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मेरी आँखों की दुआ है
ये चेहरा तेरा
अब देखे बिन
तुझे ना गुज़ारा हो मेरा

संगीत

मेरी आँखों की दुआ है
ये चेहरा तेरा
अब देखे बिन
तुझे ना गुज़ारा हो मेरा

मैं साँस भी लूँ
तुझे चाहे बिना
अब होगा ना ये हमसे

के थोड़ा थोड़ा प्यार हुआ तुमसे
के थोड़ा इकरार हुआ तुमसे
के थोड़ा थोड़ा प्यार हुआ तुमसे
के थोड़ा थोड़ा प्यार हुआ तुमसे

_________________________________

A strange coldness pulled me from the warmth of sleep. My lashes fluttered as I slowly opened my eyes, heavy with dreams, but something felt missing. A kind of emptiness. My hands, still drowsy, reached out to the side, searching...

But there was no warmth beside me.

No, him.

The realization made my breath hitch. My Aarth-he wasn't here. The place where he had been, where his warmth should have lingered, was now cold. I blinked, my vision still hazy, my mind slow to wake, yet my heart already knew what I was looking for.

As I pushed myself up, the comforter that had been loosely wrapped around me slid down, pooling at my waist. The moment the cold air met my bare skin, a shiver ran through me-not from the chill, but from the memory that came rushing back, unbidden and overwhelming.

My gaze dropped.

My breath caught.

A flush crept up my neck, spreading to my cheeks as my fingers instinctively clutched the fallen fabric to my chest. My skin still carried the imprint of him-the touch of his hands, the lingering heat of his lips, the soft, daring kisses that had left me trembling beneath him.

Last night...

My fingers curled into the sheets as everything came back-his whispered words, the way he had held me as if I was the most precious thing in the world, the way he had made me feel... cherished. Loved. The way my name had sounded in his voice, deep and low, sending shivers down my spine.

I squeezed my legs together, burying my face into my knees. My heart drummed in my chest, a shy, timid rhythm, like the fluttering of butterfly wings. I wasn't naïve-I knew the depth of our closeness before. But this... this was something else. A closeness so raw, so consuming, that it still echoed in my bones, in the warmth he had left behind on my skin.

And I loved it.

I loved him.

My Sidharth ji.

The thought alone sent another shiver through me, making me pull the comforter even closer, as if it could hold me the way he did. As if it could wrap around me like his arms had, safe and warm.

And yet, without him beside me, the bed felt empty. Incomplete.

Where had he gone?

I turned my head slowly, my gaze settling on the bathroom door. Shut. Silent. Empty.

He wasn't there.

A small crease formed between my brows. Where had he gone so early in the morning? My Aarth never left me like this. Never. Every morning since our wedding, I had woken up to his warmth, his strong arms draped over me, his steady breath against my skin, sometimes even his lips pressing softly on my forehead before I had fully opened my eyes.

But today...

The bed felt too vast. The silence is too heavy.

I swallowed, pushing away the strange unease that curled inside me, and slowly slid my legs off the bed. The moment my bare feet touched the floor, the soft jingle of my payal echoed through the quiet room. A sharp blush rose to my cheeks at the sound, my heart skipping as I was reminded, yet again, of last night.

Hastily, I pulled the thin comforter around me, wrapping it tightly as if it could shield me from my own thoughts. But nothing could stop the memories from flooding in-the warmth of his touch, the way his lips had roamed over my skin, the way he had whispered my name, deep and rough, making me shiver beneath him.

I bit my lip, my fingers clutching the fabric closer to my chest as I moved slowly around the room. The small bells of my anklets chimed with every hesitant step, betraying the nervous energy running through me.

The balcony.

I turned to check, peeking towards the door. Closed. Not there, either.

A deep sigh left my lips. I didn't know where he had gone, but something inside me ached in his absence. It felt wrong to wake up without him. The space beside me felt empty in a way that made my heart squeeze painfully.

Why did he leave?

Even after all these months of marriage, he never left before I woke up. He would always be there-holding me, pulling me into his warmth, claiming me in his own silent ways. Even in the mornings, when I was too shy to open my eyes, I could always feel him.

But today, I had woken up alone.

I bit the inside of my cheek, shaking the thoughts away. I needed to get ready. I couldn't go downstairs like this. I quickly made my way to the washroom, my body still wrapped in the soft fabric of the comforter, and stepped inside.

The warm water cascaded over me, washing away the remnants of sleep, but not the memories of last night. I pressed my hands against my face, my fingers trembling as I tried to steady my breath.

I shouldn't be thinking about it.

Yet, the moment I stepped out, towel wrapped securely around me, my eyes fell on the mirror.

And I froze.

My breath hitched, heat rushing up my neck, blooming into my cheeks.

Hickeys.

Everywhere.

