Suchitra stepped out of the washroom, wiping her hands on a towel, her hair still slightly messy from sleep. She looked fresh, glowing in the soft morning light filtering through the curtains. Karan turned at the sound of her footsteps, holding a steaming cup of tea in one hand, his expression calm and gentle.

Suchitra (curious): “Breakfast?”

She asked.

Karan (smiling, casual): “Yes. And the tea was getting cold, so I re-heated it.”

Suchitra (teasing): “Ohh, really? Let’s see what Mr. Karanvir Singh Dhillon has cooked up for me this morning.”

She hopped onto the bed cross-legged, her tone playful yet excited. Karan chuckled softly, walking toward her with the tray. He unfolded a small bed table and placed it neatly in front of her. Then, with a small nervous grin, he set down the tray.

Karan (nervously scratching his neck): “I didn’t make much… but this is what it is.”

She looked down — the toast was slightly burnt on the edges, unevenly buttered, but the aroma of the tea was perfect. She picked up a slice, took a bite, and smiled without a word.

Suchitra (sweetly, sipping her tea): “This is exactly what I wanted. It tastes really good.”

Karan blinked in surprise, then broke into a proud smile and exaggerated a bow.

Karan (playfully dramatic): “Thank you, sweetheart. Your appreciation means the world to this humble chef.”

Suchitra giggled, hiding her face behind the cup, her cheeks tinted pink as she looked away shyly.

They ate together, laughing at small things — Karan’s attempt at spreading butter, the oddly shaped toast, and the way Suchitra complained that he poured too much sugar but still finished the tea.

After a while, Karan cleared the bed table and set it aside. Then he turned to her, his eyes holding a mischievous glint.

Karan (mysterious, smiling): “I have something for you.”

Suchitra (raising a brow, curious): “What is it?”

Without saying another word, he reached into the drawer beside the bed and pulled out an envelope. He placed it in front of her carefully, like it contained something precious.

Suchitra blinked at it, then looked at him suspiciously.

Suchitra (half teasing, half curious): “You’re scaring me. What’s inside?”

Karan (softly): “Open it and see.”

She tore it open carefully, pulling out a small stack of papers. Her eyes scanned the first page — and then widened in disbelief.

Suchitra (stammering, shocked): “K-Karan… this… this is—!”

He smiled, leaning forward.

Karan (softly, proud): “Honeymoon tickets. For us.”

Suchitra (voice rising with excitement): “We’re going to Paris?!”

Her words came out in a squeal before she jumped into his arms, hugging him tightly. The joy in her voice was contagious; even Karan laughed, wrapping his arms around her.

Karan (smiling, holding her): “Yes, Mrs. Dhillon. Paris. Your dream city.”

Suchitra (eyes wide, emotional): “You Know? You actually know! How?”

Karan (tenderly): “Of course I know. Appa told me how much you’ve always wanted to go there — so I finalized Paris. Just us, no interruptions.”

She leaned back, looking at him with a mixture of awe and affection. Her lips parted into a heartfelt smile as she looked at the tickets again and then again at him, her hands trembling slightly from excitement.

Suchitra (softly, emotional): “I can’t even explain what I’m feeling right now… This is—this is everything I ever dreamed of.”

Karan smiled, his gaze fixed on her glowing face. He brushed a loose strand of hair from her cheek, his voice warm and teasing.

Karan (gently): “Then I guess the surprise worked.”

Suchitra (grinning): “It did. More than you think.”

She wrapped her arms around his neck again, resting her head on his shoulder, still clutching the tickets like something too precious to let go.

Karan laughed softly, pressing his chin lightly against her hair as he whispered,

Karan (Smiling, voice husky): Okay, so you like your surprise, now I want my reward.

Suchitra (Eyes sparkling with mischief): You'll definitely get your reward.

Karan (Teasingly): Badi jaldi maan gayi. (You agreed very quickly.)

Before he could process his own playful words, Suchitra moved. She didn't reply with speech; she replied with action. With a sudden, passionate move, she slammed her lips onto his, silencing him completely. The kiss was immediate, deep, and intoxicating, a rush of warm sensation that stole his breath.

She used the momentum to push him gently backward, settling him onto the bed—the specifics of their surroundings fading into unimportance. She hovered above him, straddling his lap, deepening the kiss into a demanding, open-mouthed exploration.

