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इश्क़ दे फ़नियार लड़ गए,
मेरी जान के पीछे पड़ गए।
सीधी लाके देखो मेरे,
दिल की छत पे चढ़ गए।

सौ-सौ आवाज़ें मारे अखियाँ,
मारे अखियाँ, मारे अखियाँ।
उसे नीचे छत से उतारे अखियाँ,
उतारे अखियाँ, उतारे अखियाँ।

सौ-सौ आवाज़ें मारे अखियाँ,
इक उसका नाम पुकारे।
सोहने रंग दे माहिया,
तेरे ही जैसे लगते हैं सारे।
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I walked back to the room, the tray with tea steady in my hands, though my heart was anything but. The memory of the last time I made tea for him still haunted me-the salt instead of sugar, the way his brows had furrowed ever so slightly before he drank it anyway.

He hadn't said much that day-He said nothing, but the teasing reminder he gave me just now was enough to turn my cheeks red every time I thought about it.

As I pushed open the door, my heart accelerated as I stepped inside cautiously, half expecting to see him waiting. But the room was quiet, and I noticed the bathroom door was shut. A part of me felt a relief-less chance of fumbling in front of him again-and yet, the silence made me restless.

I walked to the small table by the bed and placed the tea there, carefully covering the cup with the saucer so it wouldn't get cold. What now? Should I leave? Stay? I had no idea if he even knew I had brought the tea yet.

My eyes wandered, and they stopped at the wardrobe. Without thinking, my feet moved toward it, a strange habit I hadn't realized I had developed.

My hand reached out to open the door, and I caught the familiar scent of his clothes as it swung open.

I hesitated, fingers trembling as they hovered over a neatly folded shirt. My mind whispered the same thing it always did-he never wears the clothes you pick out for him.

I pulled my hand back, the truth stinging more than it should. A small promise I had made to myself came flooding back: I wouldn't do this anymore.

Just as I turned to close the wardrobe, I heard the soft click of the bathroom door opening. My breath caught as I turned around, my eyes landing on him.

There he was, hair damp, droplets of water sliding down his chest. He wore nothing but a towel around his waist, the fabric resting low on his hips. My heart betrayed me, thundering loud enough that I worried he might hear it.

His eyes met mine, and for a second, I couldn't move. My face grew warm, my cheeks tinting with a blush I couldn't hide.

"C-Chai rakhi hai," I stammered, my voice barely steady as I gestured to the table. The words felt clumsy, almost ridiculous, as they left my mouth. Without waiting for a reply, I spun around, nearly tripping over myself in my haste to leave the room.

The door clicked shut behind me, but my heart continued its frantic pace. My palms were damp, and I pressed them against my saree to calm myself. It's just Sidharth ji, I tried to tell myself. But the truth?

He was never "just Sidharth ji" to me.

My heart was beating fast again. The kind of fast that made my hands unsteady and my breath feel short. I had tried to calm myself after leaving the room, but every time I thought of him of how he had looked-it all came rushing back.

I busied myself in the kitchen, pretending the tray needed arranging even though everything was already in its place. My saree's pallu felt heavier than usual, and I kept adjusting it, trying to keep myself occupied. Why am I like this?

Hey bhagwan!

I thought, shaking my head at myself.

I paused near the stove, my hands brushing over the counter. Just for a moment, I let myself smile. His face came back to my mind-his calm, serious face.

There was something about it that made my chest feel light and heavy at the same time.

Before I could think further, Maa's voice called me from outside.

"Noor beta! Tulsi puja ke liye chale?"

(Noor beta! Let's go for the holy basil prayer.)

I quickly wiped my hands and walked out. Maa's stood waiting for me near the garden, her hands holding a small thali with a diya and flowers. She looked at me with a kind smile, the sort of smile that always made me feel welcome in this house.

We walked to the Tulsi plant, and I helped her with the puja. Maa's murmured the prayers softly, and I followed her lead, trying my best to keep up. I wasn't as used to rituals like these, but Maa's patience always made it easy for me.

When we finished, she gave me a light pat on the shoulder. "Good girl," she said, her tone warm.

I stayed in the garden as she walked back inside, my eyes wandering to the flowers. It was my favorite part of the day-this little escape into the greenery. My fingers reached out to touch a bunch of jasmine flowers, their petals soft and fresh with dew.

