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हो बादरिया सी बरसूँ घटा बन के छाऊं
जिया तो यह चाहें तोहे अंग लगाऊं
लाज नगोड़ी मोरी रोके हैं पइयाँ
पग पग लिए जाऊं तोहरी बलाइयाँ
मैं पग पग लिए जाऊं तोहरी बलाइयाँ

मैं जग की कोई रीत ना जानू
मैं जग की कोई
हो मैं जग की कोई रीत ना जानू
मांग का तोहे, सिंदूर मनु
तू ही चूड़ियाँ मोरी तू ही कलाईयाँ
पग पग लिए जाऊं तोहरी बलाइयाँ
मैं पग पग लिए जाऊं तोहरी बलाइयाँ

मुझे लागे प्यारे सभी रंग तिहारे
ओ हो मुझे लागे प्यारे
मुझे लागे प्यारे, सभी रंग तिहारे
दुख सुख में हर पल, रहूँ संग तिहारे
दर्दवा को बाँटे उमर लरकाइयाँ
पग पग लिए जाऊं तोहरी बलाइयाँ

कहे तोसे सजना ये तोहरी सजनियाँ
पग पग लिए जाऊं तोहरी बलाइयाँ मैं

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The world could burn for all I cared as long as I had this moment-this fleeting, fragile, painfully beautiful moment. Noor's soft breath reached me, carrying her words like the sweetest song, stirring the calm I'd forced upon myself. I lay still, eyes shut, my entire body alive to her presence, every nerve attuned to her.

"Bahut badmash hai aap, Aarth... bahut pareshan karte hai aap hame."

(You're so mischievous, Aarth... you trouble me so much.)

Her voice, soft yet playful, was a melody that my heart refused to resist. I felt her delicate hand brushing through my hair, and for the thousandth time, I thought about how unfairly gentle she was. My pulse betrayed me, quickening under her touch, but I stayed silent, savoring her attention like a man starved for centuries.

Her fingertips moved to my forehead, lightly tracing the crease that never left me. It felt as though she was trying to erase my worries with her touch, to soothe something deeper than just my skin. I wondered if she knew the power she held over me.

How every little gesture of hers twisted and tamed me in ways I never thought possible.

Then her voice changed-deeper, softer. Like she was speaking into the distance, yet every word was aimed at me.

"Hamaare itne kareeb aa jaate hai ki lagta hai ki hamari saansein ruk jaayengi..."

(You come so close to me. It feels like my breath will stop...)

I felt her shift slightly, her weight leaving the bed as she adjusted herself. My eyes stayed shut, but I could imagine her every move as clearly as if I were watching her. Her red cheeks, the shy way she avoided looking at me, the nervous tug of her lips-all of it painted vivid pictures in my mind.

God help me.

The innocence in her words, the hesitant confessions slipping through her voice-they wrecked me. My fists curled at my sides as I fought the desperate urge to pull her into me, to crush her soft body against mine and bury my face in her neck where I could lose myself.

She had no idea what she did to me.

Her small voice came again, wavering like a leaf caught in the wind.

"Hamara dil dhadakna bhool jaata hai... aur aap-"

(My heart forgets to beat... and you-)

She stopped, and I felt the hitch in her breath. Damn it, Noor. Don't stop now. I wanted to hear her say it, whatever it was. I needed to hear it. Her voice rose again, teasing me with that pause.

"Aap-"

(You-)

She hesitated, and I was ready to grab her, force her to finish what she started. And then, in the smallest, most defiant voice, she said,

"Sahi kehte hai sab... bawale hai aap."

(Everyone's right... you're crazy.)

Before I could react, she moved faster than I thought possible, slipping my hand from her waist and darting away from the bed. The absence of her warmth struck me like a blow, leaving my arms cold and empty.

I opened my eyes just in time to see her disappear into the bathroom, her pallu trailing behind her like a banner of surrender. For a moment, I simply stared at the closed door, caught between disbelief and amusement.

Then, slowly, a smile crept onto my lips. A wide, unabashed smile that refused to be contained.

But she could run as far as she liked. She was mine. And one day, she wouldn't be able to escape-not from my hold, not from my heart.

Until then, I would let her play her little games.

The knock at the door pulled me from my thoughts. I stayed still for a moment, fingers tracing the pattern on the bedsheet my Noor sat just moments ago. The house was always quiet, and I preferred it that way. Noise felt invasive, unwelcome, disrupting the spaces she had touched, the air she had breathed.

The knock came again, louder this time. My jaw tightened, and I exhaled through my nose, slow and deliberate. Whoever it was, they'd better have a reason.

I rose, and my steps measured as I walked to the door, the weight of the silence shifting with every movement. I unlocked it and pulled it open, my face blank, giving nothing away.

Kavita stood there, a familiar face from years ago. She smiled brightly, as though she didn't notice the cold in my expression. Her cheerfulness was like sunlight trying to break through the shade of an old tree. Futile.

"Bhaiya," she greeted, her voice warm, as though the title carried some shared history. It didn't. She was younger, just a girl I'd known in passing childhood.

"Bhabhi kahaan hain?" she asked, the question breaking through the stillness.

(Where is Bhabhi?)

"Room mein hain," I replied, my voice low and clipped.

(She's in the room.)

There was no need for more. No further explanation. She stepped inside with a nod, her light footsteps echoing as she walked down the hallway toward our room.

I stayed where I was, standing in the doorway, watching her knock on the door Noor had closed moments ago. Something in me tensed at the sight, though I couldn't place why. It wasn't discomfort exactly, but a restlessness that came from someone else crossing into spaces that belonged to my Noor. Spaces I'd carved out for her, even in silence.

I don't like anyone else presence other than mu cherry.

Turning, I stepped out of the house, the evening air cooling the heat that had risen in my chest. It wasn't about privacy; it was about the quiet I craved when it was just us. When her voice filled the silence with words she didn't know, I held on to.

I walked toward the garden, my hands slipping into my pockets. The stillness out here was better. It matched the rhythm of my thoughts, steady and unbroken. Kavita's presence was harmless, but it was unnecessary.

My mind wandered back to Noor. To the way she had pressed her hand to my forehead earlier, like she could smooth away every line, every scar left behind by years I didn't want to remember.

She had the power to make everything else fade, even if she didn't realize it.

I stayed outside, leaning against the edge of the stone railing, my gaze fixed on the horizon. It didn't matter who came or went. The world outside this house didn't matter. All that mattered was her. My cherry.

The one person who could turn a man like me into someone unrecognizable. Without a single word, she could own me.
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The garden was quiet, except for the rustling leaves that seemed to mock my restless thoughts. I had been out here for what felt like an eternity, but my mind refused to settle. Noor's face kept flashing before me-the softness in her voice, the way her hands felt against my skin. She had consumed every corner of my being, leaving no room for anything else.

I ran a hand through my hair, glancing back toward the house. The door remained closed, but I wished it would open. I wished she would come out, look at me with those shy eyes, and draw me back to her. My cherry. My peace in this suffocating world.

And suddenly my phone buzzed. A conference call-Vikram and Abhimanyu. I sighed and answered, already knowing what I was in for.

Abhimanyu: "Aur bhai, kaisa chal really honeymoon?"
("So, how's the honeymoon going, man?")

I rolled my eyes instantly. Of course, it had to be Abhimanyu. The guy's got a sharp wit, always teasing and never letting an opportunity slip.

"We aren't on honeymoon."
I said in a tired tone, trying my best to hide the irritation I was feeling. I wasn't in the mood for this today.

I could hear Vikram chuckling on the other end. Of course, Vikram would find this amusing. I could picture his face, all serious and laid-back as usual, enjoying the drama.

Abhimanyu: "Ha, I know tum pooja path karne gye ho, but yar honeymoon ko chahiye kya? Privacy? Ek kamra, Ek bed aur ek biwi. Sab to hai Tere pass."

("Yeah, I know you went for some pooja stuff, but man, what more do you need for a honeymoon? Privacy? A room, a bed, and a wife. You've got all that, man.")

I couldn't stop the grin from slipping onto my face. "Bastard."

The word left my lips before I could even think about it, and I heard Abhimanyu's laugh booming through the phone. Typical Abhimanyu-always ready with a joke, always ready to stir things up.

Vikram: "Ye choro. Kab tak wapas aana h Sidharth?"

("Forget that. When are you coming back, Siddharth?")

I rubbed my forehead, exhaustion creeping in. "I'm not sure. Maybe in a week."

Vikram: "Hmm, Roshni was asking about Noor bhabhi, she wants to meet her."

("Hmm, Roshni was asking about Noor bhabhi, she wants to meet her.")

