𝐂𝐨𝐥𝐥𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐝 𝐛𝐲 𝐟𝐚𝐭�...

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Temptation? Yes.

Back to our second home.

Here in England, the air still smells like fog and roasted almonds near the street cafés.

Same weather. Same skyline. Same routine.

We landed early morning. It's afternoon now.

Lavs was too tired from the journey. She's restarting hospital duty tomorrow, so I asked her to rest. I had a few meetings pending here at A&S.

Now I'm walking into the office—everyone's shocked that I'm early.

I reach my cabin, flick on the lights, and go through the pending mails.

About an hour later, Eshaani enters with a bunch of files and her usual energy.
"Welcome back, boss. Jet lag didn't win this time?" she grins.

I shake my head, "Nah, Lavs took the nap bullet this time."

She laughs and places the files in front of me. "Okay, we need to discuss the Paris logistics deal—they want to renegotiate terms. And also, the new marketing head's proposal looks promising."

I nod, flipping through one document. "Set up a call with Paris. If they push it again, we'll pull the plug."

We walk to the meeting room to join the team.

Ivaan's already there, laptop open, coffee in hand.

"Look who returned from his family week," he smirks.

I just chuckle and take my seat.

Ten minutes in, the discussion gets heated when one of the interns makes a dumb suggestion.

"I swear," Eshaani whispers beside me, "When you weren't here, as always, Ivaan was the one handling all your fires."

"I know," I say. "He always does."

She continues, "Also, there's a CA trainee from India. Did college over here. Might get selected soon. She's working under finance,Some Verma I think. Sharp girl. She's under Mr. Tripathi's review for now."

I nod, mentally registering the name. "Good. We need solid people in finance this quarter."

The meeting wraps up by 7:30 PM.

Back in my cabin, just me and Eshaani.
We're sorting final merger reports when my phone buzzes.

Mera ghar🏡🤍:
"Are you coming home late today?"

I smirk.

Me:
"No jaan, I'll be there by 9."

She replies with a simple: "Okayy 🥺"
God. That emoji is lethal.

🤍ྀིྀིྀིྀིྀིྀིྀིྀི

I woke up... confused.
The curtains were drawn, the bed cold without Ishaan beside me. I rubbed my eyes and looked at the time.

6:00 PM?!

How did I sleep this long?

But then a brilliant idea struck me.

What if I surprise him at his office?

I know he's busy, but I wanted to make his night. And also... he's never seen me in a saree before. Not really.

So I pulled out that saree—the deep red one I bought recently from India.

The backless blouse barely covered my upper body. The fabric hugged my waist like second skin. I draped it delicately, feeling oddly powerful.

Then came the no-makeup makeup look. I tied my hair into soft waves, added a subtle lip tint, and clicked a few photos for Instagram with my tripod. (Yeah, I'm shameless like that.)

Time check: 7:45 PM.

I quickly texted Ishaan.

Me:
"Will you be late today?"

Sukoon💋:
"No jaan, I'll be home by 9."

Perfect.

I threw on a long jacket to cover the saree.
Booked a cab—it said 22 minutes.

The driver arrived in 2. Friendly uncle-type. Playing old Bollywood classics via Bluetooth.

By 8:10 PM, I was at his office building, A&S enterprise.

My first time here.

It looked sleek—just like Ishaan. Sharp, intimidating, elegant.

I stepped in, nervous.

The receptionist, a pleasant woman in a navy-blue shirt, looked up.

"Good evening, ma'am. Do you have an appointment?"

I smiled nervously. "I'm here for Ishaan Agnihotri."

"Your name, please?"

"Lavika," I said softly. "I'm his fiancée. And um... can we keep this a surprise?"

Her eyes lit up. "Oh! Yes, of course! Go ahead, his cabin is down the corridor to the right. I won't say a word."

I nodded, heart pounding, and walked toward his door.

Excitement built in me.

