Now, the next chapter after this target is completed.

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क्या जाने तू मेरे इरादे
ले जाऊँगा साँसें चुरा के
साँसें चुरा के
क्या जाने तू मेरे इरादे
ले जाऊँगा साँसें चुरा के

दिल कह रहा है गुनहगार बन जा
बड़ा चैन है इन गुनाहों से आगे

मैं गुमशुदा सी रात हूँ
मेरी खुशनुमा सुबह तुम हो

मैं जो जी रहा हूँ
वजह तुम हो.. वजह तुम हो..

__________________________

The night was wrapped in tranquility, a soothing contrast to the emotions that had surged between them just moments ago. The car moved smoothly through the silent roads, the streetlights casting fleeting shadows inside. Noor sat quietly, lost in her own thoughts, absorbing everything that had just happened. Siddharth, as always, let her be, giving her the space to breathe, to process.

Yet, for the first time, it was Noor who reached out. Her delicate fingers found his hand, intertwining with his as if seeking reassurance. She played with his fingers absentmindedly, tracing over the rough calluses, pressing her thumb into his palm, and her touch featherlight. Siddharth didn't say anything. He just let her.

After a while, the car slowed, the sudden break pulling Noor out of her thoughts. Her gaze lifted towards the windshield, and she noticed the warm glow of a restaurant sign outside. It wasn't a grand, extravagant place, but something far more inviting-a single-story eatery that exuded comfort, its warm lights casting a homely glow.

She turned her head just as Siddharth removed his seatbelt, his movements smooth, unhurried. He looked at her, his dark eyes holding a softness that was rare.

"Mere sath dinner date pe chalengi aap?" (Will you go on a dinner date with me?)

Noor blinked, the unexpected invitation making her lips curve into a surprised giggle. The heaviness in the air dissipated instantly. She nodded excitedly, her laughter still lingering in the space between them. Siddharth's lips twitched into a small smile at her reaction.

Leaning in, he reached across, his fingers brushing against her as he smoothly removed her seatbelt. It was such a casual, natural action-one he had done many times before-but tonight. It felt different. Noor, for once, sat still, watching him, feeling something settle in her chest.

Without a word, Siddharth stepped out, moving around the car, while Noor remained inside, peaceful, and patient. A moment later, he opened her door, extending his hand towards her.

"Please," he said, his voice carrying a polite charm, like a gentleman out of an old story.

Noor giggled again, shaking her head slightly at his antics, but she placed her hand in his nonetheless. His grip was warm, steady, as he helped her out of the car, leading her towards the entrance.

The restaurant, though not high-end, had its own charm. A cozy interior, dimly lit with warm, golden hues. It wasn't empty, yet it wasn't too crowded either-just the right amount of people to make it feel alive while still maintaining a quiet intimacy. Noor liked it instantly.

Siddharth walked in with his usual silent confidence, his presence commanding without effort. Without hesitation, he made his way towards a private booth tucked in a quieter corner. The seating was enclosed, providing a sense of seclusion. He pulled out a chair, waiting for Noor to sit, and only after she was settled did he take his place in front of her.

As soon as they sat, a man, seemingly the restaurant manager, approached them. He was dressed in crisp formals, carrying an air of familiarity.

"Good evening, Rajvardhan Sahab. Bahut dino baad aaye aap." (Good evening, Mr. Rajvardhan. It's been a long time since you last came.)

Noor glanced up, shifting her gaze between the two men. Siddharth, who had been sitting straight, looked up at the manager and gave him a simple, acknowledging nod. His face, as always, was unreadable, but there was a quiet ease in his posture.

As if rehearsed, the manager spoke again.

"As usual, hi order rahega, Sir?" (Shall I place your usual order, Sir?)

Hearing this, Siddharth remained still for a moment before replying in a calm, steady tone.

"Waiter bhej do." (Send a waiter.)

The manager nodded before retreating. Noor, still watching the exchange, found herself thinking. How often had he come here? What had been his usual order?

Before she could voice her curiosity, she felt Siddharth's hand reach out. He gently lifted her hand from where it rested on the table, his thumb brushing against her knuckles in a way that made her heart stutter.

Her thoughts were interrupted when she heard her own voice, soft yet questioning.

"As usual, kyun nahi?" (Why not the usual?)

Siddharth's response was immediate, simple yet laced with something deeper.

"Woh non-veg hai, Cherry. Aap non-veg nahi khati." (That was non-veg, Cherry. You don't eat non-veg.)

Noor stilled. It was such a small detail, something she had never even brought up between them. Yet, he had known. He had remembered.

Before she could even process it fully, he spoke again.

"Toh maine bhi chhod diya." (So, I gave it up too.)

A waiter arrived just then, yet Noor wasn't looking at him. Her gaze remained fixed on Siddharth, a soft smile tugging at her lips.

The moment was ordinary. Simple. Yet, it carried a weight Noor couldn't quite explain.

I wasn't paying much attention to the world around me. My fingers traced slow patterns over Sidharth ji's knuckles, my thumb running absently over the ridges of his fingers as if committing them to memory. I didn't even realize how deeply lost I was in my thoughts until I heard Siddharth's voice, low and razor-sharp.

"Naukri pyari hai to aankhein mujh par rakho. Warna khana baad me khaunga, pehle teri naukri khaunga."
(If you value your job, keep your eyes on me. Otherwise, I'll eat your job before I eat my food.)

The shift in the air was instant.

I blinked, looking up, and caught the waiter's face-his forehead glistening with sweat, his throat bobbing as he swallowed hard. He had gone completely still, his hands gripping the menu tightly as if it were his lifeline.

I turned to Sidharth ji then, and my breath hitched.