The conversation shifted, and I couldn't help but smile. Even in the middle of all this, Roshni bhabhi's was all he care. That was a change for sure.

Abhimanyu: "Dekh le Rajwardhan, That girl as Roshni ho gayi..."

("Look at you, Rajwardhan. That girl, Roshni, is something else now...")

I couldn't help but chuckle. We all remember how he asked Abhimanyu to prepare divorce paper even before his marriage. But as usual, Vikram was having none of it. He groaned.

Vikram: "Shut up."

Abhimanyu: "But ab tu man le, tere ander ka wo Sigma Mar gya."

("But admit it, your inner Sigma is dead now.")

I chuckled at that, remembering how Abhimanyu had been teasing Vikram ever since they'd met. It was no secret to any of us that Vikram had always been the serious one, the loner type. Abhimanyu loved pushing his buttons, calling him 'Sigma' in that smug, teasing way. I didn't need to add to it, though-I already knew Vikram was done hearing it.

But then Abhimanyu struck again.

Abhimanyu: "Sidharth bhai, tu ander ke mand ko Jinda rakhiyo, Warner iski tarah hi ho jayga. Biwi pass hi ni aaygi."

("Sidharth, keep your inner man alive, or you'll end up like Warner. Your wife won't even come near you.")

I rolled my eyes once again. "Mujhe nahi bnna ye sigma wigna. Wo nahi aaigi to mai chala jaunga unke pass."

("I don't want to be a Sigma. If she doesn't come to me, I'll just go to her.")

I said it like it was nothing, but Abhimanyu gasped dramatically as expected.

Abhimanyu: "Tauba tauba. Dono yaar Joru ke gulam Nikle. Meri shadi hogi to dekhna."

("Oh my god, both of you turned out to be slaves to your wives. When I get married, just wait and see.")

I rolled my eyes again, but I knew it was all harmless. Abhimanyu was always over-the-top, being dramatic for no reason, but that's what made him who he was.

Before we could go any further, Vikram's voice cut in, someone speaking to him in the background. He muttered something about a meeting.

Vikram: "I've got to go. Let's catch up later."

The call ended soon after that, with a few last exchanges.

I leaned against the garden wall, feeling a mix of amusement and calm.

As for Abhimanyu-well, he was always a character. The guy had an aura of wit and sarcasm that kept things interesting. He wasn't the most serious person, but was manipulative. he always knew how to throw in a sharp comment or two, as if life was one big courtroom and he was the lawyer making all the clever arguments.

He was the type of guy who had a perfect mix of charm and confidence, & a way with words but also knew how to cut through the bullshit with a smrik.

And even though he didn't have someone to call his own, he knew how to keep us on our toes with his teasing.

Abhimanyu wasn't around when we were in school, but somehow, fate threw us together when we were in class 9th. We became friends by chance, thanks to his sharp mind and that damn sarcasm. He was always the type to use words like weapons, and I guess we appreciated that, because it made us smile.

Vikram and I? We were the more grounded types. But Abhimanyu? He'd always say the right thing at the right time, making even the most awkward situation feel lighter.

I was lost in my thoughts when I heard it-footsteps. I turned to see Kavita stepping out of the house, a carefree smile playing on her lips. She looked the same as always, full of energy and unbothered by the weight of anything.

It wasn't her fault, but her presence disrupted the stillness I craved.

I watched her for a moment, my mind unwilling to let go of Noor even in this intrusion. Kavita walked toward the gate, clearly ready to leave, but something tugged at me. A thought. A question. A need.

"Kavita," I called, my voice steady, deliberate.

She stopped and turned to look at me, her brows raised in mild surprise. "Haan, bhaiya?" Her voice held the usual respect, but I could see the curiosity in her eyes.

(Yes brother)

I didn't move immediately, weighing my words carefully. I was not a man who spoke without purpose, and yet, here I was, about to ask something that made no sense to anyone but me.

"Kuch poochna tha," I said finally, my voice low and calm.

(I wanted to ask something.)

"Haan, poochiye," she said, turning fully toward me now, her expression softening.

(Yes?)

I took a deep breath, the question lingering on my tongue. It felt ridiculous, and yet I couldn't stop myself.

"Wo...Mehndi..Mehndi ka color ghara karne ke liye kya- kya kar sakte hain?" I asked, my tone even betraying none of the awkwardness I felt.

(So... henna. What else can we do to make the henna color darker?)

She stared at me for a moment, as if trying to make sense of my words. Then, her expression shifted-from blank, to surprised, to amused. A teasing smile curled on her lips, and she let out a laugh, soft and full of mischief.

"Bhaiya, kuch karne ki zarurat nahi hai," she said, shaking her head slightly, her voice light with amusement.

"Bhabhi ki mehndi already bahut dark hai. Pata hai kyun? Kyunki aap unse-" she paused, letting the teasing smile linger before continuing, "Pata hai na?"

(Bhaiya, you don't need to do anything. Bhabhi's mehndi is already very dark. Do you know why? Because you love her-know that, right?)

Her words hung in the air, and before I could respond, she turned with a grin and walked away, leaving me standing there.

I felt the tips of my ears burn, and the slight chill of the morning air wasn't enough to cool the heat spreading to my face. I didn't need her teasing.

I didn't need anyone else's approval or acknowledgment. My emotions for my cherry were mine alone-too deep, too consuming, and far too precious to be shared or understood by anyone else.

But as I watched Kavita leave, a faint smile tugged at my lips. My cherry, my Noor-she deserved everything, even the darkest mehndi. And if there was a way to make it darker, I'd find it. For her, I'd do anything.
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I stepped into the room, and her scent was the first thing to greet me-jasmine, soft and lingering, with a faint trace of sandalwood that felt like it was meant to ground me It was everywhere, weaving itself into the air, into me.

She had just been here; I could feel it in every detail. My eyes moved to the bed- her bangles shimmering quietly on the dresser. It were the one I gave her yesterday.

It was like she left behind pieces of herself to pull me closer, even in her absence.

The silence felt heavy but not unsettling. She was in the washroom-I assumed that much. My chest eased, and I sat down on the bed, the soft cushion sinking beneath me. Slowly, I pulled out my phone and opened my emails. A distraction. That's all it was, a feeble attempt to focus on something other than her. But then-

The door opened.

The sound, soft but distinct, made my head snap up. And there she was. My breath stopped like it always did when I saw her like this-hair cascading over her shoulder and those earrings catching the light as if they had been made just for her. I didn't realize my lips had parted or that my hand holding the phone had slackened. My chest tightened painfully as if even my heartbeat needed a moment to take her in.
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Even as he slept beside me, his hand resting lightly on my waist, my heart refused to settle. The quiet rise and fall of his breath filled the room, yet I couldn't focus on anything but the weight of his touch. "Sidharth ji," I whispered under my breath, my voice trembling with shyness. "Sab sahi kehte hain, baawale hain aap."

(Everyone is right. You are crazy)

My cheeks burned at my own words, the audacity of saying them while he slept, making me even more flustered. Slowly, carefully, I removed his hand from my waist, as though afraid he'd wake and catch the storm of emotions written all over my face.

My fingers trembled as I took a step away, my breath catching at how close we'd been just moments ago. Without looking back, I rushed toward the bathroom, my heart thudding loud enough to echo in the quiet.

Once inside, I closed the door and leaned against it, pressing a hand to my chest as if that could calm the storm within me. I smiled, feeling the heat in my cheeks spread further. The mirror reflected a girl I barely recognized. My sindoor was smudged, my hair an unruly mess. And then, my gaze caught something that made my breath hitch-the faint marks scattered across my neck.

Hickeys.

My fingers hovered over them, brushing lightly against the skin, as if the touch could erase them or dull the fire they reignited within me. "Hey bhagwan," I whispered shakily, my voice soft, barely a sound, as though speaking would make them more real.

The warmth of his closeness, his breath against my skin, and the way his hands had held me-all of it came rushing back, making my knees weak. My lips quivered into a small smile, one I couldn't hold back even if I wanted to.

But that smile wavered as I remembered the way he had stepped away, just like that. Just in my one request. My reflection didn't have an answer, only red cheeks and heavy-lidded eyes that couldn't meet themselves.

"Baawale toh hain," I whispered again, this time softer, as if saying it would make sense of the fire he had lit in me. But deep down, I knew-baawali toh hum hai. For him.

(It's me who's crazy..for him)

For the man.

My man

Who turned my world into a dream, I hadn't dared to want.
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The warmth of the water cascaded over me, soothing and yet stirring a storm of emotions I wasn't ready to face. My mind refused to stay calm, replaying the moments from last night when he had come so close, his hand firm on my waist, his breath brushing against my skin.

