her closer, forcing her to face him.
His thumb gently wiped away a tiny tear she didn't even realize had fallen.
"Last night scared you?" he asked softly, his forehead resting against hers.
She shook her head shyly.
"It didn't scare me… it was… it was beautiful…" she whispered honestly.
His heart clenched at her innocence, her sweetness.
He kissed her forehead again, lingering there, before slowly pressing a trail of kisses — on her temple, her cheek, the tip of her nose, her jaw — never rushing, savoring her.
"You look too cute when you're shy," he murmured against her skin.
Isha's cheeks, already pink, turned a deep shade of red.
And then, when she tried to sit up, she realized something horrifying — she wasn't wearing anything underneath his shirt.
Nothing. No undergarments.
Just his shirt covering her soft, delicate body.
Her entire body froze.
Slowly, slowly, her trembling hands clutched at the hem of the shirt, tugging it down desperately as if that would help.
Her face was now the color of a ripe tomato.
Seeing her panic, Shivansh laughed, a genuine, boyish laugh that made her heart flutter.
"You look much better like this," he said with a wicked glint in his eye. "Only in my shirt."
"Shivansh!" she squeaked, scandalized.
He chuckled again and pulled her back into his arms, pressing soft kisses down her neck.
"Where are you running, hmm?"
His voice was husky, thick with sleep, sending a delicious shiver down her spine.
She blushed deeper, hiding her face with her hands.
"I… I just… wanted to freshen up…" she mumbled against her palms.
He chuckled, that low, dangerous sound, and slowly pulled her closer until she was practically lying atop him.
"You're not going anywhere without a good morning kiss," he whispered, brushing his lips lazily over her hair.
Isha's heart almost burst out of her chest.
"You're mine," he whispered, a gentle possessiveness in his tone. "Only mine."
After a lot of convincing, lots of teasing kisses, and endless laughter, Isha finally gathered the courage to wriggle out of his embrace.
She mumbled something about freshening up and ran towards the bathroom, clutching the shirt tightly around her.
Inside the bathroom, she sighed, finally alone, her cheeks still burning.
She had barely turned on the shower when she heard the bathroom door click softly open.
"Shivansh!" she gasped, spinning around.
Before she could say anything more, he scooped her up into his arms effortlessly.
She gasped, her hands flying to his bare shoulders instinctively.
The warm water cascaded around them as Shivansh stepped into the shower with Isha still cradled securely in his arms.
The warm water rained down on them, and she squealed, trying to get down, but he held her tighter.
"Why waste water?" he said innocently, a teasing glint dancing in his eyes. "Sharing is caring."
Isha buried her face in his neck, too shy to even answer.
Her body pressed instinctively closer to his, seeking comfort, even as her cheeks flamed with a shy embarrassment.
"Why are you always running away, hmm?" he whispered against her ear, his breath warm, making her shiver.
"I-I'm not!" she protested weakly.
"Then stay," he said simply, stepping into the shower with her still in his arms.
"Put me down…" she whispered, hiding her face in his neck.
Shivansh chuckled, low and deep, sending delicious vibrations through her.
"Not yet," he murmured, his nose brushing lightly against her temple. "You're safer here."
Finally, he set her down gently on her feet, keeping one strong arm wrapped around her slender waist.
The water soaked through the oversized shirt she was wearing — his shirt — making it cling to her curves in the most sinful, tempting way.
Isha became acutely aware of how the wet fabric revealed everything.
Her hands nervously clutched the hem, tugging it down as if that would help.
He looked down at her, his gaze darkening with emotion, with love… and something even deeper.
Isha's voice came out small, hesitant.
"Um… I want to… I need to give this back," she mumbled, tugging at the hem of the shirt.
Shivansh tilted his head slightly, a playful smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.
"Give back what's already mine?" he teased softly.
She pouted, cheeks blazing, but she bravely raised her hands and began unbuttoning the shirt.