My skin, once untouched, was now marked-deep bruises blooming across my neck, my collarbone, disappearing beneath the fabric that barely covered me. My fingers trembled as they traced the faintest one near my shoulder, the memory of his lips there making a shiver run down my spine.

My knees felt weak.

How am I going to face him?

I swallowed, averting my gaze, unable to look at myself without remembering-without feeling. The way he had held me down, his lips trailing lower, lower... the way he had whispered against my skin, his voice dark with hunger, the way his mouth had-

Noor!

I squeezed my eyes shut, shaking my head furiously, my cheeks burning as I turned away from the mirror.

I can't. I can't look at myself. I can't think about it. I can't-

I hurriedly dried my hair, avoiding my own reflection, and slipped into a soft saree. The fabric settled against my skin, but my heart refused to settle. I turned back to the mirror, my fingers hesitating before reaching for the sindoor box.

I never rushed while getting ready. I always took my time, enjoying the small rituals, the delicate touches of red, the soft glide of kohl along my eyes. But today...

Today, I wanted to be ready sooner.

Maybe because he wasn't here. Maybe because I wasn't used to this silence. Maybe because-

Because last night changed everything.

I took a deep breath, my fingers pressing the sindoor into my partition. But even as I completed my routine, the blush never left my face. My hands trembled against the dressing table.

I turned back to the bed. Empty.

And then back to the mirror.

I swallowed.

It was good that he wasn't here. Because I didn't know how I would face him after what we did last night.
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"Sare mard to farmhouse gaye hai, Bhabhi. Waha, achanak se aag lag gayi. Saari kheti bhi jal gayi."
(All the men have gone to the farmhouse, Bhabhi. A sudden fire broke out there. The entire crop has burned down.)

I heard Aakriti & I froze mid-step, the words sinking in like ice against my skin. Aag lag gayi?
(A fire?)

My fingers instinctively tightened around the edge of the counter, my breath catching in my throat. He was there. Aarth.

Before I could say anything, Maa entered the kitchen. Her soft smile barely eased the tightness in my chest.

"Noor beta, Dadaji ke liye chai bana do. Aaj ghar me aur koi aadmi nahi hai, toh bas unke hisaab se banao."

(Noor beta, make tea for Dadaji. There are no other men at home today, so just make enough for him.)

Her voice was sweet, calm, as if nothing was wrong. As if my heart wasn't hammering against my ribs.

I nodded, forcing my hands to move, to reach for the teapot, to measure the tea leaves, to act as if everything was normal. But my thoughts... they weren't here. They weren't in this kitchen.

They were with him.

I tried to steady my breath as I rolled out the dough for parathas, but the rolling pin trembled in my grip. My mind kept circling back to Aarth-where was he? Was he safe? Did he get hurt? How the fire broke?

My heart had skipped a beat the moment I heard the word fire, and it hadn't settled since. Even though I was nervous about facing him after last night, even though I wasn't ready to meet his eyes yet, none of it mattered if he wasn't okay.

I flipped the paratha onto the pan, the sizzle loud in the quiet kitchen. But inside me, there was only silence.
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"Dhyan rakhiyega."
(Take care.)

"Rakhunga."
(I will.)

And then, the call went dead.

I lowered the phone slowly, staring at the screen as if his voice would somehow linger. But it was gone, leaving behind a silence that settled deep in my chest. I pressed the phone against my heart, standing there for a moment, unmoving.

Something wasn't right.

He hadn't sounded like himself. There was something in his voice-something heavy, something unspoken. He had told me a little, but not how he felt about it. And that... that was what scared me.

Sidharth ji never said much, but I had learned to listen to the pauses between his words, to the way his breath shifted when he held back. And right now, I knew he was holding back.

I turned my head toward the clock on the wall. 8 AM.

Too early.

It didn't matter. Time only felt real when he was here.

I let out a slow breath, trying to shake off the unease crawling up my spine. But my heart wouldn't rest. My mind wouldn't stop whispering-Is he okay?.

And I hated it.

I missed him. And that feeling settled into my bones, a quiet ache that I didn't know how to name.

I just wanted him to come home. Safe. Whole. In front of me, where I could see him, where I could touch him, where I could know.

Because right now, I didn't know.

And that terrified me.

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"Bhabhi, bhaiya aa gaye."
(Sister in law, brother's home)

My heart skipped a beat.

Sidharth ji... he was home after a whole day.

I stood still for a moment, feeling the way my heart raced, then slowed, then raced again. A breath left my lips, soft and shaky, as relief spread through me like warm sunlight. He was home. He was safe.

I had heard the news earlier-the situation was under control, the crops were ruined, but he was fine. I knew that. But knowing he was fine was different from seeing him fine.

I closed my eyes, letting the relief settle deep in my chest.

From the kitchen, I heard Maa walking out. I stayed where I was, my fingers curled slightly at my sides. And then, finally, I moved.

At the door, I peeped ahead, my eyes searching-searching for him.