Her hands, seemingly with a mind of their own, began to roam. They skimmed lightly over the sculpted muscles of his chest, tracing the hard lines of his abs with an almost hesitant curiosity, a touch that was both fierce and feather-light, igniting a trail of fire everywhere they landed.

Karan responded instantly, his own hands moving beneath her short, gliding up the soft skin of her thighs until they rested firmly on the curve of her waist. He anchored her to him, their bodies pressing together in a delightful friction.

When she finally pulled back, Karan look at her.

Karan (Catching his breath, eyes dark with desire): That was... magnificent. But Sweetheart. I'm afraid your capacity is quite low. Abhi toh pheli manzil h bas jaan. Toh yeh hal h.

Suchitra (Arching an eyebrow, a challenging, sensual look in her eyes): Oh? Really? Chaliye bas apko kafi bada reward mil gaya. Ab shayad apko pure hafte nahi chahiye.

He Grinned, a deep rumble in his chest, and pecked her lips quickly, a small, electric spark before he swiftly reversed their positions. With an easy, fluid motion, he was on top, his weight resting lightly on his elbows above her.

He wasted no time. His gaze locked on hers, he brought his mouth down again. This time, the kiss was a focused, consuming claim. He licked the seam of her lips gently, persuasively, before sliding his tongue inside her mouth. He took his time, exploring every velvety corner, mapping the soft, warm cavern with meticulous, unhurried desire, a possessive, sensual movement that let her know the reward was now being claimed.

Suddenly, both of them flinched as the doorbell rang sharply, slicing through the heated silence of the room.

Karan (groaning, frustrated): Seriously? I swear, Puri duniya ko aag tab hi lagti h jab you and I decide to get romantic.

Suchitra (giggling, trying to adjust her T-shirt): It’s okay, Karan. Don’t complain now.

She glanced at the clock on the wall, her hair still slightly messy, cheeks flushed pink.

Suchitra (casually): Must be the Doodh Wale bhaiya. You go open the door; I’ll get the patila.

Karan rolled his eyes, muttering something under his breath, and reluctantly grabbed his T-shirt. As he pulled it on, he sighed dramatically.

Karan (muttering): Of course. The universe clearly doesn’t want me to have nice things.

He trudged toward the main door, his expression a mix of irritation and fake politeness. When he opened it, the doodh wala bhaiya stood there with a bright grin, as cheerful as if he’d just won a lottery.

Doodh Wale Bhaiya (grinning ear to ear): Kya hua bhaiya ji? Aise kahe dekh rahe ho?

Karan (forcing a polite smile): Nahi nahi, kya hua? Bataiye.

Doodh Wale Bhaiya (holding up the can): Doodh laye hain, le lijiye.

Karan (shortly): Dijiye.

The milkman chuckled and shook his head.

Doodh Wale Bhaiya (teasingly): Aree bhaiya ji, patila toh layein! Mai kya, hawa mein doodh daal doon kya?

Karan exhaled sharply through his nose, clearly fighting the urge to snap.

Karan (sarcastic smile): Of course. Hawa mein daal dijiye, aur upar se mewa bhi chhidak dijiye, hawa-doodh-shake ban jaayega.

The man laughed heartily at his own expense just as Suchitra entered, holding the patila like a savior arriving at the perfect time.

Suchitra (smiling politely): Sorry bhaiya, ye lijiye.

She handed over the vessel, collected the milk, and walked back inside. Karan turned to follow, but before he could, the milkman called out again.

Doodh Wale Bhaiya (curious tone): Aree bhaiya ji! Aap toh baat hi nahi karte. Pehle Gurleen aunty se milke maza aa jaata h. Bahut pyaari h vo. Kaha hain wo?

Karan stopped, folded his arms over his chest, and gave the man a deadpan look.

Karan (playfully): Aree vo toh gayi. Aap chaho toh aapko bhi bhej deta hoon.

The milkman blinked in surprise, his face falling.

Doodh Wale Bhaiya (pouting): Ka bhaiya, kahe majak kar rahe ho?

Karan (smiling): Nahi nahi, bilkul serious hoon. Ek ticket hi toh lagti hai — one way.

The man frowned in confusion for a moment, then slowly started laughing, unsure whether Karan was joking or not.