Her fingers trembled slightly as she worked each button open, revealing more and more of her delicate skin to the steamy air around them.
Shivansh watched, completely mesmerized, making no move to help — as if he didn't want to disturb her, as if he wanted her to come to him in her own way.
When the last button was undone, Isha shyly slid the shirt off her shoulders, letting it drop into his waiting hands.
Now she stood in front of him, vulnerable, the water running down her bare skin in glistening rivulets.
Even though he was still wearing his boxers, Shivansh felt suddenly humbled by her trust, her innocence.
She couldn't meet his eyes properly — her gaze stayed stubbornly fixed somewhere around his shoulder, too shy to look lower.
Shivansh carefully draped his shirt over his own shoulder and reached out, brushing a few strands of wet hair away from her face.
"You're… beautiful," he said, his voice husky with awe.
Isha's lips parted, a soft gasp escaping her, but she didn't run
Instead, she moved closer — hesitant but willing — her palms resting flat against his chest.
She could feel his heart beating, strong and fast, beneath her touch.
Slowly, timidly, she leaned forward, pressing her forehead against his chest, seeking the comfort of his warmth even under the pouring water.
Shivansh exhaled a shaky breath, wrapping his arms fully around her small, wet body, pulling her flush against him.
"You're not allowed to hide from me," he murmured into her hair. "Not anymore."
Isha nodded weakly, her fingers curling into the muscles of his chest.
"Still shy," she whispered.
He smiled softly, tilting her chin up gently with two fingers.
"Good," he said. "I like my girl shy. But…" — he dipped down, his lips brushing barely against hers — "…I love her brave moments even more."
Before she could react, he kissed her.
Softly.
Tenderly.
Without rush.
Without pressure.
Just love.
The kiss deepened naturally, their bodies pressed close, the warm water swirling around them like a cocoon.
His hands roamed slowly, respectfully, worshipping her skin as if she were something precious, sacred.
Isha, emboldened by the way he touched her — so gently, so reverently — slid her arms around his neck and kissed him back.
They stayed like that, wrapped up in each other, sharing soft kisses and whispered promises, for what felt like forever.
Nothing else existed.
Only them.
Only love.
Only this.
Under the cascade of water, their laughter mingled with soft gasps and gentle kisses.
He lathered the shampoo into her hair, massaging her scalp carefully, while she splashed water at him every chance she got.
In return, he would pull her closer, pressing wet kisses to her shoulder, her collarbone, her cheeks, making her giggle uncontrollably.
Their love that morning was tender, playful — an innocent reflection of their deep bond.
Every look, every touch, was filled with unsaid promises of forever.
After long, sweet moments under the shower, Shivansh finally broke their kiss and leaned his forehead against hers, breathing her in like she was the only air he needed.
"Let's get you warm," he whispered, his voice heavy with affection.
He scooped her up once again, ignoring her soft protests, and carried her out of the bathroom.
The cool air of the room made Isha shiver slightly, and Shivansh immediately reached for a soft towel, wrapping it securely around her body.
He quickly grabbed another for himself, tying it loosely around his waist.
Then, with a mischievous glint in his eyes, he picked up his large black hoodie from a nearby chair.
"Here," he said, pulling the hoodie over her head carefully, almost like dressing a little doll.
The hoodie practically swallowed her whole, hanging loosely around her tiny frame, reaching almost to her knees.
Only her bare, slender legs peeked out from under the oversized fabric.
Shivansh stepped back to admire his handiwork, a smirk playing on his lips.
"You look…" he paused, letting his eyes slowly roam over her, "dangerously cute."
Isha's cheeks burned bright red again, and she quickly crossed her arms in front of her, glaring at him playfully.
"Stop looking at me like that," she mumbled, her voice muffled by the hoodie's high collar.
He laughed, a soft, rich sound that made her stomach flutter.
"Can't help it," he said honestly, tugging her closer by the sleeve. "You're mine to look at."