The men of the house sat in the dining room, talking in low voices. My gaze moved from one face to another until-

Sidharth ji.

My breath caught.

My eyes scanned him before I could stop myself-any injuries? Any bruises? None. But I noticed his sleeve. One was rolled up, the other buttoned down. And his face... he looked tired. The kind of tired that seeps into your bones.

A strange warmth filled my chest.

I turned away, stepping back into the kitchen, but as I did, my heart did something unexpected-it fluttered.

I thought of last night. Of him. Of us.

Heat rushed to my cheeks, and before I knew it, I was gripping the counter, my fingers pressing into the cool surface as if it could ground me. My body felt warm-too warm.

The way he had touched me, the way his voice had melted into my skin, the way his breath had ghosted over my ear... it all came back at once, wrapping around me like an invisible thread.

I pressed my lips together, shaking my head. No, no, not now.

"Noor beta, sab ke liye paani le aayiye."
(Dear, bring water for everyone)

Maa's voice pulled me back to the present.

I blinked, looking up at her before nodding quickly. Tucking a loose strand of hair behind my ear, I filled the glasses, arranging them carefully on the tray. My hands were steady, but inside, I wasn't.

As I stepped out with the tray, I felt it.

Eyes.

Watching me. Following me.

A gaze so intense, it felt like it was carving through my back. I didn't need to look to know whose it was.

Sidharth ji.

I bit my lip, suddenly wanting to turn around and hide. It was stupid, I knew, but something about his presence made me feel small in the softest, warmest way.

I moved around the room, offering water to everyone, my hands moving on their own. And then-

The last glass.

For him.

I stepped forward, standing before him. I didn't look up. I couldn't.

Carefully, I placed the glass in front of him, my fingers brushing the tray as I tried to steady myself. And just as I was about to turn-

Warm fingers wrapped around my wrist.

My breath hitched.

For a moment, everything blurred. The voices around me faded. The room, the people, the clinking of glasses-it all melted into the background as I felt him.

"Kuch khaya aapne?"
(Have you eaten anything?)

My eyes widened. Here? Now? In front of everyone?

Heat exploded across my skin. My heart pounded in my ears, my fingers trembling slightly under his hold.

I couldn't answer. I couldn't even breathe.

I could feel the weight of a dozen eyes on us, but all I could think about was his hand, firm and warm around my wrist, as if he didn't care who was watching.

I shook my head quickly-not as an answer, but as an escape.

His fingers loosened, and the second they did, I turned on my heel, walking straight back into the kitchen.

I pressed my back against the counter, my chest rising and falling in quick breaths. My hands gripped the edge of the slab as I tried to calm my racing heart.

"How can he do that?"

The thought echoed in my mind, over and over again.

How could he do that in front of everyone? In front of the elders? In front of dadi?

I buried my face in my hands, my body still warm from the memory of his touch.

And then-amidst all the embarrassment, all the shyness, all the desperate need to disappear-came another thought.

Even after everything... after being away, after dealing with so much...

The first thing he asked me was if I had eaten.

A soft, helpless smile tugged at my lips.

Butterflies stirred in my stomach, their wings brushing against my ribs, filling me with something so warm, so delicate, that I couldn't even name it.

I tucked a loose strand behind my ear, the feeling settling deep inside me.

I knew I was in love with him. But I also knew-he felt something for me too.

He wouldn't name it.

But it was there.

And that was enough.

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I sat on the rooftop, lighting the small earthen lamp near the Tulsi plant. The flame flickered gently in the night breeze, casting a golden glow on my hands. I folded them together and closed my eyes.

"Thank you," I whispered in my heart. "For keeping everything fine... for keeping him safe."

The damage could have been worse. The crops had suffered, but not too much. The farmhouse still stood strong. And most importantly-No soul was harmed, he was unharmed.

A soft breath of relief left my lips. Then, I turned back to go downstairs.

But before I could take a step-

I collided with something firm. Someone.

I didn't need to look up. His touch was enough. His scent was enough. That familiar deep, musky cologne mixed with the warmth of his skin. Strong hands slid to my waist, steadying me before I could stumble.

My breath hitched. My cheeks burned.

I had been avoiding him since he returned. I had tried my best not to go in front of him, not to let my eyes meet his. But now, standing so close, his presence wrapped around me like the evening air, and all my efforts seemed meaningless.

I dared to lift my gaze for a second. Dark eyes locked onto mine, calm yet unreadable. My heart pounded. My fingers curled into my dupatta. I quickly looked down, trying to calm my racing thoughts.

"Cherry," his voice was low, almost a whisper.

I didn't answer.

"Noor," he called again.

I swallowed.

The second time made me lift my head, just a little, just enough to see the way his lips parted like he had something else to say.

"C-Chhodiye na... kaam hai." ("L-Leave me... I have work.")

The words barely left my lips before I felt his hands pull away. Without a second thought, I turned and ran.

