Now, the next chapter after this target is completed.

Today's target -
‼️Next chapter on thrusday.‼️
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जितनी दफा देखूँ तुम्हें
धड़के ज़ोरों से
ऐसा तो कभी होता नही
मिलके ग़ैरों से
जितनी दफा देखूँ तुम्हें
धड़के ज़ोरों से
ऐसा तो कभी होता नही
मिलके ग़ैरों से

दूर जाना नही तुमको है कसम
खुद से ज़्यादा तुम्हें चाहते हैं सनम
दूर जाना नही मुझसे ऐ सनम
खुद से ज़्यादा तुम्हें चाहते हैं सनम

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Sidharth leaned in again, his lips finding hers in a kiss that was deeper-hungrier. His tongue slid against hers, tasting, claiming, as if he couldn't get enough. His hand stayed firm on her bare breast, fingers teasing her hardened nipple while his other hand gripped her waist, pulling her closer until there was no space left between them.

The heat between them burned hotter, and when he finally pulled away from her lips, his mouth didn't stop. He trailed slow, open-mouthed kisses along her jaw, down the delicate curve of her neck. Each kiss was possessive, leaving invisible marks only she would feel-only she would know belonged to him.

Noor's breath hitched as his hands moved lower, brushing the curve of her waist before sliding over her hips. Without a word, Sidharth shifted her gently, lowering her to the car seat. The leather felt cold against her skin, but his body-his heat-was all she could focus on as he hovered over her.

Her heart pounded when his darkened gaze swept over her, as if he was committing every inch of her to memory. And when she felt his fingers curl around the edge of her blouse, pushing it aside, a soft whisper left her lips-barely audible. "W-windows ..."

Sidharth didn't hesitate. Without breaking eye contact, he reached to the side and pressed a small switch. Within seconds, sleek black curtains slid over the windows, shutting out the storm-and the rest of the world.

"Better?" His voice was low, thick with desire, as his lips curled into a comforting smile.

Before she could answer, his mouth was back on her breast-bare, soft, and exposed only to him. His lips wrapped around her nipple again, sucking harder this time, as if he was addicted to the taste of her. The sensation sent a tremor through her, and her fingers curled into his hair, holding him close.

He groaned against her skin, the sound vibrating through her body. The warmth of his mouth, the roughness of his touch-it all made her head spin. "Aarth..." The name slipped from her lips in a soft moan, and the moment he heard it, something in him snapped.

His teeth grazed the sensitive peak before he soothed it with his tongue, his hand moving to her other breast. He squeezed it firmly, his thumb circling the nipple, making her arch into his touch. Everything about him felt intense-hungry-but still, there was a softness beneath his touch, as if he wanted to cherish every part of her.

"Cherry..." he murmured against her skin, his voice rough and thick with need. "You make it impossible for me to stop."

His mouth moved lower, trailing kisses down the curve of her ribs while his hands stayed firm on her body-touching, teasing, owning. Her body trembled beneath him, heat pooling low in her belly as his lips worshipped her skin.

He wasn't just kissing her-he was consuming her. And the way he held her, as if she was something precious, made her heart ache and her body burned all at once.

When his mouth returned to her breast, he sucked harder-more demanding. The sharp pull of his lips made her moan again, louder this time. Her hips shifted beneath him, chasing the friction his body offered, and the movement made him groan deeply.

"You feel so good," he rasped, his breath warm against her skin. "I could do this all night, Cherry. I could touch you forever."

His words sent shivers down her spine, but she didn't stop him. She couldn't. Not when his mouth was back on her, not when his hands were learning every curve of her body as if he had the right to know her this way. And God, in that moment-it felt like he did.

Sidharth's lips left hers, but his hunger only grew stronger. His mouth found her breast again, bare and vulnerable beneath him. This time, he didn't hold back. His tongue swirled around her nipple before he drew it between his lips, sucking harder, deeper-as if he wanted to mark every inch of her.

