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The next morning came with quiet smiles, lots of teasing and those shy glances.

Breakfast was at Piyali’s home today. Samar ate quickly, barely sitting still, his mind already at work.

Once he was done, he washed his hands, nodded politely to everyone, and left for the fields without wasting a moment.

The moment he disappeared down the path, Kittu turned into her usual self.

“Mujhe nahi pata tha, Piyu, tu itni wo niklegi haan… ummmmm.”

(I didn’t know you would turn out to be that type, Piyu… hmmmmm.)

She threw a dramatic side-eye at Piyali, lips curling into a teasing smirk.

Piyali, who was folding clothes and arranging them neatly in her cupboard, froze. She turned sharply, narrowing her eyes.

“Wo se matlab kya hai tera, haan? Kya?”

(What do you mean by that, huh? What?)

Without waiting for an answer, she shut the cupboard with a soft thud and turned around, an adorable pout settling on her face,  the kind that made Kittu burst out laughing instantly.

“Awwwww… hamari Piyu naraz ho gayiii!”

(Awwww… our Piyu has gotten upset!)

“Ab kya karogiii? Bhaiya se kahogiii?”

(Now what will you do? Go complain to my brother?)

She laughed again, holding her stomach.

Piyali didn’t say a word. Instead, she reached out, grabbed Kittu’s ears, and twisted them gently but firmly.

“Ayyyy! Hisssss!” Kittu yelped.

Piyali was usually sweet, calm, almost too patient  but Kittu knew very well how to test every last nerve.

“Achha achha, nahi bolti, meri maa! Chhod deee!”

(Okay, okay! I won’t say anything, my mother! Leave me!)

Kittu folded her hands and made exaggerated puppy eyes.

Piyali finally let go, but not before giving her a light tap on the head.

“Chal, jaldi. Khana le jaana hai tumhare bhai ke liye.”

(Come on, hurry up. We have to take food for your brother.)

Kittu immediately started whining.

“Toh tu chali jaana! Mujhe kyun le ja rahi hai?”

(Then you go! Why are you taking me along?)

“Main kya karungi tum dono ke beech mein?”

(What will I even do between you two?)

“Wo tujhe ghurenge, tu sharmaegi aur main wahan beech ki bandar!”

(He’ll stare at you, you’ll get shy, and I’ll be the monkey stuck in between!)

Piyali cut her off.

“Tu chup rehti hai kabhi, Kittu?”

(Do you ever stay quiet, Kittu?)

“Pagal kahin ki.”

(You’re impossible.)

“Wo humein daant dete hain agar hum akele gaye toh.”

(He scolds us if we go alone.)

“Ab chal, jaldi.”

(Now come, hurry.)

She said this firmly and walked toward the kitchen.

Kittu huffed but followed anyway.

Truth was, she was bored of these same paths, these same routines. She’d much rather stay home, sit lazily with a piece of sugarcane and chew away without a care.

In the kitchen, Piyali’s maa was carefully packing the tiffin.

“Chele ta mishti bhalo paye na” she said softly, almost to herself.

(The boy doesn’t like too much sweet, you know.)

“Bhalo koriye dry fruits dhele beniyechi.”

(So I have balanced it well and added dry fruits.)

There was pure motherly affection in her voice.

Piyali stood behind her, smiling gently and nodded.

She took the tiffin from her maa’s hands with care.

Kittu, standing nearby, smiled too.

She didn’t understand every word, but mishti and dry fruits were enough, she knew this was specially prepared for her brother. He was like a son to both the households.

Just as they were about to leave, Asha aunty appeared at the door. Our one of the neighbours.

“Arey didi… oo didi,” she called out.

(Oh sister… sister.)

“Zara apni ladki ko bhej do.”

(Please send your daughter for a bit.)

“Wo sheher se patra aaya hai na… thoda padh de humare liye.”

(A letter has come from the city… she could read it out for us.)

Piyali’s maa smiled warmly.

“Haan haan, didi. Piyali, jaa toh iktu.”

(Yes, yes. Piyali, go for a moment.)

Piyali nodded, but before she could move, Kittu jumped in.

“Piyu, tu bhai ko tiffin de aa.”

(Piyu, you go give the tiffin to my brother.)

“Letter main padh dungi aunty ke liye.”

(I’ll read the letter for aunty.)

Piyali looked at her maa. She nodded in agreement and went back inside.

Kittu left with Asha aunty.

