Armaan’s footsteps echoed faintly in the corridor outside Kaveri’s room. His steps were hesitant, almost measured, as if he didn’t want to disturb the quiet of the afternoon. He slowed as he neared the door, stopping just outside it. Taking a deep breath, he raised his hand to knock, but before his knuckles could meet the wood, he faltered. His hand dropped, and he resumed pacing the corridor, his anxiety radiating from every movement. 

He wanted to go in, to speak his mind and make his request, but the weight of the family’s expectations and his own insecurities bore down on him. How would she react? Would she think less of him for prioritizing Abhira over the firm, even if it was just for a day? His childhood fears of rejection and abandonment resurfaced, intertwining with his responsibilities, making his mind a chaotic mess. 

As he was about to turn and leave, the door to the room opened. Manisha stepped out, holding a tray of water and Kaveri’s medicine box. She spotted him immediately. “Armaan?” she called gently. 

Armaan froze and turned toward her, his expression torn. He opened his mouth to speak but said nothing. 

Manisha raised an eyebrow, concerned. “Do you need something from Mummy sa?” 

He hesitated, glancing toward the door before muttering, “I just… I wanted to know if Dadi sa is free. Or in a good mood, after this morning… I need to talk to her.” 

Understanding flickered across Manisha’s face. She stepped closer and placed a reassuring hand on his shoulder. “She’s fine, Armaan. You can talk to her. She’ll listen.” 

Her touch and her words gave him a strength he didn’t know he needed. Manisha could see the weight he carried—the crushing burden of family expectations, the trauma of a childhood where he feared every decision would lead to rejection. She saw the turmoil in his eyes and understood. 

“Go on,” she said softly. “She’s not angry. You’ll be okay.” 

Armaan nodded slowly, his throat tight. “Thank you, Chachi Sa,” he whispered, forcing a small smile as he turned back toward the door. 

This time, he knocked firmly, his heart racing as he waited. 

“Come in,” Kaveri’s voice called from within. 

Armaan stepped inside, his nerves evident in his measured movements. Kaveri looked up from her desk, her expression neutral. “Kaho, Armaan? Kya baat hai?” 

He hesitated for a moment before stepping closer. “Dadi sa, I wanted to ask… if I could take a day off from the firm today.” 

Kaveri’s brow furrowed. “A day off? Why?” 

“Abhira isn’t well,” he explained, his voice quiet but steady. “The doctor said she needs to be monitored closely. I thought I could stay back and—” 

Kaveri raised a hand to cut him off. “That won’t be possible, Armaan. Rohit has a big case he’s preparing for, and you’re needed to help him. Today is critical.” 

Armaan’s jaw tightened, but he kept his tone respectful. “I understand, but I promise I’ll help Rohit in the evening. I won’t give you any reason to point a finger at me for neglecting my duties.” 

Kaveri’s expression didn’t soften. “That’s not enough. Jamai Sa isn’t at the firm today either, and you’re needed alongside Rohit and Manoj in case of any emergencies. You have responsibilities, Armaan.” 

He took a step closer, desperation edging into his voice. “Dadi sa, please. I’m not saying I won’t fulfill my responsibilities. I just need a few hours—” 

She interrupted him sharply. “There are others in this house to take care of Abhira. Or do you think this family isn’t capable of doing that?” 

Armaan’s shoulders stiffened, and he quickly replied, “No, I don’t think that. I know everyone will take care of her.” 

But even as he said the words, doubt lingered in his mind. Would they truly? Would they be as attentive as she needed them to be? The hesitation in his voice betrayed him. 

Kaveri’s gaze hardened. “Then there’s no reason for you to worry, is there? Go to the firm, Armaan. That’s where you’re needed.” 

Armaan stood there for a moment, feeling the weight of her dismissal. Finally, he nodded stiffly, his heart heavy as he turned and left the room. The lingering doubts in his mind and the ache in his chest made every step feel heavier than the last.

Outside Kaveri’s room, Armaan leaned against the wall, running a hand through his hair. The weight of Kaveri’s dismissal lingered heavily in his chest. Just as he was about to leave, Manisha approached him, concern evident in her eyes. 

“Armaan,” she called gently. 

He turned to face her, his expression tired and conflicted. 

“She’ll be okay,” Manisha assured him, placing a comforting hand on his arm. “Charu, Kiara, and I will take care of Abhira. You don’t need to worry about her.” 