"Ab kaise saamna karenge unka?" I muttered under my breath, cheeks burning at the very thought of facing him now.

(How will I face him now?)

Without thinking, my hand moved to my neck, fingers grazing the skin as if tracing the memory of his lips. The sensation was so vivid, so overwhelming, that a soft gasp escaped me. Shy and flushed, I shook my head, quickly turning off the shower as if the cold air might bring me back to my senses.

Wrapping the towel tightly around me, I stepped in front of the mirror. My eyes instinctively fell to my chest, and before I could stop myself, the memory of his teeth grazing there made my breath hitch. My heart raced wildly, pounding in my ears. "Hey Bhagwan," I whispered, pressing a hand over my chest, trying to steady my breath.

Just as my thoughts began to spiral, a knock on the door made me jump. "Bhabhi, bahar aayiye na," Kavita's voice called cheerfully from outside.
(Sister-in-law, come out now.)

"Haan... haan, aayi," I managed to reply, hurriedly glancing down at my mehendi-covered hands.
(Yes... yes, I'm coming.)

My gaze lingered on them for what felt like the hundredth time today. The henna had darkened to the richest shade I'd ever seen, the intricate design glowing against my skin like artwork. My eyes softened as they caught the small detail in the corner-his name, delicately woven into the pattern.

Tracing the letters with a trembling finger, a shy smile crept onto my lips. "Kitna pyaara lag raha hai," I murmured to myself, shaking my head as if to stop my heart from fluttering further.

(It looks so beautiful.)

I quickly reached for the cotton sari lying neatly on the rack, wrapping it around myself with trembling hands. The soft fabric grounded me as I tied the last knot and took a deep breath.

When I stepped outside, Kavita greeted me with her usual bright smile. I was beginning to feel comfortable around her now, but even before I could say a word, she grabbed my hands excitedly.

"Bhabhi, mehendi dikhaiye!" she insisted, her eyes sparkling with mischief.

(Sister-in-law, show me your henna!)

Hesitating for a moment, I extended both hands toward her, already feeling the heat rise to my cheeks. Her reaction was instant-a loud gasp of delight.

"Bhabhi! Itna dark shade? Yeh toh sabse sundar mehendi hai jo maine kabhi dekhi hai! Bhaiya to kuch jyda hi pyar karte hai"

(Sister-in-law! Such a dark shade? This is the most beautiful henna I've ever seen! Brother loves you so much. )

Her words made my face grow even warmer, my lips twitching in an awkward smile as I looked away, trying to avoid her teasing gaze. "Pyaar" I began to mumble, but my voice trailed off when her words sank in, leaving me too flustered to continue.

Kavita's laughter rang out, light and teasing, while I busied myself adjusting my pallu, trying to hide my shyness. She seemed to enjoy my awkwardness, but I couldn't bring myself to meet her gaze again, my heart still fluttering from the way she'd noticed what I couldn't stop thinking about myself.

"Pyaar..."

The word echoed in my mind, soft yet powerful. My heart began to pound, a rhythm so loud I could hear nothing else. "Does he love me?" The thought sent a flutter through my stomach, light as a feather but strong enough to leave me breathless. My cheeks warmed at the very idea, and I lowered my gaze, biting my lip to hide the shy smile tugging at my face.

Before I could dwell on the thought, Kavita's voice broke through the haze. "Bhabhi, kya pehen ke jaa rahi hain aap?"

(Sister-in-law, what are you planning to wear?)

I looked up, startled, only to drop my gaze immediately, too shy to meet her curious eyes. "Y-yeh..." I stammered, my voice barely above a whisper.My fingers fiddled with the edge of my cotton sari

Kavita raised an eyebrow, her lips curving into a teasing smile. "Bhabhi, bura na maano to ek baat bolo?"

(Sister-in-law, don't take this the wrong way, but can I say something?)

I nodded hesitantly, my throat dry. "haan, boliye," I managed, though my heart thumped harder in anticipation.

(Yes, tell me.)

"Bhabhi, kya hai na, ki mardon ko batana padta hai ki unke haath kya maal lagaya?" she said, her tone so casual that it took me a moment to process her words.

(Sister-in-law, the thing is, men need to be told what treasure they have in their hands.)

My eyes widened in shock, my breath catching in my throat. "Kavita! Yeh... yeh aap kya keh rahi hain?" I stuttered, utterly stunned.

(Kavita! What... what are you saying?)

But Kavita was relentless.

"Nahi, bhabhi, main bata rahi hoon. Mardon ka bharosa nahi hota. Unko batana padta hai. Unki haisiyat nahi thi, par unke haath yeh kya gaya hai, samjhi aap?"

(No, sister-in-law, I'm just saying. Men can't be trusted. You have to tell them. They didn't value it, but they've got something priceless in their hands now. Understand?)

Kavita smirked knowingly, crossing her arms. "Sahi keh rahi hoon, bhabhi. Mardon ka bharosa nahi hota. Bol rahi hoon, unhe nahi bataya na, to idhar-udhar bhatak lete hain."

(I'm telling the truth, sister-in-law. Men can't be trusted. If you don't make them realize, they wander here and there.)

Her words made my chest tighten, and before I could stop myself, I blurted, "Sidharth ji aise nahi hain!" My voice was firm, my cheeks burning with the intensity of my emotions. My voice trembled, not with anger but with embarrassment and the urge to defend him.

(Siddharth ji isn't like that!)

Kavita's teasing gaze softened as she placed both her hands on my shoulders. "Haan, to aise hi rahein," she said, her tone suddenly serious. "Waise na bane, isliye yeh kuch karna padta hai, bhabhi."

(Yes, let him stay that way. To keep it like this, you have to do these things, sister-in-law.)

I looked at her, blinking in confusion as she leaned closer, a glint of mischief in her eyes. "Samajh gayi na?" she asked, her voice low but insistent.
(You understand, don't you?)

I could only nod, unsure of what I was agreeing to but too flustered to say otherwise. Kavita stepped back, her playful smile returning as she gave me a once-over.

"Bas, ab aap taiyaar ho jaiye," she said, turning to sit.

(Good, now you just get ready.)

As she walked away, I let out a shaky breath, my thoughts swirling between her words and the warmth in my chest whenever I thought of Sidharth ji. Kavita was impossible, but her words lingered, making my cheeks burn all over again.
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I stood in front of the mirror, adjusting my red lehenga and fixing the strands of my hair that refused to stay in place. My reflection stared back at me, but my eyes wandered to Kavita, who was busy with something in the corner. Then they returned to the mirror, and for a moment, I just looked at myself.

It wasn't fear that made me get ready like this. It wasn't that I thought Sidharth ji would ever cheat on me.

No, I trusted him completely, more than I trusted myself. My heart knew he wasn't like that. But still, I wanted him to look at me and find me beautiful. I wanted his eyes to stay on me, like I was the only person in the room, the only one in his world.

Whenever he called me beautiful, something inside me bloomed, like a flower touched by sunlight. It wasn't just the words-it was the way he looked at me when he said it, like I was the most precious thing he had ever seen. That feeling made my heart race and my cheeks warm. I didn't dress up because I had to. I did it because I wanted to. I wanted him to see me and think, She's mine.

"Wow, bhabhi," Kavita's voice interrupted my thoughts, pulling me back to the present. Her eyes sparkled with mischief as she said, "Yeh toh Siddharth ji ka dil chura le gaya aaj!"

(Wow, sister-in-law, this look will surely steal Siddharth ji's heart today!)

I bit my lip, looking away from her teasing gaze, but my heart was fluttering like a bird trapped in my chest. Before I could respond, she laughed and added, "Theek hai, main chalti hu."

(Alright, I'll leave)

As she left, I turned back to the mirror, only to realize I had forgotten my dupatta. My hand flew to my forehead in frustration as I also remembered the earrings I'd left in the bathroom earlier. Sighing, I hurried to the bathroom to grab them.

The moment I stepped inside, I froze. My heart stopped for a second when I heard the sound of the door opening. My breath hitched-I didn't even need to look. I knew it was Siddharth ji.

Taking a deep breath, I steadied myself, quickly picking up the earrings. My fingers trembled as I put them on, but my mind was louder than my heartbeat. It's just Siddharth ji, I told myself. Why am I so nervous? But the memory of last night burned in my mind, making it harder to stay calm.

I couldn't avoid him forever, and I knew it. So, with one last deep breath, I stepped out of the bathroom, my eyes immediately catching him sitting on the bed.

His gaze found me the moment I entered the room. I could feel it, warm and intense, like it was wrapping around me. My heart raced, but I pretended not to notice. I walked to the mirror, fixing my earring like I hadn't just spent all this time getting ready for him. Like I hadn't been nervous at the thought of facing him.

