I don't know how many people would agree, but love really does have the power to reshape an individual. 

I wasn't someone who chased the idea of love. 

Hell, the word 'emotion' itself made me scoff. But something in the way Shumi came into my life was maddeningly peaceful.

I inwardly laughed. She was more like chaos wrapped in calm.

The last time I had hooked up was two months back, and even that had ended with Mou threatening to snitch on me like a class monitor. The whole chain reaction of drama that could've followed made me back off from women completely. 

From Mou to Ritoshree di, to Shreetama di, to Kakali aunty and finally to my mother, who would ultimately drag me back to Delhi by my ear, but of course not before scolding me right and left. The whole idea had me shrinking back into my apartment and forgetting the way to places known for hook-ups permanently. 

So, thankfully, I had suppressed my horny self and opted for light flirting. But never in my wildest dreams had I imagined that the little spitfire Bangali whom I hated would end up making me fall hard for her.

Shoumili Banerjee, the very girl I couldn't stand, had become the reason I had begun to crave something more than just pleasure. 

Something much deeper.

That morning, I woke up to a warm winter sun. No rain, no clouds, no overwhelming heat. Just a crisp breeze and a golden light spilling into the room. 

It was so bloody refreshing. 

Everything was normal. 

Those nights were forgotten like a bad nightmare.

Stretching lazily, I climbed off the bed and dragged myself to the living room, only to be greeted by the mouthwatering aroma of sada aloor jhol drifting in from the adjacent open kitchen. The dish was one of my favourites because of its lightly spiced texture and the comforting taste of bay leaves. 

I especially liked it with Luchi. Fluffy, crisp-edged, fried in pure ghee – just yum. I swear, Bengalis cook emotions into their food.

But that wasn't all that made my heart race.

From the kitchen came a voice; soft, whispering, floating across my flat.

Shumi was singing Rabindra Sangeet.

"Tumi robe nirobe..."

She hummed.

Gently... like the calm of a river flowing through the hills.

"Hridaye ma ma..."

I paused for a moment.

Her voice was so pure.

No instruments, yet her voice carried such melody that I could hear a piano playing in the background.

She sang as if nothing else mattered. As if the world didn't exist around her.

"Nibiro nibhrito purnima, nishithini shomo..."

Whatever horny-mischievous thoughts I had in mind, the thought of plain sex transformed into something more addictive, something for like longing, something that made my heart ache.

I didn't want to have fun with her. 

I wanted to love her.

"Ma ma jibono joubano... ma ma akhilo bhubono..."

Her voice tugged at the corners of my soul. The kind of singing that could make you weep without knowing why. The way she closed her eyes at certain lines, as if she felt every word.

"Tumi bhoribe gourabhe...nishithini shomo..."

I knew it. 

I knew the song very well. 

This had such deep and pure meaning. It spoke of love.

My mother had taught me, although back then, it was just another song that made no sense to me. But right now, it felt like a message. It seemed that Shumi sang for me. Only for me.

You will remain silently within my heart, like the quiet, dark and deep night of the full moon.

Was she singing this... for me? Did she mean it?

My life, my youth, my entire world... you will fill them with your glow like the serene moonlit night.

Something about her voice — or maybe the moment — just broke me a little. 

My throat felt tight. 

My eyes stung. 

Was that the hope she had with me? 

Did I make her...complete?

What was so gentle and true in her that made me drift towards her like the fluttering leaf in the wind? 

What was so addictive and hypnotising that I too wanted to sing with her?

"Jagibe ekaki tabo karooṇo ankhi...tabo anchal chhaya...morey rohibe ḍhaki..."

I found myself walking toward her, slowly joining in. Shumi didn't pause, though she turned to notice me.

Your eyes...so compassionate...so tender... will remain awake alone...while the warm shadow of your embrace will keep me wrapped in a soft cover.  

My pronunciation was horrible, but I knew the lyrics. And for the first time in my life, I didn't care if I sounded foolish. While I never actually sang Bengali songs, even though I knew a few, here I wanted to sing with her.

Because I felt complete.

She looked at me, and I saw it — that unspoken answer to everything I was feeling.

"Ma ma duhkkho-bedono...ma ma shafolo swapono... tumi bhoribe sourabhe nishithini-shomo..."

