Now, the next chapter after this target is completed.

Today's target -
‼️3k votes and 1k comments on this chapter.‼️
________________________________________

मना किया मैंने फिर भी
सुनी ना तूने एक मेरी
चला है तू करने यारा
वही जो तेरी है मर्जी

मेरे दिल, तू आ, तुझे
दर्द अब ना मिले
हो, आज यूँ तुझे मिलने
मोहब्बत आई है

लगता है दिल तेरी
शामत आई है

दिन का चैन, रातों की
नींदें चुराई है
लगता है दिल तेरी
शामत आई है।

_________________________________________

1 day later.

The morning air was cool, filled with the sweet scent of roses and marigolds as I stepped into the garden. The sky was a soft blue, and everything around seemed calm, almost magical. I was wearing a soft peach saree today, one that Maa had chosen for me.

It was light and simple, but its delicate embroidery made me feel beautiful, almost glowing. It was one of those rare mornings when I felt truly happy.

Adarsh, Askriti, and Maa were already there, gathered near the Tulsi plant for the pooja. Maa handed me the diya, and I performed the Tulsi Pooja with a peaceful smile. The fragrance of the incense sticks mixed with the morning breeze, making everything feel serene. When I finished, Akhilti clapped her hands softly, teasing me about how perfectly I did it this time, and Adarsh laughed, saying,

"It's so peaceful here now,"

As I turned, my eyes fell on the rose bush again. Without thinking, I reached for one of the flowers, softly pressing my lips against its petals. It felt like a small, comforting ritual now.

But as I pulled my hand back, my eyes caught the faint bandage wrapped around my palm.

I froze for a moment. The bandage was clean and freshly replaced. I didn't even notice when this happened. Last night? Adarsh? I remembered him insisting I change it after dinner and during the movie marathon.

Who did this?

He might've done it while I dozed off. Aakriti, too, had been pestering me about it, laughing and joking that she'd make me wear gloves if I kept being careless.

Last night. The thought of it made me smile. We'd stayed up late watching old comedies. Adarsh and Aakriti had made it so much fun, constantly teasing each other and dragging me into their playful arguments. I hadn't laughed so much in ages.

I remembered thinking how different they were from what I had imagined before marriage. I used to think they were high-class people who would keep their distance from me, but now they felt like family-like a brother and sister .

This morning, everything felt lighter, like a weight had lifted from my shoulders. I didn't feel out of place. I felt like I belonged.

"Bhabhi?" Adarsh called out suddenly, his voice breaking through the quiet. I turned to see him leaning against the fountain, a curious expression on his face.

"What's your favorite flower?" he asked, as casually as if he were asking about the weather.

I blinked, caught off guard by the randomness of his question. But then, a wave of excitement bubbled up inside me. Tulips. My heart instantly filled with the image of those soft, delicate petals swaying in the breeze.

"Tulips," I said, the word slipping from my lips with an almost childlike enthusiasm. "They're so beautiful, so full of life."

Adarsh tilted his head, pretending to consider my answer.

"Tulips, huh? Didn't expect that."

I laughed softly, shaking my head. "Why not? They've always been special to me. Back home, my father planted them for me every spring. It was his way of making sure I had something to look forward to, no matter how busy he was."

For a moment, my chest tightened with a bittersweet ache. I could almost see my father, his hands covered in soil, smiling as he admired the garden he had worked so hard on.

Adarsh gave me a knowing smile, one that didn't need any words.

"Tulips suit you, Bhabhi," he said, his voice softer now.

I smiled back, feeling a strange warmth settle over me. This morning I don't know why buy I feel so good. So fresh.

As I stood there, smiling faintly at Adarsh's lighthearted comment about tulips, Aakriti's voice cut through the morning air. Her tone was playful, teasing as always.

"There's something wrong with Bhai, I must say," she said, glancing toward the driveway. Her gaze followed Sidharth ji as he strode toward his car, his posture stiff, his strides deliberate. He didn't even look in our direction.

I turned my head just in time to see him. He was dressed in his usual shirt and pants, his coat slung over his arm. His face was hard, his brows drawn together in a way that made him seem angrier than I had seen him before.

Without a word or even a glance, he opened the car door, slid inside, and drove away, the engine's growl echoing in the stillness of the garden.