She huffed but didn't resist when he pressed a quick kiss to her temple.
Still only wearing his jogger pants low on his hips, Shivansh ruffled his wet hair and said, "Breakfast time. You must be starving."
"I am," Isha admitted shyly, rubbing her stomach like a child.
He chuckled, leading her to the kitchen area of their cozy suite.
Shivansh set about gathering ingredients — panner, bread, butter, some fruits — moving around the kitchen like he owned it.
Vese he owns it.
Meanwhile, Isha sat on the counter, her legs swinging lightly, her hoodie-clad figure making her look younger, softer, even more adorable.
"You sure you can cook, Mr. Perfect?" she teased, resting her chin on her knee.
He shot her a mock-offended look.
"Excuse me? I'm an excellent chef. You're about to have the best scrambled paneer of your life. And don't forget you already ate food made by me. "
Isha giggled, feeling light and happy, the earlier shyness replaced by a bubbling playfulness.
As Shivansh make cube of panner into a bowl, she sneakily dipped her finger into the butter and smeared a tiny dot onto his cheek.
He froze.
Slowly, he turned to her with narrowed eyes.
"Oh, you're asking for trouble, little one," he said in a low warning tone.
Isha let out a squeal, trying to escape, but he was faster.
In seconds, he caught her waist and pulled her back against him, tickling her sides mercilessly.
"Shivansh! No—!" she shrieked between laughter, trying to wiggle free.
"You started it," he said, laughing along, before finally letting her go — but not before pressing a kiss to her nose.
Breathless and still laughing, Isha pouted adorably at him.
"You're evil," she muttered.
"And you love it," he winked.
Going back to cooking, he expertly whipped up fluffy scrambled paneer, toasted the bread, and sliced some strawberries on the side.
Isha helped by setting the plates, occasionally stealing little bites when she thought he wasn't looking — but he caught her every single time.
"Patience," he scolded lightly, tapping her forehead with a strawberry.
Finally, they sat together on the floor in the living area by the small table, cross-legged, laughing and eating messily and watching taarak mehta ka ooltah chashmah.
Isha's cheeks were stuffed with toast, and Shivansh couldn't stop himself from leaning over and wiping a crumb off the corner of her lips.
"You're messy," he teased fondly.
"Your fault for making yummy food," she said with a cheeky grin.
He laughed, then fed her a bite straight from his fork, the intimacy of the moment warming them both deeper than any shower could.
Every so often, he would brush her hair back, or she would sneak quick kisses on his cheek when he wasn't expecting it.
There was no rush, no awkwardness — just pure, soft love between them.
Two souls tangled together, laughing, teasing, feeding each other, loving each other — completely lost in their own little world.
After finishing the last bites of breakfast, Isha stretched lazily, her arms reaching above her head, and let out a soft, satisfied sigh.
Shivansh chuckled, watching her tiny form practically drowning in his hoodie, her bare legs tucked underneath her.
He didn't even bother hiding the pure affection in his eyes anymore.
Without warning, he reached forward, wrapped his strong arms around her waist, and pulled her straight into his lap.
Isha let out a little yelp of surprise, her hands instinctively landing on his bare chest.
"Shivansh!" she gasped, her face turning an adorable shade of pink.
He just smiled lazily, tightening his arms around her so she couldn't escape.
"You're not going anywhere," he murmured against her hair.
Feeling her heart race against his chest, Isha buried her face in his shoulder, hiding her embarrassment.
"You're mean…" she mumbled shyly.
"And you're mine," he replied simply, his voice deep and sure, sending shivers down her spine.
They sat there in silence for a moment, just holding each other, listening to each other's breathing.
The sunlight poured through the windows, bathing them in a golden glow, making the morning feel even more magical.
After a while, Shivansh rested his chin on top of her head.
"You know…" he began softly, "I could spend every morning like this with you."
Isha peeked up at him through her lashes.