Noor's body arched beneath him, a helpless moan slipping from her lips. "Ahhh...Aarth." His name spilled out, broken and breathless.

His grip on her waist tightened as his other hand cupped her breast, kneading it with a slow, aching hunger. His fingers brushed against the hardened peak, teasing and pinching while his mouth worked on the other, driving her further into the heat.

"Every part of you... only mine. " His voice was low and rough against her skin.

His words sent a shiver down her spine. His touch was raw, demanding, but there was something deeper in the way he held her. An ache. An obsession.

His teeth grazed her nipple before he sucked it back into his mouth, harder this time, as if he couldn't get enough of her. Noor's fingers tangled in his hair, pulling him closer, needing him as much as he needed her.

When his lips left her breast, the cool air made her shiver, but his hands never stopped. He traced slow, deliberate circles around the sensitive bud, watching with dark, heated eyes as her body trembled under him.

He saw how her eyes were closed, how small yet divine she looked. And then he looked at his surroundings.

Without a word, he moved. His body hovered over hers as he lifted his gaze to her face. For a moment, he just looked at her-really looked. Her flushed cheeks, her swollen lips, the way her eyes barely held back the storm he had created inside her.

His hand rose to her face, brushing a strand of hair away from her forehead before he bent down and pressed the softest kiss there. Gentle. Reverent. As if she was the most precious thing he had ever touched.

She was. Actually.

"Is pal sirf ek cheez chahiye mujhe..." His voice was rough now, the fire still burning beneath the surface.

("At this moment, all I want is...")

He tilted her chin up, his thumb brushing over her bottom lip before leaning down again. His lips touched hers-soft, slow, as if he wanted to pour every unspoken word into the kiss.

"...Aapko apna banana." He whispered against her lips.
("...to make you mine.")

His lips lingered a breath longer before he pulled back slightly, his eyes locked with her.

"To touch you in a way that there will be nothing left like you and I, but only us."

The weight of his words settled between them, heavy and raw. But even with the hunger burning in his eyes, there was something else-something softer.

He leaned down again, his mouth brushing against hers in a slow, lingering kiss. But when he pulled away, his voice dropped to a whisper.

"But no matter how much I want you... how much I crave you..."

He exhaled, his thumb tracing the curve of her jaw, his gaze fierce yet tender.

"I won't cross the lines yet... because."

With that, he kissed her again, softer this time, as if sealing his promise against her lips.

He was obsessed.

Pulling back sidharth's fingers brushed against her cheek, slow and soft, as if he was scared she might break under his touch. His thumb traced the curve of her face, the warmth of her skin seeping into him.

"Because you're too precious, too valuable, and respected in my eyes to be touched like this in a damn car,"

His voice was low, rough with restraint. Lifting his hand, he stroked her face again-gentle, reverent.

"You deserve so much more, cherry... so much. But not this."

His breath hitched. "I'm sorry agar aapko galat laga-"

( I'm sorry if I made you feel wrong-)

He was about to pull back, to move away from her warmth, when Noor's fingers tightened around his collar. Her grip was small but firm, holding him there. "Aarth..." Her voice trembled-soft, breathless-but it stopped him like a chain around his heart.

Sidharth froze, his body hovering above hers, heart pounding in his chest. His blue eyes met hers brown one-wide, vulnerable. She looked at him through heavy lids, her face flushed, her breath shaky, but her grip on him didn't loosen. If anything, it tightened.

"Pehle bhi bola hai humne aur aaj bhi keh rahe hai... a-apka chhuna hume kabhi used feel nahi karwata," she whispered, her voice barely above a breath.

(I've said it before, and I'm saying it again... Your touch never makes me feel used.)

A warmth spread across his chest, like a weight he didn't know he was carrying had lifted. Noor swallowed hard and tugged him closer, her lips quivering but her words steady.

"Hume safe aur aapka hona mehsus karwata hai."

(It makes me feel safe and like I belong.)

Sidharth felt something stir inside him-something deep, unspoken. Her words... God," her words were like balm to a wound always he never showed. He had always been the man people misunderstood-too cold, too distant. But here she was, telling him he was none of those things in her eyes. That he was the place she felt safe.

