Dhruv's POV

Steam billowed out of the bathroom as I opened the door, carrying the scent of sandalwood and expensive soap with me.

I rubbed a towel briskly over my wet hair, feeling the tension of the last twelve hours finally beginning to seep out of my muscles. The hot water had washed away the dust of the old house, the sweat of the drive, and—hopefully—the frantic edge of the breakdown I had nearly had in that bedroom.

I felt... lighter. Exhausted, yes. My bones felt like lead, and my eyes were burning from staring at the road for too long. But the crushing weight in my chest, the one I had carried since I was seven years old, felt fractionally lighter.

I wrapped the towel around my waist and walked into the bedroom.

"Room service was delicious!"

I stopped in my tracks.

Katha was lying on the massive, king-sized bed. She wasn't just lying; she was rolling. She was sprawled out in the center of the mattress, arms stretched wide, rolling from one side to the other like a starfish testing the limits of the ocean.

She had changed while I was in the shower. Gone was the floral dress that had nearly driven me insane earlier. Now, she was wearing a silk night set—a loose, powder-blue camisole with thin straps and matching shorts that ended high on her thighs. It looked soft. It looked comfortable.

"What are you doing?" I asked, leaning against the doorframe, a small, involuntary smile tugging at my lips.

Katha stopped mid-roll, her hair fanned out on the white pillows like a halo. She looked at me upside down, grinning.

"Testing the mattress quality," she announced seriously. "I have to make sure my husband gets a good night's sleep. It has excellent bounce, Dhruv. 10 out of 10."

"Get off the bed, Katha," I sighed, walking over to the wardrobe where the staff had neatly unpacked our suitcases. "You look like a kid who had too much sugar."

"I had fries," she corrected, flipping over onto her stomach and propping her chin on her hands to watch me. "And cheese. It's the same thing."

I ignored her, focusing on finding something to wear. I pulled out a pair of grey cotton sweatpants and a simple black t-shirt.

"Turn around," I ordered.

"Why?" she asked innocently.

"Because I am changing."

"So?" She blinked. "We are married. I've seen you shirtless before. I saw you shirtless an hour ago."

"We are friends," I corrected, pointing a finger at her. "Friends don't ogle each other while changing. Turn around."

She rolled her eyes dramatically, burying her face in the pillow. "You are so boring, Mr. Husband. Fine. I am looking at the darkness."

I quickly dropped the towel and pulled on the sweatpants and t-shirt. The fabric was soft against my skin, a welcome change from the stiff formal wear I usually lived in.

"Done," I muttered, tossing the towel into the hamper.

Katha popped her head up instantly. Her eyes scanned me from head to toe, lingering on the way the t-shirt hugged my chest.

"Grey sweatpants," she hummed, a mischievous glint in her eyes. "A classic choice. Very... domestic."

"It's called sleeping clothes, Katha," I grumbled, walking to the other side of the bed. "Now, move over. You are taking up seventy percent of the territory."

"It's a king bed, Dhruv," she laughed, scooting over to the left side. "You could park your car in the space between us."

I climbed into bed. The sheets were cool and crisp, smelling of lavender. I let out a long, heavy groan as my back hit the mattress.

"Tired?" Katha asked softly.

"Exhausted," I admitted, closing my eyes. "Driving from Mumbai to Goa is not exactly a leisurely stroll. And then... everything else."

I felt the mattress dip.

"Here," she whispered.

I felt her fingers in my hair. She began to gently massage my scalp, her nails scratching lightly against the skin in a rhythm that made my toes curl.

"What are you doing?" I mumbled, my voice slurring with sudden sleepiness.

"Head massage," she replied. "Part of the Friendship Package. Premium service."

I should have stopped her. But it felt too good.

"You are good at this," I sighed, leaning into her touch.

"I know," she murmured. "My mom used to do it for me."

We fell into a comfortable silence. Her hands worked magic on my tension, moving from my scalp to the back of my neck, kneading out the knots.

After a few minutes, her hands slowed, then stopped.

"Dhruv?"

"Hmm?"

"Go to sleep."

"I'm trying," I whispered. "Goodnight, Katha."

"Goodnight."

She pulled her hand away and settled back onto her pillow.

I turned on my side, facing away from her, facing the balcony doors. The room was dark, the only light coming from the moon filtering through the sheer curtains.

I closed my eyes, ready to surrender to the blackness.

One minute passed.

Two minutes.

I felt a shifting behind me. A rustle of silk sheets.

Then, a warm weight pressed against my back.

Katha had scooted across the gap. Her chest was pressed against my back, her knees nudging the back of my legs.

I stiffened.

"Katha," I warned, my voice gravelly. "Stay on your side."

"My side is cold," she whispered, her breath hot against my shoulder blade. "Your side has climate control."

"It's the same room temperature," I argued, not opening my eyes.

"No," she insisted, snaking an arm around my waist. Her hand flattened over my stomach, her fingers splaying out over the cotton of my t-shirt. "You are a furnace. I am freezing. Do you want your friend to get hypothermia?"

"It is twenty-four degrees, Katha. You will survive."

"Shh," she mumbled, burying her face between my shoulder blades. "Sleeping now. Don't talk."