"Every morning?" she whispered, hope hidden in her voice.
He nodded, his hand gently caressing her back.
"Every single one. Waking up beside you, making you breakfast, fighting over who eats the last bite," he teased, smiling.
She laughed softly against him.
"And... maybe someday," he continued, his tone even softer, "teaching our kids how to steal food from your plate."
Isha froze for a second, her heart doing a little somersault.
She lifted her head to look at him properly.
His eyes — warm, sure, full of dreams — looked right into her soul.
"You think about that?" she asked shyly, her fingers playing with the pendant around his neck.
"All the time," he admitted, brushing a strand of hair from her face.
"I want all of it with you, Isha."
Her throat tightened, overwhelmed by the sincerity of his words.
Unable to find her voice, she simply leaned up and pressed a tender kiss on his jaw.
"I want that too," she whispered against his skin.
He smiled against her hair, holding her even tighter.
For a long while, they just sat there — tangled together, wrapped in warmth and promises — dreaming of a future that, finally, seemed close enough to touch.
After finishing their playful breakfast and all those quiet laughs, Shivansh gently picked Isha up again in his arms.
She let out a tiny gasp but quickly hid her face in the crook of his neck, feeling safe, feeling loved.
Without rushing even a bit, he walked her toward the bedroom, his steps slow, careful — almost as if she was the most precious thing he could ever hold.
He pulled back the cozy blanket and softly placed her down on the bed, tucking her in as if she was a dream he never wanted to wake from.
Isha watched him with sleepy, half-lidded eyes, her heart melting more and more with each small thing he did for her.
She smiled — that small, shy smile only he ever got to see — as he climbed into bed beside her, wrapping a protective arm around her waist and pulling her close against his chest.
For a few long, quiet minutes, they simply lay there.
Shivansh played lazily with her fingers, tracing invisible patterns on her soft palm.
Isha snuggled closer, burying herself under his chin, feeling the slow, steady thump of his heartbeat beneath her ear — the most calming sound in her world now.
"You smell like me," he whispered, his lips brushing the crown of her hair.
Isha blushed fiercely, but smiled into his chest. "Good," she mumbled, half-asleep. "Now you can't run away."
He chuckled, the vibration rumbling through his chest and straight into her heart. "Never wanted to," he whispered back.
The room fell into a peaceful silence, their little secret world wrapped under one soft blanket.
In that moment — full of shared breaths, soft kisses brushed against sleepy foreheads, tangled legs, and hearts beating in sync — everything else faded away.
Slowly, slowly, their words faded into dreams.
And together, still tangled up in each other, they drifted off into the most peaceful sleep of their lives — guarded, protected, loved.
The soft noon sunlight slipped into the penthouse through the sheer white curtains, painting everything in a golden, sleepy hue.
Isha stirred first, shifting slightly under the thick comforter, her small frame tangled up in Shivansh's arms. His hoodie hung loosely around her body, oversized and deliciously warm, carrying his scent — a perfect mix of fresh soap, musk, and something uniquely him.
Without thinking, she snuggled closer. His arm tightened instinctively around her waist, pulling her even deeper into his chest.
She smiled lazily, eyes still half-closed. "Good afternoon, sleepyhead," came Shivansh's deep, teasing whisper against her ear, his breath tickling her skin.
Isha blushed instantly. Memories of the night before — the proposal, the kisses, the endless whispers of love — flooded her mind like a tide.
She buried her face into his chest, making a soft protesting sound.
"Don't tease me," she mumbled, her voice muffled in the fabric of his bare skin.
Shivansh chuckled, the sound rumbling through his chest.
"How can I not? You look too adorable hiding like that," he said, nuzzling his nose into her hair.
They lay there for a long, lazy while, wrapped in each other's warmth, letting the quiet moments stretch and bloom between them. No rush. No worries. Just the sound of their hearts beating together.
Finally, Isha's stomach betrayed her peace, rumbling softly.