Oh, his wife loves him.

For a moment, he didn't move. He only stared-like he was trying to memorize her face, this feeling, everything. His breath shuddered out of him as he cupped her cheek more tenderly, his thumb brushing against the curve of her lips. He wanted to speak, to tell her how much those words meant-but his throat tightened. Words weren't enough.

And then, softly-so softly it almost hurt-Noor smiled. That smile. It undid him.

"Aur rahi baat disrespect ki toh-" her lips curled a little more, teasing. But she was cut off by her husband.

"Aapko sapne mein bhi disrespect karne ka nahi soch sakta, cherry."

(And as for disrespect- I can't even think of disrespecting you in my dreams, cherry.)

A soft laugh spilled from her lips, light and sweet. She didn't care that her body was still pressed against his, that the air between them was thick and heated. All she could see was him-this man who could make her blush and feel cherished at the same time.

Sidharth's heart stuttered. His head dipped for a second, his forehead resting against hers as his hand slid back into her hair, cradling her gently. That smile on her face-God, it was going to ruin him.

He had never been the man to fall easily. He had been too guarded, too closed off for too long. But Noor... she broke through everything.

He pulled back just enough to see her face again, his gaze roaming over her features-taking in every expression. And as he looked at her, something shifted in his chest-an ache so sweet it almost hurt.

His lips curved into a small, helpless smile. "Yeh hi toh hum keh rahe the," she whispered, that same playful softness in her voice.

(That's exactly what I was saying.)

Sidharth shifted back, his warmth leaving her for a moment as he sat up. Without a word but with a small smile, his fingers moved to the front of her blouse, quietly fastening each hook with a gentleness that made Noor's heart skip a beat in ways she couldn't explain. There was no rush in his touch-only patience, as if each button held a promise he wanted to keep.

When he finished, Noor pushed herself up slightly, but before she could move further, Sidharth's hands found her waist. Without asking, without forcing, he lifted her with ease, settling her onto his lap again. A soft smile touched his lips-calm, easy-as if holding her like this felt like the most natural thing in the world.

Noor's breath caught. Her body shivered for a second as she met his eyes, the blue of them calm yet burning with something deeper. Before she could think, he leaned in, brushing a feather-light kiss over her lips-a touch so soft, so fleeting, it was gone before she could truly feel it.

And then he pulled back, his smile growing just a little more.

Heat rushed to Noor's face, her cheeks burning red as she lowered her gaze. Without a word, she leaned forward, resting her head against his shoulder. His arm curved around her back, holding her close, grounding her in the quiet warmth that lingered between them.

Outside, the rain fell softly, the sound like a distant lullaby, wrapping them in a cocoon of peace. For a while, neither of them spoke. There were no words needed-not when the silence felt this full. Just the rhythm of their breaths, the steady warmth of his embrace, and the soft drumming of the rain against the windows.

Noor closed her eyes, feeling her heart swell-full and warm and so heavy with feelings she couldn't name. She didn't know how long they stayed like that, tangled together in the quiet. Minutes? Hours? It didn't matter. Time felt small compared to the weight of this-of him-of how safe she felt, like she belonged exactly where she was.

Sidharth's hand moved slowly, tracing circles over her waist, as if reminding himself she was real, she was here. Every so often, he would press a kiss against her forehead-soft and lingering-like he couldn't help himself.

The warmth of his touch, the softness of his breath against her skin-it was too much, too gentle. Noor's fingers twitched against his chest before she heard rain again. She reached out, her hand brushing against the edge of the window. Without thinking, she tugged the curtain aside slightly, letting the faint light of the rain-drenched night spill over them.

As the curtain shifted, Siddharth's voice cut through the quiet-low and steady.
"Kya kar rahi hai aap?"
(What are you doing?)

Noor's fingers brushed against the curtain, her voice soft, almost playful. "Parde hata rahe hai."
(I'm moving the curtain.)