I lay there, wide awake, my heart starting to hammer a treacherous rhythm against my ribs. Her body was soft, warm, and fitting perfectly against mine. Her arm around me felt like a chain—and an anchor.

I tried to ignore it. I tried to focus on breathing.

Then, I felt her move again.

Her hand on my stomach slid up. Just an inch. Then another. Her fingers traced the outline of my abs through the shirt.

I caught her wrist.

"Katha," I said, my voice sharper this time. "What are you doing?"

"Nothing," she lied smoothly. "Just... finding a comfortable spot."

"Your comfortable spot is not my chest."

"You have big pectorals," she noted matter-of-factly. "It's like a pillow. A hard, muscular pillow."

I choked on a laugh, despite myself. "Go to sleep."

"I can't," she whispered.

She lifted her head from my back. I thought she was moving away.

Instead, she climbed.

Before I could react, Katha had maneuvered herself so she was half-draped over me. She rested her chin on my shoulder, her face now inches from my ear.

"Dhruv," she whispered, her voice laced with that dangerous, playful tone I was beginning to fear.

"What?" I groaned.

"Turn around."

"No."

"Why?"

"Because if I turn around," I said honestly, "I am going to wrap you up in this duvet like a burrito and roll you off the bed."

She giggled. "You wouldn't."

She blew gently on my ear.

A shiver raced down my spine, violently.

"Katha!" I snapped, turning over abruptly to face her. "Stop th—"

I stopped.

She was right there. Our faces were inches apart in the dark. Her eyes were adjusting to the dim light, shining with mischief and something softer, something warmer.

"Hi," she whispered, smiling.

"You are a menace," I muttered, but I didn't move away. I couldn't.

"I am just checking on you," she said innocently. Her hand, which had been on my stomach, moved up to rest on my cheek. Her thumb brushed over my stubble. "Are you okay?"

"I was okay," I grumbled. "Until a koala attacked me."

She laughed softly. "I'm not a koala. I'm your wife."

"A friend," I corrected automatically.

"Right," she nodded, her eyes dancing. "A friend."

She moved closer. There was literally no space left. Her legs tangled with mine under the duvet. Her silk camisole brushed against my t-shirt.

"Friends hug each other goodnight," she stated.

"We already said goodnight," I pointed out.

"That was a verbal goodnight," she explained, her logic purely nonsensical. "This is a physical goodnight."

She wrapped her arms around my neck and buried her face in the crook of my neck, inhaling deeply.

"You smell like sandalwood," she murmured against my skin. "It's nice."

I froze. Her lips were grazing the sensitive skin of my throat. Her body was pressed flush against mine.

My resolve crumbled.

I let out a ragged sigh and wrapped my arms around her waist, pulling her closer.

"Fine," I whispered into her hair. "One hug. Then sleep."

"Okay," she agreed.

But she didn't stop.

She lifted her head again. She looked at me, her gaze dropping to my lips.

"Dhruv?"

"What now, Katha?" I asked, my voice straining.

"You missed a spot," she whispered.

"What spot?"

"Here."

She leaned in and pressed her lips to the corner of my mouth.

It wasn't a kiss. It was a feather-light touch. A tease.

I stopped breathing.

She pulled back an inch. "And here."

She kissed my jawline, right near my ear.

"Katha," I warned, my hands tightening on her waist. "Don't play with fire."

"I like fire," she breathed.

She moved down. She kissed my chin. Then my cheek. Then the tip of my nose.

"What are you doing?" I rasped, my eyes fluttering shut as her soft lips drove me insane.

"Saying goodnight to my friend," she whispered against my skin. "Goodnight, Dhruv's nose. Goodnight, Dhruv's cheek."

She hovered over my lips. So close I could feel her breath.

"Goodnight, Dhruv's lips," she murmured.

She brushed her lips against mine. Once. Twice.

I groaned, a low, guttural sound in my throat. I couldn't take it.

I surged forward to capture her mouth, to deepen the kiss, to end this torture.

But she pulled back.

She giggled, moving her head back just out of reach.

"Ah-ah!" she scolded, tapping my nose. "Friends don't kiss like that, remember? You said it yourself."

My jaw dropped.

I stared at her. She was grinning, looking thoroughly pleased with herself.

"You..." I narrowed my eyes. "You are doing this on purpose."

"Doing what?" she blinked innocently. "I am just following the rules, Mr. CEO. Strict friendship boundaries."

She settled back down, snuggling her head onto my chest, getting comfortable.

"Goodnight, Dhruv," she said cheerfully. "Sleep well."

I lay there, staring at the ceiling, my body humming with unspent energy, my lips burning from her phantom touches, and my wife asleep on my chest like she hadn't just set my world on fire.

I looked down at her. Her breathing was already evening out. Her hand was clutching my t-shirt in a fist.

A laugh bubbled up in my chest. A real, genuine laugh.

I tightened my arms around her, pulling her as close as humanly possible. I kissed the top of her head.

"You are going to pay for this tomorrow," I whispered into the darkness.

But as I closed my eyes, surrounded by her scent and her warmth, I knew I had already lost the war. And for the first time in twenty years, losing felt exactly like winning.