Our voices blended as one. We sang staring at each other, and somehow I knew that as much as I meant it, she meant it too.

My sorrow, my pain... my dreams... You will fill them with sweet fragrance... like the peaceful moonlit night.

I wanted her... No... No... I needed her.

"Tumi robe nirobe... hridaye ma ma...tumi robe nirobe..."

The last words of the song faded away as our lips met.

My nerves began to soothe like it touched the fresh, cold water splashing in the pond.

The kiss wasn't fiery or desperate. 

It was... warm. 

Calming. 

I felt so addicted to her. Losing myself in her. I kissed, not gentle, not raw...but something in between that carried the passion and warmth of my love that I couldn't confess but was at the edge of my mouth.

I didn't kiss her to claim her. I kissed her because I was already hers. It carried the need in me; the yearning, craving for her.

I held her like something fragile. Her fingers moved along my back, her breath against my neck. My lips brushed against her skin, her collarbone, the hollow of her throat. Each touch pulled me deeper, unravelling all the restraint I had bottled up.

I could feel the heat slowly igniting in me, beginning to burn my nerves, yet I vowed not to lose control.

I kept telling myself to move slowly, don't rush. This wasn't about lust, not just about satisfying eachother. This was more about the connection. 

Every caress, every whisper of my mouth on her skin, was an unspoken vow. More than just sex or the art of lovemaking, it was a divine union.

"Ved..." she breathed.

That single word... it shattered every wall I had built. I leaned in again, my lips tracing her shoulder, then her arm, trailing warmth and silent confessions. I kissed her like she was my muse, like my fingers were reading her body to explore and find a deeper attachment.

"Make me yours..." she whispered.

I frowned, looking into her eyes. "Are you sure?" I asked.

"More than I ever was..."

It was maddening — not to lose control.

But I held back and let my heart lead, not my body.

I reached out, brushing a strand of hair away from her face, letting my fingers linger against her skin. 

She didn't pull back. 

Her eyes closed for a moment, absorbing the warmth of my touch.

Holding her chin up, I dropped my head to capture her lips in a slow, teasing kiss that came from months of tension, of unsaid things and loud heartbeats. 

Her hands tangled in my hair, pulling me closer, grounding herself to me. I held her waist, then her back, trying to touch every part of her I could without being reckless.

Never had I thought Shumi would reciprocate like that. 

The way she kissed back — god — it knocked the breath out of me. Slow, delicate and moving along with my rhythm. Her fingers dug into the back of my neck as my lips moved to her jawline, brushing softly before returning to meet hers again.

There was no space between us, no time. Just now. Just her. Just us.

One moment, I was kissing her deeply...the next, my lips went down, tracing the line of her jaw. Holding her by her waist, I hoisted her up on the kitchen shelf. My lips, my tongue, my teeth devoured on her skin, kissing, licking and biting her chest, the perfect slope of her breast and tearing the buttons of her dress to reveal the round of her nipples.

She threw her head back, moaning while her fingers held my shoulders tightly for support.

"You are going to kill me!" I muttered as my fingers teased her aroused buds, circling, pulling softly, and pinching a little, only to be replaced quickly with my tongue. 

As soon as my warm mouth closed over her nipples, she gasped. 

Both of us breathless, I could realise she too wanted more. From her flushed cheeks to swollen lips, she looked like a beautiful mess no man could ever resist, asking to be ravished, to be taken.

While I concentrated more on sucking her tits and feeling the skin around the bud, my hands went down and down under her dress to find the corners of her panties.

I didn't wait for her to understand, to allow or to grasp; she was a moaning mess in my arms while I dragged down the thin fabric very slowly, not to alert her. My left hand brushed over her thighs, forming goosebumps as I reached for the most sensitive spot.

I was so engrossed, so addicted that I wanted her so badly, and all I could think of was tasting her, getting the feel of her on my tongue.

I rested my forehead against hers, and I realised — I'd never wanted anything more than I wanted her in that moment.

I felt her under my finger. So soft but soaking wet. Just as the tip of my finger poked the material, she shuddered, a long gasp escaping her mouth.