Siddharth's lips curled into a small smile. "Kyun?"
(Why?)

She frowned lightly, her eyes shifting between her hand on the curtain and his face. But Sidharth-he didn't frown. No, he only smiled deeper, his gaze fixed on her with a calmness that made her heart flutter. He always looked at her like she was something so valuable, something he wanted to hold but with care & never leave.

"Barish pasand hai na aapko?"
(You like the rain, don't you?)

Her words were soft, almost too innocent for someone on whom lap she was sitting with her cheeks burning red. Sidharth's smile widened into a grin-bright, open, the kind he rarely showed. And for a moment, he just looked at her-so small in his arms - so unaware of the way she made his heart race.

Without a word, he leaned down, brushing his lips over hers again-slow, warm, as if tasting something he could never get enough of. Her lips, so soft, so sweet-they were becoming his weakness.

When he pulled back, his voice dropped to a low murmur, rough at the edges.

"Haan, barish to pasand hai... par ab sabse zyada aap pasand hain."

(Yes, I like the rain... but now, I like you the most.)

"Ab barish se zyada aap pasand hain," I said, my voice softer than I intended.

I looked down at her as the words left my mouth, watching the way her cheeks flushed a deeper red. She was avoiding my eyes-her lashes brushed against her skin as she tried to hide. Cute. Too cute. And God, I wasn't planning to say something like that. She deserved better words. Something softer, something grander.

But when it comes to her, I never plan anything. It happens. She makes me lose every bit of control. Every damn time.

Because how does a I hold back when someone this fragile, this precious, my Noor is sitting on my lap while looking at me with this much innocence?

My fingers traced the curve of her waist, slow and deliberate, as if trying to memorize her. She fit against me perfectly-like this was exactly where she belonged. My wife. Mine.

I shouldn't feel this much, this deeply, but with her-there's no limit. It's never enough, and now that I know I was falling for her. No amount of love is enough.

She shifted slightly, and my hold on her waist tightened. I wasn't letting her go. Her warmth seeped into me like this. My world felt quieter, softer, when she was close. And with every passing second, the feeling grew heavier-deeper-pulling me under.

I watched her hands still against the curtain, her delicate fingers brushing the fabric. She wasn't looking at me, but her presence consumed every inch of me as always. My heart pounded in a rhythm only she could control. She doesn't even realize what she does to me.

Oh, my Noor

I leaned down, my lips brushing against her temple-just a touch, just to remind myself she was this close to me. I felt her breath hitch, her body tensing before melting into me again.

I know my words would make her shy. My confession-simple as it was-has wrapped itself around her like a warmth, she can't shake off. And I don't want her to. I want her to feel it-deep, in her bones-until there is no part of her left untouched by the truth.

I let her be. Let her hold onto me, let her hide her face in my shirt like I can't feel her trembling hands curling tighter around my collar. She's trying to disappear into me, as if that could save her from the heat creeping up her cheeks. It's so-God-so painfully cute. And I watch her. I always do. Every glance, every breath, every slight move-I catch it all because she's the only thing in this world worth looking at.

I tilt her head gently, brushing my thumb along her jaw. Her skin is warm beneath my touch-soft, like the first drop of rain after months of drought. My voice drops to a murmur. "Soyiye, Noor. Main aapko jaga dunga jab woh aayenge, theek hai?"

(Sleeo Noor. I'll wok you up when they'll come)

She doesn't respond, but her grip on me tightens, her trust pressing into my skin in the shape of her touch. The silence between us isn't heavy-it's soft. Light. Like everything feels when she's in my arms.

I smile to myself, It's strange how being with her makes everything else-everything I've carried-feel so...fine. As if nothing could touch me, not when she's this close.

My hand moves to her forehead, brushing stray strands of hair away before I start patting her gently. Slow. Soothing. She shifts closer, curling into me like she belongs nowhere else. I kiss her forehead-once. Then again. And again. Each press of my lips a silent promise, a confession stronger than any words I could ever speak aloud.