But as I stood there, I could feel his eyes on me still, watching me, and that single thought sent shivers down my spine.

I could feel his eyes. Even without looking, I could feel them. They lingered on me, like a touch I couldn't escape, warm and unsettling all at once. My hand trembled slightly as I reached for the waist chain, its silver links cool against my fingertips. I didn't dare glance at him, not when I felt this exposed, not when I knew he was watching me.

Sliding the pallu a little from my stomach, I fumbled with the chain, my heart thudding painfully in my chest. The tremor in my hands made it difficult to fasten, but his gaze was like a weight pressing on me, demanding my every movement.

I focused on the mirror, avoiding my reflection because the redness in my cheeks betrayed me. I didn't know what I would see in his eyes if I looked at him now. His presence in the room, the way he hadn't moved from the bed, filled the air with something heavy, something I couldn't name.

Once the chain was fastened, I reached for the small sindoor box sitting on the table. My fingers curled around it delicately as I opened it. For a moment, my eyes flicked up to the mirror, and before I could stop myself, I glanced at him.

Our eyes met.

It was just a second, maybe less, but it was enough to knock the breath from my lungs. The intensity in his gaze was overwhelming. It was as though he could see right through me, as if every layer of my being was laid bare before him. My heart skipped painfully, and then began to race, wild and uncontrolled.

I broke the connection, lowering my eyes quickly, but I wasn't fast enough to miss the flicker in his expression. Something dark, something unreadable flashed across his face as his eyes fell on the sindoor box in my hand.

He stood.

The movement was deliberate, controlled, but it made my entire body freeze. I pretended to focus on the mirror as he walked to the bathroom, my fingers tightening around the sindoor box. My breathing was uneven now, shallow and quick, and my chest felt tight, like it was struggling to contain the pounding of my heart.

He was gone for a moment, just long enough for me to try to calm myself. But then he came back.

I didn't look at him at first, afraid that meeting his eyes again would undo me completely. But when he walked toward me, something shifted in the air. My hand stilled as I realized he was coming closer. My reflection in the mirror showed his figure behind me, tall and commanding, and I could feel the heat of his presence before he even touched me.

When his hand came to rest on my shoulder, I froze. His palm was large, warm, and it anchored me in place. My breath caught in my throat, and for a moment, I couldn't even move. Slowly, his grip turned me toward him, his touch firm but not harsh, and I found myself standing face-to-face with him.

I didn't know where to look. His eyes were so close, burning with something I couldn't name, and my own fluttered helplessly as I tried to look anywhere but at him. My heart was a wild, uncontrollable drum in my chest, and I didn't know what to do with my hands, my body, or even my thoughts.

But right now, I felt like I was standing on the edge of something I didn't fully understand. And I wasn't sure if I was ready to fall.

His eyes stayed locked with mine, holding me in place like some invisible force. There was something in his gaze, something soft but intense, as though he was speaking to me without saying a single word. Slowly, his eyes flickered downward, and I followed his movement.

When I looked down, I noticed his hand had moved between us, holding something. A small packet of bindis and a little box of sindoor.

I frowned in confusion and looked back up at him. His expression softened, as though he was under some spell, and his voice, low and warm, almost hypnotic, reached my ears.

"Kal churiya lene gaya tha, toh ye bhi le ke aaya tha aapke liye."

(Yesterday, when I went to buy bangles, I brought these for you too.)

His words hit me in a way I hadn't expected. My heart swelled with warmth, and I glanced down again at the packet of bindis and the box of sindoor. A big smile tugged at my lips, uncontainable, as if it had a life of its own.

He brought these...for me.

It was so small, so simple, yet it felt like the most precious gift. My heart filled with a love so overwhelming it felt like it might burst. He didn't have to say anything more. This gesture, this thoughtful little act, meant the world to me.

I took the bindi packet and the sindoor box from his hand, holding them delicately, as though they were something fragile. Looking up at him, my smile grew wider, and I spoke, my voice brimming with gratitude,

"Bahut pyaara hai... Thank you. Thank you so much."

(This is such a lovely gift... Thank you. Thank you so much.)

It wasn't just the gift itself-it was what it represented. I had grown up watching my father bring sindoor and bindis for my mother, and I had always secretly wished for the same. To me, it was a symbol of love, of care, of a bond that was unspoken yet deeply felt. And now, my husband had brought them for me.

I looked back at the bindi packet, still smiling, when I felt him take it gently from my hands. He opened it, pulling out a single bindi with such care that my heart skipped again.

"Laga doon?" he asked softly, his voice sending a shiver through me.

(Shall I put it on?)

My cheeks burned instantly, and I couldn't bring myself to meet his eyes. "Ji..." I whispered, my voice barely audible.

(Yes...)

He stepped closer, his large, warm hands gently cupping my cheeks. The world seemed to fall away as he carefully placed the bindi on my forehead. His touch was light, almost reverent, and it made my breath hitch.

When he pulled back slightly, his hands still holding my face, I noticed something I hadn't expected-a smile on his lips. Not a big one, not one that showed his teeth, but enough to change his whole expression. It was...beautiful. He was beautiful.

My heart skipped again, my chest tightening with the sheer force of how handsome he looked in that moment. I didn't even realize I was staring at him, completely lost, until I remembered the sindoor box in my hand.

Gathering every ounce of courage, I held it out to him, my voice trembling slightly as I said,

"Ye bhi laga dijea"
(Pit these too)

His smile lingered, soft yet deep, like the sun breaking through a veil of clouds. It was a sight that warmed my chest, leaving my heart fluttering in a way I couldn't quite control. When he reached for the box of sindoor in my hand, I felt my breath catch, anticipation curling low in my stomach, as though the air around us had thickened with something unspoken, something sacred.

He opened the box slowly, his fingers steady, deliberate, as if every movement carried meaning. Taking a pinch of the deep red powder, he raised it toward my forehead. My heart hammered against my ribcage, its rhythm echoing in my ears as I stood still, my body trembling ever so slightly.

When his hand reached me, my eyes fluttered closed. The cool, featherlight touch of the sindoor against my skin felt electrifying, as if he were painting his presence into my very being. But then, a tiny bit slipped through his fingers, falling softly onto my nose.

A sharp breath escaped me as I felt it settle on my skin. My chest rose and fell with an intensity that I couldn't quite control. The moment felt surreal-like a dream I'd dared not wish for, now unfolding in front of me.

Butterflies swarmed in my stomach, their wings beating wildly against every inch of me, spreading warmth and a sense of belonging I couldn't put into words.

And then it happened.

The tender press of his lips against my forehead-firm but gentle, protective yet intimate. A shiver coursed down my spine, and for a second, I forgot how to breathe. It wasn't just a kiss. It was a promise, a seal, a moment so pure that it burned itself into my soul.

My heart swelled painfully, the sheer fullness of my love for him threatening to spill over. I felt special, cherished, as though he'd given me the world with something so simple, so profound.

When he pulled back, his hands still cradled my cheeks, I could barely meet his eyes. They were so steady, so consuming, as if he could see straight into me. My cheeks flushed crimson, heat creeping up my neck as I lowered my gaze in shyness, and turned to other side unable to look at him.

Before I could say or do anything, I felt his arms wrap around me from behind, his embrace both firm and gentle. A gasp escaped me as his warmth enveloped me completely, my back pressed against his chest.

I raised my eyes hesitantly to the mirror in front of us. He was there, his eyes locked on mine through the reflection, an intensity in them that made my knees weak. His grip tightened slightly, not possessive but grounding, anchoring me to this moment where it was just him and me, nothing else in the world.

I felt him shift behind me, and my skin tingled as his fingers brushed against my neck, gently gathering my hair and sliding it over one shoulder. My eyes closed again, the sensation too much, too overwhelming.

Then his chin rested lightly on my now-bare shoulder. His gaze stayed fixed on mine in the mirror, unblinking, unwavering. My breath hitched again, my chest rising and falling as I tried-and failed-to calm the storm inside me.

The heat of his breath fanned my skin, and I knew my cheeks must've been crimson by now. I stood frozen, not daring to move, letting him do as he pleased, unsure of how to react but knowing I didn't want him to stop.

And then, his lips brushed my shoulder-a kiss so soft, so fleeting, yet so searing, that it set my entire being alight.

I swallowed hard, my heart racing as if it wanted to leap out of my chest. I couldn't think, couldn't speak, couldn't do anything but feel-every touch, every glance, every unspoken word between us carving itself into my memory.