Aakriti let out a soft laugh, shaking her head.

"It must be some patient giving him a hard time. Bhai never leaves without saying bye to me if I'm at home. Something's definitely up," she mused, though her words carried a hint of amusement.

I didn't say anything, but my eyes stayed on the empty driveway where his car had just been. A strange sensation crept up inside me-a weight pressing against my chest. It wasn't sadness, but it wasn't quite anger either.

It was something else, something I couldn't name.

Two days. It had been two days since I had gone in front of him properly, spoken to him without letting my temper or awkwardness get in the way. And eight days since our wedding. Eight days since everything in my life changed in ways I hadn't imagined.

My mind began to spiral. Was I overdoing it? Was my avoidance unnecessary?

A part of me whispered that maybe I was. Maybe I was holding onto something that didn't even bother him. After all, Sidharth ji hadn't reacted to my anger, not once.

He hadn't said a word or tried to question me. Not even when I had gone out of my way to avoid being alone with him.

I let out a sigh, giving a sad, almost bitter smile to myself. If this marriage had happened back in my village, they wouldn't have let me sulk like this. No, they would've taught me "a good lesson" about how a wife should behave. The thought came with its own sting of sarcasm.

But this wasn't my village. This wasn't the kind of marriage I had seen growing up. And yet, here I was, trying to figure out what marriage was supposed to mean in this new world I had stepped into.

Maybe this was what it really looked like. Maybe this silence, this distance, was normal. Or maybe, I thought as I looked at the flowers swaying gently in the breeze, I was just complicating something that didn't need to be complicated.

The faintest hint of frustration bubbled within me, but I pushed it away. It didn't matter, I told myself. It didn't matter what Sidharth ji felt or didn't feel.

What mattered was how I carried myself, how I found a way to settle into this new reality.

Still, as I turned back toward Askriti and Adarsh, that weight in my chest didn't lift. It stayed, a silent reminder of the questions I didn't have the courage to ask yet.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
It was dinner time, and the kitchen was quiet. I stood there, my thoughts louder than the stillness around me. My heart felt heavy, my chest tight as I leaned against the counter. Today. Today, I had to face Sidharth ji.

There was no escaping it anymore.

Two days. Two whole days of tiptoeing around, staying in Askriti's room like it was mine. Everyone had been polite, but I could feel their unspoken questions hanging in the air. How long could this go on? I was his wife. It wouldn't look good if I stayed away every single night.

The thought sent a shiver down my spine. My hand brushed over the wound on my palm, and the bandage felt like a reminder of the mess I had made. My heart tightened with gloom, but I shook my head quickly.

"No," I muttered under my breath. "Noorie, you're not here to expect anything. No high hopes, nothing."

I straightened up, giving myself a tiny pep talk. "You'll go. You'll handle it. You're not weak." It was silly, but it helped. For a moment, I almost believed it.

Determined to distract myself, I reached up to the cabinet above. The pot I needed was stuck, wedged behind something else. I tugged at it, but it didn't budge. I stood on my toes, pulling harder when a warm voice startled me.

"Beta, let me help."

I turned quickly to see Maa entering the kitchen. Her gentle smile instantly put me at ease. She stepped closer, carefully gripping the pan and pulling it free with just enough force to avoid making a mess.

"Sometimes," she said, still holding the pan, "we have to use a little pressure to get things to work our way." She set it down on the counter, brushing her hands together.

"What's ours is ours. And if it's stuck, we either fight for it or take it back. But leaving it... that's never an option."

Her words hung in the air, heavy with a meaning I didn't fully want to face. She wasn't just talking about the pan. I know

I nodded, unsure of what to say. My heart felt like it had skipped a beat, and I focused on the countertop instead of her eyes.

"Do you understand?" she asked gently, her hand resting on my shoulder.

I nodded again, more firmly this time. "Yes, Maa."

Her smile grew, and she patted my shoulder before leaving the kitchen. I stood there for a moment, processing her words. They had hit somewhere deep, but I didn't have the courage to address it, not yet.

I took a slow breath and looked at the pot she had freed. Maa's words echoed in my mind as I turned to finish what I was doing.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
The mansion was silent. A quiet, heavy silence that felt like it could swallow me whole. I stayed in the kitchen, deliberately busying myself with small, unnecessary tasks-wiping the same clean counter, rearranging the jars that were already in perfect order. Anything to pass the time. Anything to delay.

