"Reborn in the Movie Universe: Continuation"

[KRISHNA'S POV]

As I continued driving, my eyes fixed on the road, I felt the weight of their apologies in the air. Aamukta was the first to speak, her voice soft and filled with regret. "Krishna, I'm sorry…"

But I kept my focus ahead, not responding, letting the tension build. I heard the others, one by one, murmuring their own apologies. Still, I didn't acknowledge them. Inside, I told myself I needed to hold my ground, even though a part of me already wanted to forgive them.

Suddenly, Aamukta reached out, gently pulling my hand. "Don't ignore us," she pleaded, her voice trembling. "Talk to me." Her touch was warm but desperate, and even though I wanted to comfort her, I kept my silence, staring ahead.

Her voice broke again, softer this time, and before I could react, she leaned in and hugged me, her arms wrapping tightly around me while I still kept my hands on the steering wheel. Her breath was shaky, and I could feel her heart pounding. "I'm sorry," she whispered, her words now laced with urgency and sorrow. "I was wrong to say that… but please, talk to me."

I could feel her body trembling against mine, but I didn't answer. I told myself it was important to make them understand, but the longer the silence dragged, the harder it became to hold on to my resolve. Then she looked up at me, her eyes shimmering with tears, her voice cracking. "Please... Krishna, talk to me."

I glanced at her, and in that moment, I saw the tears streaming down her face, her expression filled with both guilt and a desperate need for reassurance. When I turned to glance at the others, I saw that they, too, were crying quietly, wiping their eyes as they sat in the backseat. The sight hit me harder than I expected. My heart clenched, and I cursed myself internally.

'Fuck... did I overdo it?'

The hurt I had been holding onto felt suddenly insignificant compared to the pain I could see in their eyes. They weren't just apologizing—they were genuinely afraid they had hurt me.

I pulled the car over to the side of the road. We had already left the highway, so it was quieter now—just us and the fading light. I glanced down at Aamukta, who was still hugging me tightly, her tears dampening my shirt. Gently, I wiped her tears away, looking at her and then at the others in the backseat, their faces streaked with sadness.

"Why the hell are you all crying?" I asked, my voice softer now, tinged with a mix of guilt and amusement.

As soon as I said it, they started apologizing again, tears still falling. Their voices were shaky, filled with regret. "We're sorry, Krishna… we didn't mean it…"

I let out a deep sigh, thinking to myself, 'Sometimes I wonder if tears are a woman's secret weapon.'

Looking at their tear-streaked faces, I couldn't help but smile a little. I reached out and ruffled Aamukta's hair softly, my voice turning gentle. "Come on now, don't cry. I was just joking, okay?"

They all paused, blinking at me through their tears. "Really?" they asked, almost in unison, like they couldn't believe it.

I smiled wider, trying to lighten the mood. "Of course! How could I ever stay mad at my girls? But…" I paused, looking at each of them. "What you said really did hurt me, you know?"

They nodded, their guilt still evident, and I could see the sincerity in their eyes. Aamukta leaned in and kissed my forehead, her touch warm and full of emotion. "I'm really sorry, Krishna. We'll never say something like that again."

I smiled softly at her, my hand resting on hers. "It's okay. Now stop crying, alright? I hate seeing you all like this."

They nodded again, wiping away the last of their tears, and I could feel the tension lifting from the air. The heaviness from earlier was gone now, replaced with something softer—something full of trust and unspoken understanding. I restarted the car and began driving again, heading toward Guntur.

This time, the silence that filled the car was comfortable, no longer weighed down by doubt or fear. It was a silence that spoke of shared emotions, a quiet acknowledgment that everything was okay again. As the sun dipped lower in the sky, casting a warm golden glow over the landscape, I glanced at them, feeling a wave of affection wash over me.

After what felt like hours of driving, we finally reached Burripalem village. The stars were beginning to twinkle in the sky, but the lights from the houses illuminated the surroundings, casting a warm glow across the area. As we pulled up to Raji's house, I noticed the usual hustle and bustle in front—trucks were parked, and a group of men was busy loading sacks of bright red Guntur mirchi into the trucks. The familiar sight brought a sense of comfort.

I slowly drove the car through the gate, the sound of the tires crunching on the gravel beneath us. When I stopped in front of the house, we all got out. A cold breeze hit my face, carrying with it the distinct scent of the village—the earth, the chill of the evening, and the sharp, spicy aroma of the mirchi.

As soon as the men working saw me, they stopped what they were doing and greeted me with smiles, "Krishna Bhai!"