I twisted the handle slowly and stepped in—

Only to see her.

A woman. Hugging Ishaan.

Tightly.

My body froze. My heart twisted into a thousand knots.

I wanted to rip the saree off and run.

Hide. Scream.

The roses I brought slipped from my hands onto the floor.

Who was she?

Was he... cheating?

Was that Eshaani?

🤍ྀིྀིྀིྀིྀིྀིྀིྀི

Me and Eshaani were finishing some projections when her phone buzzed.

She looked, eyes wide. "Ishaan! The Paris deal just got approved. After six bloody months!"

I looked up in disbelief. "You serious?"

She held her phone out. "We're back in business, sir."

And before I could process it, she squealed and hugged me.

"YESSSSSS!" she shouted, arms tight around me. "Finally, we did it!"

I chuckled lightly, side-hugging her quickly, "Alright alright—calm down."

And that's when the door opened.

My world paused.

There she was—Lavika. Standing in a red saree that made her look like a fever dream. A bloody goddess. Hair curled, lips soft pink, her eyes wide and heartbroken.

Fuck.

She saw us.

She saw that.

My arms dropped from Eshaani immediately.

I stepped back.

"Lavs—" I whispered, panic rising.

❤️‍🩹ྀིྀིྀིྀིྀིྀིྀིྀི

His voice barely reached me.

My throat was dry. My eyes stung.

I wanted to believe him, but my body moved back on its own.

I whispered, my voice trembling, "Ishaan? What was that?"

His mouth parted, but no words came.

He looked stunned. Caught.

I turned around before he could say more.

Faster than my tears could fall.

and walked fast.

No, ran.

My heels clacked hard on the marble floors as I made my way back through the corridor, through the lobby, past the receptionist who looked up in alarm.

I pressed the elevator button again and again.

Come on. Come on. Come on—

"Lavika!"

His voice echoed behind me.

I didn't turn. I couldn't.

The elevator doors dinged open.

But a strong hand grabbed mine before I could step in.

"Wait. Wait, dammit—just listen to me."

"I don't want to hear anything," I snapped, yanking my hand back. "Let me go, Ishaan."

"No."

He stepped in front of the elevator, blocking me entirely. "You saw something out of context."

I gave him a look that could've killed. "Out of context? You were hugging her."

"She hugged me. I didn't hug her back."

"Do you even hear how lame that sounds?"

He flinched.

Good.

"I come here after dressing up like a clown," I choked, voice shaking, "trying to surprise you, and you—God—how stupid am I? You didn't even tell me she still works this closely with you—"

"Because you know she does! You've always known. But nothing's ever happened, Lavs. You know that too."

I shook my head, tears falling freely now. "Do I? Because right now, my heart feels like someone stomped on it."

He exhaled sharply, dragging a hand down his face.

"Let's go. Please," he said, softer now. "Let's just go home. You can yell at me all night if you want. But not here. Not like this."

I stared at him for a long moment.

I should've walked away.

But I didn't.

Because some part of me—some really messed-up, hopelessly in love part—still believed him.

So I nodded.

Barely.

And he let out a breath like he'd been holding it in forever.

❤️‍🩹ྀིྀིྀིྀིྀིྀིྀིྀི

I didn't even let her walk alone.

I placed my hand gently on her back, guiding her into the car. She flinched when my fingers brushed her skin.

My chest clenched.
She was never cold to my touch.

I sat beside her silently.

No music. No conversation. Just a wall of pain between us.

She looked out of the window the whole time. Her hands trembled in her lap. The red saree shimmered under the streetlights.

I wanted to pull her into my arms.

But I knew better.

❤️‍🩹ྀིྀིྀིྀིྀིྀིྀིྀི

At my apartment, I unlocked the door.

She stepped in, kicked off her heels, and walked straight to the lobby. Not a word.

I followed her slowly, closing the main door behind me.