Piyali stood there for a second, shaking her head softly.

She knew exactly why Kittu did this.

But who would explain that to her?

Her brother might be romantic later but first, always, he was protective.

If he found out she had walked all this way alone, he would scold her without hesitation.

Letting out a small sigh, she adjusted the tiffin in her hands and started walking toward the fields where Samar worked.

Today, there was only one tiffin.

It was Sunday. Most of the workers had stayed home.

Samar had gone alone to the farm that morning.

Samar's pov

I wiped my face and neck with the end of my towel, breathing out slowly.

It was winter, yes but village mornings heat never showed mercy.

The sun didn’t care for seasons here. Once it climbed up, the heat followed, quiet and stubborn.

Most of the work was done for the day. We had wrapped up the heavier part yesterday itself. What little was left, I finished alone.

I never liked leaving everything entirely on my workers.

Not because I didn’t trust them. I had plenty of good, honest people working under me. Men who had been with our family for years.

But still… some part of me never sat right unless I came here myself.

Saw things with my own eyes.

Put my hands in the soil.

Made sure everything was going as it should.

I had too much land to manage. No man could handle it all alone, and I knew that well. But being here  working alongside them kept me grounded.

And truth be told, it kept me fit too.

People talk about exercise, about building the body in certain ways. I didn’t need any of that. The fields were enough. Lifting, bending, walking, working under the sun. shaped you quietly, without you realising it.

By now, I was dripping with sweat. Even though now the sun was setting.

I walked toward the small water pump at the corner, I splashed water on my face and hands, not caring when it soaked my shirt.

The coolness felt too good to stop.

Water ran down my neck, over my chest, darkening the half-open fabric of my shirt. My trousers were stained with mud, like usual.

I sat down under the shade, leaning my back against a bundle of dry grass, letting my muscles rest.

And then, without trying, I looked around.

The view in front of me always stole my breath.

Village evenings were something else entirely. The sky was painted in soft orange, pink blending into it like someone had brushed it gently by hand.

The sun was already lowering, slipping down slowly.

Villages had early evenings.

I had come late today. Woken up late. Left late. And the sky was already preparing to rest.

My mind drifted, as it often did now, to the night before.

God.

How peaceful it felt to sleep with her.

Her head resting on my chest, The way she slept so calm, so trusting. Her soft breath brushed against my neck every time she moved closer. Her fingers clutching my shirt, holding onto me.

“Kasam Bhole Nath ki… unke wo gul-gule se gaal…ugh”

(I swear on Lord Shiva… those soft, chubby cheeks of hers…ugh)

A groaned left my lips.

Since when did I become like this?

I didn’t know what kind of strange weakness I had, but I was completely obsessed with her cheeks. Soft, warm, always holding that natural blush.

And those lips,  always a little pouty, without her even trying.

My girl was a goddess.

And standing there, covered in sweat and soil, I realised something with startling clarity.

I had everything a man could ask for.

A family that stood together.

Friends who felt like home.

A body strong enough to work and earn honestly.

And her.

“Meri Bangalan.”

(My Bengali girl.)

I had never known this kind of peace before.

I tilted my head back and closed my eyes for a moment, letting myself sink into the stillness around me.

The air was slightly getting colder by the time.

I was just being.

Then suddenly- Something poked my waist.

I flinched, eyes snapping open as I looked around. There was no one in sight. Just the faint, unmistakable feeling of someone nearby.

I waited. Then I closed my eyes again, deliberately this time. It happened again. On my left side. And then I heard it.

The soft giggle and the delicate clink of bangles.

The familiar music of payal brushing against dry grass.

I didn’t turn immediately. Instead, I glanced back quietly, careful not to let her know that I already knew.

She was there,  hiding on the other side of the pile of grass.

A smile tugged at my lips as a quiet chuckle escaped me.

My Bangalan is getting bolder with each passing day.

I leaned back once more, eyes half open now, pretending to sleep.

From the corner of my vision, I saw her, a hesitant hand slowly reaching toward me.

I caught it in one swift motion.

A soft gasp came from behind.

I tightened my grip gently and pulled her hand closer, lifting it as I helped her stand. Slowly, shyly, she stepped into view, coming to stand right in front of me.

“Kya, madam?”

(Well, madam?)

“Kya kar rahi thi aap, hmm?”

(What were you doing, hmm?)

I raised an eyebrow, a teasing smile playing on my lips.