Relief washed over him, and he exhaled a shaky breath. “Thank you, Chachi Sa,” he said earnestly, his gratitude evident. “Thank you so much.” 

Manisha shook her head, a soft smile on her lips. “Family ko thank you kaun bolta hai, Armaan?” she teased lightly. 

Armaan repeated her words, his voice faint and tinged with an ache. “Family ko thank you kaun bolta hai… Family ko thank you...” The words felt heavy in his mouth, his tone hesitant and unsure, as if testing their meaning. His heart clenched as the weight of those words echoed in his mind—family, a bond he yearned to trust fully but often felt disconnected from. 

Manisha noticed his inner turmoil and stepped forward, enveloping him in a warm, motherly hug. “It’s okay, Armaan,” she said softly, her embrace giving him a fleeting moment to let his guards down. For a brief second, he allowed himself to lean into the comfort, the warmth soothing his frayed nerves. 

Manisha pulled back slightly, looking him in the eye. “We’ll take care of Abhira. I promise you that. You focus on what you need to do, and we’ll handle things here.” 

Armaan nodded, his throat tight as he whispered, “Thank you, Chachi Sa.” 

Manisha smiled and gave his arm a reassuring squeeze before walking away. 

Gathering himself, Armaan walked back to his room. He pushed the door open and stepped inside quietly. His eyes immediately fell on Abhira, who lay sleeping on the bed. Charu and Kiara sat beside her on the bed, their expressions watchful and concerned. Krish and Aaryan were also in the room sitting on the couch scrolling throught theor phones, their quiet presence offering a sense of protection. 

Armaan approached the bed, his gaze fixed on Abhira. He noticed the rashes on her arms had started to fade, and the swelling seemed to have gone down. His hand hovered hesitantly over her face, the urge to touch her and ensure she was truly okay overwhelming him. But he stopped himself, pulling his hand back before it could reach her. 

His heart ached at the sight of her, vulnerable and unwell, and the realization that he couldn’t stay by her side stung deeply. Turning to the others, he said softly, “Stay with her. Keep an eye on her, and if anything—anything at all—happens, call me immediately.” 

The chorus gang nodded solemnly, their silent promise to look after Abhira giving him a small measure of reassurance. 

With a final glance at Abhira, Armaan picked up his office bag and walked out of the room, his shoulders heavy with responsibility. But the sight of her resting peacefully, surrounded by people who cared, gave him the strength to step away, even if his heart remained firmly tethered to her side.

As Armaan’s retreating figure disappeared down the hallway, the chorus gang exchanged glances, a shared sense of unease settling over them. Charu sighed deeply, glancing at Abhira, who lay asleep on the bed, her breathing slow and steady. 

“This family,” Charu began, her voice low but laced with frustration, “sometimes I feel it’s just so unfair to them.” 

Kiara nodded, folding her arms as she leaned against the bedpost. “It’s like no matter what they do, it’s never enough. Armaan Bhai is always burdened with expectations, and Abhira Bhabhi… she’s treated like an outsider, even when she’s done nothing but try to be a part of this family.” 

Krish sat cross-legged on the sofa, fiddling with the hem of his shirt. “I don’t get it. They both deserve so much better. Armaan Bhai just wanted to be here for Bhabhi today, and yet… he had to leave, all because of some unnecessary sense of duty.” 

Aryan, sitting beside him, frowned. “And the way Dadi Sa and Vidya Chachi treat Abhira Bhabhi—it’s downright cruel. She’s not just a part of this family; she’s one of the strongest people here. But they always find a way to make her feel small.” 

Charu’s expression softened as her gaze returned to Abhira. “And she doesn’t even complain. She just… takes it all. Just like Armaan Bhai has been all these years.” 

Kiara’s jaw tightened. “It’s like they don’t see how much she’s done for this family. She’s constantly trying to keep the peace, to fit in. But what does she get in return? Taunts, blame, and humiliation.” 

Krish shook his head. “And Armaan Bhai… you can see how much it hurts him. He doesn’t say it, but you can feel it. He’s torn between his love for Bhabhi and his sense of responsibility to this family.” 

Aryan leaned back against the wall, his expression contemplative. “It’s not right. They’re both fighting battles they shouldn’t have to fight—especially not with their own family.” 

Charu placed a hand on Kiara’s shoulder. “But we’re here. For both of them. And if this family can’t see what they’re worth, then we’ll make sure they don’t feel alone.” 