With my free hand, I reach for the coat on the driver's seat. Carefully-without disturbing her-I pull it over her body, shielding her from the cool air. But she stirs. I feel it before I see it-the slight lift of her head, her fingers moving toward the coat as if to pull it away and see what I'm doing.

I shake my head softly, catching her hand with ease. My fingers curl around hers, warm and steady. With a gentle tug, I settle her hand back against my chest and pull the coat higher to cover her properly. My voice drops lower, softer, as I whisper, "Main hoon, cherry...aap aaram kariye."

(I'm here, cherry. You rest)

Because as long as I'm here, she doesn't need to worry about anything else. Not even for a second.

Her breath is deep-soft and steady against my chest. I know she's asleep. My hand moves on its own, slow and careful, brushing over her shoulder. It's a habit now. No-an obsession.

I tilt my head, pressing a kiss to her cheek. Warm. Sweet. Mine. Kissing her-it's the one thing I can never get enough of. Every time my lips touch her skin, I'm already craving the next. Her shy eyes, her swollen lips-they make me greedy. She doesn't know what she does to me. Just holding her like this feels like everything I've ever wanted, and still, not nearly enough.

If I could, I'd keep her in my arms forever. But even forever wouldn't satisfy me. Not when it comes to her.

My gaze falls to the paper-half-hanging from the seat. The gift. The school. She doesn't know the truth. I told her it was her father's who told me all this. She wanted her to have a place where she could teach.

I lied. Of course, I lied.

I remembered that day-our first dinner at her home. She was in the kitchen, and her father showed me a picture. A small boy. An orphan. She used to teach him. The way her father spoke about it-about her, about how she always teaches orphan kids-stayed with me. Later, when we went to the Kuldevi temple, she told me she loved teaching children. Loved making them smile. Her voice was soft, but her eyes-they burned with something deeper. Purpose. Passion. And I knew.

If she wanted to teach, I would give her a whole damn school.

She deserves everything. The school? The garden? They're nothing. Nothing compared to what I want to give her. Nothing compared to what she is to me. My peace. My storm. My only obsession.

My love.

And then she rewarded me with the best thing she could. Her one smile. And when she smiled at me-God, it was worth every sleepless night, every bit of blood and sweat. She doesn't know how far I'd go for her. How much I'd destroy if it meant keeping that smile on her face.

If she wanted the world, I'd lay it at her feet.

And still-it wouldn't be enough.
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The car rolled to a stop outside the grand gates of the Rajvardhan haveli. After three days at the Kuldevi temple, the air around them felt heavier, quieter. The morning sun stretched over the sprawling mansion, casting soft shadows on the marble steps. As the doors opened, Noor stepped out first, her saree brushing against her ankles. Sidharth followed, his hand still holding hers firmly - as if letting go was never an option.

Inside, the whole family was already waiting. Her mother-in-law stood in the center, flanked by both dadis. Akriti, Adarsh, and Veer stood nearby, the familiar warmth of home resting in their smiles. The smell of incense lingered faintly in the air, mixing with the sweetness of freshly made kheer.

Noor took a deep breath and bent down to touch her good dadi's feet first. The old woman's face lit up as she placed her hands on Noor's head, her voice soft with blessing.

"Khush raho, beta," she said with a smile, her fingers lingering in Noor's hair for a moment longer.

(Stay happy)

Noor straightened up and moved to her mother-in-law next. Sidharth, without missing a beat, bent down with her - his hand never leaving hers. That hold was more than a gesture now; it was a statement. No matter what she does, she will never do anything alone.

"Jeete raho," her mother-in-law murmured, her voice warmer than Noor had expected.

One by one, they greeted everyone, but as they they heard Dadi's voice.

"Arre, Sidharth betwa ke bhai, pair chu lo," the older dadi said, her tone playful but expectant. Noor hesitated. Her fingers curled slightly in Sidharth's hold. She knew. He never liked it when she touched his feet.

