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देखा हज़ारों दफ़ा आपको
फिर बेक़रारी कैसी है
संभाले संभलता नहीं ये दिल
कुछ आप में बात ऐसी है

लेकर इजाज़त अब आप से
सांसें ये आती जाती है
ढूंढें से मिलते नहीं हैं हम
बस आप ही आप बाकी हैं

पल भर ना दूरी सहें आप से
बेताबियां ये कुछ और हैं
हम दूर होक भी पास हैं
नज़दीकियां ये कुछ और हैं

देखा हज़ारों दफ़ा आपको
फिर बेक़रारी कैसी है
____________________________________

Noor sat on the sofa, her chin resting lightly on her hand, her delicate fingers supporting her flushed cheek. The house was quiet, but inside her, a storm was brewing. She hadn't moved much since morning, but her thoughts had wandered everywhere, circling back to the same memory over and over again.

Her saree pallu slipped off her shoulder, and her hands nervously fumbled to fix it, but even that reminded her of him-of how his fingers had done the same just this morning. Her heart skipped a beat, and warmth spread from her cheeks to her neck. Yeh mujhe kya ho raha hai?

(What's happening to me?)
she wondered silently, biting her lower lip.

The image of them in the mirror came rushing back-his tall frame behind her, his firm grip on her waist as he adjusted her pleats. She had felt so small, so protected, as if she belonged there in his hold. Her stomach fluttered at the memory, and she pressed her hands to her cheeks, trying to cool the heat rising there.

Her thoughts refused to stay still. She could still feel the roughness of his hand on her waist, lingering like an unspoken promise. His touch had left a warmth that didn't fade, a warmth that now made her chest tighten, and her pulse quickened. Her skin tingled where his hand had been, and though she tried to distract herself, the memory only grew stronger.

Her fingers twisted the edge of her pallu nervously as she stood up, unable to sit any longer. She began pacing the room, her bare feet making soft sounds on the floor. She tried shaking her head as if the movement would shake the memory away, but it didn't work. The more she fought it, the more vivid it became.

"Kyun itni chhoti baat mujhe itna affect kar rahi hai?"

(Why is such a small thing affecting me so much?)

She murmured, her voice barely above a whisper. But even she know. It wasn't just a choti si baat.

(Small thing)

She stopped pacing and leaned against the wall, staring down at her trembling hands.

It wasn't just his touch-it was the way he had looked at her, his calm yet commanding presence. It made her feel something she couldn't explain, something that made her knees weak but her heart strong. She wasn't uncomfortable with the memory, not at all. In fact, it was the opposite.

She let out a shy, nervous laugh, covering her mouth with her hand.

"Yeh kya pagalpan hai,!"

(What's this madness!,)

she thought, yet the corners of her lips curved upward, betraying her true feelings. She felt like a girl who had been touched by the first spring breeze-nervous, shy, but filled with a strange new warmth.

She wrapped her arms around herself as if trying to mimic the safety she had felt in that moment.

Her fingers traced the fabric of her saree, and she couldn't stop the smile that crept onto her face. But it wasn't just a dream-it was real. And though she was shy and nervous, she wasn't scared.

It felt right. It felt safe. It felt like it was where she belonged.

Her heart was racing, not from fear, but from something she didn't fully understand yet. Every time her mind wandered back to the memory of him-his touch, his closeness-it sent a ripple of warmth through her. She fidgeted with her saree pallu again, twisting it nervously in her fingers.

Looking up, her eyes landed on the clock on the wall. Her brows furrowed slightly as she noticed the time. It was getting late-later than usual-and he still wasn't home.

"Abhi tak kyun nahi aaye?"

(Why hasn't he come home yet?)

She murmured, her voice soft but tinged with concern. Her earlier nervousness shifted into worry, her fingers now twisting and untwisting the fabric faster.

She stood up from the sofa, her movements restless. Walking to the window, she pushed the curtain aside and glanced out into the garden around. The darkness outside seemed heavier tonight, and with each passing second, her worry grew.

Her thoughts started to spiral-he had been coming home late for the past two days, but tonight felt different. There was an odd weight in her chest, a nervous anticipation that she couldn't shake. She pressed her hands together, her knuckles turning white as she tried to steady herself.

She started pacing again, her mind replaying the little moments they had shared. She thought of his steady voice, the calm authority in his presence, the way his touch had lingered on her skin as if it belonged there. It was those memories that kept her steady, that made her believe he would be fine.

But even so, her eyes kept darting back to the clock, the hands moving too fast and yet too slow. She clutched her saree tightly, biting her lip as the worry continued to grow.

Jaldi aaiye, Sidharth ji, she thought, her heart whispering the words even as she tried to silence them.

(Come home soon, Sidharth ji,)
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Sidharth leaned back in the driver's seat, his fingers drumming lightly on the steering wheel. His eyes flickered to his wristwatch, the dial showing it was well past 10 o'clock. A satisfied smirk tugged at the corner of his lips as he adjusted the watch.

His plan was unfolding just as he wanted. He had deliberately stayed out longer than usual, finding reasons to stretch his day just so he could come home late enough to avoid the bustle of family dinners. Last night, when they had shared a quiet dinner alone, her presence had been... different. Soothing. Leaving him with a craving for more. It wasn't that he didn't love his family-he did, deeply-but there was something serene, something indescribably peaceful about sitting across from her, just the two of them.

Her aura filled the room in a way that silenced the world outside. The shy glances she gave him, the soft sound of her bangles when she adjusted her dishes, and even the slight nervousness in her movements-it all had a strange, magnetic pull on him.