The group nodded in agreement, their resolve firm. They looked at Abhira again, her figure peaceful yet vulnerable, and silently vowed to stand by her and Armaan, no matter what the family threw their way.

________

In the kitchen, Ruhi stood beside Vidya and Kajal as they prepared lunch. She stirred a bowl of curry half-heartedly, her agitation evident in her stiff posture. The morning’s events still weighed heavily on her mind, the sting of humiliation and Armaan’s stern warning to stay away from Abhira fueling her anger. 

Ruhi forced a smile and started a casual conversation, her tone light but laced with an undercurrent of frustration. “Buwa Sa, Maa, tell me about your pehli rasoi. How was it?” 

Vidya’s face softened at the memory, and she chuckled. “Oh, it was such a wonderful day. Everyone praised my halwa. Maa Sa even said it was the best she’d ever had.” 

Kajal chimed in with a grin. “Mine was memorable too. Sanjay Ji helped me make the laddoos because I was so nervous, and they turned out perfect!” 

Ruhi’s expression darkened momentarily before she forced another smile. “It’s so lovely to hear that your pehli rasois went so well. I… I feel so hurt that mine was ruined. I really wanted to do something special for the family, but…” She trailed off, her voice heavy with fake emotion. 

Vidya, her heart softening, patted Ruhi’s shoulder. “Don’t be upset, Ruhi. What happened wasn’t your fault. It’s unfortunate, but don’t let it weigh on you.” Her tone held a subtle hint of her own grudge against Abhira. 

Before Vidya could add anything else, Manisha walked into the kitchen, her sharp eyes scanning the scene. She caught Ruhi’s act immediately. “Ruhi,” she said firmly, “sometimes, before you make a fuss about things, you should try to see the other person’s side as well.” 

Vidya frowned and interrupted. “Manisha, why are you blaming Ruhi for everything? It’s not entirely her fault. Abhira could have informed her about her allergy or just refused the kheer outright.” 

“When did i taunt Ruhi Jethani Sa?” Manisha turned to Vidya, her expression unyielding. “Besides, Didn’t she refuse politely, Jethani Sa? And wasn’t it your daughter-in-law who forced a spoon into her mouth anyway?” Her tone was calm, but her words were laced with pointed sarcasm. 

Vidya’s face hardened, but she had no immediate response. Manisha pressed on, her voice taking on a softer but firm note. “Don’t take it the wrong way, Jethani Sa, but it seems you’ve made it your agenda to prove Abhira wrong in everything. Have you even looked at that girl’s hands today? Do you know what she’s been through?” 

Vidya looked at Manisha with a softened expression, guilt flickering in her eyes, but her ego refused to let her admit it. 

Manisha sighed in disapproval and moved to the fridge, pulling out a few vegetables. As she started washing them, Ruhi hesitantly spoke up. “Chachi Sa, lunch is almost ready.” 

Manisha replied curtly without looking up. “For everyone else, yes. Abhira won’t be able to eat any of this. The doctor has strictly advised against it.” 

Ruhi seized the opportunity, her voice tinged with forced remorse. “Then… I’ll make something for her. It’s my responsibility, after all. I am, in a way, to blame for her condition.” 

Manisha paused, her sharp gaze cutting through Ruhi’s facade. “That won’t be necessary. I’ll manage.” Her tone was curt, leaving no room for argument. 

Kajal, sensing the tension, quickly stepped in. “Manisha, I’ll help you. Let Bhabhi Sa and Ruhi finish the lunch.” 

Manisha nodded, silently appreciating Kajal’s intervention. She turned back to her task, her expression firm, as the undercurrent of tension lingered in the kitchen. Ruhi bit her lip, her irritation barely masked, but she said nothing further as Vidya gestured for her to continue with the preparations. 

_________

In the room, Abhira stirred slightly, her body still weak from the aftermath of the allergy. She tried to push herself into a sitting position, but her limbs felt heavy and uncooperative. Charu and Kiara immediately rushed to her side, gently helping her sit up against the pillows. 

“Are you okay, Bhabhi? Feeling any better?” Kiara asked, concern evident in her voice. 

Abhira managed a small, tired smile, nodding faintly. “A little better,” she murmured. 