I didn't stop until I reached the staircase. But just as I stepped forward-

A loud thud echoed behind me.

I froze. My heart stopped for a beat.

When I turned back, I saw him on the floor. My breath caught in my throat.

He had fallen. His face twisted in pain.

I gasped, stepping forward in shock. My feet moved before my mind could catch up.

"Pass aaiye na, Cherry..."
("Come closer, Cherry...")

His voice was muffled with pain.

"Dekhiye na... kitni lagi hai."
("See... how much it hurts.")

I reached him without thinking, kneeling in front of him. My eyes darted to his arm. His sleeve was rolled up, revealing a burn wound, red and raw against his skin.

I sucked in a breath, wincing as if I could feel the burn myself. My fingers hesitated before lifting toward the wound.

"Bohot dard ho raha hai, Cherry..."
("It hurts so much, Cherry...")

His voice pulled something deep in my chest.

The shyness, the nervousness-all of it faded. In its place, something else filled me. Something warm. Something deep.

Worry. Care. Love.

I reached out, my fingers barely grazing his skin, as my heart twisted in pain as the burn was in my hand.
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She was finally here.

After a whole day of waiting, an hour of searching for glimpses of her, of holding back the urge to go find her myself-she was near me now. Close enough that I could see the way a few strands of her hair slipped over her face as she leaned forward. Close enough to watch her long lashes flutter as her gaze stayed fixed on my wound.

She wasn't just looking-she was feeling it.

Her lips pressed together, her brows furrowed, her fingers trembling slightly as they traced the edge of the burn. It was as if the wound wasn't on my skin but on hers. As if the pain had seeped into her, twisting in her heart.

And I just watched.

I watched the way her soft pink dupatta slipped a little off her shoulder, the way she had changed into a salwar suit today instead of her usual saree. The way her cheeks puffed out slightly as she thought about something, completely unaware of how much I was looking at her, drinking in every little thing.

"Kaise hua ye?"

Her voice snapped me out of my daze. It was soft, filled with care. But there was something else in it too-a quiet worry, a silent scolding. She didn't like seeing me hurt. And I... I loved that.

("How did this happen?")

"Woh... khet me ek bacha tha, usi ko bachane me."

("In the process of saving the child who was in the feild")

She looked up at me then. Just for a second.

But that second was enough.

Those brown eyes, deep and endless, were filled with something so powerful that it knocked the breath out of my lungs. Love. It poured out of her, Spoken & undeniable.

I let my weight lean further on the ground, just so I could have a better view of her face. Just so I could hold on to this moment a little longer.

"Humne bola tha na aapko dhyan rakhne..."

("I told you to be careful, didn't I...")

Her voice was sharper this time, and when she looked up at me again, the small smile I had unknowingly been wearing vanished.

She was angry.

Her brows knitted together, her lips pressed into a pout, her cheeks turning red in frustration. She looked adorable.

I had seen deeper wounds than this, had felt worse pain before. But nothing compared to the feeling of watching her worry over me.

It was intoxicating.

I winced slightly, just enough to draw her attention back to my wound. Just enough to make her fingers brush over my skin again.

"Bohot dard ho raha..."

("It hurts a lot...")

It wasn't a question. It was a statement. One I knew she would believe.

Because even though the burn didn't hurt much-her absence did.

And I had been starving for this. For the way her fingers hovered over my skin with hesitation, for the way her eyes softened, for the way she let her walls down and cared for me openly, without running away.

She was addictive.

"Hum bhi kitne pagal hai... ek baar bhi nahi dekha aapko jab se aap aaye hai... Sorry, Siddharth ji."

("I'm so foolish... I didn't even look at you since you arrived... Sorry, Siddharth ji.")

My heart clenched.

So she did ignore me. And she knew it.

I let my eyes hold hers, searching. For for the warmth I had missed.

I reached out.

My fingers closed around hers-the same fingers that had been inspecting my wound so gently. She stiffened, her breath hitching, her gaze questioning.

"Noor... mujhe sorry nahi chahiye."

("Noor... I don't want your sorry.")

I said it quietly, deliberately.

Her eyes flickered, and for the first time, she looked still lost in worry. I let go of her fingers, shifting my gaze down to my wound, watching as hers followed.

I leaned forward slightly.

Because I needed her to know.

This wound didn't hurt. But her distance did.

The way she looked everywhere except at me, the way she pretended not to see me, the way she had stayed away all day as if I wasn't waiting-aching-for her.

"Aap chahiye."

("I want you.")

The words were simple. But their weight was crushing.

I had never been the kind of man who begged, never the kind who needed. But with her, it was different.

She was the only thing that ever felt missing in my life. And I never wanted to feel that emptiness again.
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The night stretched wide above them, a canvas of deep blue with stars scattered like silent witnesses to their moment. The cool breeze carried the scent of earth and moonlight, and in its quiet whisper, Siddharth found his own unspoken words.

