16-06-2025, 06:35 PM
What Was Never Meant to Be
Her hand rose to his neck.
Her fingers splayed, drawing him in.
She could not wait any longer. The anticipation is too high.
Their faces were inches apart.
And finally, when her breath brushed his lips…
He kissed her soft and tender lips
When their lips finally met, it wasn’t a clash—it was a question.
Soft at first. Barely there. A hesitant graze.
Then deeper.
Her mouth opened just slightly, just enough to let his breath mix with hers.
Their lips moved in slow synchrony—tasting, searching, longing.
She kissed like someone remembering how it used to feel to be wanted.
He kissed like someone discovering for the first time that wanting can be this gentle.
She tilted her head, and he followed. Their bodies still weren’t pressed fully together, but their hearts were colliding in rhythm.
Her lips moved with his, slow and warm and yielding. There was no rush. No panic. Just heat.
Abhi deepened the kiss, inch by inch, learning her rhythm, her texture, the soft sounds she made. His hand on her waist held her steady and tight. The other moved behind her head, fingers threading into her half-damp hair, holding her closer.
Her body arched into his.
It was nothing like the fantasies he had carried inside.
This was rawer.
Realer.
The soft gasp from her throat.
The heat of her breath.
The silk of her blouse against his shirt.
The slip of her pallu beginning to slide from her shoulder.
He broke the kiss only to breathe — his forehead resting against hers.
- - -
Her eyes shimmered, searching his face.
her voice husky with wonder. “I’ve never kissed like this…”
she whispered. “It felt like time stopped… like every part of me forgot the world and remembered only you.”
She touched her lips softly, still breathless. “I never thought a kiss could feel like this… not even with the man I married.”
She touched his face, a slow trace of her finger along his jaw.
She didn’t speak for a moment—just looked at him, her eyes wide, glassy, searching.
As if she was trying to hold on to what had just happened, to make sense of the storm he had stirred within her.
Her lips still slightly parted, touched by trembling breath, she finally said, “I didn’t know I could feel like this…”
Her gaze softened, then deepened—no longer just startled, but thankful. Longing.
A quiet ache shimmered behind her eyes. “What did you do to me, Abhi…” she whispered, almost to herself.
Her fingers brushed his wrist, a silent confession of everything words would fail to hold. “You’ve given me something I’ll never forget.”
Abhi’s voice was barely above a whisper as he looked into her eyes, still reeling from the depth of what they had just shared. “I’ve never kissed anyone before… not like this. Not at all.”
His words hung between them, fragile and honest. “And if this is what a first kiss feels like… with you… I think I’ll carry it inside me for the rest of my life.”
It was weight. Years of longing that hadn’t found words — only now finding release in each other’s arms.
She tilted her head back slightly, and he leaned in again — this time slower, deeper. The kiss lingered, their lips moving with more urgency. More hunger. His hands held her tighter. Hers traveled down his back, anchoring him.
As they parted, her pallu had fallen almost entirely from her shoulder, the saree clinging to her curves. Her cheeks flushed, her lips slightly swollen from their kiss.
She looked beautiful. Disarmed. Alive.
“I shouldn’t want this,” she said quietly. “But I do.”
“So do I,” he murmured.
They stood like that, holding each other — still, warm, stunned by what had just happened.
No promises.
No declarations.
But something had broken.
And something had begun.
None of them know how long they stood like that
He leaned in again, their lips met one last time... but the time stood there.
He broke the kiss gently, resting his forehead against hers.
Neither of them spoke.
There was no need.
But in that silence, something changed. It wasn’t guilt or shame or hesitation—it was a knowing. That even in the thinnest corridor between right and wrong, there exists a world of feeling that cannot be ignored.
Her lips were still parted, breathing unevenly. His fingers were still around her waist, his thumb moving softly against her skin.
He pulled back just enough to see her face again.
She looked at him as though something inside her had been broken open.
“Good night, Madhavi,” he said finally, voice hoarse.
She nodded, her expression unreadable. “Good night, Abhi.”
He stepped back, opened the door, and walked into the hallway
His heart louder than his footsteps.
Behind him, the door closed softly.