Just then, Manisha entered the room, carrying a bowl of warm soup. She looked at the chorus gang with a firm but gentle expression. “You two go down for lunch. And Ask Aryaan and Krish to join as well. I’ll stay with her.” 

The duo hesitated but eventually left while Manisha sat down beside Abhira, placing the soup on the bedside table. “How are you feeling now, beta?” she asked softly, her voice filled with warmth and care. 

Abhira felt her throat tighten with emotion, overwhelmed by the unexpected display of love. She nodded slowly, her voice barely audible. “Better, Chachi Sa.” 

Manisha reached out and brushed a stray strand of hair from Abhira’s face. “Good. Do you need anything? Anything at all?” 

Abhira hesitated before whispering, “Could you… please help me to the washroom?” 

Manisha nodded immediately. “Of course, come on.” She supported Abhira carefully, helping her to the washroom and then settling her back into bed afterward. 

“Thank you,” Abhira murmured, her gratitude sincere. 

Manisha chuckled softly, teasing her. “Chup, buddhu. Family ko thank you Kaun bolta hai?” 

Abhira’s expression shifted slightly, her brows furrowing as Manisha’s words sank in. 

“Seriously, both you and your husband are the same,” Manisha continued with a playful smile. “Choti choti baaton pe thank you bolte ho. It’s like you’re competing to see who’s more polite!” 

The mention of Armaan made Abhira’s eyes dart around the room nervously. Manisha noticed and placed a comforting hand on her shoulder. “Vo Armaan had to go to the firm for some emergency. He tried to take the day off, but it wasn’t granted.” 

Abhira nodded, surprised and touched by the fact that Armaan had wanted to take the day off for her. She had not expected him to even consider taking an off today but she appreciated the fact that he tried.

Manisha picked up the bowl of soup and began feeding her, patiently waiting as Abhira took slow sips. She didn’t rush, her steady presence comforting Abhira in a way words couldn’t. 

As Abhira continued to eat, her emotions overwhelmed her, and tears welled up in her eyes. 

“Abhira kya hua beta, tu aise ro kyun rahi hai?” Manisha asked gently, her voice filled with concern. 

“I miss my mumma,” Abhira whispered, her voice breaking. 

Manisha’s heart ached at the sight of Abhira’s vulnerability. She scooted closer and pulled Abhira into a warm embrace, stroking her back soothingly. “I know, beta. But remember, you’re not alone. We’re all here for you, and your mumma’s blessings are always with you.” 

The two sat like that for a moment, sharing an unspoken bond of comfort and understanding. Manisha eventually coaxed Abhira to lie back down, tucking her in and stroking her hair until her breathing evened out. 

As Manisha was about to leave, her phone buzzed with a video call from Armaan. She answered it quickly, tilting the camera to show him a peacefully sleeping Abhira. 

On the other end, Armaan’s frown eased as he saw her. Manisha stepped out of the room, lowering her voice. “She’s okay, Armaan. She had her medicines and even had some soup. She’s sleeping now.” 

Armaan let out a sigh of relief, his gratitude evident. “Thank you, Chachi Sa. Thank you for being there.” 

Manisha smiled softly before hanging up, leaving Armaan with a small smile of his own.

_________

I

t was nearly dinner time when Armaan returned home, his shoulders sagging with exhaustion. The client meeting he had been asked to attend on behalf of Sanjay had extended much longer than expected, occupying his entire evening. As he stepped inside, the warm aroma of home-cooked food wafted through the air, mingling with the sound of clinking cutlery and lively chatter from the dining table. 

The family was gathered for dinner, all seated except for Madhav, whose absence was notable. Armaan’s gaze swept across the room, his steps faltering slightly when Vidya noticed him. 

“Armaan, you’re back!” Vidya exclaimed as she approached him with a pleasant smile. “How was your day?” 

Armaan returned her smile, “Good Maa, stressful but went just fine.”

“Acha chall dinner ready hai,” He passed her a warm smile but it faltered slightly as Vidya added cheerfully, “I made your favorite—bhindi fry also. Jaldi se aaja, sath main dinner kkarte hai.” 

His steps hesitated mid-stride. “Thanks Maa,” he replied politely, a slight stiffness in his tone. “I’ll just freshen up and check on Abhira first. Then I’ll join.” 

Vidya’s expression shifted, the warmth draining into something more neutral. “Manisha already checked on her before coming for dinner,” she said casually, her tone dismissive. “She’s fine.” 