Doodh Wale Bhaiya (grinning nervously): Aree bhaiya ji, humko toh dar lagta hai aapse. Itne serious ho jaate ho kabhi kabhi!

Karan (mock offence): Serious? Main? Bhaiya ji, aap toh mujhe pehchaante hi nahi. Main toh dil se romantic banda hoon. Bas log galat timing leke aa jaate h.

The milkman squinted, tilting his head.

Doodh Wale Bhaiya: Romantic? Aree tabhi toh aaj Bhabhi ji ke gaal laal hain!

Karan froze for half a second, then let out a slow smirk.

Karan (warning tone but smiling): Bhaiya ji… aapko lagta hai zyada baat karne se doodh mehenga nahi hoga?

Doodh Wale Bhaiya (startled): Aree nahi nahi! Namaste bhaiya ji! Hum chalte hain!

He hurried off, almost tripping over his own bike stand. Karan shook his head, rubbing his temples with a helpless grin.

Karan (muttering to himself): Har subah ek naya comedy show milta hai mujhe.

He closed the door and turned to see Suchitra standing by the kitchen counter, biting back a laugh.

Suchitra (teasing): Bechare doodh wale bhaiya, they just came to deliver milk, not your sarcasm.

Karan (walking closer, smirking): Well, unhone khud hi maanga tha — “baat kijiye bhaiya ji.” Ab mil gayi baat.

Suchitra burst into giggles, shaking her head.

Suchitra: You really need to control your tongue sometimes.

Karan (raising an eyebrow, tone playful): And what if I don’t?

She looked up at him, her eyes mischievous again.

Suchitra (smiling softly): Then you better make sure you use it wisely next time.

Karan grinned, his earlier irritation melting instantly.

Karan (with a low chuckle): Challenge accepted, sweetheart.

He came up behind her, his hands sliding over her waist with a familiar, teasing warmth. Suchitra’s back was facing him, and she stiffened for just a moment before relaxing into the gentle pressure of his touch.

With a swift, fluid motion, he spun her around, bringing her face to his. Her hands instinctively found their place on his shoulders, fingers curling lightly as if holding on for balance—and perhaps a little more.

She didn’t look up at him immediately, her gaze drifting just shy of his eyes. But Karan, ever patient yet insistent, tilted her chin with his fingers, guiding her to meet his gaze.

Her eyes locked with his, the world around them fading into a blur. The distance between them closed slowly, deliberately, until Karan leaned in, letting his lips hover over hers, the anticipation electric and unspoken.

He kissed her passionately, his mouth consuming her lower lip with a hungry, possessive fervor. Suchitra responded with equal intensity, drawing his upper lip into the soft, sweet suction of her own kiss. He let out a low groan as he nibbled and gently bit at her lip, then immediately soothed the sting with the warm, wet swipe of his tongue.

(Agrhhh!! What I'm even writing...)

She clutched the fabric of his T-shirt, her knuckles white, as the kiss deepened. He slipped one hand to cup her bottom and the other beneath her thighs. With a swift, powerful surge of movement, he lifted her and settled her onto the cool, polished kitchen countertop.

He positioned himself between her legs, leaning into the space she created as she instinctively wrapped her legs tightly around his waist, pulling his hips into closer contact. The hand on her bottom slid near to her inner thigh, tracing a slow, sensual, meandering pattern perilously close to the most sensitive skin, while his other hand came up to cup her cheek, steadying her face as their kiss continued—a dizzying, overwhelming collision of passion.

Finally, he pulled back, just enough for them both to drag in a shaky breath.

Suchitra (panting, eyes closed): "Karan..."

He didn’t answer with words. Instead, he dipped his head, pressing open-mouthed kisses along the delicate curve of her neck. He found a sweet spot just beneath her ear, sucking hard enough to leave a mark, and she gasped, her fingers tightening, tangling in the hair at the back of his head. He gave a soft, possessive bite, then instantly ran his tongue over the spot, the contrast of pain and pleasure stealing her breath entirely.

He was just raising his head, his eyes dark with desire, ready to reclaim her mouth, when she put a hand flat against his chest, stopping him.

Suchitra (urgent, slightly bewildered): "Wait. Karan, don't you smell something? Something is burning."

He pressed a quick kiss to the center of her palm resting on his chest, his eyes not leaving hers.

Karan (deep, teasing): "Yes. Our distance."