His jaw was set in a hard line, eyes sharp, but there was something else beneath that controlled anger-something dangerously possessive. He hadn't moved, hadn't raised his voice, but the weight of his presence alone had made the waiter tremble.

Then, without breaking eye contact, Sidharth ji took the menu from the table and slapped it against the waiter's chest.

"Kisi doosre ko bhejo."
(Send someone else)

The waiter nearly stumbled in his rush to leave, his hands fumbling to clutch the menu as he all but ran out of sight. I kept staring, still trying to catch up with what had just happened.

Sidharth ji exhaled sharply, his fingers flexing before he finally settled back into his chair, his anger still simmering but contained.

A different waiter arrived moments later, hands steady, posture, respectful. This time, Sidharth ji quietly placed the order-simple vegetarian dishes.

"Aur meethe me, gajar ka halwa"

And then, just like that, the food arrived, breaking whatever moment had settled between us.
.
.
.
.
.
The warmth of the gajar ka halwa lingered on my tongue, sweet and rich, melting in my mouth like a quiet comfort. I was savoring the last few bites when Sidharth Ji pulled out his phone and slid it towards me without a word.

I blinked at him before shifting my gaze to the screen. A list of colleges.

"Kya?" I asked, looking up in confusion.

"Yeh maine aapke liye college list banayi hai. Dekh lijiye, kaunsa theek rahega."
(I made a list of colleges for you. See which one suits you.)

For a moment, I just stared at him. Then, hesitantly, I picked up the phone and scrolled through the five names he had listed. I didn't know much about colleges-or which one was 'suitable' for me. The thought itself felt foreign, like something I hadn't allowed myself to consider before.

I glanced up at him, still unsure. "Humein zyada kuch pata nahi hai iss baare mein... Aap dekh lijiye."
(I don't know much about this... You decide.)

Sidharth ji simply nodded, taking his phone back. He scrolled for a moment before speaking again, his voice casual.

"Aapki classes agli hafte se shuru ho rahi hai."
(Your classes start next week.)

I stopped. "Abhi toh admission bhi nahi hua... classes?"

At this, Sidharth ji leaned back in his chair, a low chuckle escaping his lips. He watched me for a second, amusement dancing in his sharp gaze before saying-

"Sidharth Singh Rajvardhan ki biwi hain aap. Chalengi toh professors ghar aa ke padha ke jaayenge aapko. Aap boliye to sahi."
(You're Siddharth Singh Rajvardhan's wife. If you wanted, professors would come home to teach you. Just say it.)

I didn't know how to react to that.

Pride. Yes, because I know he has built himself on his own.

I lowered my gaze, focusing back on the halwa, as if the warm sweetness could settle the strange feeling in my chest.

"Haan..." I murmured, giving a small nod as if convincing myself.

Sidharth ji smirked, satisfied, and returned to his scrolling.

I, however, remained still, spoon hovering over my bowl, eyes drifting back to his phone screen for a second. Next week. College.

I was going back to being a student.

A small part of me felt nervous. But an even bigger part?

It felt... nice.
.
.
.
.
.
.

The drive home was quiet, the comfortable kind where words weren't needed. My fingers still tingled from where they had absentmindedly played with Sidharth Ji's. The evening had been... different. A slow shift in the air between us, something I wasn't entirely sure how to name yet.

As the car rolled to a stop in front of the house, I unfastened my seatbelt, but before I could reach for the door handle, Sidharth ji spoke.

"Mujhe kuch kaam hai, Cherry. Main aata hoon."
(I have some work, Cherry. I'll be back.)

My fingers paused. I turned to him, frowning slightly.

"Iss waqt?"
(At this hour?)

It wasn't late enough to be unusual, but something about the way he said it made me hesitate.

Sidharth ji exhaled, his eyes locked on mine. There was no hesitation when he said, "Bohot zaroori hai, Cherry. Warna main nahi jaata."
(It's very important, Cherry. Otherwise, I wouldn't go.)

I didn't know why that answer made my throat feel tight. Maybe because, even without explaining, I believed him. Maybe because I realized something in his gaze-something serious - something that made me uneasy but also reassured me at the same time.

Before I could say anything, he leaned in. The press of his lips against my forehead was warm, steady. A silent pause between us.

And then, as naturally as breathing, he reached over and unfastened my seatbelt, his fingers brushing against my arm in the process.

I stepped out, my mind still lingering in the weight of his touch.

The gate creaked softly as I walked inside, but something made me stop. Turning back, I saw him-still sitting there, watching.

He wasn't in a hurry. Not yet. Not until he saw me go in.

Only when I fully disappeared through the gate did I hear the soft hum of the car engine as he finally drove away.

And yet, long after he left, I stood still, the cool night air settling over me.

Something felt... off.

Or maybe it was just me.
.
.
.
.

She didn't notice.

But I did.

The filth had been watching her. Eyes lingering on my wife like he had a right to. Like he could even dare. I had ignored it once. Thought a sharp gaze would be enough to remind him of his place. But then-

That smile. That disgusting, knowing grin.

It was done for him.

My Noor was inside the house now, safe and untouched by the filth of the world. She turned back once, her eyes meeting mine. She didn't ask me where I was going, but I saw the flicker of hesitation. My Cherry. Sweet. Naive. Unaware.

I nodded at her, a silent assurance, and only when she disappeared behind the gate did I drive away.

But I wasn't going home.

The drive to the restaurant was calm. Too calm for what I was about to do. My fingers tapped against the steering wheel, but the rage sat still inside me, cold and waiting.

He looked at my wife.

He smiled at her like he had the right to imagine anything.

He watched her with that look.

