The Oculesics- Ek Kahaani Junoon Ki

This chapter contains mature and sexual themes-please proceed only if you're comfortable. It's my first time exploring smut, so I'd genuinely appreciate your thoughts and feedback in the comments. Do let me know if anything can be improved. Also, this is one of the few smut pieces where the focus is on slow, tender lovemaking.
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Late into the night, Trayambak unlocked the door to a house that didn't quite feel like home. The silence was thick - unsettling. No sound of footsteps, no scent of perfume, no soft humming. Just stillness.

He walked into the bedroom - and froze.

There she was. Dhimahi. On the floor.

Curled up, fragile, still - like someone had drained the life out of her. The food she had lovingly prepared lay splattered on the floor nearby, untouched. The smell of the food still hung faintly in the air.

Something inside him clenched - a tight, sharp guilt he didn't expect.

Without thinking, he rushed to her, cradled her gently in his arms, and carried her to the bed. She didn't stir. Her body, usually so full of life, was now soft and limp like a fallen doll.

He lay beside her, carefully positioning her head on his chest. One hand stroked her hair with a tenderness that almost surprised him. A soft kiss landed on her forehead - hesitant, unfamiliar.

His fingers traced the deep brown mehendi on her palm. Her bangles clinked faintly. Each little sound was a painful reminder - she was his now. His wife. His responsibility.

And yet he had hurt her. Shattered her, barely hours into their marriage.

A flicker of regret passed through him. Real, heavy.

But just as quickly, it disappeared - pushed out by something darker. That gnawing, unspoken thing he never voiced. That objective - deep and twisted - that Dhimahi knew nothing about.

His calm started to crack. His breathing quickened. The same violent storm brewed inside again.

The gentle fingers caressing her palm suddenly turned harsh. He pressed down. She hissed and flinched awake.

Her eyes fluttered open in confusion - then fear. Her gaze landed on him. Trayambak. Holding her close. His heartbeat thudding in her ear.

For a fleeting moment, she felt safe.

But then the memory rushed back. The cruel words, the cold eyes, the way he had pushed her, thrashed and humiliated her - everything slammed into her like a tidal wave.

She panicked and tried to get up.

But he was faster. He held her down, firm, steady, unrelenting.

"Kaha jaa rahi ho jaaneman, pati itne der baad aaya hai aur tumhe jaane ki padi hail?"
["Where are you going, sweetheart? Your husband has come home after so long and you're already thinking of leaving?"]

She didn't answer. She couldn't. Her throat was dry. Her eyes searched his, trying to recognize the man she once loved.

He gently placed her head back on his chest and resumed stroking her hair. The same hands that had yanked it hours ago now tried to soothe her.

She trembled beneath his touch.

"Subah se kuch nahi khaya hai maine, shayad tumne bhi nahi khaya hoga. Chalo khaana lagao, bohot bhook lagi hai."
["I haven't eaten anything since morning, maybe you haven't either. Come on, serve the food - I'm starving."]

He spoke casually. As if nothing had happened.

Dhimahi didn't speak. She simply got up, wrapped herself in her silence, and went to the kitchen. Her hands shook as she reheated the food, straightened the plates.