A memory etched in Anklet.
Sylus × Desi Fem!Reader.
The kitchen was alive with warmth, the scent of turmeric and garlic danced in the air, and your dupatta was lightly tucked over one shoulder as you stirred the simmering curry. The clink of bangles, the pop of oil, the soft hum of an old Hindi song playing from your phone... it felt like peace.
Until the glass slipped from the counter.
Shatter.
You froze. The sound echoed sharply. You bent down quickly, heart thudding, to pick up the broken pieces before Sylus could walk in and worry. But the moment your bare foot shifted,
“Ah!” Pain lanced through your sole, sharp and sudden.
A sharp gasp escaped as a jagged piece of glass embedded itself deep into the soft underside of your foot. You froze, eyes wide, feeling the sting bloom and spread, a burning pulse under your skin.
Before your mind could register the bleeding or the tears welling in your eyes, a familiar voice called out behind you.
“What happened?” There was fear in it, real fear.
“Sylus...” you barely managed, but he was already there.
In one swift motion, his arms cradled you and lifted you from the floor. You gasped, instinctively clutching his chest, fingers fisting the fabric of his black tee. His heart thudded wildly beneath your touch.
He said nothing. Just held you tighter , bridal style, like you were breakable. Like if he let go, the pain would spread.
He carried you into the bedroom, his jaw tense, eyes flickering down to the blood on your foot. “You shouldn’t have moved… dammit.”
You winced as he laid you gently onto the bed, his touch lingering as he adjusted the pillows behind you. Then he knelt, settling between your knees, hands cradling your injured foot with aching gentleness.
“It’s not that bad,” you tried to downplay it, but your voice shook.
His thumb ran softly over your ankle. “Don’t lie to me.”
When his fingers found the shard, you hissed, a sharp cry escaping you.
Your hand flew out, grabbing his shoulder with a desperate grip. He paused immediately.
“Look at me,” Sylus said softly, voice suddenly like velvet.
You met his eyes. He reached up and cupped your cheek, then leaned in, placing a long, grounding kiss on your forehead. “You’re safe. I’ve got you, jaan. Just breathe, okay?”
Your chest rose and fell with shallow breaths, but his touch, his lips, calmed you.
With careful precision, he removed the glass. You tensed, a tear escaping the corner of your eye. Sylus noticed. His hand moved back down, caressing your foot, feather-light.
He kissed your ankle gently before beginning to clean the wound, as if apologizing to it for the pain. “I hate seeing you hurt,” he murmured, brows furrowed with emotion.
Your hand was still on his shoulder. This time, you didn’t pull away. His presence grounded you.
“It’s just… now when I see my feet,” you whispered, voice shaking slightly, “I’ll remember this pain.”
His movements stopped. Silence stretched for a moment, heavy, thoughtful.
Then slowly, Sylus reached into his coat pocket and pulled something out.
“I wanted to give this to you… on a softer day,” he said, unfolding his palm.
There lay a delicate silver paayal, a Desi anklet with tiny shimmering bells and a single sapphire charm that sparkled under the bedroom light.
You blinked, stunned. “You… bought this?”
“I had it made,” he replied softly. “Saw something similar in a photo from your childhood. I thought… you’d like it.”
Your heart fluttered. He remembered that?
Before you could say anything, he gently lifted your foot into his lap and clasped the anklet around it. The chain clicked into place, perfectly hugging your ankle like it belonged there, like you belonged here.
“This,” Sylus said, his voice low and reverent, “this is what you’ll remember.”
He ran his fingers along the anklet, letting the bells chime softly.
“Not the pain. Not the blood. But this, the moment someone who loves you deeply promised to protect every part of you.”
Your breath hitched. The word love settled into the room like the scent of roses.
Sylus looked up slowly, his eyes raw and open. “Every time you hear those bells… think of how much you mean to me.”
His lips pressed against your foot again, not just once, but in a slow trail: the arch, your ankle, just above the anklet. Each kiss deliberate. Devoted.
You felt your cheeks heat, your throat tighten with the intimacy of it all.
You brushed your fingers through his hair gently, and whispered, “You’re making it very hard not to fall deeper for you.”
Sylus chuckled softly, still holding your foot close like it was the most precious thing he’d ever touched. “Then don’t fight it. Just fall.”
You smiled, and in that moment, despite the sting in your foot, you felt something new bloom quietly in your chest.
Safety. Love. Home.