When I walked into, she was standing with her back to me, struggling to undo her blouse's hook.

Her fingers slipped again.

"Let me..." I whispered.

"No."

"Lavika."

"I said no." Her voice cracked.

But then she stilled.

And in the next second, her shoulders dropped. Defeated.

I stepped closer.

Gently lifted her hair.

And slowly, carefully, unhooked the clasp.

The blouse loosened. The saree fabric slid just a little.

My breath hitched.

Not because she looked incredible.

But because I'd hurt the woman I loved.

And she still let me touch her.

"Turn around," I said softly.

She did.

Her eyes were glassy. Her cheeks streaked with tears.

"You could've pushed her away," she said quietly. "You didn't."

"I froze, Lavs. The moment I saw you... in that saree. I couldn't breathe. I was already shaking, and then you looked at me like you didn't know me anymore."

She blinked slowly, lower lip trembling.

"Do you know what that felt like?"

"Yes," I said honestly. "Because the moment you looked at me with that doubt... it killed something inside me."

We stood there in silence.

The space between us so heavy it could collapse the floor.

I reached out.

Wiped her tears with the edge of my thumb.

"I've been yours since day one. That's not changing."

"But you're so hard to believe sometimes," she whispered.

"Then let me show you," I said, voice barely there. "Tonight. Not with words. With everything else."

She didn't answer.

But she didn't stop me either.

I stepped closer. Closer still.

And when I pressed my forehead to hers...

She didn't move away.

❤️‍🩹ྀིྀིྀིྀིྀིྀིྀིྀི

His forehead was pressed to mine.

His breath, hot and uneven.

My tears still lingered on my cheeks, but my heart—my stupid, reckless heart—was already softening under his touch.

"I hate you," I whispered.

He smiled faintly, lips grazing mine.

"I know."

"And I hate how much I still want you."

"I want you too," he murmured, "even more when you're mad at me."

That made my breath catch.

He leaned in—slowly—waiting for me to close the distance.

I didn't.

He did.

Our lips brushed.

Soft. Still. Barely there.

Then I moved.

Just a little.

And that little broke everything.

🤍ྀིྀིྀིྀིྀིྀིྀིྀི

I couldn't take my eyes off her. That deep red saree—backless, barely covering, clinging to every curve—made my heart pound like crazy.

She opened her mouth to say something, but I silenced her with a fierce kiss.

"Meri jaan," I whispered against her lips, pulling her closer.

She blinked, stunned, before I broke the kiss just enough to speak again.

"Eshaani hugged me," I murmured, trailing kisses down her jaw.

She looked at me, confusion flickering.

"Because we finalized a deal," I said, kissing her again—slow, deliberate.

"After freaking six months," she moaned softly, her body melting into mine.

"It was out of excitement, mera jaan. She hugged me," I whispered, my hands sliding under her saree to cup her waist, pulling her flush against me.

I kissed her deeper, tasting the fear, the longing, the love all mixed in her.

"I also love you," I said, voice rough with need, "with my whole body, my manhood, my everything."

Her breath hitched, and I knew—there was no turning back now.

I admired her for a long moment—her eyes shimmering with unshed tears, her lips trembling in that delicate way that made my heart ache.

Without thinking twice, I scooped her up in bridal style, carrying her effortlessly to the bedroom. Gently, I laid her down on the soft bed.

She sighed and started speaking, her voice barely a whisper.

"Ishaan... maybe I was wrong. But when I saw you with her, my heart felt like it broke into a thousand pieces. Like someone shattered the beautiful, imaginary world I was living in."

My chest tightened at her honesty.
"Oh, my sweetheart," I murmured, brushing a stray hair behind her ear. "You felt that pain, and it hurts me too."

I leaned in, my voice steady and soft as I reassured her, "Jaan, it's not like that. I am yours—only yours. From now on, I swear, I won't give anyone else even a glimpse of you in my life. I'll get shirts and t-shirts made with your name and picture printed on them, just so everyone stays far away from you."