"Bahu Rani"

I turned to see Kaka, the gardener, walking toward me with his usual cheerful grin. He was an old man, his back slightly bent but his energy as lively as a child's.

"How's my garden today? Sundar lag raha hai na?"

( How's my garden today? It's looking beautiful, isn't it?)

I smiled at him, nodding.

"Bahut sundar."

( Very beautiful)

He chuckled, adjusting his cap.

"If there's any flower you want, just tell me. Everyone in this haveli has their own flower here. Aapke liye bhi laga denge."

( If there's any flower you want, just tell me. Everyone in this mansion has their own flower here. I'll plant one for you, too.)

My mind wandered for a moment. Tulips. It's my favorite flower. I had always loved their bright colors and soft, elegant shapes. I hesitated, glancing at the rows of flowers already blooming around me. Would it be too much to ask?

Finally, I gathered the courage to say it.

"Yha ek bhi tulips nahi h.Kya yahan tulips laga sakte hain? Mujhe bahut pansnd h"

(There aren't any tulips hereCan you plant tulips here? I love them a lot.)

Kaka's grin widened, and he gave me a small salute.

"Hukum karo, Bahu Rani! Tulips toh kya, chaand taaron ka baag bhi laga denge."

( Just give the order, Bahu Rani! Forget tulips, I can plant a garden of stars and moon if you want.)

I laughed softly at his words, my heart feeling lighter. But then, as I glanced back at him, a strange feeling washed over me.

Someone was watching.

I looked around, my smile fading as I searched the area. The garden was empty, only the sound of birds filling the air. Still, I couldn't shake the feeling.

And then I saw around From where I stood. My throat felt dry as my eyes lingered around. No one was there-at least not now-but the feeling of being watched stayed with me.
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"Ghar kitna shant hai na. Jab bari chachi nahi hoti."

( The house is so peaceful when Chachi isn't here.)

Aakriti's voice rang through the room, her usual playful tone making it hard for anyone not to smile. I couldn't help but chuckle softly, trying to hide it as I stirred the pot of dal on the stove.

All the elders including his grandparent which I haven't meet before & his elder & younger uncle aunt are currently in their ancestors home. For doing some rituals.

Adarsh, who was lounging on the sofa nearby, immediately sat up and stretched his hand toward Aakriti for a high-five. "That's my sister!" he said with a grin.

Aakriti didn't hesitate, slapping her hand against his with a victorious smirk. I shook my head slightly, amused by their antics.

Before their laughter could grow louder, maa stepped into the room, her sari pallu neatly tucked as always. She looked at Aakriti and said firmly,

"Aisa nahi bolte."

(You shouldn't talk like that.)

Aakriti, unfazed, raised her eyebrows and shrugged.

"You have to agree, Maa. She is kind of... you know... a b-"

"Aakriti!" Maa interrupted, her tone scolding but not harsh.

"Don't use bad words. And mind your language. You're pregnant now."

Aakriti groaned dramatically but still smiled.

"Okay, okay, fine. But you can't deny it!"

Maa sighed, shaking her head as she moved toward me, but not before giving Adarsh a playful tap on his head. Adarsh, in return, grinned and reached out to high-five Aakriti again. This time, maa couldn't hide her own smile.

I stood there watching them, the corners of my lips lifting. The warmth of the family moment filled the room, and for the first time in a while, I felt like I truly belonged here.

As I returned to the lunch preparations, my eyes fell on the tiffin box sitting at the edge of the counter. A sudden thought hit me-I had to send Sidharth ji's lunch. My fingers paused on the spoon, my heart fluttering with nervous energy.

What should I make for him? I wanted it to be special today, though I couldn't explain why. Maybe it was the way he had looked at me this morning, or maybe it was just a feeling-a soft, hopeful feeling.

Hesitating, I glanced at maa, who was now sitting near Aakriti and talking softly. Summoning my courage, I turned to her. "Maa," I began timidly,

"kya banau lunch ke liye?"

(Maa, what should I make for lunch?)

She looked at me, her expression turning teasing as a smile crept across her lips.

"Kuch bhi chalega," she said, waving her hand lightly.

"Par Sidharth ko matar paneer pasand hai."
( Anything will do, but Sidharth loves matar paneer.)