He could still recall the way she avoided meeting his gaze but blushed when she caught him watching her.

A chuckle escaped him as he rested his hand on the gearshift, the smirk deepening. "Perfect timing," he murmured under his breath. With that, he started the car, the hum of the engine breaking the silence around him.

On his way back, his eyes scanned the road ahead, catching glimpses of streetlights casting faint shadows. He stopped briefly at a signal, watching a group of men chatting nearby, but his mind was elsewhere.

The thought of her waiting at home-perhaps pacing or fidgeting with her saree-warmed him in ways he wouldn't admit out loud.

Pulling into the driveway, Siddharth turned off the car and stepped out. The cool night breeze brushed against his face, but it wasn't the chill that froze him for a moment. His gaze shifted toward the front door, and there she was.

She was waiting by the door as he has expected. It struck him unexpectedly-this subtle proof that she cared, that she was thinking about him. His heart felt an unfamiliar tug, a warmth spreading through his chest and down to his fingertips.

He took a deep breath, his lips twitching into a small smile he couldn't suppress. The sight of her pacing near the gate to hall, glancing at the clock, twisting her fingers nervously-it all made him feel something akin to contentment.

As he walked to the door, his steps felt lighter, the weariness of the day fading away. For now, the world outside could wait. Inside, she was waiting, and that was all that mattered.
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Siddharth stepped in, his presence casting a long shadow over the dimly lit room. Noor's breath caught in her throat as her eyes darted to him. His figure seemed larger than life, the sharp lines of his face illuminated by the faint glow of the lamp. The silence in the room felt heavier with him in it, and her relief at seeing him was tempered by a sudden nervous energy.

He closed the door behind him, the soft click of the latch sounding deliberate. His gaze swept the room before landing on her, standing rooted to the spot near the sofa. He walked towards her with measured steps, his movements calm but carrying an authority that made her pulse quicken.

As he reached the sofa, he set his bag down without a word, the quiet rustle of leather breaking the stillness. Then, with deliberate precision, he began to roll up his sleeves, the motion slow and almost calculated. Noor's eyes followed the movement, her cheeks heating at the sight of his forearms, the veins prominent against his skin.

He finally looked down at her, his gaze steady and piercing. There was no impatience, no urgency-only the weight of his attention, which made her knees feel weak. She couldn't look away, though she wanted to. The intensity in his eyes was as suffocating as it was mesmerizing.

A fleeting memory flashed through her mind-his hands on her waist, firm yet careful, his fingers brushing against her skin as he adjusted her saree. Her stomach fluttered at the thought, and a blush crept up her neck, spreading like wildfire. She shook her head slightly, trying to dispel the memory, but her reaction didn't escape his notice.

"Aap mera intezaar kar rahi thi?" he asked, his voice low and smooth, yet carrying a quiet authority that made her chest tighten.

(Were you waiting for me?)

The question was simple, but the way he asked, it felt anything but. His deep, steady tone left no room for evasion, and Noor found herself unable to meet his gaze. She swallowed hard, her lips parting as she tried to find her voice.

"Ji... woh...," she managed to say, her voice trembling with the weight of her nerves.

(Yes... I mean...)

Sidharth's eyes lingered on her, unreadable, and then shifted to the dining table. His gaze fell on the two plates set neatly side by side. A small, almost imperceptible smile touched his lips, softening the sharp angles of his face. But the softness didn't diminish the commanding presence he exuded-it only made it more alluring.

Without a word, he extended his hand, his fingers brushing against hers as he took hold of her hand. The touch was firm, deliberate, and sent a shiver racing up her arm. Noor's breath hitched, her wide eyes snapping up to meet his.

His grip was steady, unyielding, as he guided her towards the dining table. There was a tension in the air, thick and palpable, as if the space between them buzzed with unspoken words. Her heart thudded loudly in her chest, each beat echoing in her ears.

As they reached the table, Sidharth pulled out a chair for her, his movements precise and deliberate. He didn't say a word, but the way he looked at her-dark eyes holding hers with a quiet intensity-made her feel as if the entire world had stilled.

"Baithiye," he said softly, his voice calm but leaving no room for argument.

(Sit.)

Noor hesitated, her fingers nervously twisting the edge of her dupatta. She couldn't understand the shift in him, couldn't decipher the depth in his actions. Yet, something about the command in his tone made her want to obey. Slowly, she lowered herself into the chair, her heart racing as her gaze darted back to him.

Sidharth lingered for a moment, his eyes fixed on her before he moved to take his seat. The weight of his presence was almost overwhelming, and Noor found herself unable to look away as he sat across from her.

For a moment, he leaned back, his gaze never leaving her. The subtle curve of his lips hinted at satisfaction, and she realized with a start that he was enjoying this-her flustered state, her nervous glances. It wasn't mocking; it was something else entirely.

The room felt smaller, the air thicker, as if time itself had slowed. Sidharth's dominance wasn't loud or abrasive-it was quiet, controlled, and utterly captivating. It was in the way he moved, the way he spoke, and the way he looked at her, as if she was the only thing that mattered.

Noor's thoughts were a mess, her heart fluttering wildly in her chest. Yet, despite her nervousness, she felt a strange sense of safety in his presence-a warmth that spread through her, soft and comforting.

She didn't understand what had changed in him, but at that moment, she didn't need to. His actions spoke louder than words, and the quiet intensity in his gaze told her more than he ever could.