Everyone had gone to bed long ago, even Maa. She had looked at me with a soft, knowing expression, urging me to rest. I smiled faintly and insisted,

"Just a little more. I'll go after this." Now, even her footsteps had faded into the distance, and I was alone.

I glanced at the clock. The faint ticking was the only reminder that time was still moving. It was 11. The chime echoed softly through the stillness, startling me. My heart sank. Two hours of pretending to be busy, and still, I hadn't found the courage to go.

The dim kitchen light flickered, casting shadows that felt larger than they should. Outside, the occasional hoot of an owl and the rustling of trees added to the unease. My trembling fingers ran along the edge of the counter, seeking some sort of comfort.

I couldn't delay anymore. I knew that. He must have fallen asleep by now. Surely, he wouldn't be awake, waiting.

Taking a deep breath, I decided to check on Aakriti first. I didn't know why, but after everything, the need to make sure she was okay gnawed at me. Maybe it was an excuse, maybe not.

I padded softly through the dark hallway, stopping in front of her door. My fingers hesitated before I reached out, barely brushing the wood. Just as I touched it, a sudden, firm grip closed around my forearm.

Large fingers, warm and strong, wrapped tightly, pulling me back with a quick, startling force. Before I could react, I collided with something hard. My chest hit against a broad, unyielding surface. The faint scent of musk filled the air around me, dizzying and unmistakably familiar.

My breath hitched, and I froze, my mind blank.
.
.
.
.
.
.
Sidharth's pov.

The door creaked softly as I pushed it open. The faint click of the latch echoed in the silence, but the moment I stepped inside, irritation clawed its way up my spine.

I shut the door behind me with more force than necessary, exhaling sharply through my nose. My hand raked through my hair, and my jaw clenched tight.

Fuck.

There was nothing. No sandalwood. No, Jasmine. No faint, lingering trace of her. The room smelled blank-like wood polish and still air. It hit me like a punch to the gut, the realization of what I wasn't searching for, something I was craving without even meaning to.

Fuck. Fuck.

My eyes scanned the room, and then they landed on it. The fucking cherry pillow on the sofa. Its obnoxiously bright color sat there, mocking me. My irritation flared hotter, burning through the edges of my control.

I strode toward it, each step deliberate and heavy. Reaching down, I grabbed the pillow and hurled it across the room. It thudded against the wall before flopping lifelessly to the floor.

My jaw tightened further. Why the hell did that ugly thing be here, not her?

Why the hell does it bother me so much?

I didn't have an answer-not one I was willing to admit to myself, anyway. All I knew was that my mood had been soured the second I saw it, sitting there like some kind of placeholder, a reminder of her absence.

The silence in the room pressed down on me. My fists curled at my sides, and I let out a low, controlled breath, dragging the anger back into its box. It was ridiculous.

A goddamn pillow shouldn't have this kind of effect on me.

But here I was, standing in an empty room, feeling like something vital was missing.

I sank onto the bed, the mattress dipping beneath my weight as I leaned back, resting my head against the headboard. The tension in my shoulders refused to ease, and my jaw ached from being clenched for too long.

Closing my eyes, I willed myself to calm down. But the silence of the room was deafening, broken only by the faint ticking of the clock. She's not here. Again. The thought slipped through before I could stop it, bringing with it a strange hollowness I didn't want to name.

And then, there it was. A soft chhan-chhan from somewhere outside the room. My eyes snapped open, but I didn't move. My heart gave a small flutter-barely there, almost insignificant.

What the hell is this now? I dismissed it instantly, shoving it down where it belonged.

I lay back, feigning sleep, as I heard the faint creak of the door. My nostrils flared, catching the scent that wafted in-a mix of sandalwood and jasmine. It curled around me, threading through the still air, and, inexplicably, a wave of calm washed over me.

But it wasn't just calm. It was something heavier, deeper, something I didn't dare put a name to.

The soft patter of her anklets grew louder. I kept my eyes closed, focusing on her movements. She was near the sofa now. I could feel her presence, hear the faint rustle of her dupatta as she moved.

And then she picked it up-the damn pillow.