She gasped, pulling away a little. "Shivansh!" she whined, cheeks flaming.
He only laughed, pulling her back into him.
"Relax. I love my hungry little kitten."
She slapped his chest lightly, pouting.
"I'm serious! I want food!"
Shivansh grinned and leaned up on one elbow, reaching for his phone.
"Fine, fine. Let's see... pizza?" he asked knowingly, raising an eyebrow.
Her eyes lit up immediately.
"Yes! You know me too well," she said, poking his side playfully.
He quickly placed the order — their favorites: extra cheese and corn pizza for her, veg loaded for him, and lots of fries and soda to go with it.
While waiting, they stayed curled up together on the bed, talking softly about nonsense — how beautiful Paris looked today, how good the bed felt, what silly wedding vows they would write for each other.
Every now and then, Shivansh would lean down and plant soft kisses on her forehead, her nose, her cheeks — each one slower, lingering longer.
Isha giggled and wriggled under him. "You're going to spoil me."
"That's the plan," he said simply, his voice so full of affection it made her heart ache.
The doorbell finally rang.
Reluctantly pulling apart, Shivansh pulled on his joggers properly while Isha remained wrapped in his hoodie, peeking shyly from behind the bedroom door as he grabbed their food.
He came back triumphantly, carrying the big pizza boxes and three soda cans, his smile wide and boyish.
"Lunch is served, my queen," he declared, bowing dramatically.
Isha burst out laughing, her stomach hurting from the effort.
They sat cross-legged on the carpet in the living area, opening boxes and digging in.
Isha grabbed a cheesy slice eagerly, moaning happily after the first bite.
Shivansh watched her with a smirk.
"God, you and your food. I swear you look at pizza the way you should look at me."
She pretended to think, tapping her chin with a finger.
"Hmm... pizza first. You second," she teased mischievously.
"Traitor," he gasped, pretending to clutch his heart.
They both dissolved into laughter again, throwing fries at each other like children.
Just as Isha reached for another slice, Shivansh cleared his throat dramatically.
"One more surprise," he said, pulling a small cake box from behind the couch.
Her eyes widened.
"What now?"
He opened it slowly, revealing a perfect little cake decorated with delicate white frosting and a simple golden line that read:
"My Forever."
Isha's heart squeezed painfully. Tears pricked her eyes immediately.
"Shivansh..." she whispered, unable to say more.
He scooped a little icing with his finger and dabbed it gently on the tip of her nose.
"Mine," he said with a smile so soft it melted her from inside out.
She leaned forward and kissed him — icing and all — tasting the sweetness of the cake and the deeper, richer sweetness of their love.
They fed each other messy bites of the cake, laughing when crumbs fell down, teasing when icing got smeared on cheeks, noses, and even Shivansh's jaw.
And somewhere in the middle of laughter, cake, and kisses, it truly sank in for both of them:
They were each other's forever.
After they had their messy, happy lunch and wiped cake crumbs off each other's noses, Shivansh leaned back on the carpet, pulling Isha gently against him.
The late afternoon sunlight had turned softer, warmer. It spilled through the balcony doors, painting golden halos around them.
"Wanna sit outside for a bit?" he murmured into her hair.
Isha nodded against his chest, and together, they stepped out onto the private balcony of their secret Paris penthouse.
The view was breathtaking — the endless stretch of the city rooftops, the Eiffel Tower peeking in the distance like a shy friend, the hum of life far below them. But honestly, for both of them, the view didn't matter.
They only looked at each other.
Shivansh dragged a cozy blanket from inside and wrapped it around them both, sitting down on one of the wide balcony chairs. Isha curled into him naturally, resting her head on his shoulder.
For a while, they just sat there — breathing, smiling, holding.
No words were needed.
After some time, Shivansh pulled out his phone.
"Let's click some pictures," he said, his eyes twinkling mischievously.