She giggled, the sound so light and beautiful it lifted my spirits instantly.

I moved closer, sitting right next to her, our bodies barely inches apart. My fingers traced the delicate fabric of her saree, my eyes locked onto hers.

"Darling," I whispered, "do you know how much I'm trying to stop myself from tearing this saree off you right now and worshipping the soul I see every day? You look like a goddess—flawless and intoxicating."

Her cheeks flushed a deeper red, and she looked away shyly. I cupped her chin gently, making her meet my gaze again.

"You're mine. Completely."

❤️‍🩹ྀིྀིྀིྀིྀིྀིྀིྀི

My hands traced her spine with reverence, stopping at the delicate tie that held her bra together.

With a single tug, it loosened—falling away like a silk curtain revealing the masterpiece it once veiled.

She gasped, instinctively trying to cover herself, her cheeks blooming with heat.

But then her eyes found mine—nervous, trusting, full of unspoken love. Her breath hitched as she gave the softest nod.

"You're breathtaking," I whispered, brushing my knuckles along her bare shoulder.

I shed my shirt and loosened my belt, each movement deliberate, my gaze never leaving hers.

The air thickened with longing, not just physical—but emotional, soul-deep.

"May I?" I asked, fingers hovering over the edge of her saree.

She nodded again—this time with a soft smile.

Carefully, I unwrapped the drape, every layer revealing more of the woman who owned me—mind, body, and beyond.

She was a vision in red—sensual, delicate, powerful.

As if the universe wrapped desire and devotion in human form and named it Meri jaan.

"You... are the answer to every prayer I never knew I whispered," I murmured.

Her fingers curled into my forearm. "And you're the fire I never feared being burned by."

I smirked..

Then

I leaned in, kissing her slowly, reverently—like a man worshipping not just her body, but her existence.

Every breath she took became a tether pulling me deeper into her gravity.

She melted under my touch, her fingers finding the nape of my neck, her lips parting just enough for me to taste the soft gasp that escaped.

My hands roamed her waist, then her hips, anchoring myself in the reality that she was here—mine.

After few minutes, my temptation towards her grew and here we go.

💋ྀིྀིྀིྀིྀིྀིྀིྀི

My fingers dug into his shoulders, helpless to the way his body covered mine — warm, hard, and devastatingly close.

His scent curled around me like smoke, spicy and familiar, laced with something dark... possessive.

"Ishaan..." I breathed, my voice already dissolving into a moan as his hand slid down the curve of my waist, teasing just above the place I ached for him.

"You don't even know what you do to me," he rasped, lips ghosting along the hollow of my throat. "This saree... this skin... this surrender."

His touch turned firm — no longer hesitant.

He gripped my thigh and hitched it higher on his waist, grinding his hips down slowly, purposefully.

"I've been patient," he growled softly. "But tonight, Lavika... I won't be."

I gasped — breath stolen as his mouth found my collarbone, then lower.

Kisses turned into open-mouthed need.

He devoured, worshipped — not with desperation, but with obsession.

The kind that trembles under control but never quite breaks it.

My back arched, pressing against him, seeking more — and he gave it.

Hands skimming every inch of me, his voice low and rough in my ear, painting pictures of everything he wanted to do. Every place he'd kiss.

Every part he'd claim.

His fingers trailed between my thighs and found how ready I was — and he cursed under his breath, dark and delicious.

"So wet for me already?" he whispered. "You're ruining these pretty red panties, jaan..."

"Ishaan, please..." I whimpered.

"Please what?" His voice dropped. "Say it. Say what you want from me."

"You," I gasped, hips lifting into his touch. "All of you. No waiting. No stopping."

That was all it took.

In a blur, the last fabric separating us was gone.

I was bare beneath him, open and vulnerable — and he, stripped of every wall.

Our bodies collided in a rhythm that was primal yet poetic.