My brows furrowed, irritation prickling at my skin again. That cherry-pilllow monstrosity had been mocking me all night, and now she was cradling it in her arms like it deserved to be there.

My jaw tightened, teeth grinding against each other. My eyes remained shut, but in my mind, I could see her perfectly-her delicate fingers clutching that pillow, her head tilted slightly as she murmured something under her breath.

Her voice-soft, sweet, and carrying an unintentional melody-reached me like the first notes of a forgotten song. After a full day without it, hearing her speak, even in murmurs, felt like an ache I didn't know I had was suddenly soothed.

What is this voice of hers? It wasn't just words; it was a warmth that crept under my skin, a quiet hum that settled in my chest. I hated how much I noticed it.

She shifted, and through my barely opened lashes, I caught her face illuminated by the moonlight streaming through the window. Her features, bathed in silvery light, looked serene, her lips curving slightly as she murmured again. The smile wasn't for me, but the sight of it tugged at something inside.

Why the hell is she smiling at that thing?

She bent down to pick up a cloth from the sofa, her fingers brushing against the fabric with careful precision. My chest tightened as I waited-would she stay here now? Would she sit down?-but she turned on her heel and walked toward the door.

The irritation returned, sharper this time, burning through me like wildfire.

Fuck.

My hand clenched into a fist against the sheets. I wanted to call her back, to demand she stay, to ask why the hell she was walking away again.

But I didn't move. I didn't say a word. Instead, I lay there, eyes burning with anger I refused to name, my jaw clenched so tightly it felt like it might snap.

The door clicked shut behind her, and the silence returned.

And just like yesterday, she left & I was left to wonder in silence I grew up with, but now it was bothering me.

My chest heaved with the weight of unsaid words, unacknowledged feelings.

Fuck. Fuck. FUCK.

I hated this. Hated the way her absence gnawed at me, hated the way her presence soothed me, hated the way my anger always found its way back to her.

And yet, I knew I'd wait for her scent to fill this room again.

The room was silent, but my thoughts weren't. They were loud, restless, and damn near unbearable. I lay on the bed, one arm draped over my forehead, staring at nothing. My breathing was steady, but everything inside me felt... wrong. Unsettled.

What the hell is happening to me?

This marriage was supposed to be simple. A compromise. A duty I performed because it was necessary. I didn't think twice about it-I never do. I walked into it, knowing exactly what it meant and exactly what it didn't.

It wasn't supposed to mean her.

I closed my eyes, but her face was there. That faint smile she had earlier, the way the moonlight caught on her cheekbones, softened her edges. It was etched into my mind now, as if some part of me was determined to hold on to it, no matter how much I tried to shove it away.

And her voice... that quiet murmur from earlier. It wasn't even meant for me, but it clung to me all the same.

Fuck.

I gritted my teeth, my hand curling into a fist against the bed. How does she do this? Barely a few days, and she's already... No.

She hasn't done anything.

She hasn't. She's just... Noor. Quiet. Obedient. Proper. The kind of woman who wouldn't so much as step out of line. She's everything this family wanted, everything I needed in a wife on paper.

And yet, here I am. Lying here like a fool, thinking about her smile.

This isn't me. It never has been. My heart-I locked that part of me away a long time ago. It doesn't feel. It doesn't crave. And it sure as hell doesn't thaw for anyone.

Does it?

The thought came unbidden, making my chest tighten with an unfamiliar ache.

No. Whatever this is, it's nothing. Just... proximity. Adjustment. That's all. She's not getting in. She can't. I won't let her.

I shifted on the bed, running a hand through my hair. It's good that she's keeping her distance. It's better this way-for her and for me. She doesn't need to be dragged into whatever mess I am.

I let out a slow breath, trying to convince myself that I believed it. That it wasn't a lie.

She deserves someone whole. Not someone like me.

And yet, despite every rational thought, my chest tightened at the memory of her voice. Quiet. Gentle. Like she didn't even know the chaos she was leaving behind.

"It's good she's staying away," I muttered under my breath, as if saying it aloud would make it true. "Distance is better. For both of us."

The words sounded solid, firm, like I meant them.

But deep down, I wasn't so sure.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.

Next morning

The morning sun filtered through the curtains as I stepped out of the bathroom, dragging a towel across my damp hair. My shirt clung to my skin, and the faint scent of soap lingered in the air. I moved toward the wardrobe, my steps slowing when my eyes caught the sofa.