Noor sat on the floor, half-leaning, half-sitting, her soft dupatta pooling around her like spilled silk. Her hands, so small, so delicate, had been tending to his wound, but her heart-her heart had been aching in a way that made his chest tighten. She twisted in pain as if the wound were not on his arm but in her own flesh. Siddharth had seen it all. Every flicker of emotion in her brown eyes, every breath she held back, every moment her lips parted as if to speak but chose silence instead.

And he? He had been watching. Devouring the sight of her. It was a storm he had long since stopped trying to control.

Then, she looked up at him.

For a moment, time folded into itself, trapping them in a silence that was neither empty nor loud. Just them. Just her gaze meeting his, as if searching for something she already knew was there.

Sidharth opened his mouth to say something, but the words shifted, changed-he swallowed them back, and when he spoke, his voice held something raw. Something vulnerable.

"Mujhe iss tarah..." He paused, his jaw tightening before he continued, "Noor, aapko mujh pe gussa aaye to maar liya kijiye. Meri baat buri lage to daant liya kijiye. Mujh se sharam bhi aaye to mere seene me muh chhupa liya kijiye. Par mujhe nazarandaz mat kijiye, please. Acha nahi lagta mujhe."

("If you ever feel angry at me, Noor, then hit me. If my words ever hurt you, then scold me. If you ever feel shy around me, then hide your face in my chest. But please, don't ignore me. I don't like it.")

His voice, steady at first, faltered by the end. It wasn't a plea. It wasn't a demand. It was something deeper. A confession of a man who had spent too long being strong, too long being unshaken-until her. Until now.

Noor's breath hitched. Something shifted in her eyes-something warm - something that melted into the night like a secret whispered only to him. Her fingers curled slightly as if grasping an invisible thread tying them together.

The wind carried their silence, wrapping them in a moment, and neither wanted to break.

And then, Sidharth moved.

One hand found her waist, firm but careful. He pulled her just a little closer, closing the distance inch by inch. She didn't resist. He didn't expect her to. She was already his, just as he was already hers. Noor, still half-laying, half-sitting, felt the warmth of his presence surround her.

His voice dropped to something softer, something almost quiet-meant only for her.

"Mujhe aapke bina rehna acha nahi lagta."

("I don't like being without you.")

Noor let out a breath she hadn't realized she was holding. A small smile-barely there-touched her lips. She didn't say much, but she didn't need to. Instead, she lifted a hand, slowed and deliberate, and placed her palm gently against his cheek.

"Nahi karege."

("I won't.")

Siddharth's chest ached at the softness in her voice, the quiet promise she gave him. His lips curled into a small, almost relieved smile.

He moved up-not fully, just enough that his forehead brushed against hers for a fleeting second. But then, instead of going further, he shifted back slightly, adjusting his position on the ground.

And then, gently, he pressed a lingering kiss to her forehead.

Noor closed her eyes.

The night held them, the wind whispered, and somewhere between silence and breath, love spoke louder than words.

"Thank you," Sidharth murmured, his lips still ghosting over her skin.

Not because she had promised him something.

But because she had already given him everything.

The air was cool, wrapping around them like an unseen whisper, but neither of them moved away. They stayed, just as they were, just as they had found each other in this moment.

Sidharth shifted slightly, his body easing into the terrace floor as he stretched out. The cool stone pressed against his back, grounding him. And then, without hesitation, he turned, resting his head gently onto Noor's lap.

Noor sat there, her knees folded beneath her, her hands resting on her lap for a brief second before instinct took over. She lifted her fingers and combed them through his thick hair, slow and gentle, like the night itself. Sidharth closed his eyes for a moment, exhaling deeply, as if this touch alone could take away everything-his burdens, his thoughts, his pain.

There were no words between them, but the silence spoke. It carried every unspoken confession, every lingering emotion that had yet to be voiced.

Then, Sidharth reached for her hand.

He took it in his own, his fingers firm yet tender, and brought it to his chest. Noor's palm rested over his heart, his own hand covering it as if sealing something precious in place.

The steady rhythm of his heartbeat pulsed against her skin-warm, real, alive.

Her other hand still moved through his hair, her fingers threading through the strands, smoothing them down, memorizing the feel of him. The night cradled them in its quiet embrace, and for a moment, it felt as if the world had shrunk down to just this-just them.

"Abhi bhi dard ho raha?" Noor's voice was soft, almost hesitant.

("Does it still hurt?")

Sidharth, who had been gazing at the stars, turned his head slightly, his eyes finding hers. There was a glimmer in them-something playful, something warm.

"Ab aap paas hain... ab nahi ho raha."

("Now that you're close... it doesn't hurt anymore.")

A slow heat crept up Noor's cheeks. She blinked, her lips parting slightly, but no words came. Instead, she looked away, her gaze slipping towards the distant horizon, as if the stars suddenly held a new kind of importance.