I returned their smiles, nodding in acknowledgment. "Good evening," I greeted back, feeling the familiar warmth of this place. These people—they weren't just workers or acquaintances—they were family, in a way.

Just then, I saw Samba and Ramana approaching. Samba had his usual wide smile on his face, the kind that made you feel instantly welcome. But Ramana… well, Ramana's expression hadn't changed. His face was set in that same stern, round look, with no hint of emotion.

Seeing Samba and Ramana approach, I couldn't help but grin. "Yo ho!" I greeted, my voice light, matching the mood of the village evening.

Samba, ever the cheerful one, smiled back, "Jiju, how was the drive?"

Waving my hand dismissively, I replied with a smirk, "Smooth as always."

Before Samba could respond, Ramana, with his usual stern face, cut in, "Yeah, yeah, how could the great Krishna ever face any challenges?"

His mocking tone was meant to sting, but I could feel the humor beneath his words. The girls, who had already stepped out of the car, immediately burst into laughter, amused by his comment. I sighed dramatically, but my smile never wavered as I turned to Ramana, locking eyes with him. "Finally! You admit that I'm great." I paused for a second and added, "Checkmate, Ramana!" I said, chuckling to myself.

The laughter grew louder. Even Samba couldn't hold back, his deep laugh filling the air. But Ramana's expression shifted—his face scrunched up as if he was trying to find a way to counter me, but no comeback came.

"That's not what I meant, Krishna," he muttered, trying to salvage his pride.

I waved my hand again, the teasing in my smile evident. "Yeah, yeah, I know, I know."

The sound of laughter surrounded us—Samba, the girls, everyone except Ramana, who just shook his head in exasperation. But even he couldn't deny the warmth in the air, the camaraderie between us.

Just as we were settling into the moment, Aunt Bujji, Uncle Rangam, and Uncle Satyam stepped out of the house, their familiar presence instantly filling the space with warmth. Aunt Bujji's face lit up as she saw the girls, and in a heartbeat, they were wrapped in each other's arms, laughing and exchanging affectionate words. They had all met before, back at my book launch event, and by now, they were practically family.

Uncle Rangam and Uncle Satyam walked over to me, their hands landing heavily on my shoulders with familiar warmth. Uncle Rangam grinned, "How was the journey, Krishna?"

I smiled back, the connection between us deeper than just casual conversation. "It was good, Papa," I replied. His approving nod made me feel more at home.

Then Uncle Satyam chimed in, his eyes twinkling mischievously. "So, Krishna, did you bring that little thing we talked about last time?" His voice was playful, but I knew exactly what he meant—a bottle's of alcohol.

Rolling my eyes with a smirk, I responded, "Of course, how could I forget?"

At my words, Uncle Rangam, Uncle Satyam, Samba, and even Ramana burst into laughter. Their laughter echoed through the courtyard, warm and full of life, like the very air of the village.

Amidst their laughter, Aunt Bujji turned around, her voice stern but laced with affection, "Are you all going to keep Krishna standing out here, or are you going to let him come inside?"

Uncle Rangam, Uncle Satyam, and the rest nodded, still chuckling, as they started to head toward the house. Aunt Bujji led the girls inside, their chatter fading into the house, while we stayed back for a moment to unload the luggage.

Samba, Ramana, and I worked in comfortable silence, the sounds of crickets and distant village life filling the air.

After we'd finished unloading the luggage from the car we walk inside the house, I handed the girls their bags. Aunt Bujji looked at us, her smile warm and inviting, as she said, "You guys go freshen up. Dinner's already ready."

We all nodded in unison. The girls headed toward Raji's room, chattering quietly, while I made my way to the room that was always kept for me whenever I stayed here.

Closing the door behind me, I dropped my bag on the floor and let myself fall onto the bed with a soft thud. The weight of the long journey, the conversations, and the laughter seemed to melt away as I sank into the mattress. For a moment, I just lay there, letting my body relax as the gentle hum of the village night filtered through the window.

But soon, the slight stickiness of the day's travel nudged at me, and I knew I had to clean up before I could truly rest. I got up slowly, peeling off my clothes and grabbing a towel before stepping into the bathroom.

The cool water cascaded over me, washing away the exhaustion clinging to my skin. As it hit my body, I felt the tension ease, the stress of the long drive and the weight of everyone's worries dissolving with each drop. I closed my eyes, enjoying the brief moment of solitude—the quiet sound of water, the steady rhythm of my breath. It was like hitting pause on the day, a calm oasis in the middle of everything.