Armaan nodded, maintaining his composure. “Still Maa, I’ll just take a moment,” he said, excusing himself politely. 

He climbed the stairs, loosening his tie and folding up the sleeves of his shirt. A sigh escaped him as he glanced back at the table, catching sight of Vidya feeding Rohit the bhindi fry with a doting smile. 

Bhindi fry—Rohit’s favorite dish. A dish Armaan never truly enjoyed eating but pretended to like because, in this household, his choices rarely mattered. The thought settled heavily in his chest. 

He looked away quickly, increasing his pace as he climbed the stairs. His footsteps echoed faintly as he reached the landing and entered the room, closing the door softly behind him. The air was quieter here, cocooned in a stillness that momentarily soothed his frayed nerves.

As Armaan stepped into the dimly lit room, his heart lurched at the sight before him. Abhira, frail and visibly struggling, was attempting to push herself off the bed. Her movements were slow and unsteady, her body betraying her strength. 

"Abhira!" he called out, his voice a mix of alarm and concern. She barely heard him, her focus fixed on standing upright. Just as her knees buckled and she began to fall forward, Armaan reached her in time, his arms wrapping securely around her. 

Her breath hitched as she leaned into his chest, her fingers clutching his shirt for support. For a moment, neither spoke, the sound of her shallow breaths filling the silence. His heart pounded against her as he held her close, his grip firm yet tender. 

"What were you thinking?" he asked softly, his voice trembling with suppressed panic. 

Abhira tilted her head up, her eyes glassy with exhaustion. "I...I was thirsty," she whispered, her words barely audible. "Aur jug mein paani nahi tha." 

Armaan pulled back slightly and helped her settle back on the bed, his brows furrowing as he looked at her in disbelief. "Jug mein paani nahi tha, toh tum Rani ki Jhansi banke khud kitchen ja rahi thi?" His voice carried an edge of exasperation, but his arms never left her. 

Even in her weakened state, Abhira couldn’t help but correct him, her voice a faint murmur. "Jhansi ki Rani..." 

He sighed deeply, shaking his head as his frustration mingled with the fear that had gripped him moments ago. "That’s not the point, Abhira!" he scolded gently, his voice rising slightly in worry. "You can’t even stand properly, and you thought it was a good idea to go to the kitchen? What if you had fallen before I got here?" 

Her lips quivered, and she lowered her gaze, her fingers twisting nervously in the blanket. "Kitna daantoge? Bas bhi karo," she mumbled, her pout tugging at his heartstrings. 

His stern expression softened instantly, and he sighed again, running a hand through his hair. "Acha okay, okay, I’m sorry," he said, his tone laced with guilt. "But don’t scare me like that again." 

Silence..

Silence that was heavy with the weight of the slight exchange. Silence that had settled the reality of the relationship back. Silence that become suffocating. Silence that exposed vulnerability and his helplessness something both of them wanted should remain hidden.

The tension lingered, but so did the unspoken emotions—his care, her gratitude, and the fragile thread of connection between them. 

Armaan cleared his throat, trying to lighten the moment. His gaze shifted to the empty water jug on the bedside table. He picked it up, lifting it slightly as he said, "Water...yes, I’ll get it refilled from the kitchen." 

As he moved toward the door, he glanced back at her. His lips curved into a faint, reassuring smile, one that held more emotions than words ever could. 

Abhira, still seated on the bed, watched him leave. Her own lips curled into a small smile, though her eyes glistened with unshed tears. The warmth of his concern and the tenderness in his actions wrapped around her like a comforting embrace, easing the ache in her heart. 

In that quiet exchange, they both found solace, the kind that only comes from knowing someone truly cares.

When Armaan returned to the room, the jug of water in his hand, his eyes immediately landed on Abhira. She was leaning against the headboard, her head slightly tilted as if the mere effort of staying upright was too much. Her cheeks were flushed, not from embarrassment or exertion, but with a redness that signaled something far more alarming. 

He hurried to her side, placing the glass on the bedside table. "Abhira," he said, his voice tinged with worry. He sat down in front of her, brushing his hand lightly against her forehead. The heat radiating from her skin made his heart skip a beat. 

"You’re burning up," he murmured, his voice trembling as panic set in. "Abhira, you’re running a fever." 

She blinked at him, her eyes glassy and unfocused. "I’m fine," she whispered, her voice weak and strained. "It’s just...a little warm." 