"To save memories of how you looked today — messy hair, big hoodie, happiest face."
Isha laughed and lightly hit his arm.
"You're the one who looks messy! Look at your hair!"
"Still hot though," he teased, winking.
She rolled her eyes but smiled wide. Shivansh stretched his arm and clicked their first selfie — her soft laugh caught mid-air, his playful grin wide.
Then another — this time, her kissing his cheek while he pretended to act shy.
And another — him tickling her ribs while she shrieked, caught in blurry motion.
Each photo was a little piece of their happiness, frozen forever.
Later, as the sun dipped lower, Shivansh stood up, pulling her with him.
"Let's go out. A little date. Just us. Simple things."
Isha's face lit up instantly.
"Where?"
"Mall nearby. Just... for fun."
She giggled.
"I thought Paris was about romantic streets and candlelight dinners."
He shrugged, pulling on a jacket.
"With you, even a boring mall is perfect."
They reached a quiet, beautiful mall tucked into one of Paris's artistic neighborhoods.
It wasn't grand or flashy — just warm lights, small cozy stores, little cafés.
They walked hand-in-hand, giggling as they passed windows.
At one point, Shivansh tugged her into a photobooth near a café.
"C'mon! Old-school memories," he said, already pulling her inside.
Isha squealed as the countdown started — they posed in silly faces, kissed cheeks, made hearts with their hands, laughed till tears came.
When the small strip of printed photos came out, they both howled laughing.
"We look like idiots," she said, still grinning.
"The happiest idiots," Shivansh said, pocketing the photos carefully.
They grabbed some fresh pastries from a bakery stall, wandered through a little art corner, and even bought matching keychains — tiny crowns — one for each of them.
When they finally returned to the penthouse, the sky was inky blue, the first stars blinking lazily.
They dropped onto the couch, tired but buzzing with quiet happiness.
Shivansh grabbed his laptop and transferred all their pictures — selfies from the balcony, photobooth shots, even a few random ones he had sneakily clicked of her laughing at the mall.
They sat side-by-side, scrolling through them, laughing softly, making silly comments.
"Look at your face here!" Isha pointed, giggling.
"You look like you're about to sneeze!"
"Shut up! Look at you here — drooling at the pizza like it's your soulmate!" he teased back.
The room is filled with easy laughter, the kind that wraps around hearts like warm blankets.
Finally, as night wrapped Paris in her quiet arms, Shivansh put on a movie — something old, black-and-white, romantic.
They curled up under another thick blanket on the couch — Isha tucked into his side, his arm resting protectively around her.
She rested her head on his chest, feeling the slow, steady thump of his heart.
Halfway through the movie, she turned her face up and whispered against his jaw,
"Today was perfect."
He kissed her forehead softly, lingering.
"Every day with you is," he murmured.
Isha shifted lazily under the blanket, peeking up at Shivansh with a mischievous glint in her eyes.
Without warning, she poked him gently in the ribs.
Shivansh barely reacted.
He just raised one eyebrow, giving her a questioning look.
Isha pouted, and tried again — this time tickling under his arm.
Still, nothing.
He just smirked and continued watching the movie.
"You don't feel ticklish at all?" she gasped, now fully determined.
"Nope," he said casually, pulling her closer under the blanket, like it was the most normal thing.
"That's unfair!" she cried dramatically.
In retaliation, she grabbed the nearest pillow and lightly whacked him across the shoulder.
For a second, Shivansh looked at her — mock shocked.
Then, he grabbed another pillow.
"Now you've declared war, Mrs. Shivansh." he said in a low, playful voice.
Before she could react, he threw a soft hit at her.
She squealed and ducked, swinging her own pillow at him.
Within seconds, the living room turned into a battleground — pillows flying, laughter echoing, blanket slipping off the couch, both of them laughing so much that they couldn't even swing properly.
"Surrender!" Shivansh shouted dramatically.
"Never!" Isha laughed, smacking him again.