I didn't turn to face him. I couldn't. Instead, I stayed rooted in place, my hands clutching the edge of the dressing table for support, my reflection a vision of red cheeks and wide, dazed eyes.

And through it all, his gaze never wavered, steady and unrelenting, holding me captive in this moment that was ours and ours alone.

His presence was overwhelming. It wrapped around me like a heavy veil, making it hard to think, to breathe. When his lips brushed against my temple, I felt my heart flutter, a small smile tugging at my lips before I could stop it. It was soft, fleeting, but it was there, and it betrayed the storm of emotions inside me.

We stood there, wrapped in silence that felt too intimate, too heavy. I tried to focus on anything else-the faint sound of the fan, the soft rustle of the saree against my skin-but his gaze, steady and unwavering in the mirror, held me captive. He was watching me, his dark eyes piercing, unblinking, and it made my stomach twist in knots.

I didn't know where to look or what to do. My hands fidgeted on their own accord, my body burning under the intensity of his stare. It was unbearable, that silence, that closeness. Finally, summoning whatever courage I could find, I asked softly, "Kaise lag rahe hain hum?"

(How am I looking?)

The question left my lips like a whisper, barely audible, but it hung in the air like a fragile thread. I hoped it would distract him, give me a moment to steady my erratic heart, but his gaze didn't waver. Instead, it deepened, and something in his expression shifted.

His voice followed, low like I wasn't mean to hear this and deliberate, rolling over me like a storm.

"Are you trying to make me regret sparing you last night... or giving me a hint about tonight after looking this beautiful cherry?"

I froze. The words hit me like a jolt, making my breath hitch and my body tense. He said it so slowly, so softly, yet every syllable was crystal clear, echoing in my ears. My heart stopped for a beat, and then it thundered in my chest, wild and erratic.

My eyes widened as his words sank in, my cheeks burning hotter than ever. I couldn't look at him-how could I look at him after that? I turned my face away, my gaze falling to the floor, but my body betrayed me, trembling under the weight of his words and the heat of his proximity.

"Ji?"

I felt his hand then, warm and steady against my stomach. My breathing quickened, shallow and uneven, as his fingers moved, slow and deliberate, sending ripples of sensation through me. His touch was light but purposeful, and when his thumb brushed over me-over a place no one had ever dared-My navel. I gasped, my eyes snapping to his reflection.

He was still watching me, his expression calm, almost unreadable, but his eyes-they burned. They burned with something I couldn't name, something that made me feel exposed, bare.

Before I could gather my scattered thoughts, his lips were at my ear, his breath hot against my skin. "Khubsoorat," he murmured, his voice rough and quiet, yet it struck me with the force of a thousand words. "Bohot khubsoorat."

(Beautiful, very beautiful)

I didn't realize I was holding my breath until it came out in a shaky exhale. His words wrapped around me, leaving no space for doubt, no room to hide. My cheeks flared again, and I dropped my gaze, staring at the floor as if it could anchor me. But nothing could-not when he was this close, this intense, this Siddharth.

His hand moved again, traveling higher, pausing just long enough to send a shiver down my spine. My body reacted on its own, my chest rising and falling in sync with the chaos inside me. And then, without warning, he turned me around, a firm yet gentle jerk that left me breathless.

I looked up at him, my heart pounding wildly, my emotions a chaotic mess. His touch, his words, his presence-they consumed me entirely, leaving no room for anything else. My world, in that moment, was him. Only him.

I couldn't breathe. The air around us felt heavy, charged, as if every second stretched into an eternity. His eyes were locked on mine, so intense, so unwavering, that I felt exposed, like he could see right through me-into my heart, my thoughts, my very soul.

He leaned in slowly, his gaze never breaking from mine, and whispered,

"Itni ki mai saans lena bhool gaya."
(So much that I forgot how to breathe.)

His voice was low, almost a murmur, yet it sent a shiver down my spine. My breath hitched, my heart skipped a beat, and suddenly, I wasn't sure if I could stand any longer.

Our noses brushed, a delicate, fleeting touch, and the world around us disappeared.

"Itni ki mere dil ki dhadkane rukh gayi,"

(So much that my heart stopped beating.)

he whispered, his words so soft, yet so heavy with emotion.

I felt his hand on my waist, firm yet gentle, pulling me closer. My body moved on its own, as if it had no choice but to respond to his silent command. We were so close now-so close that I could feel the heat of his breath on my lips, the space between us shrinking to nothing. My heart raced, each beat echoing in my ears, louder than any sound I'd ever heard.

Just as his lips hovered a breath away from mine, I panicked. My trembling hand shot up, resting over his palm on my waist, a weak attempt to stop what was about to happen. My chest heaved, my breathing uneven, but I couldn't speak-I couldn't find the words.

His hand tightened around my waist, firm yet not forceful, as if he was silently asking me to let go. His eyes, so commanding, so intense, locked onto mine, and I felt my resolve crumbling under their weight.

Barely able to form the words, I whispered,

"R-ruk jaiye... M-mandir jana hai."
(W-wait... we have to go to the temple.)

My voice was timid, shaky, but it was enough to make him pause. I dropped my gaze, unable to hold his any longer, my cheeks burning with embarrassment.

He pulled back slightly, just enough to break the tension. His forehead came to rest on my shoulder, and I felt his breath-warm, uneven, desperate-against my neck. His hand on my waist tightened, pulling me closer, until there was no space left between us. Our chests pressed together, and the contact made me shiver, my heartbeat wild and uncontrollable.

"Hold me, Cherry,"he whispered into my ear, his voice trembling with something raw, something I didn't fully understand.
"Hold me for a second, please."

There was something in his tone, something so vulnerable, so full of desperate-ness , that I couldn't refuse. My hands, shaking and unsure, slowly moved up to wrap around him. The moment I touched him, he pulled me closer, his grip tightening as if he needed me to hold him together.

I felt his stubble against my shoulder, rough yet oddly soothing, as he buried his face in the crook of my neck. His breath was warm, uneven, and it sent a rush of goosebumps over my skin. He stayed there, almost like he was trying to find a place to hide, a place to belong.

And then, I felt it-his lips brushing against the sensitive skin of my neck, followed by the sharp sting of his teeth. My body jolted in surprise, a gasp escaping my lips, but before I could react, he did it again, pressing a kiss where he had bitten me, only to bite down again, harder this time.

"Ahh" A sound escaped my lips.

My mind was a whirlwind of emotions-shock, embarrassment, and something I couldn't quite name. My skin burned where his lips had touched, and I felt my knees weaken.

Before I could process what had happened, he pulled back, his breathing ragged, his eyes wild. And then, without a word, he turned and disappeared into the washroom, leaving me standing there, breathless, my heart racing, my body trembling from his touch.

I stood frozen, my mind replaying every moment, every word, every touch. My heart felt like it would burst, my skin still tingling where he had been. And as I looked at the closed door, I pressed a hand to my chest, trying to calm the storm raging within me. But no matter how hard I tried, I couldn't forget the way he had held me, the way he had whispered my name, the way he had made me feel.
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The car came to a gentle stop outside the temple, and I quickly adjusted my dupatta over my head, letting it fall gracefully. This was sacred ground, a place where the soul sought peace, and I wanted to present myself with the utmost respect. My hands trembled slightly as I tucked the fabric securely, stealing a glance at him.

Sidharth ji stepped out first, his tall frame commanding the morning light. He looked every bit like a divine protector in his simple attire-a dhoti tied to perfection and a chadar resting on his broad shoulders. But the chadar didn't do enough to hide his physique; his chest, bare and strong, carried an elegance I couldn't stop noticing. My cheeks warmed as my gaze wandered.

Hey bhagwan.

I whispered under my breath, lowering my eyes as my heart pounded in a rhythm I didn't understand.

I stepped out quietly, my slippers crunching against the gravel. Just as I moved ahead, a thought struck me. I stopped and turned to him hesitantly, clutching the ends of my dupatta.

"C-chappal... gaadi me hi rakh dete hai?,"
(Shall we leave the slippers in the car?)

I said in a small voice. My words were shaky, but he understood immediately. His sharp eyes flickered toward me, and with a slight nod, he agreed.

I bent down, hands trembling, to remove my slippers. But before I could pick them up, I saw another hand-his hand. It moved past mine without a word, lifting my slippers with ease. I froze, staring at him, my breath caught in my throat. He turned and placed them neatly in the car, like it was nothing. But to me, it was everything. Sidharth ji was... different.

He wasn't just a man of words; his actions spoke of care I hadn't dared to expect.

