Abhimaan SS-Bounded By Fate

The morning was calm, the sky painted with soft hues of pink and blue. A gentle breeze rustled the curtains, allowing faint rays of the rising sun to filter into the room. The atmosphere carried a serene stillness, interrupted only by the occasional chirping of birds outside. The cool air held a lingering freshness, the kind that promised a pleasant day ahead. 

Inside, the room basked in the warm glow of the early light. The soft, muted tones of the walls made the space feel even more tranquil. The large bed, unmade and tangled with sheets, stood in the center, with the remnants of a peaceful night visible in the way the blankets were kicked aside. 

Armaan lay sprawled on his stomach, his face turned toward Abhira. His dark hair was a tousled mess, the strands falling across his forehead. His lips were slightly parted, his breathing slow and even. A faint crease marked his brow, as if the morning light dared to disturb the tranquility of his slumber. Yet there was an undeniable sense of peace etched across his features, a rare calmness that sleep had granted him. 

Abhira slept facing him, curled up with a pillow hugged close to her chest. Her delicate fingers clutched the fabric tightly, as though anchoring herself to its comforting presence. Her face was soft, the slightest pout adorning her lips. Loose strands of hair framed her face, dancing with the occasional breeze. She, too, appeared undisturbed by the world around her, lost in her dreams. 

But the peace did not last long. The sharp sound of the morning alarm broke through the air, the abrupt ringing disturbing the calm. Armaan's brow furrowed in protest, a deep groan escaping his lips as he stubbornly tried to cling to the last traces of sleep. 

Blindly, he reached out with one arm, fumbling along the nightstand until his fingers found the source of the intrusive noise. The alarm fell silent, but the damage was done. 

Armaan cracked open one eye, squinting against the morning light. The brightness forced him to blink several times before his vision cleared. And then, his gaze landed on Abhira. 

A small, almost involuntary smile tugged at his lips. She was still asleep, her face half-buried in the pillow, the tiny pout on her lips refusing to fade. Her lashes rested gently against her cheeks, while the strands of her dark hair remained in disarray. The sight was oddly endearing. 

He stirred slightly, attempting to shift onto his side, but a strange resistance stopped him. Confused, he lowered his gaze. That’s when he noticed it. 

Their hands. 

Abhira’s slender fingers were wrapped firmly around his hand, resting atop the pillow between them. The sight caught him off guard. His hand was larger, his fingers intertwined loosely with hers. It wasn’t intentional — it couldn’t have been — and yet, the way her grip remained unyielding told a different story. 

A sudden warmth spread through him, the unfamiliarity of the moment making his heart beat a little faster. He didn’t understand why it mattered, why the simple act of her holding his hand seemed to stir something deep within him. But before the thought could linger, Abhira shifted. 

Armaan's first instinct was to pull his hand away, not wanting to startle her or make her feel awkward. He carefully tried to slide it free, but the moment he did, she whimpered softly. Her fingers tightened around his hand, as though unwilling to let go. 

He froze. 

Another attempt, another small whimper. Her brows furrowed, and she nuzzled the pillow, the slightest hint of displeasure evident in her expression. Armaan couldn't help but watch, torn between amusement and the confusing tenderness he felt. 

Moments later, Abhira stirred awake. Her eyes fluttered open, the soft light reflecting in their depths as they adjusted to the morning. Blinking slowly, she took in her surroundings. The lingering haze of sleep made her slow to realize the situation, but as her gaze finally landed on Armaan, her breath caught.