Noor looked up at him, her thoughts still scattered, and before she could fully grasp the depth of the moment, she found herself speaking.

"Aap change kar le pehle" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper, as she nervously tugged at the edge of her dupatta.

(You change first.)

Sidharth, however, didn't seem in any rush to get to that. His gaze never wavered from hers, that steady, piercing intensity in his eyes never breaking.

"Nahi, pehle khana khate hain. Aapko bhookh lagi hogi." His voice was calm, controlled, but there was something underlying the words-something that made Noor's heart skip a beat.

(No, let's have dinner first. You must be hungry.)

The way he said it-you must be hungry-it lingered in the air, each word falling with care, as if he truly cared for her. The weight of that simple statement seemed to press against her chest, filling the space between them with a quiet tenderness that she hadn't expected. Noor's heart fluttered, a soft, almost imperceptible smile tugging at her lips as she nodded.

"Ji."

(Yes).

She stood to rise, but just as she did, his hand closed around hers again, his grip gentle but unyielding. The warmth of his touch shot through her, sending a flutter of nerves through her chest. She could feel her breath hitch, her other hand automatically clenching the fabric of her saree as goosebumps prickled her skin.

Why was he touching her so much?

"Kahan jaa rahi hai aap, Noor?" Sidharth's voice cut through her thoughts, smooth and deep, and his eyes never left hers.

(Where are you going, Noor?)

Noor stammered slightly, her heart racing faster than ever.

"Khana... khana garam kar leti hoon."

(I'll heat up the food.)

Sidharth raised an eyebrow slightly, but his expression remained calm, almost amused.

"No, I'll have it as it is.

Noor, however, couldn't help herself. She frowned. Why does her husband will have cold food? The words just spilled out, her voice a little flustered, a little too quick.

"Nahi, nahi! Gharam kar leti hoon. Thanda khana kyu khayengi? Thak har ke aaye hai aur hum thanda khana khilaye aapko"

( "No, no! Let me warm it up. Why would you eat cold food? You've come tired, and I'm going to serve you cold food?")

Her voice trailed off, realizing she'd said far more than needed, her cheeks flushed bright with embarrassment. But she couldn't stop herself. She was too nervous, too unsure of what to do or say around him.

Sidharth, watching her, simply waved a hand, the smile that tugged at the corner of his lips almost imperceptible. The slight amusement in his expression made Noor's heart race all over again.

"Jaise aap kahe."

(As you say.)

His voice, warm yet filled with amusement, only made her feel more. His eyes softened for just a moment, the briefest flicker of something... affection? Noor wasn't sure, but it made her stomach twist in ways she couldn't explain. The subtle curve of his lips-a small smile that wasn't quite a smile-sent a wave of heat rushing through her.

She smiled back, though it was small, almost shy, the first real smile that touched her lips in his presence. But her heart was pounding, the feeling so raw and real that it almost startled her.

"Ji" she whispered, almost to herself, before she hurried towards the kitchen. She didn't dare look back at him, her heart too loud in her ears.

Inside the kitchen, she stood there for a moment, leaning against the counter to steady herself, her hands gripping the edge of the kitchen slab. The pulse of her heart was so strong that she could feel it in her throat, her chest, her fingertips. Why was she feeling like this?

Her hand slowly rose to touch her flushed cheek, trying to cool the heat that had spread across her skin. It was like a gentle fire, burning and pulsing with every thought of him. Why was she blushing so much?

A smile tugged at her lips, bigger now, as she tried to calm herself. It wasn't just the warmth from the food or the pressure in her chest-it was him. The way he looked at her, the way he made her feel like- she was the only person in the room, the only one who mattered in those quiet moments.

Noor stood there, her heart racing as she took in a deep breath, the gentle smile still playing on her lips. She didn't understand the shift in herself, but it was undeniable. Something was changing between them. It was subtle, sweet, and yet... so powerful.

She touched her cheek once more, trying to cool the warmth spreading there, but the smile on her lips remained. It wasn't just because of the blush. It was because, for the first time, she felt something more. Something deeper. Something that was blooming quietly in her chest, and she couldn't push it away anymore.

She moved quickly, warming the food, her mind distracted by the memory of him. "You are acting like a stupid girl," she thought again, shaking her head, trying to brush it off. But how could she? The way Sidharth carried himself, with so much control, with such a presence, made everything inside her tremble.

She tried to focus, to push the strange feeling of vulnerability aside, but she couldn't help noticing how he sat there-his presence commanding the room.

She finally set the last dish on the table, and there he was, sitting in his chair, his attention fixed on his phone. He looked so calm, his brow slightly arched as he scanned the screen. His dark hair, a little messy, hinted at how often his hand ran through it in thought. Every inch of him exuded masculinity. She couldn't help but notice-his shirt unbuttoned just enough to show the faintest hint of his chest. His biceps, visible beneath the sleeves, looked so powerful. She felt a flush of heat creep up her neck.

But how could she not notice it? The strength in his shoulders, the way his biceps stretched against his shirt, the slight roughness of his beard-every inch of him screamed masculinity. She quickly looked away, her fingers fiddling with the tablecloth, heart racing a little too fast for her liking. "Kya soch rahi ho?" she scolded herself. "Behave."

Once she had finished setting everything, she moved to serve him, standing beside Siddharth. But before she could, his voice, deep and commanding, stopped her. "Aap phir kyun khari ho?" He called her "aap," his tone holding a certain weight, an authority that made her heart flutter.

(Why are you standing again?)