I parked the car, stepping out with the same ease I had left with. The manager, the same one who had been there before, saw me entering and rushed forward, concern in his eyes.

"Sir? Kya hua?"
(Sir what happened?)

I didn't answer.

Didn't stop.

My steps led me straight to the kitchen. I had been here enough times to know the way. The doors swung open, and there he was-the filth.

Laughing.

Something about it made my jaw tighten. He didn't even know his fate was already sealed.

I reached him in two strides.

Before he could react, my hand gripped his collar from behind, yanking him back with a force that sent him stumbling. The moment he turned, my fist connected with his face.

The sound of impact was sharp, cutting through the kitchen's noise like a blade.

Gasps. A few shouts. Someone dropped a pan.

I didn't care.

He staggered back, but I caught him again, gripping both sides of his collar in one hand, my knuckles pressing into his throat. My other hand found his jaw, fingers digging in, tightening. His breath hitched, panic setting in as I forced him to meet my gaze.

"Meri biwi ko aankhein phaad phaad ke dekh raha tha na?" My voice was quiet, deadly. "Ab usi nazar se khud ko bhi dekh, saale."

("You were staring at my wife with wide eyes, right?"
"Now look at yourself with the same eyes, you bastard.")

I turned him sharply, slamming his face toward the kitchen's old mirror. His reflection stared back-bloody, dazed, terrified.

Good.

He needed to see himself. Needed to know how pathetic he looked in front of me.

The manager rushed forward but didn't dare touch me. "Sir, please! Woh naya hai-"
(He's new)

I threw the bastard back with a force that sent him crashing against the counter. He crumpled like a discarded piece of trash. I didn't bother looking again.

My voice was calm, unwavering.

"Aage se dikh bhi gaya na... chamdi udher lunga."

(If I see you again... I'll skin you alive.")
No one spoke after that.

I walked out, not stopping as the kitchen's whispers and frantic movements resumed behind me.

Outside, the night air was cooler. It should have helped. It didn't. My fingers ran through my hair once before sliding into my pocket, finding what I needed-Noor's bangle.

I clutched it, inhaled, exhaled.

The rage was still there, simmering. But this... this was better.

This was enough.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.

The road stretched endlessly before me, the night silent except for the low hum of the engine. The weight in my chest should have eased. The filth had learned his lesson. Noor was safe.

Yet, peace had never been something I sought.

Then-

A store.

My foot lifted from the accelerator before my mind caught up. The glass windows glowed under the streetlights, mannequins draped in soft fabrics-delicate, comforting.

And suddenly, I could hear her voice.

"Hum shadi se pehle sirf shirts pehen ke soti the,"

("I used to sleep in just shirts before, you know?")

Casual. A mere conversation. But Noor had spoken with ease, unguarded. Not complaining. Just telling me about herself in a way that had stayed lodged in my mind.

My Noor. In oversized shirts. Small, drowning in fabric, comfortably curled up.

There was no need for her to change. She could wear whatever she wanted-sarees, my shirts, nothing at all. But she should never have to let go of what made her comfortable. Not for marriage. Not for me.

My hands had already turned the wheel before I realized I was parking.

Inside, the store was warm, lined with neat rows of fabric. Shelves stacked with soft cottons, silks, satin. The air smelled faintly of lavender.

I walked in, and almost immediately, attention snapped toward me. I ignored it. My gaze swept across the store until I found what I was looking for.

A woman in uniform approached. "Sir, how can I help you?"

I didn't respond immediately. My focus landed on a section of neatly folded sets.

"Night suits. Shirt and pyjama."

"For your wife, sir?"

Or who else?

I didn't answer. She took my silence as confirmation and led me toward a display.

The fabrics were soft, hanging in gentle folds. My fingers brushed over one absentmindedly.

A pink set caught my eye. Light, embroidered with tiny flowers.

My Noor would look-

My fingers curled slightly, tracing the fabric.

Cute.

She would look cute in this. The sleeves slipping past her wrists, the buttons unevenly done in her sleepy haze, the hemline brushing her thighs as she curled into the sheets.

"Isme aur colors hain?"
("Are there more colors in this?")

The attendant blinked at my sudden interest but nodded, pulling out a lavender one. I took it, fingers tracing the fabric again.

Lavender. Light blue. White.

She would look good in all of them. She would wear them, half-asleep, rubbing at her eyes, not knowing I was watching.

"Yeh pack kar do."
("Pack these.")

Satisfied. This was enough. She would like them.

I turned to leave.

And then I stopped.

The section ahead was darker. The fabrics were different. Bolder. Mannequins dressed in silk and lace. Soft, yet sinful.

My gaze locked onto one.

Red.

Not delicate like the night suits. Not soft in the way my Noor usually dressed.

This was-

Something else.

The satin whispered over the mannequin's curves, the lace cut low, the straps thin. A touch away from being bare.

My pulse slowed.

Noor. In red.

Not soft. Not drowning in fabric.

But bared.

Her hair loose, cascading down her back, spilling over her bare shoulders. Her lips painted red, the stark contrast against her skin. Sitting on our bed. Waiting.

Innocent. Unaware.

Waiting for me.

The thought hit me like a slow-burning poison, curling deep in my chest.

How she would look, shifting slightly under my gaze, the fabric tight over her body, teasingly thin. How she would swallow when she saw me at the door.

How I wouldn't move immediately-how I would just watch.

The hunger curled, dark and heavy.

"Yeh bhi pack kar do."
("Pack this too.")

The words left me calmly, but my fingers curled around the bag tighter when it was handed to me. The weight was light. It shouldn't have felt this heavy.

It wasn't fabric.

It was a thought.

A thought that refused to leave.