He returned and took my hand in his, firm but gentle, leading me toward the temple steps. My heart fluttered like the wings of a bird set free. I dared not look up at him, instead focusing on the way his veiny hand wrapped around mine, how his muscles flexed with each step. He was everything-strong, capable, and mine. A blush crept up my cheeks again, and I silently thanked my dupatta for hiding my face.

As we climbed the steps, a pandit ji approached us. Sidharth ji let go of my hand, joining his palms and bowing his head with such reverence it left me stunned.

"Pranam, Pandit ji,"
(Greetings, Pandit ji,)

he said, his voice steady and respectful. I followed his lead, bowing my head and whispering softly,

"Pranam."

(Greetings.)

The pandit ji smiled at us and gestured for us to follow.

The temple was beautiful, draped in marigold garlands and filled with the scent of incense. The idol of Shiv ji and Parvati ji stood tall, adorned with fresh flowers, their serene expressions watching over us. My heart swelled as I folded my hands in prayer. This was what I had prayed for-a husband who walked beside me, yet led me with grace.

The pandit ji began the gathbandhan ritual, tying the end of my dupatta & his chadar together.

"Yeh gathbandhan pati-patni ke pavitra rishtay ka prateek hai. Ab aap dono ek dusre ke liye samarpit hain."

(This gathbandhan is a sacred symbol of the bond between husband and wife. Now, you are both devoted to each other.)

His words echoed in my mind as I glanced up at Sidharth ji. His face was calm, serious, and so focused on the ritual. I couldn't help but admire him-this man who carried the weight of traditions with such ease. A small, shy smile found its way to my lips.

As we sat for the puja, I felt a warmth beside me. Sidharth ji leaned closer, his voice low and concerned,

"Aap thik hai?"

(Are you okay?)

His words made my heart skip a beat. I could barely meet his eyes as I stuttered,
"J-ji."

(Y-yes.)

My cheeks burned as I realized how close we were, and I looked down, my fingers playing with the edge of my dupatta.

When it was time for the aarti, we stood together, holding the diya as one. The flames danced between us, casting a golden glow on his face. He looked divine, like a warrior bowing before the gods. As the pandit ji chanted,

"Om Jai Shiv Omkara..."

his voice blended with the temple's echo. I closed my eyes, silently praying for his happiness, for his strength, for us. I wanted to be the wife he deserved-the one who supported him, stood by him, and loved him with everything I had.

His hand brushed against mine as we moved the diya in unison, and I felt a shiver run down my spine. I glanced at him from the corner of my eye, and my breath hitched. He wasn't just a man; he was my sanctuary, my protector, my everything.

As the aarti ended and we bowed before the idols, I whispered another prayer-not just for us, but for me. That I may always have the strength to put him above all, to walk beside him with faith, and to love him the way he deserves, even more. even in silence.

The pandit ji handed us the coconut and explained the ritual with a soft smile. "Yeh saat baar parikrama karni hai jore me aur har baar nariyal mandir ke pravesh par rakhna hai," he said, his voice calm yet full of reverence.

(You must circle the temple seven times in pair, placing the coconut at the temple's entrance each time.)

I nodded quickly, clutching the coconut like it was the most sacred thing in my hands. My eyes flickered toward Sidharth ji, whose face remained as serious as ever, yet there was a calmness in his demeanor that made my heart flutter. The gathbandhan of my dupatta and his chadar rested between us, binding us together, a reminder of our shared purpose in this moment.

We joined our hands in prayer, and with a deep breath, I stepped forward, walking beside him. My heart thudded as I felt his hand tighten around mine, warm and steady.

The first round began, and as we reached the temple entrance, he bent slightly, letting the coconut touch the ground. Without a second thought, I knelt down too, pressing my forehead gently to the temple's cool floor.

"Shiv ji, aap hum par hamesha apna aashirwaad banaye rakhein," I whispered silently, asking for blessings not just for me but for him, for us.

(Lord Shiva, always keep your blessings upon us.)

When I glanced up, I realized he hadn't done the same. My brows furrowed slightly, and a pang of concern hit me. Did he not understand the significance? Or was he just... not the kind to bow before the gods?

The thought stayed with me as we stood again and began the next round. This time, as we stopped at the entrance, I bent down, placing my fingertips reverently on the ground. Before rising, I brought my hands to my forehead and then turned toward him, placing both palms gently on his forehead and chest. My lips murmured a silent prayer for him, and for a moment, I could feel his gaze piercing through me, yet I didn't dare meet it.

The warmth of his skin under my palms made me pause, but I quickly withdrew my hands, my cheeks heating up. "Inn par hamesha bnaye rakhna bhagwan," I murmured under my breath, a prayer meant only for him.

(Always keep your blessings on him god.)

As we began the third round, his hand tightened around mine, firmer this time. I felt my breath hitch at the unexpected gesture, and I dared to look up at him. His lips curved into the faintest of smiles, so small I might have missed it if I weren't looking. That smile-oh, that smile. It sent a warmth through me that I couldn't explain.

I glanced down quickly, a shy smile creeping onto my own lips. My heart felt light, as if the weight of all my worries had been lifted just by that small moment between us.

This time, as we reached the entrance, I took the lead, letting his hand rest firmly in mine as I bent down once again. He didn't stop me neither bend down too.

His silence spoke more than words ever could. I knew he was watching, his presence a steady comfort behind me. I did the same again seeking blessing & then offering him everything.

As we continued the rounds, I felt his grip never falter. Each step felt heavier with meaning, each glance from him a silent reassurance. By the fourth round, I realized something: I wasn't just walking with my husband-I was walking with the one I had silently prayed for all these years.

Sidharth ji took the coconut from the after all the seven rounds and walked to the designated place. His grip was firm, and I noticed how the veins in his hands flexed as he raised the coconut high. With a single powerful strike, he broke it into two. The sound echoed across the temple courtyard, and my heart jumped a little, startled by the force.

The pandit ji smiled approvingly and gestured toward the broken coconut.

"Iska Mahadev aur Maa ke charan mein arpan kariye aur phir apne aur patni ke upar chhidkiye," he said.

(Sprinkle its water at the feet of the lord Shiva & Goddess, then on yourself and your wife.)

Sidharth ji nodded, his movements steady and purposeful. I stood still, my heart racing slightly as I watched him pour the sacred water at the feet of the God & Goddess with such reverence. Then, without hesitation, he turned toward me.

His eyes met mine briefly, sending a strange flutter through my chest, before he lightly sprinkled the coconut water over me first.

The cool droplets touched my forehead, and I shivered slightly, not from the cold, but from the realization of the sanctity of the moment. As the water fell on him next, I lowered my gaze shyly, feeling an odd sense of pride in him, in us.

The pandit ji handed him the aarti thaal next and carefully applied a tilak to his forehead. The red mark stood out against his fair skin, making him look even more divine in my eyes. My heart swelled as I saw him turn toward me, handing the thaal gently.

Taking it from him, I applied the tilak to my own forehead, feeling a warmth spread through me as I touched the sacred ash.

"Mahadev, humein hamesha apne ashirwad mein rakhein," I whispered under my breath, closing my eyes briefly.

(Goddess, always keep us in your blessings.)

When I opened my eyes, the pandit ji was holding out a small dibbi of sindoor toward Sidharth ji.

"Apni patni ke maang mein yeh bharen," he instructed, his voice steady yet kind. (Fill this in your wife's hairline.)

I stilled. My breath hitched as Sidharth ji's hand reached out to take the dibbi. His fingers lingered for a moment as he held it, his gaze lowering. I dared not look directly at him, afraid my heart might just give away everything I was feeling.

He stepped closer to me, and I tilted my head slightly, lowering my gaze to the floor. His fingers brushed lightly against my skin as he parted my hair gently. The touch was featherlight, but it sent ripples of warmth coursing through me.

As he applied the sindoor for the second tome today, I felt a small portion of it fall onto the tip of my nose. My eyes fluttered shut, and my cheeks grew warm. Somewhere, I had heard that sindoor falling on a woman's nose was a sign that her husband loved her dearly. The thought made my lips curve into a shy, almost imperceptible smile.

Once he stepped back, I folded my hands again and closed my eyes, offering a silent prayer to the Goddess.

"Bhagwan ji, unka hamesha khayal rakhein," I prayed, my heart full of emotions I couldn't quite name. (Goddess, always keep him safe.)
Then, almost as an afterthought, I added, "Papa aur ma aur maa aur sab par bhi apna aashirwaad banaye rakhein."

(Bless my father, mother & mother and our family too.)

As I finished my prayer, I opened my eyes to find Sidharth ji looking at me. His expression was calm, but there was something in his eyes-a kind of quiet intensity that made me look away quickly. He turned back to the Goddess, bowing his head in respect once more.