Noor froze for a second, her heart thudding in her chest. Her eyes flicked up to Sidharth. He was already watching her - steady, unreadable. His jaw tightened, but he said nothing.

She dropped her gaze and gave a small nod, preparing to bend down. But the moment she moved, Sidharth's hand clenched around hers. Before she could lower herself, Dadi's voice cut through the room again.

"Are betwa, rok kyu raha hai?" she asked. Her tone was serious now.

(Why are you stopping?)

Without a word, Sidharth let go of Noor's hand - only to place both his hands on her shoulders. The air seemed to shift as he pulled her upright, turning her to stand beside him. There was no hesitation, no apology in his actions. He moved with the kind of authority no one questioned.

His voice, low and firm, echoed through the room. "Meri biwi mere pair nahi chuenge."

(My wife won't touch my feet)

Silence followed. The weight of his words settled over them, thick and unyielding. Even Dadi, with all her teasing, fell quiet for a beat.

Noor felt her heart flutter. She already knew why he never let her touch his feet-he had told her many times. "You are not beneath me," he had said. But hearing him say it here, in front of his family, made her feel special in a way she never thought she could.

It was one thing to know it in private, but another when he declared it openly. It made her heart beat faster, her chest warm with something soft and sweet. At that moment, she couldn't help but feel proud of him. She was already in love with him, but this-this made her fall even deeper.

"Kyu beta. Kya ho gaya?"
(Why, son? What happened?)

His Dadi's voice broke the air, sharp and questioning. Sidharth's grip on Noor's hand tightened, his fingers curling around hers as if to hold her in place. Noor felt the tension in his hold, the anger simmering beneath his calm face. Without a word, her thumb traced slow, gentle circles on the back of his palm. A quiet reassurance. I am here. With you.

The small touch made something shift in him. His shoulders eased, just a little. His anger didn't vanish, but it softened enough for him to speak.

"Kyu Dadi, Noor mere pair kyu chuengi?"
(Why, Dadi? Why will Noor touch my feet?)

The room fell silent. His question hung in the air, heavy and firm. Noor could feel every heartbeat pounding in her ears, but Sidharth stood steady beside her.

Indira Dadi's voice came next, cold and sure. "Yeh parampara hai beta. Hamare dharam mein biwi pati ke pair chhooti hai-"

(This is our tradition, son. In our religion, a wife touches her husband's feet-)

"Mere dharam mein, aurton ko Lakshmi maana jata hai. Shakti maana jata hai."

(In my faith, women are considered Lakshmi. They are power.)

Sidharth's voice cut through her words. Clear. Strong. Final. He turned to Noor then, his eyes locking with hers. Something deep flickered there-something only she could see. It wasn't just anger. It was more. A quiet kind of devotion, raw and unspoken.

"Aur meri itni haisiyat nahi hai ki meri Lakshmi mere pair chhue."

(And I am not worthy enough for my Lakshmi to touch my feet.)

His words hit something inside her chest. Hard. She had always known he felt this way, but hearing it like this-in front of everyone-made her feel seen. Valued. Loved in a way she couldn't put into words. Her heart swelled with pride for the man standing beside her.

He didn't stop there. His gaze stayed on her, warm and intense.

"Aur waise bhi, iss rishte mein inka kad mujhse bada hai, Dadi."
(And anyway, in this relationship, her stature is higher than mine, Dadi.)

His voice softened, but the weight of his words didn't.

"Meri zindagi mein inka kad bahut bada hai. Yeh mere pair nahi chhoo sakti."
(In my life, her place is too high. She can not touch my feet.)

Noor felt her breath hitch. The world around them faded for a moment.
He wasn't just refusing - he was declaring. She wasn't beneath him. Not here. Not ever. It was just him, just her, and the words he spoke so easily. Words that meant everything. He wasn't just defending her. He was lifting her higher, showing everyone how much she meant to him.

And then, the warmth in his eyes vanished. He turned back to his Dadi, his face cold again.