The drive home was slow, deliberate.

Because now, my mind was occupied.

Noor, waiting. The soft glow of the bedside lamp. Red lace clinging to her, delicate yet dangerous. Her bare feet pressed against the floor, shifting slightly as she sat still, waiting for me.

Her breath uneven.

Her fingers curling into the sheets when my gaze dragged over her.

This was madness.

Slow. Unfolding. Beautiful.

The thought played in my mind, vivid, refusing to be ignored.

My grip tightened on the steering wheel, my jaw clenching.

I should push the thought away.

I should.

But I didn't.

A quiet chuckle escaped me, low, deep.

I wasn't pushing it away.

I was letting it burn.
.
.
.
.
.

The house was quiet.

A strange kind of silence-the kind that didn't feel empty, but waiting.

I stepped inside, locking the door behind me. The weight of the bags in my arms reminded me of the thoughts that had kept me company on the drive home.

I exhaled slowly.

Not yet.

Climbing the stairs, I ran a hand through my hair, fingers pushing back the strands, trying to make myself look somewhat presentable. Not that it mattered. My Noor had seen me in worse states-after long nights, after fights, after exhaustion had settled deep in my bones. She had seen me tired, angry, indifferent.

But tonight-

Tonight, I wanted her to see something else.

As I reached our room, my gaze landed on the bed. Empty. The bathroom door was closed, and the sound of the shower filled the silence.

She was inside.

A slow smirk touched my lips.

The thought came before I could stop it. The warm water running over her skin, her hair damp, sticking to her back. Her body relaxed under the stream, unaware that I had arrived.

Unaware that I was watching.

The smirk lingered as I stepped further into the room. Quietly, I placed the shopping bags on the sofa.

And then-

My eyes landed on it.

That damned cherry pillow.

My jaw tightened.

It sat there, untouched, innocent. But I knew better.

Last night.

Last night, my Noor had kissed that pillow first.

Not me.

The memory hit like a slow burn-her lips pressing against the fabric, soft, sweet, unthinking. A goodnight kiss, meant for nothing.

Meant for everything.

My fingers curled.

I reached for the pillow, gripping it without hesitation. For a second, I simply stared at it, my mind twisting around a ridiculous thought. It had touched her lips before I had. It had felt her warmth.

"Bastard."

The word left my mouth, low, muttered, and without another thought, I threw the pillow across the room. It landed somewhere near the dresser, forgotten, exactly where it belonged.

Satisfied, I exhaled, rolling my shoulders back.

The shower was still running. The sound filled my ears, mingling with the slow thrum in my chest. My hands went to my belt, unbuckling it with steady movements. The leather slid through my fingers, falling onto the chair without a sound.

Next, my shirt.

Button by button, I undid them, my gaze never leaving the bathroom door.

It wasn't rushed.

I wasn't in a hurry.

I was savoring this.

The anticipation. The silence. The slow, steady build of something dangerous curling inside me.

My shirt slipped from my shoulders, landing somewhere near the belt. Bare skin met the cool air, but I barely noticed. My mind was elsewhere.

On the other side of that door.

Cherry

The scent of her shampoo drifting through the air. The sound of water splashing against her skin.

My fingers twitched.

By the time I was left in only my boxers, my body was thrumming with something unspoken. Something I had no intention of suppressing.

The door was in front of me.

I reached out, palm pressing against the smooth surface, feeling the faint warmth from the steam inside.

A second passed.

Then another.

And then, slowly-

I pushed it open.

The water ran in soft streams, warm and steady, tracing delicate paths over Noor's skin. Steam curled in the air, a thick haze wrapping the small space, making everything feel heavier-warmer.

She wasn't someone who took showers at night. But tonight... she wanted to.

She let the water wash over her, eyes fluttering shut as her fingers ran over her arms, the soft lather of soap covering every inch of her skin. The scent of sandalwood mixed with the warmth, clinging to her like a second skin.

She was lost in thought.

Completely unaware.

The door opened.

A shift in the air. A movement so quiet, so careful, that it went unnoticed beneath the steady hum of the water.

Sidharth stepped inside, his presence going unnoticed under the muffled hum of the running shower. His gaze traced the silhouette of her body through the steam-the soft curves, the droplets sliding down her skin, disappearing into places that had his throat tightening.

His breath was controlled, but his heartbeat was anything but.

Noor continued, oblivious, her hands smoothing over her shoulders, down her arms, the steam clouding her vision. She didn't hear the faint sound of footsteps. Didn't feel the presence slipping closer.

Not until it was too late.

A warm hand.

It slid over her waist, slow, deliberate, fingers splaying against the curve of her bare skin.

Noor gasped.

A sharp inhale, her body tensing before-before she turned, eyes wide, breath caught in her throat.

And there he was.

Sidharth.

Standing before her, bare-chested, skin glistening under the warm mist of the shower. His gaze was dark, unreadable, but there was something else too. Something deeper. Something unspoken.

His hands, still firm on her waist, slid lower. A teasing, lingering touch against her hips before he pulled her closer, until there was nothing between them.

Until her bare chest pressed against his.

Heat.

Not just from the water, but from him-from the way his body surrounded hers, from the way his fingers stayed firm on her skin, like he had no intention of letting go.

Her lips parted, breath uneven, words failing her.

"A-Aap...?"
(You?)

She barely recognized her own voice.

Sidharth's lips curled-not in amusement, not in mockery, but in something softer. Something knowing.

He leaned in, forehead pressing against hers, the warmth of his breath mingling with her own.

"Mujhe chhod ke akele shower le rahi hain aap?"
("You're taking a shower alone without me?")

The complaint was quiet, edged with something that sent a shiver down her spine.