Empty.

The clothes she used to place there, neatly folded, were gone. It had been two days since she last did it. Two days since I'd seen her properly. Not counting that fleeting moment in the garden, where she'd been laughing with my mother. A sound that hadn't left my mind, no matter how much I tried to drown it in silence.

I gritted my teeth.

Two days-and yet, somehow, she'd managed to upend every carefully laid boundary I'd built. My hand rested on the edge of the sofa for a second longer than I intended, my fingers curling into a fist.

Last night had been a disaster. Restless hours spent staring at the ceiling, the faintest whisper of her presence haunting the room. I hadn't slept. Not properly. Not the way I had when she was there.

I straightened, shaking my head as though the motion would dislodge the thoughts. It didn't. Instead, they dug deeper.

"Get a grip," I muttered under my breath, yanking on my shirt with sharper movements than necessary.

But even as I buttoned it, the lingering frustration refused to leave. It simmered just beneath the surface, threatening to boil over at the smallest provocation.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.

The sound of her laughter stopped me in my tracks as I stepped outside.

Soft, melodic, and infuriatingly warm.

Noor

My first instinct was to keep walking. Ignore it. Move on. Focus on the day ahead. But my feet betrayed me, moving of their own accord toward the courtyard.

I found myself leaning against the cool stone of the wall, just out of sight. My breath slowed, my chest tightening as her voice reached me again. She was standing there with my brother, her face lit by a smile I hadn't seen in days.

"Bhabhi? What's your favorite flower?"

"Tulips."

The word was barely a whisper, but it slammed into me with the force of a hammer.

Why the hell am I listening to this?

I clenched my jaw, my hands curling into fists at my sides. The softness of her voice-the way it lingered in the air-only added to the irritation bubbling inside me.

But what caught my attention was the soft smile. The smile I haven't seen till now.

The smile, it was like she was rewarding the flowers for blooming this good.

I dragged a hand through my hair, exhaling sharply.

"Fuck," I muttered under my breath.

"What the hell am I doing?"

The sound of their conversation faded as I turned on my heel, my steps quick and deliberate as I walked toward the car.

The frustration wouldn't leave. It clung to me like a second skin, making my movements sharper, my breath heavier.

I yanked open the car door, loosening the first two buttons of my shirt as I slid into the driver's seat. My hand ran through my hair again, rough and impatient.

Tulips.

She loves tulips.

I shook my head, the tension in my chest refusing to ease. Get her out of your head, Sidharth. You don't have time for this.

But no matter how hard I tried, the memory of her smile refused to fade.

And for the very first time in 15 years, I felt a warmth, a warm feeling like I was wrapping myself into a blanket of something I forgot a long ago.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.

The faint buzz of my phone pulled me out of the quiet stillness of my cabin. I glanced at the screen, my friends' group chat lighting up with a message.

Vikram:

"Horse farm. Afternoon. Be there."

I tapped the phone screen to clear the notification. Vikram's timing was, as always, impeccable.

I exhaled sharply, the kind of sigh that comes when you know something's true but don't want to admit it. It had been weeks since I'd gone.

Longer than I cared to count. The thought of being around the horses again stirred something in me-a small flicker of relief, maybe-but I shoved it aside.

The drive to the farm was quick, the roads familiar. The scent of earth, leather, and the faint musk of horses hit me the moment I stepped out of the car. It was grounding, almost jarring in its simplicity.

As I walked toward the stables, I caught sight of my horse, Viraj. His coat glistened in the afternoon sun, the deep chestnut color reminding me of polished mahogany. He was waiting, his head held high like he knew I'd come.

My fingers brushed against his muzzle, and he snorted softly in response, the warmth of his breath tickling my skin. This... this was the closest I ever came to shutting it all out.

Not peace-no, peace was too far-fetched. But when I was with him, riding him, it was as if the weight of the past didn't matter. The constant hum of my thoughts dulled.

I saddled him myself, the familiar movements calming my restless hands. My mind, however, wasn't so cooperative.

The past had a way of clawing its way back, no matter how fast I rode. The betrayals. The hollow promises. The walls I'd built over time, ones that kept everyone at bay. Everyone but...