My cheeks instantly warmed, and I felt my fingers grip the edge of my saree tightly. Maa left the room with a soft laugh, leaving me standing there, embarrassed and unsure what to say.

Adarsh and Aakriti, of course, didn't let the moment pass without teasing. "Matar paneer, huh?" Adarsh said with a grin, raising his eyebrows at me.

"Wife trying to know her husband's favorite dish," Aakriti added, her voice sing-song and playful.

I bit my lip, focusing on the counter and pretending not to hear them, though I could feel the heat creeping up my neck. But despite their teasing, a small smile played on my lips.

I didn't know why it mattered so much, but I wanted to make it perfect.

Just for him.
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The kitchen was quiet except for the rhythmic clatter of utensils and the soft bubbling of the Vegetables simmering on the stove. I stood near the counter, completely engrossed in chopping coriander leaves. My thoughts scattered between the aroma of the vegetables and the hope that it would turn out just perfect.

The sound of the door opening registered faintly in my mind, but I ignored it, assuming it was Adarsh. He had a habit of wandering into the kitchen, asking for snacks every few minutes.

"Bas do minute aur," I murmured to myself, half expecting him to demand food again.
(Just two more minutes.)

But then, a faint, unfamiliar fragrance wafted toward me. It wasn't the usual smell of spices or the sharp tang of onions.

No, this was different-crisp and fresh, with a hint of something woody, like the earth after the first rain. It was warm, yet cool, the kind of scent that stayed with you, like a whisper in the air.

I froze, my hand tightening on the knife. This wasn't Adarsh.

Slowly, I turned, and my heart immediately skipped a beat. My gaze met the crisp white of a shirt, the fabric slightly wrinkled yet fitting perfectly over broad shoulders. I blinked, my eyes trailing upward until they landed on his face-Sidharth ji.

He was standing so close that I could feel the heat of his presence, his blue eyes locked on me with an intensity that made my chest feel impossibly tight.

I was certain he could hear the way my heart hammered against my ribcage.

The cooker's whistle screamed into the quiet. The sudden sound startled me, breaking the spell for a moment. My eyes darted back to him, only to find him still watching me, his expression unreadable but firm.

I gulped, my breath hitching as I stammered,

"K-kuch do-"

(S-something-)

I couldn't even finish my sentence, my words dying on my lips as

Without a word & without looking away, he lifted the lunch box and handed it to me. His fingers didn't touch mine, yet I felt the weight of his presence in every corner of the room.

I took the tiffin from him, clutching it tightly as though it were an anchor, and dared to meet his gaze again.

"Ek cup chai bana dijiye,"

(Make me a cup of tea.)

"Please,"he said softly, his tone calm but commanding in a way that made my palms damp.

I nodded, my head bobbing a little too quickly.

"J-ji," I managed to whisper, my voice barely audible.

He didn't say anything more, just turned and leave. While I leaned against the counter behind him.

I forced myself to move, focusing on the kettle as I poured water into it, my heart still thudding painfully in my chest. I couldn't help but steal a glance at him from the corner of my eye. As he walked upstairs His profile was sharp, his jawline set, and there was an ease about him that only made me feel more nervous.

My hands fumbled with the tea leaves, but I didn't care. All I could think about was the way his scent lingered in the air, the way his gaze had held mine like an unspoken question.

I turned a little, my eyes darting to the doorway, and when I saw he was gone, I let out a deep breath. My hand pressed against my chest, feeling the wild thudding of my heart slowly calming down. A smile crept onto my lips, uninvited, and I couldn't help but think,

"What happened to him suddenly?" My fingers lightly touched the counter as the moment replayed in my head.

He was different today-different from last night. Last night, he said,

"This is not your place," but it wasn't harsh; it wasn't to push me away. It was the way he stopped me when I was in Akariti's room. The way he pulled me gently, leading me back to his room, like... like he was saying I belonged there. The thought warmed me in a way I wasn't ready for, and yet, I let myself feel it.

The way he looked at me today, so quiet but so... intense. It made my heart flutter like it had no rhythm anymore. I shook my head, trying to push those thoughts away, but my heart wouldn't listen. It felt jittery, like I'd swallowed a handful of butterflies.

His presence had already filled the room and was refusing to leave.