Noor looked at him, blinking for a moment. "To serve," she replied, her voice a little unsure, caught off guard by the intensity of his gaze.

Sidharth's hand reached out gently but firmly, taking hers. He led her to his seat, making her sit beside him. The subtle dominance in his actions sent a jolt through her, but it wasn't overbearing. There was an undeniable strength in the way he handled the moment, and it left her both stunned and somehow... safe. He then picked up his plate and, without hesitation, forwarded it to her.

"Noor," he said, his voice low, calm, but full of authority. His attention fully on her. His blue eyes staring at her deeply.

"I want you to understand this. I am your husband, not your lord. You are equal to me. In every aspect, in everything, you are equal to me -even above me-in this house, in this world."

"You don't even need to serve me. But if you so want to. You can serve me while sitting. You don't need to stand beside me. Remember, I am your husband, not your lord."

His words-soft but unyielding-sank into her chest like a stone dropped in water, rippling through her thoughts. She had never had a man speak to her like that before. And she wasn't sure if she was nervous or flustered, but her heart was racing. The masculinity behind his words, the subtle power behind every word, it took her by surprise.

The words hung in the air, his tone unyielding, his masculinity evident in both the strength of his voice and his actions. "Do you understand. hm?"

Noor was silent for a moment, her breath caught. It wasn't a boast or a demand; it was simply a fact. And in that moment, she understood him in a way she had never had before.

Noor sat beside him, still feeling the weight of his words. She couldn't help but think of the men in her village-how they ruled their homes, their wives often sitting in silence, waiting for their commands. Those men who ruled their homes with fear.

They saw themselves as lords, ruling over their homes with strict authority, demanding respect through dominance. They believed that their word was law, that they were somehow above the women they married.

But Sidharth... He didn't need to demand respect-he commanded it through his actions, his words, his very being. He earns the respect.

The realization settling in her chest. She was beginning to understand just how different Sidharth was.

Her lips curved into a small smile as she served him. It wasn't just the fact that he respected her as an equal that made her heart flutter-it was how effortlessly he did it, how natural it seemed for him to treat her with respect. And yet, even in this simplicity, he commanded her attention in a way that was hard to ignore.

Her heart fluttered, and she felt it. Slowly, quietly, she was falling for him. For the first time, she realized that perhaps she had never really understood what it meant to be treated as an equal in a relationship until now.

Sidharth was teaching her not with grand gestures but with simple, everyday acts-his words, his respect, his masculinity.

As they ate, she couldn't help but smile to herself, her thoughts tangled up in the small moments, the way he made her feel so... seen. She was falling, slowly, quietly, but surely. It wasn't a dramatic shift, not in words or grand gestures, but in the way he made her feel, in how his actions spoke louder than anything else.

Noor knew, with a quiet certainty, that her heart was beginning to change. And this time, it wasn't just for anyone-it was for him.

She looked at him again, her smile widening, her chest swelling with affection.

"Yes, I understand," she whispered, her voice barely audible, but her heart full.
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I wiped my hands on the kitchen towel, the smile on my lips refusing to fade. His words echoed in my heart, soft and strong, making it impossible to focus on anything else. My hand still tingled where he had held it earlier, his touch lingering like a quiet promise I didn't dare name. It felt strange, unfamiliar, yet so comforting that my stomach fluttered at the thought.

When the clock caught my eye, it was already past 11:30. My chest felt lighter than it had in days, and with a small smile, I decided to step into the tulip garden. "Just for a moment," I told myself. "I won't stay long."

As I moved toward the front door, my eyes flickered to the dining table. It was quiet now, the warmth of dinner long gone. Sidharth ji had gone upstairs after the meal, and though a small part of me wondered if he was asleep by now, I quickly brushed the thought aside. "He must be tired," I reasoned, trying to shake the faint disappointment in my chest.

The door was slightly ajar, and when I pushed it open, my breath caught. He stood there.

Sidharth ji was at the doorway, tall and unmoving, framed by the moonlight spilling through the open gate. He wasn't wearing his glasses anymore, and the bare intensity of his eyes made my heart skip a beat.

Earlier, he had been in a formal shirt, but now he wore a fitted half-sleeve t-shirt, and it clung to his chest in a way that made my cheeks heat up. His khaki pants fit him perfectly, and a shawl hung loosely over his shoulders, just enough to cover part of his arms, and I couldn't help but notice how strong his neck looked, the way the t-shirt sat against him-neither too tight nor too loose, but just enough to show the shape of him.

I swallowed hard, my heart thudding in my ears. My feet felt glued to the ground as my eyes betrayed me, taking in every detail. His broad shoulders, the relaxed way he stood, the quiet power in how he carried himself... My chest tightened.

What's wrong with me? I thought, shaking my head, trying to look away. But I couldn't.

I felt the blush rising in my cheeks, warmth spreading as though my heart could no longer contain its rhythm. His eyes shifted toward me, slowly, deliberately moving up and down on my body, and for a fleeting moment, I thought I saw them soften.

Where they usually held an edge of sternness, tonight they carried something else-something that felt like warmth, like care but with something more darker.

And then he spoke, his voice low and steady.

"Aaj aap garden nahi jaayenge.?"

("Today, won't you go to the garden?")

I blinked, his words washing over me like a soft command. His voice husky, his eyes on me now. Solely on me.

The way he said-Had always said "aap"-it wasn't just respect; it was something deeper, something that made my stomach flip and my heart stutter.