She pushed lightly against his chest to create a fraction of distance, and her eyes darted past his shoulder to the stove. The milk had boiled over, spilling down the side of the pot and onto the gas flame, where it was now blackening and burning with a pungent, smoky smell.

Suchitra (gasping, horrified): "Oh, heavens! The milk!"

She scrambled off the countertop, hitting the floor lightly, and rushed to turn off the hissing gas. She glared back at him.

Karan (innocent, arms crossed): "What? I didn't do anything."

Suchitra (annoyed, hands on hips): "Oh, you certainly did, ap dusht h! Get out of here right now."

Karan (feigning offense, hand over heart): "Haww! Me, dusht? You're calling your sweet, innocent, loving husband a dusht?"

Suchitra (sarcastic, deadpan): "I know all about your 'innocence,' believe me."

Karan (suggestive, stepping towards her): "Well, while we're on the subject... the milk is ruined now, and nothing can fix that. So why don't we go ahead and continue what the milk so rudely interrupted?"

She stared him down, her expression a mix of mock anger and amusement. He immediately raised his hands in surrender, taking a step back.

Karan (resigned, a small smile): "No? It's okay. I'll manage. I'm in our room."

He backed away, scratching the back of his head, his shoulders shaking with silent laughter. As soon as he was safely inside their bedroom, he let out a dramatic, relieved sigh, leaning against the door.

Karan (muttering to himself, slightly shaken): "Phew! She scared me with those big eyes. Like a goddess ready to strike.

Karan (feeling sting pain): my dear beta ji? Looks like you have a little problem to 'fix' before she calls you for lunch."

He straightened up, huffed a breath, and headed straight for the bathroom to take a shower. To be very, very specific, a long, necessary 'Cold Shower'.

....

The afternoon sun had slipped into the golden hues of evening. Karan, exhausted from waking up early, had dozed off immediately after lunch, lying sprawled on the bed in a peaceful sleep. Suchitra, bored of scrolling endlessly on her phone and with nothing else to do, glanced at the clock.

Suchitra (thinking, mischievous smile): Hmm… five o’clock. Perfect time to wake my sleepy husband.

She climbed onto the bed, positioning herself gently over his stomach. Karan didn’t stir. Undeterred, she leaned down, peppering his face with soft pecks.

Suchitra (playful, teasing): Karan! Karan!! Karanvir, oye Veer, Kannu ji, Oyee Handsome Pati, utho naa, Suchitra ke maal!

Each peck was accompanied by another ridiculous nickname, and Karan’s lips curved into a sleepy smile, but he didn’t move.

Karan (groggy, mumbling in sleep): What… jaan?

Suchitra (pouting, insistently): Get up.

Karan (stretching, still half-asleep): Ha bas… five more minutes.

Suchitra (mock whining, leaning closer): Baby… Jaan… Honey… Hubbyyyyy… Patidev ji, uthiye na!

She cupped his face in her hands, squeezing his cheeks gently, pressing her nose against his in a playful boop.

Karan (soft laugh): Haa jaan, bas thodi der.

Suchitra (dramatic, fake exasperation): Kannu ji… Ohh Kannu ji!

Karan finally opened his eyes a little, squinting up at her sparkling ones. He rubbed his face against hers lazily.

Karan (teasing): Suchii… sweetheart, let me sleep for a few more minutes. Mai subha jaldi utha tha.

Suchitra (mock offense, folding her arms): you're sleeping leaving your hot wife all alone? Huh?

Karan (grinning, playful): Hot wife ko bhi sula dete hain phir.

Before she could reply, he pulled her toward him in a swift movement. She landed softly on his chest, and he wrapped his arms around her, drawing her close. The blanket slipped over them, cocooning them together. She was half-laying on him, her legs tangled around his waist, eyes closed in contentment.

The quiet intimacy, however, was abruptly shattered by the sharp ring of the doorbell.

Karan (groaning, rolling his eyes): Jao… aagaye humare pyar ke dushman—duniya wale.

Suchitra giggled, untangling herself, and ran to the door.

Suchitra (excited, calling out): Mumma!!

Gurleen appeared immediately, a warm smile on her face, and Suchitra threw herself into a tight hug.

Suchitra (hugging tightly, cheerful): I missed you so much, Mumma!