Noor's cheeks flamed.

It was only then that she truly realized-she was completely bare.

Her skin burned under his touch, not from embarrassment, not from discomfort, but from the way he made her feel.

From the way his touch wasn't rushed, wasn't demanding, but claiming.

She swallowed, eyes darting down, unable to meet his gaze, unable to stop the warmth crawling up her neck. But then-then his fingers moved, lifting, tilting her chin ever so slightly.

A breath.

A pause.

And then his lips brushed against her cheek.

Soft. Slow.

Noor inhaled sharply, her fingers clenching, finding something-his chain. The gold was warm against her palm, just like him, just like the air between them.

Her body betrayed her, the slight tremble in her breath, the way her fingers curled tighter around the chain, as if grounding herself.

But Sidharth wasn't done.

His lips traced a path, a whisper of warmth near the mole by her lips. A kiss-light, teasing, knowing.

A soft sound escaped her throat before she could stop it.

And then-

Before she could think, before she could process, he moved.

His hands pressed against her back, drawing her impossibly closer, and then-his lips crashed onto hers.

A kiss, deep and unrelenting, claiming every shaky breath, every unspoken word. His fingers tangled in her wet hair, hers still clutching his chain, caught between resistance and surrender.

But Noor, she felt herself melt.

Sidharth's lips lingered against hers, unhurried and steady, as if pouring every silent word he never spoke. His hand, resting against the curve of her hip, moved with slow precision, tracing the warmth of her skin. He deepened the kiss, taking his time, until he finally pulled back-just enough to brush a featherlight kiss on the tip of her nose. A gesture that felt like comfort, like reassurance, like a silent promise that she was safe with him.

Noor exhaled sharply, her breath unsteady, her chest rising and falling with the force of her emotions. She was used to this, to the way he handled her-like something precious, like something he wouldn't take until she gave.

Sidharth waited. Watching her. Sensing her.

And when she finally eased, even if just a little, he moved.

With gentle strength, he turned her around, pressing her bare back against his front. The contrast was stark-his warmth, his solidity, the way his presence alone seemed to envelope her. A soft gasp left her lips when she felt him, the press of his body against hers, separated only by the thin fabric of his boxers. His breath fanned over her temple, steady and controlled, while his hands found her.

One arm wrapped around her, just below her breasts, a hold that was protective rather than possessive. The other moved lower, tracing the dip of her waist, then her stomach, then further, teasing the heat pooling between her thighs.

"Noor," his voice was low, hushed, almost reverent, "Are you okay with me touching you?"

The weight of his words settled over her like a blanket, and something inside her shivered-not from fear, but from the way he asked, the way he always asked. Even without words, he waited for her answer.

A slow exhale.

Then, as if carried by the quiet between them, she let her head fall back against his shoulder. A silent yes.

Siddharth understood. Of course, he did.

His fingers moved, a whisper of a touch at first, tracing the sensitive folds between her legs, circling but never pushing. Noor's lips parted, a shaky breath escaping, and instinctively, her arm reached back, curling around his neck as if seeking an anchor. Her nails dug into his skin-not in protest, but in response.

Siddharth exhaled, a slow, steadying breath, before pressing his lips against the base of her neck. "I'm here," he murmured against her skin, voice laced with something quiet and endless. "I'm here, Cherry."

His hand moved with measured patience, fingers stroking, teasing, learning her every reaction. Noor trembled against him, her body tightening, her breaths coming in uneven pants. Then, slowly, carefully, he let his middle finger slip inside.

A sharp inhale.

Her fingers clenched around his wrist, the sudden intrusion sending a sting of discomfort through her, and she turned her face to his, instinctively biting down on his shoulder. Not hard enough to break skin, but enough to make him feel it.

Sidharth didn't mind. If anything, he welcomed it.

"You're doing so well," he murmured, his free hand tightening around her waist, holding her up as her legs threatened to give out. He didn't move yet-just let her adjust, let her feel him, let her body accept him.

"It's okay," he whispered again, pressing another kiss to the shell of her ear. "I've got you."

And then, only when she eased-when the tension in her muscles melted just slightly-did he move.

Sidharth didn't rush. He never would.

With Noor pressed against his chest, his arms wrapped around her like a shield, he took his time. His fingers moved with quiet precision, learning her, teasing her, guiding her into a world she had never stepped into before. Every breath she took, every tremble of her body, he felt it all.

Water dripped down her skin, tracing paths over her curves, but he was too lost in her to notice anything else.

Noor's head rested against his shoulder, her lips parted, her chest rising and falling in uneven breaths. Siddharth kissed her temple, a silent reassurance, before his hand began to move again.

Slowly. Gently.

His thumb found her clit, circling it in delicate, measured strokes, while his finger curled inside her, testing her response. Noor gasped, a sound that was barely there, but he caught it. He caught everything.

A muscle in his jaw ticked, his body thrumming with restraint. He wanted-God, he wanted-but not at the cost of overwhelming her. His control was ironclad, held together by his love for her, by the knowledge that she was his to worship, not to take.

Noor shivered, her nails digging into his wrist, her body struggling between tension and surrender. Her thighs tried to close, but his hand held her firm, guiding her, teaching her.

"You're mine," he murmured against her ear, his voice thick, dark, but achingly tender. "Let me show you."

Her answer came in a breathless sigh, in the way she let herself sink against him, fully, completely.

Sidharth's touch grew firmer, his thumb rubbing slow circles over her clit while his finger worked inside her, stretching her, preparing her. His free hand splayed across her stomach, holding her steady as her body arched, as her breath turned to quiet whimpers.