And the air still carried the scent of her skin.
Her hand rose to his neck.
Her fingers splayed, drawing him in.
She could not wait any longer. The anticipation is too high.
Their faces were inches apart.
And finally, when her breath brushed his lips…
He kissed her soft and tender lips
When their lips finally met, it wasn’t a clash—it was a question.
Soft at first. Barely there. A hesitant graze.
Then deeper.
Her mouth opened just slightly, just enough to let his breath mix with hers.
Their lips moved in slow synchrony—tasting, searching, longing.
She kissed like someone remembering how it used to feel to be wanted.
He kissed like someone discovering for the first time that wanting can be this gentle.
She tilted her head, and he followed. Their bodies still weren’t pressed fully together, but their hearts were colliding in rhythm.
Her lips moved with his, slow and warm and yielding. There was no rush. No panic. Just heat.
Abhi deepened the kiss, inch by inch, learning her rhythm, her texture, the soft sounds she made. His hand on her waist held her steady and tight. The other moved behind her head, fingers threading into her half-damp hair, holding her closer.
Her body arched into his.
It was nothing like the fantasies he had carried inside.
This was rawer.
Realer.
The soft gasp from her throat.
The heat of her breath.
The silk of her blouse against his shirt.
The slip of her pallu beginning to slide from her shoulder.
He broke the kiss only to breathe — his forehead resting against hers.
- - -
Her eyes shimmered, searching his face.
her voice husky with wonder. “I’ve never kissed like this…”
she whispered. “It felt like time stopped… like every part of me forgot the world and remembered only you.”
She touched her lips softly, still breathless. “I never thought a kiss could feel like this… not even with the man I married.”
She touched his face, a slow trace of her finger along his jaw.
She didn’t speak for a moment—just looked at him, her eyes wide, glassy, searching.
As if she was trying to hold on to what had just happened, to make sense of the storm he had stirred within her.
Her lips still slightly parted, touched by trembling breath, she finally said, “I didn’t know I could feel like this…”
Her gaze softened, then deepened—no longer just startled, but thankful. Longing.
A quiet ache shimmered behind her eyes. “What did you do to me, Abhi…” she whispered, almost to herself.
Her fingers brushed his wrist, a silent confession of everything words would fail to hold. “You’ve given me something I’ll never forget.”
Abhi’s voice was barely above a whisper as he looked into her eyes, still reeling from the depth of what they had just shared. “I’ve never kissed anyone before… not like this. Not at all.”
His words hung between them, fragile and honest. “And if this is what a first kiss feels like… with you… I think I’ll carry it inside me for the rest of my life.”
It was weight. Years of longing that hadn’t found words — only now finding release in each other’s arms.
She tilted her head back slightly, and he leaned in again — this time slower, deeper. The kiss lingered, their lips moving with more urgency. More hunger. His hands held her tighter. Hers traveled down his back, anchoring him.
As they parted, her pallu had fallen almost entirely from her shoulder, the saree clinging to her curves. Her cheeks flushed, her lips slightly swollen from their kiss.
She looked beautiful. Disarmed. Alive.
“I shouldn’t want this,” she said quietly. “But I do.”
“So do I,” he murmured.
They stood like that, holding each other — still, warm, stunned by what had just happened.
No promises.
No declarations.
But something had broken.
And something had begun.
None of them know how long they stood like that
He leaned in again, their lips met one last time... but the time stood there.
He broke the kiss gently, resting his forehead against hers.
Neither of them spoke.
There was no need.
But in that silence, something changed. It wasn’t guilt or shame or hesitation—it was a knowing. That even in the thinnest corridor between right and wrong, there exists a world of feeling that cannot be ignored.
Her lips were still parted, breathing unevenly. His fingers were still around her waist, his thumb moving softly against her skin.
He pulled back just enough to see her face again.
She looked at him as though something inside her had been broken open.
“Good night, Madhavi,” he said finally, voice hoarse.
She nodded, her expression unreadable. “Good night, Abhi.”
He stepped back, opened the door, and walked into the hallway
His heart louder than his footsteps.
Behind him, the door closed softly.
And the air still carried the scent of her skin.
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