Sidharth saw it-the way her cheeks turned a deeper shade of pink, the way she pressed her lips together as if that could hide her reaction. And he couldn't help it.

He laughed.

A deep, warm chuckle that rumbled in his chest, making her heartbeat stumble against her ribs.

Before Noor could react, Sidharth lifted the same hand he had been holding against his heart. He brought it up to his lips and pressed a soft, lingering kiss to her palm.

His beard brushed against her skin, sending the lightest tingle up her arm. Noor inhaled sharply, her breath catching in her throat. And then, as if nothing had happened, he placed her hand right back over his chest, letting it rest there once more.

Noor could feel it again.

That steady rhythm.

She didn't say anything, but she felt it.

The moment settled around them, like a secret held between two hearts that didn't need to be spoken aloud.

And then suddenly, Sidharth coughed lightly, snapping her out of her thoughts. Noor blinked, looking down at him.

His fingers had started tracing soft, absent-minded patterns on the back of her palm. His face, bathed in moonlight, looked different-calm, composed, peaceful.

A version of him that few had ever seen.

"Chaliye niche, thand lag jayegi aapko," Noor said gently.

("Let's go downstairs, you'll catch a cold.")

Sidharth turned his head slightly, looking up at her with that same lazy, knowing smile-the one that had the power to unravel her, piece by piece.

"Toh niche kyun jaana?" he murmured. "Aap seene se laga lijiye. Thand bhaag jayegi."

("Then why go downstairs? Just hold me close. The cold will go away.")

Noor's fingers, still buried in his hair, twitched. Her breath hitched. And before she could stop herself, she brought her free hand down and gave his chest a light slap, her palm landing over the fabric of his shirt

Sidharth smirked. He had expected it.

But what he hadn't expected-what made his heart do an entirely different kind of stutter-was the small smile that curled at the edges of Noor's lips right after.

Oh god. His wife is breathtaking & he can't be more lucky.

She turned her face away again, trying to mask it, but it was there.

That smile.

That blush.

That soft, unmistakable warmth.

And once again, he couldn't help it.

He laughed.

A deep, rich chuckle that echoed against the night sky. And before Noor could react, he reached up, his fingers catching hold of her cheek.

He gave it a light tug, making her gasp softly, and then, with an undeniable fondness in his voice, he murmured-

"Meri pyaari biwi."

("My dear wife.")

Noor, who had been staring up at the stars just moments ago, lowered her gaze to look at him. Her brows pulled together slightly, a frown forming-stern, questioning. But her heart... her heart melted.

This version of Sidharth-playful, teasing, talking freely-was rare. It was a side of him she wished she would see lifetime.

Her fingers twitched, and she with same pkayful smile, she lifted her hand and flicked his nose lightly.

"Mere bawale pati."

("My crazy husband.")

Sidharth blinked. And then, as if something inside him snapped, he burst into laughter. A deep, unrestrained, full-hearted laugh that echoed across the empty terrace. It was rich and warm, the kind that seeped into one's soul and stayed there.

Noor felt it.

She felt it settle inside her, like an unspoken promise, like something that belonged only to them.

Sidharth, still chuckling, reached for her hand again. Effortless. Natural. As if holding her had always been second nature. And just like before, he brought her palm to his lips, pressing another kiss there.

This time, Noor was ready for the warmth that spread from that single touch.

But what she wasn't ready for-what sent her heart stumbling-was the way Sidharth looked at her right after.

His dark eyes held hers, unwavering. Nose to nose, gaze locked, the playful glint in his eyes softened into something deeper. Something quieter. A large played at his lips-the smile Noor know only comes when he's about to say something that will take her breath away.

"Biwi itni pyari ho toh..." He exhaled, his voice quieter now, yet steady. "Achha khaasa doctor banda bawala hi ho jata hai, Noor ji."

("When a wife is this beautiful... even a perfectly sane doctor turns crazy, Noor ji.")

For a second, Noor stayed silent & then-

She laughed.

A soft, genuine, head-tilted-back kind of laugh, one that was light and full and beautiful.

Sidharth smiled too, unable to stop himself. A small laughter rumbled from his chest. Their laughter echoed in the surrounding.

And for a moment-just a moment-the world didn't exist.

Only them.

Only this.

Their laughter filled the quiet room, a rare moment of ease between them. Noor's fingers absentmindedly combed through Sidharth's hair, her touch light, soothing. He lay there, watching her, his gaze unwavering. And then, just as the last of their laughter faded, Sidharth's voice broke the silence, soft but weighted.

"Cherry, aapne kal hi woh brooch kyun diya? Aisa kya kiya maine jis karan aapne mere gunaah bhula diye aur itni precious cheez mujhe de di?"
("Cherry, why did you give me that brooch yesterday? What did I do to make you forget my sins and give me something so precious?")