I opened my mouth to respond, but no words came out. He was looking at me now, and suddenly, I wasn't sure if I could remember how to breathe so I just ended up nodding.

I looked away quickly, heat rising to my cheeks as the realization struck me-I had been staring at him. Staring at Sidd
harth ji. What was wrong with me? Why was I noticing so much tonight? From the way his t-shirt clung to his chest to the strength in his posture, even the lightest movements seemed to draw my attention.

It felt like too much. I was being too much.

Before I could gather myself, I heard his footsteps-calm, steady, deliberate. My heart raced as he closed the distance between us. He stopped just a little away from me, and for a moment, I thought the silence would swallow us whole. My heart skipped a beat when the musky smell entered my nostrils telling me how close he was.

Then he extended his hand, one hand still folded behind his back, standing as composed as ever. His voice, low and firm, broke the quiet. "Chaliye."

I froze for a moment, my gaze flickering between his face and his outstretched hand. His tone left no room for hesitation. Slowly, I placed my hand in his. His hand was warm-comfortingly warm.

My fingers, colder than I realized, trembled slightly as his warmth seemed to spread through me. It was grounding, steadying, yet it made my heartbeat quicken all the same.

He led the way, his steps measured and sure, as I walked beside him. My eyes drifted upward to catch his face in the moonlight. There was something about him tonight-something softer, less guarded than before. It made me smile, this change in him.

The Sidharth ji I saw now, walking with me under the stars, felt so different from the one I had first met. This casual, unhurried version of him was nothing like the stern and distant man I had thought I knew. And yet, somehow, he still felt like the same person-a man of quiet strength and unshaken resolve.

We stopped by the tulip garden. The cool night air carried a faint floral scent, and I took a deep breath, trying to let the calmness seep into my chest. My eyes felt cool by the softness of the flowers. My body relaxed.

But it didn't last long. Just like yesterday, his presence surrounded me.

I could feel it.

His gaze.

I didn't need to look to know Sidharth ji was watching me. The weight of his eyes on me made my neck burn, heat rushing all the way to my ears. I tried to focus on the flowers, on the stillness of the night, but my thoughts betrayed me.

What must he be thinking?

I bit my lip, wishing the warmth in my cheeks would fade, but it only grew. My shyness took over, and I bite my lips harder. The way he looked at me-it was too much to handle, yet I didn't want it to stop.

Sidharth ji's hand remained warm against mine as we strolled through the garden. I had thought the silence between us would feel awkward, but it didn't. It was calm, almost soothing, though the steady rub of his thumb against the back of my hand sent my heart into tiny shivers.

"Noor," his voice, deep and steady, broke through the quiet, "in which college do you study?"

The question caught me off guard. I was still too shy to look at him, but his words left me no choice. Slowly, I lifted my gaze, meeting his eyes for the briefest moment before glancing away.

"Um... Saraswati College," I answered softly, the sound of his voice still ringing in my ears. It's one of the college from my village.

He hummed thoughtfully, his thumb still moving gently, almost absently. "And which subject?"

"Economics," I replied, feeling my lips curve into a faint smile. I wasn't sure if it was his question or the way he asked it, but something about the moment felt... safe.

He raised an eyebrow, his expression shifting to one of mild curiosity. "So, you love numbers?"

I blinked up at him, startled that he would pick up on something so quickly. "Yes," I admitted quietly. "Papa loved them, too. He always said they told a story if you looked closely enough."

His gaze softened slightly, and I noticed, for the first time, how his eyes carried an unexpected warmth tonight.

"Uncle talked about that often," he said, his voice dropping an octave as if speaking of Baba brought back memories for him, too.

"He could turn even numbers into a lesson about life." He said. His eyes now not on me but behind me. His tone wasn't telling me this sentence was as simple as it look. It was deeper.

Hearing that, my chest tightened with a mix of emotion and comfort. I found myself smiling, first at the memory of papa and then at the realization that Sidharth ji remembered him the same way I did.

For a moment, I forgot the shyness and the fluttering nerves. His large hand still holding mine, his voice lingering in the air-this moment, right here, felt like something I'd been waiting for all along.

I remembered the small plant from yesterday, right by the fountain. It had been so fragile, barely hanging on, and I wondered how it was doing now. As we walked towards the fountain, my heart fluttered a bit, unsure if Siddharth would let go of my hand this time.

But he didn't. His grip remained steady, firm, just like yesterday. We walked in silence, our steps in sync, neither of us needing to say anything. The simple comfort of his presence made me feel safe, even in this quiet moment. Unexpectedly in just two days, I have became so comfortable with him in my garden.

When we reached the fountain, I knelt down slowly, my knees touching the cool stone floor as I leaned closer to the plant. It was stronger now, the leaves brighter, more alive. A small smile tugged at my lips. I hadn't realized how much I'd been hoping for this, for something so small to thrive. It felt like a small victory, one I was proud to witness.

He was still holding my hand, even as I knelt. I couldn't help but let out a soft giggle, amused by the way he just stayed there, not pulling away.

I quickly silenced myself, my smile barely hidden. The warmth of his hand in mine made my heart race just a little. I stood up, feeling lighter, more content. The plant was doing well, and I was happy.

But as I straightened up, something unexpected happened. The fountain, which had been still and quiet just moments before, suddenly burst to life. Water splashed out in a rush, droplets falling on me, soaking the edge of my saree. I froze, surprised by the cold splash, but before I could react, I felt a sudden pull.

