Dil Ke Karib (Early Acess Ch 11)

🛎️ New to Nandin and Rajeev’s world? Catch up on Dil ke Karib (Chapters 1–10) on my website before diving in! Her story is just beginning... 💔✨

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Let’s dive back into the chapter... 👇

The storm had passed, but its memory lingered in the hush. Rain whispered against the windows — no longer wild, just steady. The house exhaled around them, as if relieved.

Inside, the air was thick with the scent of wet earth and something more delicate — the aftertaste of closeness.

Nandini stirred.

For a moment, she didn’t know where she was. Then she felt it — the rise and fall of breath beneath her cheek. Her head rested lightly on Rajeev’s chest, the rhythm of his heart faint but steady under her ear.

She froze.

Every nerve in her body screamed to retreat, to slide away before he noticed — before he opened his eyes and found her so close, too close. Her breath hitched as she slowly began to lift her head, trying not to wake him.

But fate had its own plans.

A sharp tug at her scalp startled her — a few strands of her hair had wound themselves into the fine links of the gold chain around Rajeev’s neck. A tiny, involuntary cry slipped from her lips.

Rajeev stirred.

His eyes fluttered open. Sleep-drenched and slow, they met hers.

Time didn’t stop — but it narrowed, drawn tight around the space between their eyes.

She hovered above him, wide-eyed, breath shallow, fingers halfway through another desperate tug to free her hair. Embarrassment rushed into her cheeks, burning like fire.

She opened her mouth — nothing came. Her fingers fumbled. The harder she tugged, the tighter her hair caught. Her fingers kept tugging, panic simmering beneath her skin.

Rajeev didn’t move at first.

He just looked at her. Really looked at her.

The chaos of last night, the weight of everything they never said, hung like fog between them. Her hair framed her face, wild and damp. Her lips parted in a silent gasp, her lashes wet from either sleep or storm. He had never seen her like this.

Not angry.

Not guarded.

Just... close.

“I’ll help,” he said — quiet, sure.

His voice was calm — maddeningly so — as if he hadn’t just woken to find his wife tangled over him. As if her closeness wasn’t unraveling something inside him.

His fingers brushed her hair, careful and patient. Each movement was deliberate, gentle — as if he knew how tightly wound she was, not just in body but in spirit. Her breath caught as his knuckles grazed her neck. Her eyes avoided his, but her skin betrayed her — blooming heat across her throat and jaw.

“There,” he murmured. Her hair slid free.

Nandini pulled back too fast, sitting up like she’d touched fire. Her lips parted again — maybe to thank him — but no sound came. Instead, she stumbled up, half-bowing her head, and turned toward the door.

Rain kissed her skin the moment she stepped outside. She let it.

Let it fall over her face; let it blur the lines between shame and something softer. Her chest rose and fell too fast. Her cheeks burned, and she didn’t know why — or maybe she did, and didn’t want to name it. Her saree clung to her as if the rain meant to unburden her of everything — shame, memory, fear. The fabric whispered against her skin, leaving her exposed not to the world, but to herself. She closed her eyes, letting the rain wash away the remnants of their brief encounter, hoping it would also cleanse the confusion swirling within her.

Inside the room, Rajeev sat up, watching.

From the threshold, he saw her — the way the rain slicked her hair back, made it cling to her shoulders. The way droplets traced her cheekbones, slid into the hollow of her throat. Something in him stilled — something he didn’t know how to name. The rain traced every curve, turning grace into something more visceral. He hadn’t meant to watch — but there was something sacred in the way she stood, like the rain saw her more clearly than he ever had. As he continued to watch her, a sense of longing and desire began to take root in his heart, making him wonder if perhaps there was more to their brief encounter than he had initially realized. There was something sacred in the way she stood — as if the rain saw her more clearly than he ever had.

He stood.

He didn’t think — just followed her into the rain, barefoot on the cold stone floor. The drizzle turned his kurta translucent, but he didn’t care. The world hushed beside her, like even the earth held its breath.

Nandini felt him before she saw him. Her heart raced as his presence shadowed her own, the air between them crackling with unspoken desires. The rain fell harder, soaking them both as they stood face-to-face—so close, the tension between them hummed louder than the rain.

She tried to run, but her steps betrayed her — slick grass sent her tumbling into his arms.
The world around them fades, lost in the intensity of their shared connection.

The grass gave out beneath her. Rajeev reached — instinct, not thought.
They fell.

Grass cold beneath them, rain pressing down like breath.
Her hands found his chest.
His hands found her waist.
The world narrowed.

They didn’t speak.

Couldn’t.

Her palms were flat against his chest, and his hands — without thinking — had found the bare curve of her waist where her saree had shifted. Skin against skin. Heat against heat.

She didn’t move.

Neither did he.

Rain washed over them, tracing new paths down their faces, their bodies. Her breath hitched. His chest rose sharply. Their noses almost brushed. Lips a whisper apart.

Thunder cracked faintly in the distance — not like last night’s storm. This was something softer, something that came after.

Their hearts, once strangers, beat in tandem.

Not love.

Not yet.

But something with breath and heat — something waking.

Something that even nature is summoning. The rain continued to fall, a gentle rhythm that seemed to synchronize with their own heartbeat. In that moment, they both knew that something had shifted between them, something unspoken but undeniable. Something that was too hard to put into words but felt in every touch and every shared breath.

Nandini slowly pulled back, her eyes searching his face, her lip caught between her teeth. She didn’t speak. Her gaze lingered on his mouth, rain curling down her cheek like a secret.

She rose, finally, her body shaking more from the moment than the cold. Rajeev stayed where he was, lying on the earth like it had just taught him something. As if the rain had washed away their inhibitions, leaving only raw emotions in its wake.

The rain didn’t stop.

Neither did the silence.

But something had changed.

A crack. A beginning.

******

💫 Author's Note 💫

Still with me? 🌧️ If Chapter 10 was thunder and chaos, Chapter 11 is the soft breath after — that trembling pause when the heart isn't quite sure if it's safe to beat louder. This moment between Nandini and Rajeev wasn't loud… but it was everything. 🔥

There’s no dialogue that could’ve said what the silence did. Sometimes, it’s not about what’s spoken, but what’s felt. The rain saw them more clearly than they saw themselves — and maybe, just maybe, something fragile has started to stir. 🌱

💬 I’d love to know

— What hit hardest for you in this scene? 💔
— Do you feel the shift between them?
— If you had to describe this chapter’s feeling in one word, what would it be?

Drop your thoughts in the comments — your words truly keep this story alive. 🫶
And remember: the rain may have eased, but the storm inside isn’t over just yet. ⛈️

Until next time, Lovelies. 🌙

Shaar Shree. 😉