I stopped myself. My jaw clenched. Noor. Her name lingered like a whisper in my head, uninvited yet persistent. I forced myself to focus on the task at hand, but there it was again, a thought breaking through:

There's something about her...

The words didn't form fully in my mind, and I didn't want them to. Shooking my head I focused on Viraj.

"At least you don't confuse me ," I muttered, the corners of my mouth twitching in the ghost of a smile.

The quiet didn't last long.

A familiar car was parked by the farmhouse-a sleek, black vehicle that spoke of wealth and heritage. I recognized it instantly.

Vikram.

He stood by the paddock, tall and imposing. His posture carried the same unyielding seriousness I'd always associated with him.

A royal, the next in line for Rajasthan's old throne, is now a modern king in the business world. He was the kind of man who spoke sparingly but carried weight in every word.

But today, there was something different in his demeanor. A hint of calm, maybe even contentment. It was subtle, almost imperceptible, but I knew him too well to miss it.

He walked as I approached, his usual unreadable expression softening slightly. It wasn't a smile, not quite, but close enough for Vikram.

"Busy day?" I asked, raising a brow.

He nodded, his voice steady but low. "Like yours."

There wasn't much to say, and we didn't need to. Vikram wasn't the kind of man who needed conversation to fill the space.

Still, there was an unspoken understanding between us-one I couldn't put into words even if I tried.

The rest could wait. For now, the silence between us said enough.

The sound of boots crunching on gravel grew faint as Vikram moved closer. I leaned slightly against Viraj, my hand still resting on the horse's sturdy neck. Vikram stood tall, a subtle air of authority surrounding him, though his face carried that perpetual seriousness he was known for.

"Still with Viraj," he remarked, his tone even but laced with an unspoken familiarity.

I smirked faintly. "And you're still with Agni."

He gave a curt nod, but there was a flicker of something-approval, maybe. Agni was Vikram's pride, a jet-black horse with unmatched speed and a temper that mirrored his owner.

As we walked toward the open paddock, Vikram adjusted his gloves, his movements precise and unhurried. For a man whose life was wrapped in royalty and business, he had a way of commanding attention without uttering a word.

We mounted our horses, and the leather reins firm in my grip. Viraj moved with practiced grace, the familiar rhythm easing some of the tension that had coiled in me earlier. Vikram rode silently beside me, his expression unreadable as always.

Minutes passed, and the quiet between us grew comfortable. Vikram wasn't one to fill silence with unnecessary chatter, much like myself. Yet, after a while, he broke it, his deep voice cutting through the crisp air.

"Abhimanyu's still out of the country?" he said, his tone carefully neutral.

I glanced at him briefly. "Yes,"

"Veer?," Vikram added, his eyes on me now.

Abhimanyu-Our best friend & the man who could laugh through storms and smile in the face of chaos. A criminal lawyer by profession, he thrived in high-pressure situations, his charm disarming everyone around him. But I knew better. Beneath that exterior was a man who carried his own storms, much like the rest of us.

"They'll return soon," I said after a pause.

"Hope so"

I didn't respond immediately, instead focusing on the horizon. Abhimanyu's absence had been noticeable, though I wouldn't admit it aloud. When he did come back, it wouldn't be without a story-good or bad, I couldn't say.

"How's the family handling it?" I asked, my voice steady.

Vikram smirked faintly, a dry, almost sarcastic edge to it. "You know how they are."

That was enough. We didn't need to elaborate.

For the next hour, we rode in silence, the wind brushing past and the rhythmic beat of hooves grounding me. Viraj responded to my every move, his trust in me absolute. The world seemed far away in those moments-distant and insignificant.

Finally, Vikram pulled Agni to a stop, the horse snorting softly as it pawed the ground.

"You're quieter than usual," he remarked, his sharp gaze on me.

I raised a brow. "And you're talkative."

He let out a short laugh, one that reached his eyes. "Maybe."

I didn't push further. With Vikram, I never did.

He knows too when not to push me further.

We rode for another hour, the silence between us as unspoken as the bond we shared. It wasn't about words. It never had been.

This-this is enough.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.

The gentle rhythm of hooves against the ground filled the air as we rode side by side. Vikram had been different today, his sharp gaze fixed ahead.

It wasn't uncommon for us to go long stretches without a word, but there was something about his silence today-something different.