The pleasure built slowly, winding through her veins like fire, melting her from the inside out. She clutched at him, her fingers sliding into his hair, needing something-needing him.

Sidharth kissed her neck, his lips pressing over every sensitive spot he could find, his movements steady, controlled, relentless in their devotion.

"You're beautiful," he whispered, his voice rough with emotion. "You're everything."

Noor's body tightened, the pleasure cresting, and then-

A sharp gasp. A shuddering exhale.

Her release came in waves, crashing over her, her body clenching around his fingers as she lost herself in his touch. Sidharth held her through it, whispering soft praises against her skin, his arms the only thing keeping her upright.

When it was over, when her body finally relaxed against him, he pressed one last kiss to her temple, his breathing uneven but controlled.

"I've got you,Cherry" he murmured. "Always."

And Noor, still trembling, still catching her breath, knew it was true.

Sidharth moved slowly, as if savoring the moment, lifting his hand-the very hand that had just unraveled her. Without a word, he raised his finger to his lips and took it into his mouth, tasting her.

Noor didn't see it, her body still trembling, her breathing uneven, but if she had, she would have turned crimson.

A muscle in Sidharth's jaw flexed as he sucked gently, his dark lashes lowering for a moment before he let his finger slip free. His control was razor-sharp, but even that single act sent a shiver down his spine.

He exhaled softly before turning Noor in his arms again.

This time, she didn't hesitate. She leaned into him on her own, pressing her cheek against his chest, letting the steady rhythm of his heartbeat calm her. Sidharth held her close, rubbing slow, soothing circles along her back. His warmth wrapped around her, grounding her, allowing her to come back to herself while he waited, never rushing.

Sidharth held her trembling form against him, rubbing slow circles along her back. Noor's breaths were shallow, her skin still humming from what they had just shared, and yet-she was calm now. He had waited, just as he always did, giving her time, letting her come down at her own pace.

His lips pressed against the crown of her head, once, twice-soft reassurances without words.

But even as he held her, his own restraint was unraveling.

Noor, in her shy, hesitant way, had wrecked him.

She didn't even realize it, didn't understand how every little reaction of hers made him lose pieces of himself. The way she had leaned on him, trusting, unguarded. The way her body had melted into his. The way she had clutched at him, instinctive, seeking him in ways she wouldn't dare voice aloud.

And he-he had taken everything she gave him, worshipped her with patience, with care. But it wasn't enough.

Sidharth's hands flexed against her back, his jaw tightening as he tried to steady his breath. He had been holding back, holding back for her-for her comfort, for her trust.

But now...

Now, he needed her.

He needed to feel her touch. Needed her hands on him, her warmth against his own.

His body was rigid with restraint, every muscle locked as he tried to contain the ache pooling deep in his stomach. His forehead rested against the top of her head, his eyes shut tight, willing himself to hold on just a little longer.

But when she shifted-just the slightest movement-when her softness pressed even closer against his bare skin, a shudder racked through him.

And that was it. That was all it took for him to break.

His lips brushed against her temple as he whispered, voice rough, raw, barely hanging onto control-

"Cherry, are you okay with you touching me?"

The words scraped from his throat like a confession.

Noor stiffened against him, her breath catching, her entire body going still.

Sidharth felt it, felt her pulse stutter where his hand rested against her spine, and for a second, he wondered if he had startled her. If he had said too much.

But then, he felt the tremor run through her-the kind of tremor he knew all too well by now.

He swallowed, his hand slowly tracing up her back, fingers ghosting along her bare skin, grounding her. His control should have come back to him then. He should have been able to breathe through it, to wait again.

But he couldn't.

Because she wasn't pulling away.

Because he could feel the heat radiating from her body, the way her breath turned uneven, the way she hesitated-not in fear, but in something else.

Shyness.

Uncertainty.

And maybe...maybe the same need that had consumed him.

That realization sent something wild through his chest, something unstoppable, something raw.

His grip on her waist tightened, just slightly, as he lowered his head further, his lips brushing the shell of her ear. His voice was lower this time, rougher, thick with desperation.

"I want you to touch me, Cherry."

Noor inhaled sharply, her fingers curling against his chest.

She didn't answer.

Didn't look at him.

Her body was still, but Sidharth knew her-knew the way her breathing had changed, knew the way heat was pooling beneath her skin, knew exactly what was running through her mind right now.

And yet-

She was still.

His throat tightened.

She wanted to. He knew she wanted to. But she was too shy to take that step on her own.

And God, that shyness, that innocence-it drove him mad.

Because he wanted her to want him.

To reach for him the way he had reached for her.

He wanted her to give him more, just this once.

So he did something he had never done before.

He let his restraint slip.

Just a little.

Just enough.

His fingers found her chin, tilting her face up ever so slightly-not enough to force her gaze, but enough to let her know he wanted it. Wanted her to see him.

And then, with nothing but pure need in his voice, he whispered,

"Please."

The word was soft.

Broken.

Raw.

And it shattered whatever resolve Noor had left.

A shiver ran down her spine, a storm stirring in the pit of her stomach, twisting, tightening until she thought she might fall apart.

She had heard need in his voice before. Had seen the weight of his desire when he kissed her, touched her.

But never like this.

Never so bare.

Never so desperate.

Her eyes fluttered open, hesitantly, nervously, and for the first time-she looked at him.

Really looked.

His dark eyes burned into hers, his chest rising and falling unevenly, his jaw tight as if he were barely keeping himself together.

Sidharth, the man who always controlled himself for her, the man who never asked for anything-

Was asking now.

And Noor-

Noor couldn't deny him.

She exhaled shakily, her pulse racing, and slowly, slowly-

She nodded.

Sidharth let out a breath he didn't realize he had been holding.