Gurleen (hugging back, amused): Maine vi kiya tujhe miss, puttar? Ye nalayak kaha hai?

Suchitra smiled at her mother, then replied seriously.

Suchitra: Room mein, Mumma.

Karan appeared behind her, brushing his hair back and smiling as he went over to hug Gurleen as well.

Karan (gentle, concerned): How’s Bade Papa now?

Gurleen (smiling softly): He’s fine now, beta. So I came back today. Suchii puttar, ek cup chai bana de… Hayeee, my tiredness will go away after that.

Suchitra nodded, looking toward Karan to gesture for help, but he didn’t quite get it. She leaned closer, whispering.

Suchitra (whispering, playful): Aree… Jaiye, doodh le aaiye. Yaad nahi kya hua tha subah.

Karan nodded, understanding immediately, and moved toward the door to fetch the milk. But Gurleen’s curious tone stopped him in his tracks.

Gurleen (stern, questioning): Tu kidhar ja raha hai?

Karan (hesitant, scratching the back of his head): Doodh lene…

Gurleen (raising an eyebrow): Kyu? Doodh wala aaya nahi kya?

Karan (stammering, looking at Suchitra for help): V-vo… vo…

Suchitra (quickly, smiling, covering for him): Vo Mumma… Kheer bana di thi subah, aur Karan ko itna pasand aaya ki puri khatam ho gayi. Isliye doodh abhi thoda hi bacha hai.

Gurleen’s eyes went wide for a second, but then she burst out laughing, shaking her head.

Gurleen (amused, teasing): Arey haaye, my naughty son. Okk okk go and get it.

Karan gave a small sheepish smile and finally headed out to get the milk, the slight embarrassment on his face quickly replaced with his usual confident stride.

Karan had gone out to get the milk, Suchitra was sitting beside Gurleen on the couch. The two women were chatting warmly, laughter filling the cozy living room. Everything was light and cheerful—until Gurleen’s eyes suddenly narrowed, focusing on something near Suchitra’s neck.

Her tone shifted from casual to curious, laced with maternal concern.

Gurleen (concerned): Suchitra putar, ayy tere ki hoya?

Suchitra (confused): Kaha, Mumma?

Gurleen leaned closer and pointed gently toward her neck. Bewildered, Suchitra pulled out her phone and switched to the front camera. The moment her reflection appeared, her breath hitched. A red mark stood out clearly against her skin—unmistakable and fresh.

Her eyes widened in panic.

Suchitra (thinking, mortified): What did you do, Karan?!

Just then, as if summoned by guilt, Karan walked back in carrying the milk packet, completely oblivious to the chaos brewing in the living room.

Suchitra (nervously, forcing a smile): I-I think some mosquito must’ve bitten me, Mumma.

Karan looked at her, confused by the sudden shift in her tone—until he noticed where Gurleen was looking. His gaze followed hers and landed on the red mark. The corner of his lips twitched, and a proud, knowing smirk spread across his face.

Gurleen (teasingly, chuckling): Koi na, putar… jab tere Papa ji the na, tab hume bhi bohot machharo ne kata tha. Lekin agli baar se agar machhar zyada pareshan kare na, toh bata dena.

Suchitra’s cheeks flamed red as she shot a death glare at Karan. He, however, looked far too pleased with himself to feel guilty.

Karan (grinning, voice dripping with mischief): Zarur, Mumma. Ab se machhar bilkul pareshan nahi karega.

Suchitra’s eyes widened even more. She could practically feel the heat rising to her ears. Without another word, she got up abruptly, snatched the milk from his hand, and hurried into the kitchen, her movements stiff with embarrassment.

Gurleen watched her retreat and then turned to Karan with a smirk that only mothers of mischievous sons could manage.

Gurleen (teasing): Ammm hmm… bada romantic ho gaya hai tu.

Karan (grinning proudly): Of course, Maa. Ab mujhe bhi apna aur Suchitra ka mini version chahiye. Aap ne aur Papa ji ne toh kaafi der kar di thi… mai nahi karunga.

Gurleen (half laughing, half scolding): Khota!

She swatted his arm playfully, shaking her head with mock exasperation.

Karan just laughed, rubbing the spot where she’d hit him. His eyes, however, were still fixed fondly toward the kitchen doorway—where Suchitra was undoubtedly fuming, probably plotting revenge for that proud smirk of his.