Adultery The Aarogya Wellness and Intimacy Clinic

[prasannas2001]

 

 
He searched her face for a sign, for fear, for hesitation, for anything that would tell him to stop.
 
But all he saw was her, looking back at him with an expression he couldn't quite read.
 
Her lips were slightly parted.
 
Her cheeks were flushed.
 
And in her eyes, beneath the fear, beneath the uncertainty, there was something that looked almost like wonder.
 
He kissed her again.
 
Still gentle.
 
Still careful.
 
But a little deeper this time, a little longer, and he felt her lips soften against his, felt her breath warm his mouth, felt something shift in the space between them, a door opening, a wall coming down, a beginning.
 
When he pulled back, she was crying.
 
The tears slid down her cheeks, silent and slow, and he felt his heart clench with fear.
 
Had he done something wrong? Had he pushed too far? But before he could speak, before he could pull away and apologize, she did something that surprised them both.
 
She smiled.
 
It was her first kiss.
 
She read about this in many stories, she has seen this in several movies, but this is her first experience of that sweet first kiss.
 
It was a small smile, a fragile thing, trembling at the edges.
 
But it was real.
 
And in that moment, Naveen felt something open up inside him, something vast and terrifying and beautiful, and he knew, with a certainty that went beyond words, beyond logic, beyond anything he had ever known, that he would spend the rest of his life trying to make her smile like that.
 
He doesn’t want to rush.
 
 
 
That was the thing about Naveen, he had never been a man who rushed.
 
He had waited twenty-nine years for the right woman, and when he found her, at a friend's Holi party, several months back, he lost himself in her beauty, he had waited again.
 
Waited for her to see him.
 
Waited for her to trust him.
 
Waited through the long, chaste courtship their families had approved, through the engagement, through the endless months of wedding preparation.
 
He was a patient man.
 
Patience was his love language.
 
So now, on their wedding night, in this room that smelled of jasmine and rose and the faint, sharp tang of champagne, he did not rush.
 
He kissed her hand again.
 
Then her wrist.
 
Then the inside of her elbow, where the skin was impossibly soft, where he could feel her pulse beating a quick, nervous rhythm.
 
She closed her eyes.