There was a pause, a quiet shift in the air. Sidharth's words held the weight of something unspoken-of a guilt he still carried, a crime he believed he did. But Noor... Noor had given him that brooch anyway. And he couldn't understand why.

Noor stilled, her fingers slowing in his hair as her gaze drifted somewhere far beyond the room. A distant place, a memory wrapped in old wounds.

"Jab bachi thi tab padhne ka bahut shauk tha. Tab mere gaon ki auratein, meri maa khud, sab kaha karti thi ki jahan jaogi, wahan kitaabon mein kya padha ye nahi, balki maa ne kya sikhaya, ye poochhenge. Toh kaam kar lo. Seekh lo. Kehte the ki jo byaah ke le jaayega, woh ghar ke liye kaam karne waali biwi leke jaayega, teacher nahi."

("When I was a child, I loved studying. But the women in my village, even my mother, always said that wherever I went, people wouldn't ask what I learned from books but what my mother taught me. So, I should learn housework. They said the man who would marry me would take a wife to run his home, not a teacher.")

Her voice was quiet, but there was something in it-something raw, something old. A truth that had long settled in her bones, but tonight, it found its way to the surface. And Sidharth felt it. Every word, every ache. He didn't interrupt. He just listened.

"Par Papa... woh kehte the ki meri beti ke liye main ek aisa ladka laaunga jo ghar ki bahu nahi, balki khud ke liye saathi dhoond raha hoga."

("But Papa... he used to say that for his daughter, he would find a man who wasn't looking for just a daughter-in-law for his home, but a true companion for himself.")

Noor took a deep breath, as if steadying herself. And then, as if drawn by an invisible thread, her hand slipped from his hair and moved to his cheek. Her fingers traced his skin, soft and deliberate.

"Aapne jab humaari sagai mein Papa ko kaha tha, Aap bete hai unki, itne bade ghar se hokar, itne padhe-likhe hokar bui, tab pehli baar kuch mehsoos kiya tha aapke liye."

("When, at our engagement, you told my father, 'Come, she is your daughter, even though I come from such a big family, even though I am well-educated,' that was the first time I felt something for you.")

Her touch lingered, and Sidharth... he didn't move. He was watching her, watching the way her expression shifted, the way emotions flickered in her eyes like passing storms.

"Usi raat maine woh brooch banana shuru kiya. Socha tha, shaadi ki raat jab aapse baat karenge, toh aapko yeh denge. Batayenge ki kitni mehnat lagi, kitne dil se banaya."

("That very night, I started making that brooch. I had decided that on our wedding night, when we would talk, I would give it to you. I would tell you how much effort went into it, how dearly I made this.")

Sidharth's grip on the hand resting against his chest tightened ever so slightly. He could see it now-the shift in her, the weight of something that had been left unspoken for far too long.

"Par tab aapne meri taraf dekha bhi nahi. Tab yeh jo brooch mere suitcase mein tha, woh wahi reh gaya. Thoda dil bhi toota tha... par sambhal gaye the hum. Par-"

("But that night, you didn't even look at me. The brooch, which had been in my suitcase, stayed there. My heart broke a little... but I held myself together.")

She paused, and the silence stretched between them, heavy but fragile. Sidharth felt something sharp lodge itself in his chest. He hadn't spoken a word, hadn't moved. But his jaw clenched, his body rigid with the force of emotions swirling inside him.

"Par?"
("But?")

Noor turned her face away, and for a moment, she was silent. Then, with a small, sad smile-one that made his heart ache-she finally spoke.

"Par jab uss raat, jab aapne meri taraf dekha bhi nahi, jaante hue ki hume bhi chot lagi thi... hume wahi chhod diya, akele, rote hue... tab dil toot gaya tha."

("But that night, when you didn't even look at me, even though you knew I was hurt too... when you left me there, alone, crying... that was when my heart truly broke.")

Sidharth's gaze didn't waver, but his eyes closed for a moment, as if the weight of her words was too much to bear. He let it sink in, let it carve through him.

"Tab laga tha shayad aap iss ghar ki bahu nahi, balki sirf khud ke liye bojh shaadi kar laaye hai."

("That night, I felt like maybe... you hadn't married me as your wife but as a burden you had no choice but to carry.")

Her voice shook, and Sidharth's eyes snapped open. Noor was looking down now, avoiding his gaze, but he saw it-the way her throat tightened, the way her breath hitched.

And suddenly, she felt looked in his eyes on her-burning, intense, red. His face was unreadable, but his eyes... they carried the weight of every emotion he wasn't saying out loud.

Noor, as if sensing the storm inside him, reached up and cupped his face gently.

"Tab bahut bura laga tha... par phir uss raat, jab aapne maafi maangi, jab aap apne ghutno pe baithe the... tab socha tha ki iss rishte ko ek mauka dena chahiye. Ab bas ek woh raat ki aur aaj ki raat hai."