She refused to meet my eyes.

Still holding her hand, I tugged her toward me.

She landed sideways on my lap.

Her head reached my chin, and almost instantly, she tucked her face into my chest, hiding there like she always did.

Her fingers began fidgeting with mine.

I held her securely against me, one arm wrapped around her back. With my other hand, I gently ran my fingers through her hair.

I softly squished her cheeks.

She let out a small whine, muffled against me.

“Akele aayi ho?”

(You came alone?)

My thumb brushed her cheek as I asked.

She nodded, resting her chin against my chest before looking up at me.

“Isse pehle aap daante…”

(Before you scold me…)

“Humne Kittu ko kaha tha hamare saath aane par…”

(I told Kittu to come with me…)

“Wo Asha aunty usse kuch kaam se le gayi aur--”

(But Asha aunty took her away for some work and--)

Before she could say another word

I leaned down and placed my lips on hers.

His lips slowly left hers, tracing a path along her jaw and down to her neck.

He held her there from behind, fingers resting at the nape of her neck, steady but gentle,. holding her still.

He pressed kisses along the way.

Her hands found his shoulders, holding on for balance as she sat on his lap. Her head tilted back without resistance, offering herself to the moment.

He was careful yet there was a hunger in the way his lips sucked, in the way he kissed her skin as if drawing breath from her itself.

She gasped softly, her breath faltering as his pace shifted.

His hands remained tender, caressing, grounding her while his lips told a different story altogether, wild in contrast, filled with restrained needs.

Her fingers slid up to his neck, clutching gently as she whispered, barely audible

“Bas.”

(Stop.)

He stopped.

He stayed there, his breath warm against her neck, both of them breathing unevenly now.

Slowly, he rubbed his nose against her skin.

She responded without thinking, leaning in, placing her lips softly against his neck, just resting there.

They stayed like that for a moment.

His lips brushed her skin again, softer now, as if whispering an apology for the moment where his control had slipped.

He was usually a man of restraint, aware of his limits. But every boundary blurred when she was this close, when her warmth settled into him so easily.

Still, he was grateful.

Grateful that the only thing he had allowed himself was her neck, her skin beneath his lips- nothing more.

She stirred slightly and whispered against his neck

“Kyun?”

(Why?)

His fingers slid into her hair, combing through it slowly, grounding himself as much as her. Tilting his head, he pressed a gentle kiss to her cheek.

He didn’t answer and She understood his silent words.

And yet, she refused to accept his unspoken apology because she was just as much a part of this moment as he was. If he had slipped, it was because she was there too.

The only reason she had stopped him was the feeling.

The overwhelming rush of it.

The feeling of someone she had always admired from a distance now holding her like this, touching her like this, kissing her like this.

It was beautiful.

And it was too much.

She needed a moment. Just a few breaths to steady herself.

“Hum thoda ghabra gaye the… bas.”

(I just felt a little overwhelmed… that’s all.)

She whispered it against his neck, still refusing to move away.

He smiled softly, nodding in understanding, his palm spreading across her back, calming her down.

“Kha lijiye.”

(Please eat.)

She finally lifted her face to look at him.

Confusion flashed across his expression, followed quickly by surprise.

“Kha loon?”

(Eat?)

“Haan.”

(Yes.)

She nodded innocently.

“Tum itne mein hi ghabra gayi aur keh rahi ho--”

(You got overwhelmed so quickly, and now you’re saying--)

He stopped mid-sentence.

She placed her hand over his mouth.

“Isshhh… nirloj manush.”

(Tsk… shameless man.)

“Khane ki baat kar rahi hoon.”

(I’m talking about food.)

“Bhookh nahi lagi aapko?”

(Aren’t you hungry?)

Realisation dawned on him.

He laughed quietly, rubbing the back of his head in embarrassment as he straightened up.

They shifted positions.

Piyali now sat with her back resting against his chest, her legs stretched out in front, the tiffin balanced carefully on her lap.

He sat behind her, legs spread slightly on either side, encircling her, his palm resting o

n her stomach.

She began feeding him slowly.

Each bite she lifted toward him was met with a kiss  sometimes on her cheek, sometimes near the corner of her lips, his face nuzzling into her soft skin

She smiled without turning. Was this the same me he used to avoid me because I looked too innocent to talk with.

He ate without rushing.

And as the evening slowly arrived.

༄°.🍂.ೃ