"Dubara meri biwi ko yeh na boliyega dadi"

(Don't say this to my wife again, dadi)

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Sidharth stood near the window, his broad frame outlined by the soft glow of the evening sun. One hand tucked in his pocket, the other held his phone as his low, steady voice filled the quiet room. The city lights were beginning to flicker outside, but his world shifted the moment he felt two soft hands wrap gently around his waist from behind.

The warmth was familiar-he didn't need to turn to know. His breath hitched just slightly, a rare break in his composure. Noor.

Without missing a beat, his free hand reached down, covering hers in a quiet claim. A small smile played on his lips, one he never showed the world-only her. She pressed closer, resting her head softly against his back, and the weight of her touch was enough to quiet the chaos in his mind.

His voice softened as he ended the call, cutting it short without a second thought. Noor came first-always.

Turning slowly, he kept her hands in his, their fingers tangled like they were meant to fit. And when he faced her, there she was-his wife, his Noor-smiling wide, her cheeks dusted with the faintest blush.

"Kya hua?" His voice dropped lower, softer, like her presence alone could unravel him.

(What happened?)

Noor shook her head, a playful denial that only made his heart twist tighter. A stray lock of hair slipped across her face, and he reached up, tucking it behind her ear with the same care as if she were something fragile-something his rough world didn't deserve to touch.

"To meri biwi itna muskura kyun rahi hai?" His words came out slower, deeper, as if tasting the sweetness of calling her his wife.

(So, why is my wife smiling so much?)

Her cheeks bloomed a deeper shade of pink, and he noticed-he always did. It never failed to fascinate him how easily she blushed under his gaze, like her heart couldn't hide from him even if she tried.

"Kyunki hum aapki biwi hai," she murmured, her voice soft, sweet, teasing like a secret meant only for him.

(Because I am your wife.)

A soft chuckle escaped his lips, a sound so rare it could quiet storms. He leaned down, brushing a delicate kiss against her forehead. Noor closed her eyes at the touch, a small smile curving her lips as she soaked in the warmth only he could give.

When she opened her eyes again, she found his-intense, unwavering. And that smile-the one she knew no one else ever got to see-was there, just for her.

"Aap kyun muskura rahe hain?" she asked softly, curiosity laced in her voice as her fingers curled tighter around his.

(Why are you smiling?)

His gaze darkened, the teasing glint flickering back to life as he bent his head down to her height, his face now inches from hers.

"Kyunki aap meri biwi hai," he said again, this time slower, a little teasing like he wanted the words to sink into his skin, his soul.

(Because you are my wife.)

A soft giggle slipped past her lips, a sound that made something primal stir inside him. He tilted his head, studying the flush on her cheeks, the way she couldn't meet his eyes fully when he said things like this.

"Yeh aapke laal gaal dekh ke na," he murmured, his voice dropping into a whisper, just enought for her to hear. A little rough with affection, "unko... kha jaane ka mann hota hai, cherry."

(When I see these red cheeks, I just want to... eat them, cherry.)

Her laughter faded into quiet shock, her eyes wide as she looked up at him. For a moment, she stood still, processing his words, and then-

"Har waqt aapke dimaag mein yeh sab chalta rehta hai?" She swatted his chest lightly, trying-and failing-to pull her hands free from his grasp.

(All you ever think about is this?)

He let her struggle just enough to enjoy the game before pulling her closer. Their bodies collided softly, and a spark flared to life in his chest.

"Mere dimaag mein to bahut kuch chalta rehta hai," he admitted, his voice dipping lower, rougher, as his thumb traced light circles on the back of her hand.

(There's a lot that goes on in my mind.)

Noor tilted her head up, curiosity and something softer reflecting in her eyes. "Huh? Matlab?"

(What do you mean?)

His smirk deepened, that lazy, dangerous look that only she ever got to see. Without answering right away, he pulled her even closer, his lips brushing against the tip of her nose in a feather-light kiss.

"Raat mein bataunga," he promised, his voice dripping with unspoken meaning as his breath fanned against her skin.

(I'll tell you tonight.)

______________________________

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