Suddenly — POOF!
One of the pillows burst open, and the soft white stuffing exploded around them like a slow-motion snowfall.
They froze for a second — staring at each other in shock —
then burst into uncontrollable laughter, rolling over the couch, slipping and sliding on the flying feathers.
Shivansh scooped some in his hands and threw them into the air above Isha, watching her giggle as the feathers rained down like tiny stars.
She laughed so hard her sides hurt, collapsing into his arms, both of them surrounded by a sea of white fluff.
After the laughter died down, Isha rested her head against his chest, catching her breath.
Suddenly her stomach let out a soft growl.
She giggled.
"I'm hungry."
Shivansh chuckled, brushing a feather out of her hair.
"Of course you are. After a whole war."
He kissed her forehead and stood up, stretching.
"Okay, Mrs. Fighter. Do you want me to make something or should we order?"
Isha sat up, thinking.
Ordering food again sounded tempting — but somehow, Shivansh cooking for her sounded even sweeter.
"Lets order from outside," she said, smiling like a child who just demanded candy.
Shivansh smiled too, walking toward the kitchen.
"No, we ate Lunch from outside. Let's me make your favorite white sauce pasta. Okay! "
Isha grinned wide.
While he was busy preparing something quick in the kitchen — a late-night pasta and some fruit smoothies — Isha picked up her phone.
She suddenly had an idea.
She quickly video-called Ishika — her partner-in-crime — who picked up within seconds.
"Ayeee!! Lover girl!" Ishika shouted.
Isha burst out laughing.
"Shhh! You'll make me drop the phone!"
Within minutes, one by one, everyone joined the video call —
Arjun, Prisha, Arav, ritwik, Dhruv, ranveer, and Aviyansh.
Their screens were filled with teasing faces and endless hooting.
"Bhai sa! Look at you! Fully trapped now!" Aviyansh teased.
"Paris honeymoon, huh? And you forgot your besties!" Prisha said dramatically, fake sobbing.
Shivansh, carrying two plates back from the kitchen, just shook his head at the chaos and said "don't forget you all are in Paris also."
He placed the food down and sat beside Isha, sharing the plate, casually feeding her little bites while answering their crazy friends on the call.
Everyone kept teasing —
"Show us your secret love nest!"
"Who fought and lost the pillow fight?"
"First kiss photo please!"
Isha and Shivansh just laughed and rolled their eyes, refusing to give away their private moments.
Between teasing, talking, laughing, and eating together, they somehow finished their simple midnight dinner.
When the food was gone, and their eyes were heavy with sleep, Isha yawned into the phone.
"Guys... love you but... dying here," she said sleepily.
"Fineee. Sleep, Paris couple," Aviyansh teased.
Everyone shouted goodnights, waving dramatically before hanging up one by one.
Isha dropped her phone onto the couch and stretched lazily.
Shivansh was already standing, handed out for her.
"Come, sleepyhead."
She smiled softly, sliding her hand into his.
They walked to the first-floor bedroom, soft lights glowing golden around them.
Inside, the room smelled like them — warm, cozy, safe.
Isha changed into one of Shivansh's T-shirts, way too big for her, while he slipped into a loose pair of pajamas.
They crawled into bed — no rush, no words — just the easy silence of two souls resting together.
As Isha snuggled close, her hand resting against his bare chest, Shivansh ran his fingers slowly through her hair.
He tipped her face up gently.
"Yesterday we had magic," he whispered against her forehead.
"Tonight... let's make more."
He kissed her slowly — soft, lingering — not rushed, not desperate, but full of quiet promises.
And with the soft flicker of the TV, the sound of their laughter still lingering in the air, the scent of cake and coffee from earlier clinging to the room —
they fell asleep there, together, wrapped in each other and in love.
The old black-and-white movie was still playing softly in the background, filling the cozy penthouse with its warm, crackling sounds.
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Ish💗