A gasp left my lips as I was yanked back into a strong, solid chest. The impact of his body against mine made my breath catch. One large hand immediately wrapped around my waist, pulling me closer, while the other shielded me from behind, the warmth of his touch sending a wave of heat through me. My heart was racing, and for a moment, I couldn't breathe properly. I looked up, my wide eyes meeting his. Sidharth ji's gaze was still fixed on the fountain, his face set in an unreadable expression.

The tension between us was palpable, the quiet electricity of the moment hanging in the air.

I couldn't help but glance at Sidharth ji's face. He was still looking at the fountain, his jaw tight, his features unreadable. The sound of the water trickling from the fountain filled the silence around us. I didn't know what he was thinking, and I didn't dare ask.

But then, his gaze shifted. Slowly, he looked down at me.

I felt the weight of his eyes on mine. My heart skipped a beat, and my stomach tightened. His stare was unflinching, and for a moment, I forgot how to breathe.

The intensity of his gaze made me fidget, my fingers curling slightly as if to shield myself. But my hands were trapped between us, the closeness making it impossible to move.

When his eyes left mine, I felt a strange relief, only to realize where his gaze had fallen-lower, to the front of my saree, now soaked and clinging embarrassingly close to my skin.

Heat rushed to my cheeks. My whole body seemed to flush with warmth.

I tried to move back, to create some space between us, but Sidharth ji's hold tightened around my waist. The sudden motion pulled me closer instead. I froze, my chest brushing against his, and I felt like my entire world had stopped.

I lowered my gaze, unable to meet his anymore. My breaths were quick, shallow, and I could feel my heart pounding erratically in my chest. The closeness was overwhelming, his warmth, his presence-it was all too much.

He quietly removed his shawl from himself & draped it around me with other hand.

His fingers adjusted the shawl around my shoulders, the fabric shifting slightly as his hand brushed against my back where my blouse ended. Goosebumps rose instantly at the faint contact, and I bit my lip to keep from gasping.

His other hand adjusted the shawl more securely over me, and I felt a rush of emotions-embarrassment, nervousness, something I couldn't name but left me breathless.

I dared a glance upward, but his eyes were fixed on me, and I quickly looked down again. His brow furrowed. His gaze was so piercing, so focused, that I couldn't bear to meet it.

I tried to step back once more, but this time, he caught my wrist. The grip was gentle yet firm, and before I could react, he pulled me closer again. My chest collided with his, and a soft gasp escaped me before I could stop it.

I couldn't look at him. I couldn't speak. All I could do was stand there, my cheeks burning, my heart racing, as his eyes stayed locked on me.

I felt his fingers shift slightly, securing their hold on my waist. The movement was subtle but enough to send another wave of awareness rushing through me. My breath hitched as I glanced up at him, unable to stop myself.

His gaze... it was darker now, deeper, as though he was trying to read every thought racing through my mind. I could feel the weight of it, and my heart skipped painfully in my chest.

I parted my lips, trying to call him. "Sidharth ji-" But the words faltered, caught in my throat, when he lifted a finger and gently pressed it against my lips.

"Shh..." His voice was a whisper, barely audible over the sound of the fountain, yet it was enough to make my body tense and relax all at once. My lips quivered against his touch, the warmth of his finger lingering long after he moved it away.

And then I noticed it. His eyes. They aren't entirely blue. They are different. If you look closely. They aren't just blue. But before I can see anything. I felt it.

His hand rose slowly, the back of his fingers brushing against my forehead as he tucked away the wet strands of hair that clung to my face. The motion was deliberate, almost reverent, as though every touch carried meaning.

I closed my eyes, overwhelmed. A shiver ran through me, and I clutched the edge of my saree tightly, my fingers twisting the fabric as though it could ground me. But it didn't. Not when I could feel the heat of his presence, the closeness of his body.

His fingers moved lower, tracing the curve of my cheek. His touch was light, barely there, yet it sent ripples of sensation through me. Slowly, he brushed away the water droplets clinging to my skin, his fingertips lingering as though savoring the contact.

I didn't dare open my eyes. I didn't think I could bear to see the intensity I was sure still lingered in his gaze. My breath came in shallow, uneven bursts, my chest rising and falling against his.

Then his thumb found my lower lip.

The gentle pressure as he brushed away a droplet of water made my knees weaken, and I had to press my toes into the ground to keep myself steady. His thumb moved slowly, tracing the curve of my lip, and I couldn't suppress the way my body reacted.

My lips trembled, my fists clenched tighter around my saree, and my toes curled against the cool soil beneath us. I could feel his breath on my face, warm and steady, as though he wasn't as affected as I was.

But when he pulled me closer, the space between us disappearing entirely, I knew he wasn't unaffected. The tension in his hold, the way his chest pressed against mine, spoke volumes.

I was completely surrounded by him-his touch, his scent, his presence. And as much as I wanted to find the courage to look at him, to meet his gaze, I couldn't. I was lost, drowning in the moment, and I didn't want it to end.

His lips parted slightly, his thumb still lingering on my lower lip, rubbing it with a slow, deliberate motion that made my chest tighten. I wasn't sure if I was breathing anymore. His eyes... those deep, dark eyes, were dilating with every second that passed, pulling me into their intensity.

I felt like my knees would give out beneath me. My hand, trembling slightly, reached out to steady myself, landing on his bicep. The solid warmth of his arm beneath my fingers was enough to make my head spin. The moment I touched him, his eyes fluttered shut, and I froze, watching him.

Why did this feel so heavy? Why was it so hard to move?

