Page 93 of Sumanika

The pause was agonizing. My toes curled in anticipation. His gaze fell to my lips again, and the rough yet gentle embrace of his palm on the top of my head felt like the most comforting thing I had ever experienced.

I gulped nervously and tried to speak.“Someday, someone will see us,” my voice came out low, and he responded in his slow, deep voice.

“We aren’t doing anything wrong,” the word‘wrong’hung heavily on my breath.

“Hnn?” The words stuck in my throat. I was too stunned to speak, waiting for him to walk down the last few centimeters to lift me for the flight to my heavenly, pleasurable abode.

But his devilish grin fumigates impatience into me.

A slow chuckle followed, and I couldn’t help but push him away, causing him to burst into laughter.

“Tell me you’re thinking what I’m thinking,” he laughed, and I closed my eyes, trying to catch my breath.

“No, I’m not thinking what you’re thinking,” I said, feeling his hand on my stomach. His fingers brushed my waist through the thin fabric before he looked at me. My cheeks flushed when he spoke.“You can tell me how you’re feeling. I’m your husband,”

A timid smile appeared on my face at hearing the word‘husband’from him.“I will, if I feel anything,” I said slowly, and he shifted closer again, resting his head on his elbow.

“So, how was your day?” he asked slowly, and I realized he had a habit of asking me this.

I intertwined my fingers with his and rested my hand on top of his. The feel of his skin sent a tingling sensation across my waist, and I nestled closer, burying my face in his neck. Nothing felt more comforting than his cologne after a long day at work. There was the home where I was born, then the home where I got married, and finally, the home where I tried to forget everything and move forward to live my life in peace. But this sanctuary of his arms felt more beautiful than heaven.

He was the devil who could kill for me. He was the lord who could protect me from any devil. I felt free with him. He never made me feel bad about myself. He was different from others. Even before our marriage, he never made me uncomfortable. I had never seen him flirting with anyone or making anyone around him feel uneasy.

"Hey," He muttered, and I felt his hand sliding along the curve of my waist, gradually pulling me closer. He pressed his back against the bed and lifted me slightly to lie on him. His hand wrapped around me as I rested my head on his chest.

It was hard yet comforting. He placed his hand on my head for a few moments to soothe my slight uneasiness.

I closed my eyes and felt him pulling the comforter up to cover us both. His hand began to caress my head, and I sensed my breathing calming down, moment by moment.

“Do you see your parents?” he asked slowly, and I opened my eyes, feeling a slight stiffness in my teeth at the mention of my‘parents.’I shook my head and sensed his hand gently working through my loose braid.

“Why not?” he asked in a slow voice. I lifted my gaze and pressed my chin against his chest, meeting his eyes.

“You know, when a girl is born, her parents view her as someone who belongs to someone else. They raise her with everything they have, teach her life’s lessons, prepare her for her future, and keep reminding her that once she leaves her house for her husband’s, the door to her home will close forever,” I said, feeling his fingers gently touch the back of my head and his thumb caress my cheek near my ear.

"Hmm," he hummed as I inhaled deeply.

"They never cared about me after my marriage. It was their dream to send me off to my husband's home, and then they didn't even ask if I was dead or alive,"

His thumb gently caressing my cheek stopped me from crying.

“Then?” he asked, and I gulped.

“I couldn’t escape him for the first three months. I was terrified. Death seemed preferable to me. You know, I was young when I got married and…” I took a brief pause.

“You can tell me anything. I know everything,” he muttered slowly and wrapped his other hand around me as well, sending an extra wave of comfort my way.

“I was always scared of menstruation,” I chuckled softly.“I wouldn’t even stand up, fearing that I might get blood stains on my clothes, and that would be embarrassing.”

He smiled weakly as he listened to me. I felt his fingers at the end of my braid, gently brushing it.

“And after spending the first night with him, I realized that my fear was nothing compared to it. Since that day, I was afraid of the nights. I couldn’t even watch the sun setting in the west. Day after day, the terror became my ultimate reality,” I managed to say. My voice broke a little as I looked at his stiff face and noticed his fingers playing with my thoughts, unknowingly untangling the knots in my mind.

He stayed silent, and I sucked on my lips, unable to control myself.

"He hurt me beyond repair. After fucking me, he would not even ask if I needed a glass of water, or I wanted to... cuddle, or I needed a break. And if I tried to say that I needed a break, he would just start saying that it would only take a few moments,” My breathing grew heavy as I recalled the painful memory, but he continued to caress my cheek and said nothing.

“You know, once I was cooking for his family. It was daytime, and I was alone in our small house when he returned from work. I was kneading the dough, my hands messy with flour, and I saw him walk in through the door. By then, I had become familiar with his expressions. The way he looked at me was telling. I tried to ignore him and started kneading the dough faster, wanting to escape and head towards the cow shed to feed them. But he stepped closer, removing his shirt. Tears stung my eyes, and a few drops fell into the flour,” I paused, feeling breathless, and suddenly, he wrapped his arms around me and hugged me, holding me close to his chest.

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