My name fell from his lips like prayer, again and again, each thrust deeper — faster — until we were nothing but tangled limbs, moans, and heat.

The headboard creaked, my nails scored down his back, and his grip on my hips turned punishingly tight as he pulled me against him like he needed me to breathe.

"Lavika..." he groaned into my neck, his voice wrecked. "You fit me like sin made for salvation."

I cried out — overwhelmed, undone.

We moved faster, messier.

His mouth was everywhere — chest, shoulders, lips — marking me, branding me.

I shattered first — screaming his name, clutching him like he was gravity and I was falling apart.

He followed with a loud, guttural moan, his entire body tensing as he buried himself deep, head falling to my shoulder as his release consumed him.

We didn't speak right away.

Just panted, tangled together, skin sticking to skin.

His fingers brushed the damp hair off my cheek.

"I love you," he whispered hoarsely. "With everything I am."

I pulled him closer, burying my face into the crook of his neck.

"You ruined me," I said, breathless. "And I want more."

👄ྀིྀིྀིྀིྀིྀིྀིྀི

The world stilled.

Our bodies, flushed and tangled in sweaty sheets, clung to each other like we were afraid the moment might dissolve.

My head rested on his chest, rising and falling with his deep, steady breaths.

His arms were around me — tight, possessive, safe.

His thumb lazily traced patterns on my bare back, occasionally dipping low just to make me squirm again.

I giggled against his skin, a shy blush creeping up my cheeks.

"You're dangerous, Ishaan," I mumbled sleepily.

He chuckled — low and hoarse. "You wore that red saree, jaan. That was attempted murder on my sanity."

I looked up at him, chin propped on his chest. "You're the one who ripped it off like it owed you money."

"I had to," he shrugged, eyes dark and amused. "It was either that or fall to my knees and worship you in it."

"You still can," I teased, trailing my fingers down his abdomen.

He growled, flipping us so I was beneath him again. "Don't tempt me. You really want round two?"

I shrieked, laughing, pushing at his chest. "No! I mean yes—but also no. I can't feel my lower back."

That made him pause, then wince. "Damn. Did I hurt you?"

"Not hurt..." I stretched like a cat, groaning. "More like... blissfully ruined."

He leaned down, brushing a soft kiss on my forehead. "Next time, I'll go easy."

"Don't you dare."

We both burst out laughing, the tension gone, replaced by something tender and glowing.

I pulled the sheets up, curling into his side again. "I thought for a second... when I saw her hugging you... my heart just shattered. I knew it wasn't like that, but..."

"I know," he whispered, stroking my hair. "And I hated that look on your face. As if I broke something sacred between us. Lavika, I'll never cheat, never lie, never even look at anyone else."

I nodded, letting his heartbeat lull me. "I trust you. I just—love you. Madly. Deeply. Unreasonably."

He smiled. "Good. Because I'm planning to get 'Lavika's Property' tattooed right here—" he pointed to his chest, "and maybe even here—" then to his neck, "if you want i can even tattoo my manhood with you know what i mean?" He said to me.

"Don't you dare," I laughed.

"Too late. Already designing it in my head. Might even put your angry face on my biceps. For protection."

I hit his arm playfully. "You're insane."

"And you're mine."

His voice turned soft again. "You know... when I first saw you standing at the door... in that saree, looking like a damn goddess—I thought I was hallucinating."

I looked up, meeting his eyes.

"I've never wanted anything more than I wanted to fall on my knees and tell you that you're the best thing that's ever happened to me."

I blinked back tears, a lump forming in my throat.

"Ishaan..."

He kissed the corner of my mouth. "Let's get married soon. Screw timelines. I want to come home to you every single day."

I smiled, a tear sliding down.

"You already are my home."

The warmth of his chest made it so damn tempting to fall back asleep.

But my stomach had other plans—loud, embarrassing plans.

ggrrrrhhk

Ishaan raised an eyebrow. "Was that... thunder?"