And then, wordlessly, he took her hand.

He held it like the precious gem she was, looking straight into her eyes while she struggled to hold his gaze. He guided her forward, pressing her palm against his chest.

The warmth of his skin burned beneath her fingers.

Noor sucked in a breath.

Her touch was featherlight, unsure, but Sidharth didn't rush her. He simply slid her hand lower, his own breath turning unsteady as her fingers brushed over his abs, feeling the solid planes of his body.

Her heartbeat pounded in her ears.

Sidharth's control wavered for the first time when her fingers trembled over the hardness of his stomach. But he stayed still, watching her with dark, patient eyes as he lowered her hand further.

Noor wanted to look away, to turn her face, but just as she tried, Sidharth caught her chin, tilting her face back toward him.

"Look at me," he whispered.

Her breath hitched.

And then, with agonizing slowness, he lowered her hand past his waistband.

Sidharth watched her, his dark eyes locked onto hers, his breath uneven as he slowly guided her hand lower. Noor's fingers trembled, hesitant, but she let him lead her, her skin burning where he touched.

His grip was steady yet patient, giving her time to pull away, but she didn't. She let him slide her hand past his waistband, and the moment her fingers brushed against him, bare and hot, she felt his entire body tense.

Noor's breath hitched.

He was thick, heavy in her palm, the heat of him searing into her skin. Her fingers curled instinctively around him, feeling the smoothness, the sheer size of him. A startled sound left her lips, and she almost pulled away, but Sidharth's hand covered hers, not forcing, just holding, as if grounding himself in her touch.

A groan rumbled low in his throat, his jaw clenching.

His body was rigid, every muscle coiled tight as he fought against his own instincts, his breath coming out in sharp, ragged exhales. Noor could feel how much he was restraining himself, how desperately he wanted more but wouldn't take it without her.

"You're trembling," he murmured, his voice hoarse, uneven.

Noor swallowed hard. She was.

But so was he.

She gripped him a little firmer, testing, feeling the way he pulsed against her palm. He was hard, thick, the heat of him almost unbearable, and the way his body responded-how he twitched in her grasp, how his breath turned harsh-made something coil deep in her stomach.

Sidharth's forehead dropped to hers, his fingers twitching over hers as if to hold back his own urge to move.

"Cherry..." His voice was raw, wrecked, and when she dared to look up at him, the need in his eyes sent a shiver down her spine.

His restraint was hanging by a thread.

He was letting her do this. Letting her take control.

And that realization made Noor bolder.

Slowly, hesitantly, she moved her hand.

A deep groan tore from Siddharth's lips. His grip on her hips tightened, his body jerking involuntarily, but he didn't push. Didn't demand.

He just let her have him.

Noor's breath came in short, uneven pants as she let her fingers explore him-slow, hesitant, but growing bolder with each passing second. Sidharth stayed still, his muscles locked tight, his breathing heavy as he let her set the pace.

Her palm slid over his length, tracing the heat, feeling the way he twitched at her touch. A sharp exhale left him, his grip tightening on her hips, but he still didn't move, didn't rush her.

Noor swallowed, her fingers curling a little tighter around him, testing.

A deep groan rumbled through Sidharth's chest, and his forehead dropped to her shoulder, his entire body shuddering as if holding himself back from something primal.

"Cherry," he whispered against her skin, his voice wrecked, strained.

Noor felt something hot and unfamiliar coil in her stomach at the sound of his voice-at the way he was falling apart in her hands. She had never seen him like this, had never imagined she could make him this undone.

The knowledge sent a strange thrill through her, making her braver.

Slowly, she moved her hand again.

Sidharth cursed under his breath, his hips jerking into her touch before he stilled himself again, his grip on her tightening. Noor felt the desperation in his restraint, the way he was barely holding himself together, and something inside her melted.

She wanted to do this for him.

She wanted to see him lose control.

Her fingers moved again, this time more certain, sliding down his length and back up, her touch soft yet firm. Sidharth's entire body tensed, his breathing ragged, his lips parting as if he wanted to say something but couldn't.

She repeated the motion, watching the way his face contorted, the way his jaw clenched. His hands flexed on her hips before one of them slid up, threading into her hair as if grounding himself.

"You're killing me," he groaned, his voice rough against her ear.

Noor shivered, her breath catching, but she didn't stop.

She moved again, her pace growing steadier, more confident, and Siddharth's control shattered.

A low, guttural sound escaped him, and his hips jerked into her grasp, chasing the friction, his restraint slipping. Noor gasped at the raw hunger in his movements, but she didn't pull away. She let him take what he needed, let him guide her, let him lose himself in her touch.

His lips found her neck, pressing open-mouthed kisses against her skin, hot and desperate, as his breath turned harsher, more ragged. His fingers tightened in her hair, his body trembling against hers as she kept moving, kept stroking, feeling him unravel beneath her hands.

Sidharth sucked in a sharp breath, his grip on her tightening almost painfully as his body tensed. A deep groan rumbled through his chest as he shattered, pleasure crashing over him in waves.

Noor felt the warmth spill over her hand, felt the way his body shook against her as he came undone completely.

For a long moment, he just held her, his breathing heavy, his forehead still pressed to her shoulder, his hands gripping her as if she was the only thing keeping him grounded.

Then, slowly, he exhaled, his hold on her softening.

Sidharth didn't move, didn't pull away.

Instead, he pressed a soft, lingering kiss to the side of her neck, his lips curving against her skin as he whispered, "You have no idea what you do to me."

The water still ran, warm rivulets sliding over their skin, but neither of them moved.