His jaw clenched, his lips still parted, and I could see the faint tremble in them, as though he was fighting some invisible battle. Before I could process anything, he suddenly bent down.

"Ji-" I barely managed to whisper before his arms swept me up entirely.

A gasp escaped me, my arms instinctively wrapping around his neck as I tried to steady myself. My heart pounded against my ribs as I looked up at him, my mind reeling.

"What... what are you doing?" I stammered, my voice small, barely audible over the sound of my racing heartbeat.

He paused, his gaze dropping to meet mine. His eyes were dark, unreadable, and then they moved lower, trailing down my face. His lingering stare made my cheeks flush. I could feel the heat spreading through me, my body tensing as he looked at me like that.

My grip tightened on his neck, trying to shield myself from whatever this was. But it didn't help; it only brought me closer to him.

"I can walk," I whispered, desperation creeping into my voice. I didn't know if I was trying to convince him or myself.

His jaw flexed again, his lips pressing into a thin line for a moment before he finally spoke. His voice was low, deep, and rough in a way that sent shivers down my spine.

"I know you can. But no way I'm letting my wife walk around like this."

His words weren't harsh, but they were firm, unyielding, and laced with something that made my breath catch-a care that was almost possessive.

He started moving, his arms holding me close as though I might slip away if he loosened his grip even slightly. My heart felt like it was in my throat. I couldn't look anywhere but at him.

He wasn't looking at me anymore; his gaze was focused straight ahead, his face set and determined. But I could feel his hands tightening on my waist, his fingers pressing into me like he was trying to anchor me to him.

I bit my lip, unsure of how to handle the storm brewing inside me. The tension in the air was suffocating, and yet... I didn't want it to end.

Sidharth ji pushed open the door with his leg, his grip on me still firm, and stepped inside. I clung to his neck, my heart pounding so hard I was sure he could hear it. The room was dimly lit, just enough light to make out the furniture and the outlines of everything around us, but not bright enough to see clearly.

Thank God, I thought, biting my lip. At least the low light would hide the deep flush burning on my face.

The door clicked shut behind us, again with his leg, the sound making me flinch slightly. His hands were still around my waist, and as he slowly loosened his grip, his fingers grazed my skin through the fabric of my saree, sending shivers down my spine. I couldn't breathe properly.

Finally, he set me down in the middle of the room. My legs felt wobbly, and I had to hold my saree tightly to stop my hands from shaking. His gaze... it was so intense. He stood there, towering over me, his face unreadable but somehow filled with emotions I couldn't name. His jaw was tight, the muscles clenching, and his eyes... they were darker than I'd ever seen them.

Was he angry? No, it didn't feel like that. But then... what was it?

I felt smaller under his gaze, my heart hammering wildly. He reached out, brushing a strand of wet hair away from my face, his fingers lingering just a second too long against my cheek. My breath hitched.

"You... change," he said, his voice deep, rough, and low enough to make my entire body shudder. His words weren't a request; they were an instruction.

I nodded quickly, unable to form a reply, my throat dry. The way his eyes bore into mine made me feel like I was melting under his stare. His voice echoed in my ears, each syllable vibrating through me.

Without waiting for another second, I turned and darted toward the bathroom, almost tripping over the hem of my saree in my haste. My hands fumbled with the door handle before I finally managed to close it behind me.

Inside, I leaned against the door, my chest heaving as I tried to calm my racing heart. I couldn't face him. Not right now.

Walking to the mirror, I stopped and looked at my reflection. My cheeks were red, my lips trembling. My fingers brushed over my lower lip instinctively, and the memory of his thumb there made me shut my eyes tightly.

Stop thinking about it! I scolded myself, turning away from the mirror.

I quickly reached for the towel and began drying myself, hoping the act would cool my burning cheeks. But it didn't help. His voice, his touch, the way his fingers moved against my waist-they were all stuck in my mind.

I forced myself to change, my hands shaking slightly as I tied the loose ends of my saree properly again. Calm down, Noor, I whispered to myself. But calming down seemed impossible.

The thought of facing him again made my stomach flutter nervously.
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Next day-

I stood in the kitchen, packing Sidharth ji's lunch, my heart lighter than usual. The rich scent of matar paneer filled the air, and I smiled at the thought of him enjoying it during his busy day. As I carefully arranged the food, my thoughts briefly drifted to this morning.

When I woke up today, I found him already up, fully dressed and standing in front of the mirror. His hair was neatly combed, and his shirt looked perfectly ironed. He had been so quick to get ready, as though he had no time to waste. But when he saw me stir in bed, he walked toward me, his steps steady but gentle. There was a small smile on his face-the same smile I had been seeing more often these days, the one that made my heart flutter every time. He reached me, his presence warm, and in that moment, he informed me,

"I have to leave early today. There's an emergency at work."

The way he said it, in his calm and reassuring tone, made me feel cared for, as if he had considered me before rushing off. There was no rush, no haste in his voice-just a quiet acknowledgement that I was there.

He wasn't just going through the motions anymore. He was making the effort to let me know, and I couldn't help but feel a sense of warmth in my chest.

The way he explained himself to me, the way he cared enough to tell me-it warmed my heart. I couldn't stop smiling as I thought about it. Yesterday, he had called me his wife, and now, with every passing day, it felt like we were getting closer, little by little.

I felt a giggle escape from my lips as I thought about it, my face turning a shade of pink as I realized how happy I was to see these changes in him. The thought made me blush, my fingers pausing for a moment over the lunchbox.