My cheeks turn warm & I hide my face in between my plam. Calming myself I reached for the kettle, pouring the steaming tea into a cup. My hands felt shaky, but I tried to steady them. I couldn't stop thinking about how close he had been. His scent still lingered around me-rich, warm, and just... him.

I felt heat rush to my face again. What's wrong with me? I thought, biting my lip. Why did I feel so shy now? It was just tea, and I had to take it to him. That's all.

As I placed the cup on the tray, the door creaked open, and I turned quickly. My heart sank, thinking it might be him again, but it was Adarsh.

"Bhabhi! I have great news for you!" he said, his voice full of excitement.

I sighed in relief, my lips curving into a small smile.

"Okay, okay, bataaiye, lekin pehle ek kaam kariye," I said, motioning towards the tea. "Yeh chai unhe de dijiye."

(Okay, okay, tell me, but first, do me a favor. Take this tea to him.)

Adarsh's grin turned mischievous as he crossed his arms. "Unhe?" he teased, drawing out the word as if he was trying to unearth some hidden meaning.

I felt my cheeks heat up instantly. "Haan, unhe," I said, trying to sound normal, though my voice betrayed me slightly.

(Yes, him.)

Adarsh chuckled, shaking his head. "Achha, theek hai, main chai de doonga. Par news toh baad mein sunaunga, pehle aap blush kar lo, " he said, winking at me as he picked up the tray.

(Alright, fine, I'll take the tea, but I'll tell you the news later. First, you blush.)

My eyes widened. "Kya matlab?" I asked, frowning slightly, though I couldn't hide my nervousness.

(What do you mean?)

He leaned closer, lowering his voice as if sharing a big secret.

"Matlab yeh ki pehle aap blush kar lo unke thoughts se, mai baad me new btaunga," he said, giving me a knowing look before walking out of the kitchen, the tray in his hands.

(It means first you blush by his thought, I'll tell you the new later.)

I stood there, frozen for a moment, my lips slightly parted. My blush more deepen. Adarsh's teasing words echoed in my head, and despite myself, I smiled.

But my thoughts drifted again-to the moment Sidharth walked into the kitchen, to the way his presence consumed the space, the way his scent lingered, and the way he looked at me like he had all the time in the world.

The jittery feeling returned, and I let out a shaky breath, trying to focus on the rest of my work, though I knew it wouldn't help.

What's happening with me!!
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The dining table was still empty, untouched despite the food being ready for almost twenty minutes. My hands fidgeted with the edge of my sari as I stood near the kitchen, trying to avoid the inevitable.

"Noor," my mother-in-law's voice came from the hallway. I turned quickly, trying to compose myself.

"Sidharth ko bula lao."

(Go call Siddharth.)

My eyes widened slightly. "Main?" I stammered, almost in disbelief.

(Me?)

A soft, knowing smile spread across her face.

"Haan, tum. Ab uski biwi ho, toh tum hi bulaogi. Jaao," she said, her tone gentle but firm.

(Yes, you. You're his wife now, so you'll call him. Go on.)

My heart started racing at her words, and I could feel my cheeks heat up. I opened my mouth to protest, but nothing came out. Instead, I found myself nodding slowly, my feet hesitating to move. Biwi... The word echoed in my mind, making the butterflies in my stomach flutter even more.

Since last night, he'd been behaving differently too differently.

That moment in Aakriti's room, the way he said, "This is not your place," still played in my mind. The way he had taken my hand, so effortlessly claiming me, had left me overwhelmed, flustered, and unable to think straight.

And today... the way he had entered the kitchen, how close he had been, his scent, his gaze-it was all too much. My mind was a jumble of emotions, and every time I thought about him, I felt jittery and shy, unable to act like myself.

I finally took a deep breath and started walking towards his room, each step feeling heavier than the last. My bare feet against the cool marble made a faint sound, almost like a whisper.

The door was ajar, slightly open. I peeked inside hesitantly, my heart thudding so loudly I was sure anyone nearby could hear it. I couldn't see him, but I noticed the balcony doors were open.

Stepping in quietly, I scanned the room, my gaze lingering on the neatly arranged space. Suddenly, I heard his voice-a deep, rich sound that sent a shiver down my spine. It came from the balcony, low and intense.

I took a few tentative steps closer, my sari brushing against my legs as I moved. There he was.