"Little warm?" he repeated incredulously, his tone rising in disbelief. "Abhira, you’re practically on fire!" He stood up abruptly, pacing for a moment before turning back to her. "Why didn’t you tell me you weren’t feeling well? Or anyone else for that matter?" 

She gave him a faint smile, her attempt to reassure him falling flat. "I did not want to trouble anyone" 

His jaw clenched, and he knelt beside her again, his hands gently cupping her face. "You’re not a trouble, Abhira," he said firmly, his voice thick with emotion. "You’re my.." He stopped abruptly not able to complete.

And then the reality that the two of them were living in settled upon them. A reality that was both haunting and challenging.

“Let it be Mr. Poddar?” She said as the weight of his unspoken words setlled in. 

Armaan turned away and grabbed his phone and quickly called Manisha, asking her to bring a thermometer and a damp cloth. While waiting, he pulled the comforter up to her shoulders, his fingers trembling as he tucked it around her.  

A few minutes later, Manisha entered the room with the items he’d requested. "I thought something was wrong when you called," she said, placing the thermometer in his hand. "Is it serious?" 

"She’s burning up," Armaan replied, his voice tight with worry. He gently placed the thermometer under Abhira’s tongue, his other hand resting on her forehead. 

The few seconds it took felt like an eternity to him. When the thermometer beeped, he quickly checked it—102.4°F. His heart sank further. 

"We need to bring this down," he said, his tone resolute. He took the damp cloth from Manisha and began wiping Abhira’s forehead and neck, his movements careful and deliberate. "Can you please get her some paracetamol Chachi Sa?" 

Manisha nodded and left the room, leaving Armaan alone with Abhira again. 

He sat down beside her, his hand still gently dabbing her face. "I am sry," he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper.

"Sry for what?" Abhira’s face devoid of any expression as she spoke.

"For everything that happened this morning" he said softly. 

"It doesn't matter anymore Mr. Poddar" she shot back, her brow furrowing. "This has happened so many times now that I have lost count of." She closed her eyes taking a deep breath to steady her emotions. 

"I’m sorry," he murmured again. 

"Don’t apologize when its meant to happen again Mr. Poddar" she said, her tone soft now. "Just Let it be."   

Manisha returned with the medicine, which Armaan carefully helped Abhira take. He stayed by her side as she slowly sipped the water he handed her, making sure she swallowed the medicine without any trouble. 

"You need to rest now," he said softly, hesitantly brushing her hair back from her face. 

Abhira nodded, her exhaustion evident as her body began to relax against the pillows. Armaan sat there for a while longer, his eyes fixed on her as her breathing evened out. 

As the fever persisted, he didn’t leave her side, periodically replacing the damp cloth. His worry didn’t fade, but his determination to care for her only grew stronger especially when he somewhere held himself responsible for it. 

For Armaan, in that moment, nothing else mattered. The dinner downstairs, the family chatter, and even his own exhaustion after the long day were all forgotten. His entire world had narrowed down to the frail figure of Abhira lying on the bed, her breaths uneven and her cheeks flushed with fever. 

He sat by her side, his heart aching at the sight of her vulnerability. Every ounce of his being wanted to protect her, to shield her from every discomfort, every pain for it was his responsibility as her husband, something he told himself.  

Hesitating for just a fraction of a second, he reached out and took her hand in his. His fingers intertwined with hers, trembling slightly as if seeking assurance. Her hand felt warm—too warm—but he tightened his grip, as if willing some of his strength to flow into her. 

“You’ll be okay,” he whispered softly, his voice thick with emotion. His thumb gently traced circles on the back of her hand. “We’ll both be okay… someday.” 

The words were as much for him as they were for her. A promise, a hope, a silent prayer. 

Abhira stirred slightly at the warmth of his touch, her lips parting as though she wanted to say something but didn’t have the strength. Seeing her like this shattered something inside him, but he swallowed his anguish.

In that quiet room, as Abhira drifted into a fitful sleep, Armaan whispered, "You’ll be okay. I’ll make sure of it."

*..*..*..*..*..*

Happy New Year People !!
Wish 2025 is the year for all of you. Best Wishes ✨️

New Year Update for you All.
Will try and upload Agar tum Sath Ho or the Last Part for Shadows of Heart by the Evening..

Thanks for all the love and appreciation 💕 ❤️

~TheLostSoul