As I turned to finish packing the lunch, my mind was still lost in the thought of Sidharth ji, and how everything between us had started to feel more genuine, more real. But just as my smile grew wider, I heard the ringing of the telephone from the hall, sharp and sudden.

It rang several times, unanswered. I quickly walked toward it, only to stop halfway when I saw that Adarsh had already picked up the phone. I turned, ready to head back, but his voice stopped me in my tracks.

"What?" he shouted, his tone suddenly filled with panic.

A tight knot formed in my stomach as I hurried toward him. His face was pale as he spoke into the phone. "Maa, Maa!" he called, his voice shaking with fear.

Akriti rushed down from upstairs, worry clearly etched on her face. "What happened, Adarsh?" she asked, her eyes scanning the room for any signs of trouble.

Adarsh looked at me, then at Maa his voice full of urgency. "Dadaji fell from the stairs," he said, his voice trembling. "His health is deteriorating. We need to leave immediately."

(Grandfather)

The gravity of his words hit me all at once. The quiet morning was suddenly shattered, replaced by a rush of urgency and concern.

The urgency in Adarsh's voice still echoed in the room. His eyes were wide, and his hands trembled as he spoke rapidly into the phone. "Maa, they've already taken him to the hospital. We need to leave now," he explained, his words laced with panic.

Akriti face turned ashen, and she immediately rushed toward her room. Maa too turned to walk in her room. "Let me call Sidharth first," she muttered, as a worried expression settled on her features.

Noor, standing in the hallway, felt helpless. She watched her mother-in-law hurry away, and for a brief moment, she wasn't sure what to do. Should she follow her? Should she stay? A sense of uncertainty gripped her heart as she walked to her mother in law room, unsure of the storm that was about to hit their family.

As Noor reached the door, she could hear her mother-in-law's voice softly reaching her ears through the crack. "Please, Sidharth, it's about your grandfather. Please..." Aditi ji's voice was filled with worry, and Noor's heart skipped a beat at the tension in her tone.

She knocked softly on the door, and Aditi ji immediately turned toward her, her face now fully shadowed by concern.

"Sidharth, I am leaving Noor here. Come with her, okay? We'll waiting for you," She said quickly, ending the call with a firm click.

Aditi ji's hands trembled slightly as she took Noor's hand and guided her gently toward the bed. The air around them was thick with worry, but her voice, when she spoke, was kind and understanding. "Noor beta" she began, her voice calm but urgent.

"I need you to understand something, please don't misunderstand me. I don't want to leave you here alone but i have too. Sidharth is very close to his grandfather. I know that when he comes back, he will be deeply upset. And I know you'll support him, but I'm telling you now, be with him today. He will need you, even if he doesn't say it. He might not express it, but I know my son. He'll need you, Noor."

Noor felt a knot form in her throat, unsure of how to respond. She hadn't anticipated this, and now she was feeling the weight of her mother-in-law's words. "Understand, Noor. Please. Be there for him."

The words repeated in her mind, leaving her speechless, unsure of how to take them. It sounds like more than what was displaying. She hadn't expected Aditi ji to be so direct, so genuine. It was as though her mother-in-law knew things that Noor didn't, things about Sidharth that she had yet to discover and sgs urging her to find it out.

Before Noor could process it all, within ten minutes, Aditi ji and Adarsh, Adarsh & Veer who just arrived were ready to leave. They had packed their bags quickly, a sense of urgency fueling their every move. Noor followed them to the door, unsure of what to expect. As Akriti and her mother in law reached the threshold, she turned toward Noor, her expression softening for a brief moment. She leaned forward and kissed Noor's forehead gently.

"Please, beta," Aditi ji said, her voice filled with sincerity, "take care of yourself, and be with him. I know you'll do what's best for him."

Noor's heart swelled. Even Akriti hugged her & whispered a take care to her. Adarsh unexpectedly touched her feets as he bid her bye. Veer just passed warm smile.

With a final smile, they left, the weight of the moment heavy in the air.

Noor stood there for a moment, lost in thought. She didn't fully understand everything that was happening, but one thing was clear-Sidharth needed her, and today-more than ever, she would be there for him.
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The house was too quiet. Everyone had left, and all I could hear was the ticking of the clock in the background, each tick feeling louder than the last. The silence seemed to weigh heavily on me, pressing in from every corner. I couldn't help but glance at the door, waiting for Sidharth ji to return. Today I realize I didn't have his number in my cell. Watching the rain outside. I badly want to call him but I can't.

The minutes dragged on, and the silence was broken only by the sound of the rain outside, which had started to fall heavily. The weather had changed so suddenly, and now it mirrored the unease twisting inside me.

The clock struck 9, and I couldn't stop my mind from wandering. He should have been back by now. I bit my lip, trying to push the worry away, but it stayed there, gnawing at me. He wasn't supposed to be this late, not today. I kept thinking about him, about what he must be going through, and I found myself getting lost in my thoughts.

Then, suddenly, the door creaked open. My heart skipped a beat as I turned toward it, and I froze. There he was-Sidharth ji-standing in the doorway. His appearance made my breath catch in my throat. His clothes were drenched, water dripping from his hair and down his face. But it wasn't just that.

His eyes were red, his face tense, and he looked so different from the calm, collected man I knew. His jaw was clenched, his whole demeanor exuding a sense of exhaustion, maybe even frustration.

My heart tightened as I stood there, unsure of what to say or do. All I could do was look at him, worried and lost in the storm brewing inside both of us.
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