Soft Circles

The afternoon light in the master bedroom had turned warm and golden, slipping through the half-drawn curtains in long, lazy stripes. Outside, the rain had thinned to a gentle drizzle that made the world feel quieter than usual, as if the entire neighbourhood had decided to hold its breath. The only sounds were the soft patter against the window glass and the slow, steady rhythm of two people breathing.

Vikram lay on his side, still inside Aaron’s body, his head resting on Regina’s outstretched arm. His right hand had never left her belly. The soft, milk-white skin rose and fell under his palm with every slow breath she took. The low cream saree had slipped further during their nap, the pleats now resting even lower on her hips, leaving almost the entire midriff bare. Her navel sat in the centre of that smooth, luminous expanse like a perfect, deep oval…