I gently picked her up and settled her on the broader slab overlooking the drawing room. She held on to my neck for support, and my hands caressed the length of her thighs while my teeth grazed on the slope of her breast. She threw her head back, moaning hard and calling out my name.

"Ved...Ved..."

I rubbed the wet material guarding her core while she suppressed the cry rising from her mouth.

"Ved..." her voice came out both as a plea and a caution, but my control snapped.

I bunched up her dress around her waist and, holding her close to me, I ran my fingers down the length of her opening. She trembled, moving her head away and ducking her fingers into my shoulders.

"Ah..." she gasped as I drove one finger inside and started to pump. "God! Shumi, you are so wet!" I pumped, feeling her softness around my finger. 

She could hardly speak. She bit her lips as I kept moving faster and added another finger. Her eyes widened for a moment while I took the pleasure in stretching her.

Although I wanted to take things slow and concentrate on making things last longer, the sight of her hard nipples screamed at me to take them in my mouth.

I didn't wait. I licked one bud, making her yell my name. She arched back, pushing down on the slab and pulling me towards her. I knew she was close, but right now I was hungry for the heavy mounds on her chest. I stood between her legs and went to wrap my mouth around her nipples.

Her breasts felt perfect in my hands as I sucked harder. Her fingers on my shoulders trembled while her body shuddered. Her skin felt warm, soft, alive. 

Every time I gently bit one nipple, her breath hitched. Her chest rose and fell rapidly under me as I started to bite with more pressure.

Very slowly, once I was satisfied worshipping her breasts, I dropped gentle kisses in the middle of her chest, then moved down to her belly and paused for a moment as my eyes found hers, then dropped a lingering kiss on the mound below her abdomen. 

And I felt her body shudder again.

"Ved...please...you don't have to..." she managed to speak in a broken voice.

"But I want to!" I couldn't resist. 

While she tried to push me away, I stretched her skin and licked her clitoris.

"Ved! No!" she protested, but I ignored, driving my tongue through her. Before she could turn, I quickly held her wrist, pinning her down and moved my tongue faster. Her legs shook, resting on my shoulders, but all I could concentrate on was savouring the flow of her satisfaction.

She was so soft, so sweet, almost like the scent of rain on dry earth, that pulled me in. But looking at her delicate and vulnerable form, something triggered in me, and I sucked once more before standing up and throwing her over my shoulder to carry her to my bedroom.

It happened within a second. Before Shumi could react, I threw her on my bed and plunged my hard erection into her. Shumi screamed in pain as my hands quickly closed her mouth, pushing her into my bed, and she struggled to move, holding on to the sheets tightly.

I pushed faster and harder like an animal pounding on the prey, even though I could hear her cries suppressed beneath my hand.

The warm sunlight vanished as gradually those same clouds that had darkened my entire world formed back in the sky. A feral growl left my lips as I kept increasing my pace and pushing into her harder and harder.

"Fuck you!" I cursed, gritting my teeth as if I was unleashing a long hidden anger on her.

And then...

Then I gasped, shooting open my eyes, and I sat up panting.

The next thing I remember was waking up. 

The morning sun filtered through the curtains, my head pounding slightly, and my limbs were tired.

"Oh god!" I groaned. 

What was happening to me? Was I really dreaming?

I turned to check and saw Shumi peacefully asleep beside me, her chest rising and falling with each breath. But what hit me was the sight of red marks peeking from the shirt she wore. And was it my shirt she was wearing? I do not remember her going to sleep wearing my clothes.

I slowly opened a few buttons and parted the shirt to reveal her chest covered in hickeys. Faint yet undeniable. Right where I remembered kissing her.

I stared in disbelief.

No. This was supposed to be a dream. A vivid dream, yes, but not real.

Then how were these marks real?

I felt cold.

What had just happened? 

Was it real or some twisted illusion? 

My heart thundered against my ribcage.

Did I want her so bad that I could hardly differentiate between a dream and reality?

Or...

Or was I unknowingly becoming the reason behind her destruction? Was I feeding the very shadow that haunted her? 

Was I the medium?

Last night's memory played in vivid slides in my mind. 

I buried my face in my palms and cursed. 

The lines were blurring too fast.

I didn't just want to love her anymore.

I needed to save her.

Even if it meant burning myself down.

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