I groaned, hiding my face in the sheets. "That was my dignity dying."

He laughed, pulling the covers off both of us with a dramatic tug. "Come on, baby. Let's feed that demon in your belly before it eats me next."

I wrapped the sheet around myself as he tugged on his grey joggers. "You're cooking?"

He smirked. "Of course. I just destroyed you... now I'll nourish you."

I blinked. "That's the hottest thing you've ever said."

He turned, smirking over his shoulder. "Wait till you see me in the kitchen."

🥵ྀིྀིྀིྀིྀིྀིྀིྀི

Barefoot, with her messy hair and my shirt barely hanging off one shoulder, she looked like she belonged here—like she'd always belonged with me.

She sat on the kitchen counter, legs swinging, while I chopped some bell peppers and tossed them into a hot pan with olive oil and spices.

"What are you making?" she asked, sniffing the air.

"Something quick. Veggie-loaded masala paneer wraps."

"Ooh... spicy."

"Just like my girl."

She smiled, eyes following every move I made. Her hunger was clearly split between food and me.

And I was enjoying every second of it.

"You really can cook?"

I slid the paneer into the pan and winked. "Jaan, I can do a lot of things with my hands. You've just seen one department."

She giggled and bit her lip. "I have a thing for hot men who cook shirtless."

I looked down, pretending to flex. "Should I sprinkle atta on my abs for extra effect?"

She threw a spoon at me. "Shut up!"

I moved closer, standing between her legs, my hands still sticky with paneer masala. "You should know—every time you moaned my name earlier... my brain short-circuited."

She blushed deeply. "Stop."

I leaned in. "And when you whispered 'Ishaan... aur...'—" I mimicked her breathy tone, "I almost lost it."

"I hate you."

"Nope. You love me."

I kissed her nose, then her forehead, then made her taste the filling from the spoon.

"Hmm," she moaned softly, licking it. "Oh god, this is better than takeout."

My eyes darkened. "That sound again and I'll have you on this counter."

"I'm starving."

"I'll feed you. Then I'll devour you."

😏ྀིྀིྀིྀིྀིྀིྀིྀི

The wraps were actually delicious. Soft, spicy paneer, crunchy veggies, and that zing of lemon he added at the end?

"Fast, hot, satisfying. Just like us," he said with a wink, biting into his own toast.

I snorted. "You're so full of yourself."

"And yet... you're full of me," he said under his breath with that low husky voice that made my knees weak all over again.

"ISHAAAN!" I threw a piece of toast at him, laughing and blushing.

He caught it mid-air and took a bite smugly, walking over, placing a kiss to my temple, and then nuzzling into my neck.

"Jaan..." he whispered, his voice deep and tender. "Every version of you wrecks me. In a saree, in my shirt, half-asleep, angry, teasing, crying. I'm obsessed with all of it."

I turned to look at him—this man, my man. My heart felt too full.

"I love you," I said quietly, resting my forehead against his. "Even when you ruin my bones."

He chuckled. "Your bones are safe. Your soul though? I've completely claimed it."

This guy is insane tbh.

My man was a menace—in the bedroom and the kitchen.

I licked my fingers dramatically. "You might have just raised my standards even more."

He cleaned the counter, then walked to me, placing both palms on either side of my hips. "Good. Now keep them high. No one's ever touching you but me."

"Possessive much?"

"Undeniably. Irrevocably. Obsessively."

He leaned in, whispering at the shell of my ear, "And tonight... once you're full and satisfied..."

I swallowed.

"I'm going to undress you with just my voice."

💋

~ Chapter Aesthetic~

-his company.

-after math of his back

- her view in the kitchen

- the wrap he made.

───────── ౨ৎ ─────────

Kya lavika ne saree pehn kr gunaah kiya?
Was going in his office a bad idea?

Please leave a review!..🫶🏻

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