("That night, it hurt a lot... but then, when you apologized, when you knelt before me... I thought maybe this relationship deserved a chance. And now, it's that night and tonight.")

Her lips curled into the smallest of smiles-one that carried longing, pain, and something so profound, so raw, that Sidharth felt his breath hitch.

"Uss raat ke baad, aapne kabhi mauka hi nahi diya ki kabhi unn buri yaadon ko sochu, unnhe yaad rakhu. Itni nayi yaadein de di, itna kuch kiya aapne ki woh saari baatein bhool gayi thi. Aapne mera pyaar, mera bharosa jeeta. Hume jeeta. Bharosa dilaya ki hum bojh nahi, balki saathi se bhi badhkar... aapka ek hissa hai. Aapse alag nahi, aapke saath nahi, balki aapke andar, aapke dil mein hai."

("After that night, you never gave me a chance to dwell on those painful memories. You created so many new ones, did so much for me that I forgot all the old wounds. You won my love, my trust. You won me. You made me believe I was never a burden, but something more than just a partner... a part of you. Not beside you, not away from you, but within you, in your heart.")

And then, she leaned down, pressing the softest, most lingering kiss to his forehead. Sidharth's eyes fluttered shut, his breath unsteady.

A moment stretched between them-silent, sacred, and infinite.

Noor let out a small breath, her fingers tracing soft, absent-minded circles against his chest, as if grounding herself in the present. The warmth of his body beneath her palm, the quiet of the night surrounding them-it all made the moment feel fragile, like a whisper too sacred to be spoken aloud.

She blinked slowly, her lashes heavy, before her voice rose again, carrying the depth of all she had ever felt for him.

"Uss raat jab apne wo papers diye, toh realize hua ki aapko meri, mere sapno ki kitni kadar hai, kitni izzat hai. Aapne sabit kiya ki sirf hum kisi ki patni nahi bane, balki aap bhi kisi ke pati bane hain. Sabit kiya ki kitne alag hain aap, kitne qeemati hain aap, kitne ache-ki sirf humaare hain aap. Bas issi liye..."

(hat night, when you gave me those papers, I realized how much my dreams meant to you, how much you respected them. You proved that I wasn't the only one bound to someone; you, too, became someone's husband. You proved how different you are, how precious you are, how good-because you belong to me and me alone. That's all.)

Her voice was steady, yet it carried a tremor, as if each word was woven from emotions too delicate to hold.

She exhaled, her gaze locking onto his, searching for something-perhaps for the reassurance that he understood, that he felt the same. But she didn't need to search too long. Because in the way his eyes darkened, in the way his breath hitched, in the way his entire body seemed to go still-she knew.

Siddharth had felt every word.

And then, before she could say anything more, he moved.

With a sudden urgency, Siddharth lifted himself from her lap, the warmth of his weight vanishing from her thighs. He shifted onto his knees on the cold ground, his hands reaching for her before he could think twice.

And then, he was embracing her.

His arms wrapped around her, pulling her close, pulling her in, pulling her home. The way he held her-it wasn't just a hug. It was worship. It was devotion.

It was the kind of embrace that didn't need words because it carried every unspoken thing between them.

Noor stilled for a second before her body melted into him, her hands gripping the back of his Shirt as if anchoring herself to this moment, to him.

His breath was warm against her neck, but his heart-his heart was burning. The kind of burn that came with realizing that after everything, despite everything, he had won.

He had won her.

And yet, somewhere deep inside, Sidharth didn't feel victorious. No. This didn't feel like victory. This felt like something holier. This felt like grace.

"Aapko nahi pata, Noor," his voice came, low and rough, his lips barely moving against her hair. "Aapko nahi pata ki sap kya ho mere liye."

(You don't know, Noor. You don't know what you are to me.)

His grip tightened, his fingers curling into the fabric of her dress.

His words made Noor inhale sharply, her heart slamming against her ribs. She felt his fingers press against her back, as if trying to memorize the shape of her, as if afraid that if he let go, she would disappear.

For a long moment, neither of them spoke. They simply breathed, their bodies pressed so close that their heartbeats felt like one.

And then, softly, Sidharth pulled back just enough to see her face. His eyes-deep, stormy, unreadable-scanned her features, taking in everything, committing every detail to memory.

Her fingers trembling against his shoulder. And then, slowly, her lips curved-not a wide, open smile, but something softer, something fragile, something Siddharth would never, ever forget.

The kind of smile that comes after a long, dark night-when the first rays of dawn - finally touches the earth.

Sidharth felt his chest tighten, his breath caught somewhere between his ribs.

This woman.

This woman, who had every reason to hate him, who had every reason to turn away-had instead looked at him, held him, and given him something he never thought he deserved.

Herself.

Her love.

Her trust.

And at that moment, Sidharth realized it for the 100th time.

He was ruined for her.

Forever.

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