Standing by the balcony railing, his back was turned to me. He was dressed in a white shirt and black pants, and the sleeves of his shirt rolled up just enough to reveal his strong forearms. The shirt wasn't tucked, and the soft evening light cast a glow that made the outline of his broad shoulders and back more visible. His hair was slightly ruffled, and the faint breeze carried his voice back to me.

I stood there, frozen for a moment, taking in the sight of him. My breath hitched as I realized I'd never seen him like this before. He looked... effortless, yet commanding.

His voice broke my trance-a low, firm tone as he spoke to someone on the phone. I couldn't catch the words, but it was clear from his clipped sentences and the slight edge in his voice that it wasn't a casual conversation. It wasn't funny or light-it was serious, almost intense.

So he does talk.

I thought, the corner of my lips curving into a small, involuntary smile. I hadn't heard him speaking much since I'd come here, and now, seeing him like this, I felt an odd mix of nervousness and curiosity.

I stepped back quietly, thinking it was better to leave him to his call and come back later. I nodded to myself, my mind deciding that this was the best excuse to avoid going any closer.

Just as I turned to leave, I felt it.

Warm fingers wrapped around my wrist-gentle but firm enough to stop me in my tracks. My breath caught, my eyes went wide and I froze, unable to move. The contact sent a jolt through me, and my heart raced even faster than before.

I stood there, my back turned to him, my mind unable to process what had just happened. The only thing I could feel was the warmth of his touch and the sound of my heartbeat echoing in my ears.

I stood there, frozen, my wrist still in his hold. My eyes dropped to his hand for a brief moment, unable to process how casually he was holding me while continuing his conversation. His deep, masculine voice filled the air, calm yet firm, the words he spoke meant for someone on the other side of the line.

And me? I was lost in my own world, heart racing, cheeks burning. My gaze flickered nervously around the balcony, the open sky, anywhere but him, trying to find something-anything-to distract me from the butterflies swirling inside me.

Why wasn't he letting go?

Why was he acting like this was completely normal?

And why couldn't I stop feeling the heat from his hand, spreading like a fire through my skin?

I took a small breath, trying to steady myself, but it was useless. My heart was thumping so loudly that I was sure he'd hear it any second. Every nerve in my body was hyper-aware of him, his presence, his voice, his warmth.

And then it happened.

In between his words, as if drawn by some invisible force, he turned slightly, looking down at me. My heart stopped.

Our eyes met, his piercing blue gaze locking with mine, and the world around me seemed to vanish. My breath hitched, and I couldn't look away, even if I wanted to.

For a moment, he simply stared at me, his expression unreadable, his voice continuing the conversation, but his attention was completely on me now. I was painfully aware of the height difference between us, his tall frame towering over mine, making me feel even smaller, more vulnerable under his intense gaze.

I blinked, feeling my cheeks burn hotter. He was holding my wrist like it was the most natural thing, but there was something in the way his eyes softened yet darkened as they bore into mine. It made my stomach flip, my heart skipped, and my knees felt like they would give out any second.

His gaze flickered down, and I realized a strand of my hair had fallen across my face. Before I could react, he moved.

His hand shifted slightly, fingers brushing against my skin, warm and deliberate. He tucked the strand behind my ear, his touch lingering just for a second longer than necessary. My frets turn cold.

I shivered, my breath catching, unable to stop myself from staring at him, at those lips moving as he spoke, but those eyes-those intense, consuming eyes-were entirely on me.

I swallowed hard, my pulse racing as I tried to understand the moment, the warmth of his touch still lingering on my skin. Every second felt stretched, like an eternity wrapped in silence and tension, even though his voice was still carrying on, low and smooth.

And I couldn't move. Couldn't speak. Couldn't even think. Because all I knew was all I could feel was him.

For a moment, the world around me stood still. I could feel the weight of his gaze, the intensity of those eyes that had locked onto mine like they were seeing through every layer of my being. My heart felt like it was going to burst out of my chest as his fingers brushed my skin, tucking that rebellious strand of hair behind my ear.

And then, without warning, he ended the call.

The sound of the phone clicking off brought me back to reality, but only for a second, because before I could even take a step back, his hand wrapped around my wrist again, firm yet gentle, like he wasn't letting me leave.

He turned fully toward me now, his tall frame so close, and I couldn't even breathe properly. His deep, masculine voice broke the silence, smooth yet commanding.