It wasn't comfortable but like he was waiting so he could speak.

And it was Vikram who finally spoke.

"How's life now, Sidharth?" His voice low but his eyes ahead. Hearing him, I didn't say anything. I don't need to lie or explain anything to him.

He understands.

"You hold on too tightly, Sidharth," he said, his tone low but deliberate.

"To the past, to things that can't be undone."

I glanced at him, narrowing my eyes slightly. "And you don't?"

He smirked, a flicker of his usual self peeking through. "I did. For years. Until I realized it only weighs you down."

I didn't respond immediately, letting his words settle. Vikram was many things-blunt, stoic, and unyielding-but introspective? That was new.

"Not everything can be let go of so easily," I said, my voice steady.

"It's not about letting go. It's about accepting," Vikram replied, his gaze turning distant.

"What's done is done. The question is whether you'll let it define you."

"Whether you let it decide your future"

I didn't like where this conversation was headed. Vikram rarely ventured into personal territory, and when he did, it was usually laced with sarcasm or a sharp wit. But this-this felt different.

"You know it's not easy?" I asked, keeping my tone neutral.

"Stop fighting it, bhai. Life doesn't ask for permission before it changes. You adapt, or you lose," Vikram said simply.

His words struck a chord, though I wouldn't admit it. My grip on Viraj's reins tightened slightly, and for a brief moment, Noor's face flashed in my mind. Her quiet presence, her patience-it was as though she understood without needing to say a word.

"Since when did you become a philosopher?" I asked, attempting to deflect.

Vikram let out a short laugh, one devoid of its usual sharpness. "Since I realized holding on doesn't make you strong. Moving forward does."

I raised a brow.

"This coming from the man who, four months ago, told me to prepare divorce papers the moment he was done with his marriage?"

I remember the old Vikram. If it was old him, he would have gifted me divorce papers as my wedding gift.

It must be Roshni bhabhi, after whatever happened with him. She truly came into his life as her name.

Vikram didn't flinch, though a faint smile tugged at his lips.

"Time changes people. Circumstances do, too. "

I studied him for a moment, noting the subtle shift in his demeanor. The Vikram I had known for years was still there-sharp, commanding, and untouchable-but there was something softer now, hidden beneath the surface.

"You're not the same," I said quietly, almost to myself.

"Neither are you," Vikram countered. "Maybe it's time to stop pretending otherwise."

I didn't respond, my thoughts wandering again to Noor. Her presence in my life was unexpected, almost intrusive at first, yet now it felt... necessary. As much as I hated to admit it, Vikram's words hit closer to home than I cared to acknowledge.

We rode in silence for a while, the weight of the conversation lingering between us. Finally, Vikram slowed Agni to a stop and turned to me, his expression unreadable.

"Think about it," he said simply before nudging Agni forward.

I watched him go, a faint smirk playing on my lips. "Since when did you become the wise one?" I muttered under my breath.

But as I urged Viraj forward, Vikram's words stayed with me.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.

The door clicked shut behind me, the familiar silence of the house greeting me like an old, unwelcome friend. But today, it felt different.

The emptiness of the house seemed more oppressive, more suffocating than usual. The scent I had come to associate with her-her warmth, her presence-was gone. It had been replaced with nothing. I stood there for a moment, letting the weight of the absence settle over me. It was a cruel reminder.

I took a step into the room, my gaze falling on the cherry pillow sitting innocently on the sofa, its softness mocking me. Without thinking, my fist clenched around the edge of the cushion, and I threw it across the room. It hit the far wall with a muffled thud.

My eyes lingered on the pillow, but my thoughts quickly veered toward the conversation I had with Vikram earlier. His words kept echoing in my head, growing louder with every passing minute. Move on.

Accept the past. Accept what's coming. Could I really do that?

Could I really forget everything, and let it all slip away like water through my fingers?

I moved toward the window, the chill of the glass seeping into my bones. My reflection stared back at me-tall, imposing. I had always known I had a presence that commanded attention.

At 6'3", my body was built with sharp, defined features-muscles honed from years of discipline, a stature that made others instinctively take a step back.

My blue eyes, piercing and intense, glinted in the dim light, brighter against the night's backdrop. Even the darkness couldn't hide their glow, their icy intensity that always kept others at bay.