Noor was curled against Siddharth, her breath uneven, her body trembling with a mix of exhaustion and lingering shyness. Her hands fisted against his chest, as if holding onto him was the only thing keeping her grounded.

Sidharth held her just as tightly.

His heart was still racing, his body still burning with the aftershocks of what they had just shared. But more than anything, he felt something deep-something raw-something he had never felt for anyone else.

He turned his head slightly, pressing his lips against the side of her damp hair. "Cherry..." His voice was softer now, lower. "Are you okay?"

Noor didn't answer, only tucked her face deeper into his chest.

He exhaled through his nose, a small smile tugging at his lips. She was too shy to speak, wasn't she? That thought alone made something warm unfurl in his chest.

Carefully, he reached past her and turned the shower off. The absence of the falling water made everything seem even quieter, even more intimate.

Noor shivered slightly.

Sidharth grabbed a towel and immediately wrapped it around her small frame. He could see the way her arms tightened around herself, as if she wanted to disappear into the fabric. He wouldn't let her.

Instead, he crouched slightly, his hands firm yet gentle as he dried her off himself. His fingers moved slowly over her arms, her shoulders, the curve of her back. Noor sucked in a breath when his touch lingered for a second too long, but he said nothing-only focused on making sure she was warm.

Once he was done, he pulled another towel around himself and, without warning, lifted her into his arms.

A small gasp escaped her, her fingers gripping his shoulders. "S-Sidharth ji-"

He didn't let her finish.

"Shh," he murmured, walking out of the bathroom, holding her as if she weighed nothing. "Let me take care of you, hmm?"

Noor said nothing, only buried her face in his neck.

By the time he reached the bed, her breathing had calmed, but the shyness hadn't left her. He placed her down carefully, pulling the blanket over her, tucking her in, & taking the wet towel away.

She didn't meet his eyes.

Sidharth tilted his head, watching her for a moment, before he slowly crawled in beside her. His arms wrapped around her instantly, pulling her close, and this time, she didn't resist.

"You were brave, Cherry," he whispered, pressing a lingering kiss to her temple. "You did so well."

A deep shudder ran through her.

Noor swallowed hard, her fingers gripping the front of his towel. She was still too shy to speak, but the way she clung to him, the way she let herself rest against him-it was enough.

Sidharth closed his eyes.

Tonight, he wouldn't push her.

Tonight, he'd just hold her.

Noor's breath had evened out, her delicate frame rising and falling against his. She had drifted into sleep, her exhaustion pulling her under, but Siddharth... he couldn't close his eyes.

He simply lay there, staring at her in the dim light, his gaze tracing every soft feature-the flutter of her lashes, the faint parting of her lips, the gentle curve of her cheek against his chest.

His heart clenched beautifully.

She is beautiful.

Slowly, carefully, as if afraid to wake her, he lifted a hand to his face, exhaling as he rubbed his palm over it, feeling the weight of everything that had happened tonight.

A warmth spread through his chest, something deeper than desire, something heavier than need.

And before he could stop himself, he shifted lower, pressing his face against the warmth of her body.

His breath fanned over her bare skin.

His hand slid over her side, holding her gently, anchoring himself as he buried his face between the softness of her breasts.

A shaky exhale left him.

The scent of her, the feel of her, the way she didn't even stir under his touch-it made something inside him tighten.

He turned his head slightly, lips grazing over her skin. His fingers flexed, his body tense with restraint, but he let his lips trail lower, brushing over the curve of her breast.

And then, slowly, he took one of her nipples into his mouth.

A soft sigh escaped Noor, her body shifting slightly in sleep, but she didn't wake.

Siddharth's eyes fluttered shut as he sucked gently, savoring the moment, the taste of her, the quiet intimacy of it all.

Just this.

Just her.

His Cherry.
.
.
.
.
.
.

The morning light filtered through the curtains, casting a golden glow over the room. The air was thick with warmth, a quiet stillness wrapping around the two tangled bodies on the bed.

Noor was nestled against Siddharth, her soft breaths fanning over his chest, her fingers curled slightly over his bare skin. Siddharth's arm was draped around her, his face buried in the crook of her neck, his breaths deep and steady.

They had slept in.

For the first time in weeks, there was no rush, no urgency-just the slow, lazy comfort of being wrapped in each other. Siddharth shifted slightly, his body instinctively molding closer to Noor's warmth, his lips brushing against her skin in his sleep.

Then-

A loud vibration echoed through the room.

The sound came once. Then twice.

Sidharth's brows furrowed before his body tensed. He was the first to hear it, his mind pulling itself out of the sleepy haze as the persistent ringing continued.

With a quiet groan, he blinked his eyes open, still heavy with sleep. The phone buzzed again, but before reaching for it, his gaze fell on Noor.

She was still fast asleep, her face serene, unaware of the world outside their shared warmth.

Without thinking, without hesitation, he leaned in, pressing a gentle kiss against her forehead. Soft. Familiar. A ritual.

Then, sighing, he turned away and reached for the phone.

Noor's brother.

Sidharth stilled.

His brows drew together slightly. It wasn't unusual for her family to call, but her brother? He had almost never called him.

Something was wrong.

A flicker of unease settled in his chest as he swiped to answer.

"Sidharth." The voice on the other end was sharp, rushed.

Siddharth sat up straighter, the drowsiness disappearing in an instant. "Haan?"

The next words made his grip tighten on the phone.

His jaw clenched. His heartbeat pounded. His free hand instinctively curled into the sheets beside Noor.

For a moment, he said nothing, his eyes darting toward his sleeping wife.

And then, quietly, firmly-"We are coming."

He ended the call.

Closing his eyes for a brief second, he let his head fall back against the headboard.

_____________________________________
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