In that moment, I felt an overwhelming sense of gratitude, for him, for us, for everything this moment symbolized. I didn't need words to express it, and I didn't think he did either. The silence between us felt sacred, as if it was part of the prayer itself.
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The evening sun dipped lower into the horizon, painting the temple's surroundings in hues of orange and gold. The serene ambiance of the temple still lingered as Sidharth ji and I descended the stone steps, the faint sound of temple bells echoing in the distance.

The puja had gone beautifully, every ritual performed with precision and reverence. My heart felt lighter, like a prayer had been answered, even if I didn't know what I had prayed for.

As I reached the last step, ready to leave the peaceful sanctuary behind, Sidharth ji's deep voice stopped me in my tracks.

"Rukiye," he said, his tone firm but gentle, carrying no room for argument.

(Stop)

I turned to look at him, puzzled. He had already walked past me, heading toward something-or someone-I couldn't see. I stood there, waiting, my dupatta fluttering slightly in the soft evening breeze, my thoughts running wild. Where was he going?

Moments later, he emerged from the crowd, walking toward me, his strides confident, a small pair of heels in his hands. My cheeks flushed instantly. My heels. He had gone to fetch my sandals.

As he approached, I couldn't help but lower my gaze, my heart fluttering in my chest. There was something about the way he did such simple things-things I hadn't even thought of-that left me speechless.

Quietly, without a word, he knelt slightly and placed the sandals near my feet.

"Pehniye," he said simply, his voice calm, his face unreadable as always.
(Wear it)

My fingers trembled slightly as I slipped my feet into the sandals. The warmth of his presence was overwhelming, making me acutely aware of every small movement. As I straightened, he stood beside me, his towering frame shadowing me protectively.

We began walking toward the car, the silence between us filled with unspoken emotions. My breath hitched when I felt the soft, warm touch of his hand slipping over mine. His fingers enveloped mine, firm yet tender, and I let him hold my hand without a word.

The car came into view, and he released my hand only to step ahead, opening the door for me. He held it open, waiting for me to sit. As I adjusted myself inside, my dupatta slipped slightly, and the flare of my ghaghra spilled out of the car.

Before I could gather it, he leaned in, carefully tucking the fabric inside with practiced ease, his movements deliberate and protective.

His hands brushed against the embroidery of the cloth, and I watched him, my heart swelling at the sight. A soft, involuntary smile crept onto my lips.

Sidharth ji then walked to his side of the car, his chadar draped effortlessly over his frame. The fabric covered one broad shoulder, leaving the other bare, with the lower edge resting lightly against his toned chest. The way it wrapped around him highlighted his strength, a mix of traditional elegance and raw masculinity.

He settled into his seat and started the car. The quiet hum of the engine filled the space, but my attention was entirely on him.

Before he shifted into gear, I felt his hand again-warm, steady, and familiar-resting on my lap. My breath hitched as his fingers intertwined with mine, and he gently pulled our joined hands closer, placing them between my thighs. The touch was unassuming, yet it sent a jolt of awareness through me.

His hand brushed against my thigh as he adjusted the position, and I tightened my hold on his fingers instinctively, unsure if it was to steady myself or him. My cheeks burned, the heat spreading across my face, but I said nothing, letting the moment linger between us.
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The car slowed down before stopping in front of a quaint-looking dhaba. I turned to look outside, the warm glow of the place reflecting on the window. My thoughts, however, weren't on the place itself. Sidharth ji's thumb had been gently grazing the back of my hand all this while, the soft motion making my heart flutter in a way I couldn't control.

After last night, everything between us felt different. My body seemed to have a mind of its own, reacting to his presence in ways I wasn't prepared for. Butterflies swirled in my stomach every time I thought of him, of his touch. And the way he'd been this morning... it only added to the whirlwind of emotions that had me feeling strangely shy yet drawn to him all the same.

I turned to him, and he was already looking at me, his dark, steady eyes holding an intensity that made my breath hitch. "Yahan ka khaana bohot achha hota hai, Dadaji ke sath aaya karta tha" he said, his voice calm but commanding, like it always was. "Shaam bhi ho chuki hai, yahin dinner kar lete hain."

(The food here is really good. I use to come with grandfather. It's evening already; let's have dinner here.)

I nodded quietly, unsure if I could even manage words without stumbling. This was the first time we'd be eating out together, and the thought filled me with an unfamiliar sense of excitement.

He stepped out of the car, walking around to my side. Before I could react, he opened the door for me, his tall figure looming protectively. I hesitated, adjusting the heavy fabric of my ghaghra, but he held out his hand, his palm open and waiting. Slowly, I placed my hand in his, and with his firm grip, he helped me out. His touch was steady, strong, and sent a tingle up my arm.

As we walked toward the dhaba, I became acutely aware of the stares around us. Every pair of eyes seemed to follow us, their curiosity piercing through me. My steps faltered for a moment, but then I felt it-his hand sliding around my shoulders, firm and reassuring.

I glanced up at him, my heart racing, only to find him glaring at the onlookers. His gaze was sharp, protective, and unyielding, as if silently daring them to look again. A small smile tugged at my lips. It wasn't just his presence-it was how effortlessly he shielded me, how deeply he cared without saying a word.

He led me inside, his presence commanding enough to turn heads. Once we reached a table, he pulled out a chair for me. I sat down, my cheeks still warm from everything that had just happened, and watched as he took the seat across from me.

Before I could collect my thoughts, a young man approached us, his smile wide and welcoming.

"Sidharth bhaiya, kaise hain aap?"

(Siddharth bhaiya, how are you?)

Sidharth ji gave him a small nod, his lips curving into the faintest smile.

"Theek hoon, tum kaise ho, Aakash?"
(I'm fine. How are you, Aakash?)

The boy grinned, visibly excited. "Main bhi theek hoon, bhaiya. Bare dinon baad aaye ho, kya laun aapke liye?"

(I'm fine too, bhaiya. It's been so long since you've come here. What should I get for you?)

Siddharth ji glanced at me briefly before answering, "The usual." He paused and turned back to me, his tone softer now.

"Aap kuch aur lena chahengi? Jo aap chahein."

(Would you like to add anything else? Whatever you want.)

His words caught me off guard. His voice was so sincere, his expression so attentive, that for a moment, I just stared at him. Shaking my head lightly, I replied, "Nahi, jo aap lenge wahi theek hai."
(No, whatever you order is fine.)

He nodded before turning back to the boy. "The usual le aana. Aur haan, gajar ka halwa bhi lana."

(Bring the usual. And yes, also bring gajar ka halwa.)

The boy smiled and hurried off, leaving me staring at Siddharth ji in quiet disbelief. Gajar ka halwa? How did he know? I'd never told him how much I loved it. My heart skipped a beat.

He must have noticed my surprise because he leaned back in his chair, his dark eyes meeting mine.

"Aapke papa ne ek baar kaha tha ki aapko gajar ka halwa bohot pasand hai," he said, a small smile softening his otherwise intense expression.

(Your father once mentioned that you love gajar ka halwa.)

My chest tightened, and my face warmed under his gaze. He noticed such small things about me-things I didn't think anyone would. The lump in my throat made it impossible to speak, so I simply nodded, my cheeks burning as I looked down.

The soft hum of the gathering surrounded me, but my focus was on Sidharth ji. He sat across from me, his gaze lingering on me in a way that made my heart beat faster.

I had been trying to avoid looking directly at him, but his presence had this effect on me-something unexplainable, pulling my attention like gravity. His voice broke the silence as he leaned forward, his eyes now fixed on my hands.

"Aapne apni mehendi mujhe nahi dikhai," he said, the words soft but carrying an undeniable command.
(You didn't show me your mehendi.)

My fingers trembled slightly as I hesitated for a moment. It wasn't just the henna, it was the thought of him looking at me, to see the dark colour. But I couldn't refuse him. I slowly lifted my hands towards him, the intricate patterns drawing attention as the designs glowed faintly under the dim light.

He leaned in closer, his breath barely a whisper against my skin as his gaze traced every curve and detail of the mehendi. I could feel the warmth of his presence wrapping around me like a blanket. The world around us seemed to fade, leaving only his deep, penetrating stare and the soft rustling of the air.

"Kaafi gehra rang aaya hai," he remarked, his voice low, as if he were savoring the sight.
(The color has come out really dark.)

The words, simple yet profound, sent a rush of heat through me. I couldn't look him in the eyes anymore, the blush creeping up my neck, making me acutely aware of his gaze. But even with my head lowered, I felt his intense presence.

Sidharth ji leaned back in his chair, his posture relaxed yet commanding, and then his voice-teasing, yet with an edge of seriousness-reached my ears.