I hate them. They reminded me of her.

People would describe me as serious, composed, untamable, and untouchable.

I am uncontrollable, a untamed mess.

But tonight, that mask felt fragile.

I was restless. My mind churned with questions, doubts, and emotions I didn't want to acknowledge. I closed my eyes, letting the memory of this morning flood me-her smile, warm and genuine, breaking through the coldness I had wrapped myself in for so long.

For a brief moment, I felt something I hadn't in years-a flicker of warmth in a heart that had long been numb. It had been fifteen years since I'd felt anything remotely close to this.

Is it possible?

I thought. Is it possible to move on?

To feel something, anything, again?

Is it possible for me to feel these?

I could feel the weight of her absence in this room, in the house, in the space that should have been filled with her, with her presence. I looked around, my eyes scanning the empty corners.

It shouldn't affect me. But it was.

The quiet walls felt suffocating, and yet, they were silent. There was nothing of her essence, nothing that tied her to this place.

Only cold, sterile emptiness.

Something I used to love, but in just a few days of our marriage, it changed.

I ran a hand through my hair, slipping it into my pocket as I stood by the window. My posture was still perfect and controlled.

The world outside was quiet, the streets dim, much like the thoughts swirling in my mind. I should have been more at peace with all this, more accepting of the way things had turned out. But I couldn't shake the restlessness gnawing at my insides.

The craving for the peace I'd once had with her, when she was near me, still lingered deep in my chest. It was a quiet peace, a peace I hadn't known I needed until it slipped away.

Do I need her? My thoughts screamed, and yet, I knew the answer before I could even finish asking the question. I needed her.

I could still feel the warmth of her smile, still hearing her soft voice echoing in the back of my mind.

My pulse quickened, the yearning for her, for the peace she brought me, overwhelming. The longing, the need-it was real.

And it was growing stronger by the second.

I had been fighting it for too long. Fighting the pull, the craving. But now, standing here, the weight of the silence pressing down on me, I couldn't fight it anymore. I couldn't ignore the truth that was burning inside me.

My mind was set. There was only one thing I needed now: peace. And peace was with her.

Her absence felt like a wound in my chest, and I couldn't bear it any longer.

The silence around me deepened. My heart began to race, and the room felt even emptier. There was no trace of her. No scent, no sound.

I stood there, still. Calm. Composed. A man who did not give in to emotions, a man who was always in control. But tonight, control felt like a lie. A lie I'd been telling myself for too long.

She is mine.

The thought came again, stronger this time.

She belonged to me.

Without another thought, I turned from the window, my movements sharp and decisive. I didn't care what she would think, but I didn't care about the consequences.

I moved through the room, each step deliberate, measured. The floor beneath my feet creaked softly, but it felt loud in the stillness. I wasn't in a rush. I never was.

But right now, I needed her.

I turned toward the hallway, my hand slipping into my pocket, the familiar coolness of the fabric grounding me for a moment. It wasn't enough. Not anymore.

Every step brought me closer to the truth, a truth I had been avoiding for months. But the truth no longer seemed like a burden.

It was what I craved.

I reached her door, my heart steady, my mind clear. I didn't knock. I didn't need to.

And there she was.

My wife.

The two words felt like they belonged to me, like they were my claim, my dominance.

I stood there for a moment, staring at her. It wasn't just the physical presence that mattered. It was deeper than that.

And tonight, I wasn't going to deny myself any longer. With a determined face & a restless heart which creavd nothing but my wife's presence I walked toward her.

Perhaps there's nothing wrong with feeling things. Perhaps I can feel again, too.

"Noor..."

I whispered under my breath, the word feeling like the first breath of air after being submerged for too long.

My wife.
_________________________________________

How was the chapter? Hope you'll
like it!

Thoughts about Sidharth?
Thoughts about noor?

Any favorite moments from this chapter? Do comment.

So, if you're curious to read further, the next 5 chapters are already up on ScrollStack! All you need to do is follow me there, and you'll always be a few chapters ahead as I have planned that this book will be 5 chapters ahead on scrollstack than on wattpad.

And a little spoiler from chapter 21-

It's already uploaded on my stck ID.(It's paid)

╰┈➤Follow me on Instagram & scrollstack for spolier and early updates.