Once I finished, I dried myself off and slipped into some comfortable nightclothes. The soft cotton felt good against my skin as I made my way back to the bed. The cool breeze from the open window swept into the room, carrying with it the scents of the village—the faint earthiness of the fields, the distant smell of wood smoke, and the familiar scent of the night.

Laying down, I felt the quietness around me. But it wasn't the kind of silence that felt empty or lonely. It was comforting, almost like the house itself was holding me in a gentle embrace. The cool air and the soft rustle of leaves outside lulled me into a state of calm.

Before I even realized it, my eyelids grew heavy. The thoughts I had begun to fade as sleep pulled me under, my last waking moment filled with a sense of peace—of belonging. It was in these quiet moments, away from everything, that I felt most at ease.

I don't know how long I had been drifting in and out of sleep when the soft creak of the door opening pulled me from the haze. Raji's voice broke through the quiet, gentle but with a hint of playfulness.

"Krishna, are you sleeping?"

Slowly, I opened my eyes, the remnants of sleep still clouding my vision. I shifted, propping myself up against the headboard, and saw Raji walking toward me. Her presence felt warm, familiar. A soft smile formed on my lips as I took her in.

"Na, just relaxing," I murmured, my voice low and a little groggy.

Raji smiled back, a warmth in her eyes as she reached the side of the bed. "Come on then, don't you want to eat? Everyone's waiting."

Instead of answering, I reached for her hand, gently pulling her toward me. With a little surprise in her eyes, she sat down on my lap, her weight comforting, as if everything else could wait for a moment. She looked at me, her lips curving into a smile again. "What are you doing?" she asked, her voice soft, amused. "Dinner's ready, we should go."

"Just five minutes," I whispered, resting my forehead gently against her breasts. It wasn't about anything physical—it was the comfort, the closeness, the quiet moment we could steal away from the world. I wrapped my arms around her waist, holding her close, feeling her heartbeat through the soft fabric of her sari. Her scent, familiar and calming, wrapped around me like a cocoon.

Raji chuckled softly, her fingers threading through my hair, soothing in their touch. "Krishna, are you tired?" she asked, her voice tender, full of affection.

Hearing Raji's soft words, I slowly pulled back, looking into her eyes. There was a warmth in them that always made me feel at peace. Without thinking too much, I leaned forward and gently pressed my lips to hers. The kiss was slow, filled with unspoken emotions. After a minute, we parted, both of us smiling softly, the connection between us still lingering in the air.

"I'm not really tired," I said, still smiling, "I just wanted to be lazy for a bit, especially with you."

I leaned back, resting my head against her breasts, feeling the softness of her presence. It wasn't about anything more than just being close to her, finding comfort in the moment. Raji, as usual, didn't mind. Her hands moved to my hair, her fingers gently stroking through the strands. The tenderness in her touch made me feel like I could stay like this forever.

"You know," she murmured, still rubbing my hair, "you always find a way to avoid getting up." Her voice had that playful tone, but I could tell she wasn't in a rush either. She liked these quiet moments as much as I did.

I chuckled lightly, my face still resting against her, and mumbled, "Maybe it's because I know you'll always spoil me." The sound of her soft laughter echoed through her breasts, making me smile.

For a few minutes, neither of us said anything. The only sound was the gentle breeze coming from the window and the occasional creak of the house settling for the night. It was one of those rare moments where everything felt just right—where time didn't seem to matter, and the world outside could wait.

After a few quiet moments, Raji's soft voice broke the silence. "Krishna," she said with a gentle smile. Hearing her, I pulled back, lifting my face from the comfort of her breasts and meeting her gaze. Her eyes sparkled with warmth as she leaned down and placed a tender kiss on my forehead.

"Let's go, everyone's waiting," she said softly, her smile carrying a mix of affection and playfulness.

I nodded, feeling a bit reluctant to leave the comfort of the moment but knowing she was right. "Yeah, you're right. Let's go," I replied with a smile of my own.

Raji got up from my lap, her movements graceful as always. Her presence always brought me a sense of calm that I couldn't quite describe.

As we walked out of the room together, side by side, I could hear the faint sounds of conversation and clinking dishes from the dining area. The house was filled with warmth—not just from the food waiting for us, but from the people we shared these moments with.

(A/N: If you'd like to support me, please use this UPI: omgadekar29@oksbi "Om Gadekar". If you do, please let me know your webnovel name so I can recognize you.)

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