"You need something?"

I opened my mouth to speak, but the words vanished before they could even form. His gaze pinned me in place, his presence overwhelming, and I forgot everything-why I was here, what I was supposed to say, even how to breathe.

I tried to look away, tried to gather myself, but the warmth of his touch anchored me there, my mind spinning. His fingers shifted slightly, releasing my wrist only to reach up, his hand cupping my cheek. His palm was warm against my skin, his touch both soft and deliberate, sending shivers down my spine.

"Noor," he said, his voice softer now, his tone pulling me out of my daze.

My eyes widened, and I blinked, snapping out of the trance I had unknowingly fallen into. The realization of how close we were hit me like a storm, and I felt my cheeks heat up instantly.

"D-dinner is ready," I stammered, barely able to string the words together.

I stepped back quickly, almost stumbling in my haste to put distance between us. Without waiting for a response, I turned and walked out of the room, my steps hurried, my heart racing.

As I reached the door, I stopped, leaning against the frame for a moment. My hand instinctively went to my chest, pressing against it as if that would calm the wild beating of my heart. My skin still tingled where he had touched me, the warmth of his hand lingering like a brand.

I closed my eyes, exhaling shakily, trying to steady myself. My face was burning, my thoughts a whirlwind of embarrassment and something else-something I couldn't quite name.
Why do I have to run at that point? Why couldn't I just...stay?

But the question that echoed in my mind, over and over, as I stood there, overwhelmed and flustered, was the one I couldn't shake.

What happened to him?

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I stood at the doorway, my fingers gripping the frame as my mind raced. It's just Sidharthji, "I whispered under my breath, trying to calm myself down. There's nothing to worry about.

But then, those questions. Why is he acting like that? I couldn't stop myself from wondering. I glanced back at the hallway, but nothing made sense. I shook my head, trying to get rid of the thoughts. I'm just overthinking, as always.

I let out a small sigh, forcing myself to stop. It's nothing. Just... my mind going in circles as usual. I muttered again, quieter this time, "I'll just sleep. There's nothing else to do."

I took a step inside the room. Empty. Just the quietness of the walls, no Siddharth around.

A soft relief spread through me. Good. There's no need to worry. There's no need to think. I could finally sleep peacefully.

I quickly changed into my kurti and palazzo, the familiar fabric comforting against my skin. I tried to focus on that, on the calm of the moment. I shouldn't be so nervous, I thought. But despite my thoughts, I couldn't shake that strange feeling.

I turned to my bed and saw my pillow, cherry as I always called it, tossed aside carelessly. A frown tugged at my lips.

Who does this? I wondered. Sidharth ji? No he doesn't do this. But who else...

I frowned more deeply, feeling a bit irritated. Stop it, Noor. You're just overthinking again. I sighed, grabbing the pillow and flopping onto the sofa, hugging it tightly. You're being silly.

But as I sat there, I couldn't help the thoughts swirling in my head. Should I sleep now? Or wait for him? I hesitated. I remembered how my mother used to wait for my father every night, always before sleep. A small part of me wondered if I should do the same. But then, those old insecurities crept in. What if he's angry that I fell asleep already?

I didn't want to fall into those same insecurities I had in my village-those thoughts where men always seemed to get upset over the smallest things.

I shook my head, trying to dismiss the thoughts. This is Sidharth ji. He doesn't get angry like that. But still, my mind insisted on wondering. Maybe it was better to wait.

I sat there, quietly, on the sofa, deciding I'd wait for just a few minutes. Then, if he didn't show up, I'd sleep. I could hear the quiet around me, but it felt heavy, like everything was still. My eyes started to close, slowly giving in to the fatigue.

Eventually, I drifted off, still unsure when sleep took over.

The sofa wasn't as comfortable as the bed, but I sat there anyway, waiting. At some point, without even realizing it, my eyes began to close, and sleep pulled me in.

I don't know when it happened, but somewhere in the middle of the night, I felt... something. It was soft and warm, like being wrapped in a cocoon. It felt like I was being lifted, and then there was a sense of safety, like an embrace. My mind tried to process it, but sleep was too heavy, too deep.

And so, I let it take me, that warmth staying with me even in my dreams.

The last thing I heard before I fell asleep was "Mine, My wife"
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