"Mera naam nahi likhvaya aapne?"
(You didn't get my name written?)

My heart skipped a beat. It was a playful question, but it carried something more beneath the surface. Something that made me feel suddenly exposed, vulnerable, but also surprised.

I looked up at him, my eyes wide, not sure how to answer. How to tell him that I wrote "Aarth" on my palm.

His gaze softened as if he were enjoying my flustered state. The air between us felt charged, every word, every movement, heightening the tension.

I smiled softly, my cheeks still burning, and nodded. This man-Sidharth ji-he had a way of making me feel both shy and seen, all at once. He noticed every little thing about me, even the things I hadn't expected anyone to care about.
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The dinner table was full of vibrant colors and smells-Rice with spices, soft naans, the savory aroma of curry filling the air. I sat there, overwhelmed, my eyes scanning the dishes, unsure where to start. Everything looked so delicious, yet it felt like too much to handle.

The quiet hum of conversation around us faded as my focus shifted to Sidharth ji sitting beside me. His presence was calming, but at the same time, there was something commanding about him tonight.

I frown as he reached for the first dish-daal makhni-and I blinked, unable to react fast enough. His hand moved quickly, expertly, scooping a generous portion onto my plate. Before I could say anything, he was already serving me more-shahi paneer, aloo gobi, vegetables curry, and then some rice.

My plate quickly became heaped, nearly spilling over, and I felt a little lost. I opened my mouth to protest, to say it was too much, but I couldn't find the words. His gaze met mine, soft but firm. His eyes, though calm, held a certain power.

"Eat," he said simply, and I was taken aback.

The word wasn't a request; it was a command.

My heart skipped a beat, and I swallowed the words I had planned to say. I didn't argue. I couldn't. Something in the way he looked at me made it impossible to disobey. Instead, I started eating, the food now feeling like a burden and yet strangely comforting.

I took the first bite-spicy, creamy, and warm. The flavors exploded in my mouth, and I felt the tension in my shoulders ease. The frustration I'd been holding onto faded with each bite, and soon I was lost in the meal. It was surprisingly perfect, the food tailored to my tastes, comforting in a way that calmed the uneasy feeling inside.

As I finished a few bites, I noticed dessert being brought out-gajar halwa, a sweet, orange-colored dish with the fragrance of cardamom lingering in the air. The moment I saw it, my heart fluttered. It was a comfort I didn't know I needed, a taste of something familiar. I smiled without thinking, eager to have a taste.

I reached for the bowl, but just before I could take a spoonful, I felt Sidharth ji's eyes on me. His gaze wasn't harsh, but there was something different today-a warmth, a quiet intensity. I looked up at him shyly, my hand still holding the bowl.

"Would you like some?" I asked, my voice soft, unsure if I should offer.

He shook his head, a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips. "Aap khaiye, I'll watch you"

I felt my cheeks redden at his answer, my smile growing awkwardly as I pulled the bowl back to myself. There was something about the way he looked at me, something that made me feel both shy and a little... seen.

I took the first bite, the sweetness melting in my mouth. Just then I heard a call ringing. It was Sidharth ji's

It was exactly what I needed, and I couldn't help but sigh in contentment. But as I continued eating, a strange feeling began to creep up on me. I couldn't place it at first, but then I realized-someone was watching me.

My hand tightened around the bowl. The sensation was subtle at first, almost a whisper against my skin. But then it became more intense. I looked up, my heart racing, only to find two men standing at a distance, their eyes fixed on me. Their smiles were slow, almost too slow, and there was something unsettling in the way they looked at me. My stomach dropped.

I froze, unsure of what to do. I could feel a prickle on my skin as I instinctively pulled my pallu tighter over my shoulder, hoping they wouldn't notice. But they were still staring, and the chill that ran down my spine only grew.

Sidharth ji was busy on the phone, unaware, but I could feel the shift in the air. The tension that had suddenly built around me was heavy. My breath quickened, and I tried to focus on the food, willing myself not to look at them, but my eyes betrayed me, flicking toward the men once more.

Siddharth ji's voice broke through the silence, low but concerned. "Kya hua?"

(What happen?)

I quickly shook my head, not wanting him to worry. "Nothing," I said quickly, trying to brush it off, but my voice felt hollow in the thick tension.

His gaze softened for a moment, but when he followed my line of sight and saw the men, his expression shifted. There was no mistaking it now. Anger flared in his eyes, dark and intense. It was the first time I'd seen this side of him-so protective, so fierce.

The air was thick with tension, and I couldn't shake off the feeling that something was wrong. The noise, the stares, and now the men who had been eyeing me... It was all too much. I wasn't used to this. My hands were trembling, and I couldn't look at anyone directly. I just wanted to be out of here, away from all the eyes that made me feel small.

I took a deep breath and squeezed Siddharth ji's hand, the only solid thing in this suffocating chaos. "M-Mera ho gya, chaliye ghar chalte hai" I murmured, the words leaving my lips in a soft whisper.

(I'm done. Let's go home)

Sidharth ji looked down at me, his gaze unreadable, but I could feel the shift in his presence. His jaw tightened slightly, and I saw the flicker of something dark in his eyes. Without a word, he stood up, and I followed his lead.

He gently placed his hand on my shoulder, guiding me out of the room. My heart beat faster as I felt the warmth of his touch. But, to be honest, I wasn't entirely comfortable. The fear that had gripped me earlier hadn't fully left, but in that moment, his touch calmed me-a lot.

We walked towards the car, my hand still in his, tightening my grip around his fingers. My knuckles turned white, but I needed the security. The night felt suffocating, and I just wanted to get to the safety of our home. Every step we took felt like we were walking into danger. I couldn't shake the feeling that something was off.

And then it happened.

As we were about to reach the car, I heard the men's voices again, louder this time, their comments lewd and crude. My blood ran cold.

"Bhabhi ji, chupa ke bhag kya rahi hai, hume bhi chune ka mauka de do"

("Sister-in-law, why are you running away while hiding it?? Give us a chance to touch you too.")

I felt my heart sink, my breath catching in my throat. Sidharth ji's grip tightened, hoping that hasn't hear. But I know the truth. I took a deeo breath, hoping he wouldn't notice my growing panic.

But I couldn't help it-their words hit me like a slap, and all I wanted was to disappear into the ground.

But Siddharth ji didn't react. He didn't even flinch. He kept walking, his expression cold, unreadable, as if he didn't even hear them. And maybe he didn't. But I could feel the heat of his body beside mine, the tension radiating off of him. I prayed that we'd reach the car without any more incidents.

Once we were there, he opened the door for me, his hands steady as he helped me into the car. The cold leather of the seat beneath me felt almost too real, a stark contrast to the warmth I had just left behind. Sidharth ji closed the door gently, and for a brief moment, everything was silent.

But I wasn't okay. I could still hear their voices in my head, still feel the sharp sting of their words. I wanted to tell him what they had said, to let it out, but I couldn't. I couldn't bring myself to speak about it. Not yet. I just nodded, hoping he didn't hear me shaking inside.

Sidharth ji got into the car without a word, his face still hard and unreadable. The silence between us was suffocating. I could feel the weight of it pressing down on me. I wanted to ask if he was okay, but I didn't know if he was even listening. I wasn't sure if he could hear the same things I did. But whatever it was, I knew one thing-his anger was palpable. I could feel it in the air, thick and dangerous.

We sat in silence the whole ride, the only sound being the hum of the car's engine and the faint rustle of my breath. I kept my hands tightly folded in my lap, trying to steady my nerves. The tension in the car was suffocating, and I couldn't bear the silence for much longer.

As the car slowed down, I realized we were in front of the cottage. The place where we were supposed to feel safe. I glanced at Sidharth ji, but he didn't look at me. His focus was ahead, his face set in stone.

He finally spoke, his voice cold and distant. "Aap chaliye, Mai aata hu" he said, as he turned to open the door, his movements sharp.

(You go. I'll have some work)

I felt a chill run down my spine. "Okay..." I whispered, unsure of what to say, and slowly opened the door myself.

But before I could get out, he turned back for a moment, his expression unchanged. He didn't smile, didn't reassure me, and I didn't expect him to. He was still angry, still distant, and I couldn't tell if he was angry at me, at the situation, or at the men who had made their disgusting comments.

Sidharth ji closed the door behind me. I watched him turning the car, my hands still clenched in my side, the tension in my chest growing tighter with every passing second. What had happened tonight? I wasn't sure if I'd ever feel safe again.

As I looked at the dark, quiet night, I couldn't shake the feeling that something was off. And I wasn't sure when it would ever feel right again.

________________________________________
This is what I imagine them wearing-

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