Now, the next chapter after this target is completed.

Today's target -.
‼️4.3k votes and 2.5k comments on this chapter.‼️

And in the last chapter I was talking about spamimg emojis like "💕" "🍒" or "A" "B" this. Not how you express your feelings through it. You are still allowed to do so but not one letter or emoji spam. Now am I clear?
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पल दो पल की ही क्यों है ज़िंदगी,
इस प्यार को हैं सदियाँ काफ़ी नहीं।
तो ख़ुदा से माँग लूँ मोहलत मैं एक नई,
रहना है बस यहाँ, अब दूर तुझसे जाना नहीं।

जो तू मेरा हमदर्द है, जो तू मेरा हमदर्द है,
सुखद हर दर्द है, जो तू मेरा हमदर्द है।

तेरी मुस्कुराहटें हैं ताक़त मेरी,
मुझको इन्हीं से उम्मीद मिली।
चाहे करे कोई सितम ये जहाँ,
इनमें ही है सदा हिफ़ाज़त मेरी।

ज़िंदगानी बड़ी ख़ूबसूरत हुई,
जन्नत अब और क्या होगी कहीं।

जो तू मेरा हमदर्द है, जो तू मेरा हमदर्द है,
सुखद हर दर्द है, जो तू मेरा हमदर्द है।
______________________

Sidharth's eyes fluttered open, the weight of reality settling on his chest like an iron chain. The phone call from Noor's brother still echoed in his mind, a voice filled with urgency, with something he didn't want to hear. His grip on the phone tightened before he placed it aside, his gaze falling on the woman beside him.

Noor lay curled up in the sheets, her face turned slightly toward him, her lips parted slightly in sleep. A gentle sigh left her as she shifted, burying her face deeper into the pillow. The soft morning light from the half-open curtains painted golden hues on her skin, making her look almost unreal-like a dream he never wanted to wake from.

His heart melted.

How was he supposed to wake her up? How was he supposed to tell her something that would break her heart?

A sigh left his lips. His fingers reached out, brushing a stray strand of hair from her forehead before his palm gently cupped her cheek. His thumb moved slowly, caressing her warm skin, his touch featherlight as if he feared she might shatter under his fingers.

"Noor... uthiye," he whispered softly against her ear.
(Noor... wake up.)

Noor stirred a little, her brows knitting together before she shrank into herself, mumbling in her sleep.

"Mmm... sone dijiye," she murmured, her voice husky with sleep.
(Mmm... let me sleep.)

A small, helpless smile curved Sidharth's lips. His fingers trailed down, brushing her jaw before he leaned in and pressed a soft kiss on her cheek.

"Noor, get up," he murmured again, his lips barely leaving her skin.

This time, her lashes fluttered. She opened her eyes slowly, lazily, like she was still floating between sleep and wakefulness. Her gaze met his, unfocused at first, but then she simply stared-her warm brown eyes gazing into his. And then, a slow, sleepy smile stretched her lips.

She didn't speak, just kept looking at him like he was the first thing she wanted to see every morning. And he was.

Then, she sighed and tried to close her eyes again.

Sidharth chuckled under his breath before caressing her cheek once more.

"Uthiye Noor, hume kahin jaana hai," he said softly.
(Wake up, Noor, we have to go somewhere.)

Noor frowned, her lips pursing slightly in confusion.

"Kahan?" she asked, her voice still laced with sleep.
(Where?)

Sidharth didn't answer. He only gave her a look before nodding toward the side, silently telling her to get up.

Noor sighed, blinking away her sleep as she slowly sat up-unaware of the way the blanket slipped down her shoulders.

And then-

Her breath hitched.

The cold morning air kissed her bare skin, making her shiver slightly. Her eyes dropped down-realization hitting her. The memories of last night came rushing back in vivid detail-the way he had held her, touched her.

Her cheeks flushed a deep red.

Her hands instinctively grabbed the blanket, pulling it up to cover herself.

All this time, Sidharth had been watching her. His gaze hadn't wavered, hadn't moved anywhere else. He had seen the exact moment when realization dawned on her face, the way her eyes widened slightly before embarrassment took over.

A small smile played at his lips as he leaned in again.

His fingers brushed away the few strands of hair sticking to her forehead before he placed a gentle kiss there.

"Mujhe aapko kahin le jaana hai. Jaldi taiyar ho jayiye. Hmm?," he whispered.

(I have to take you somewhere. Get ready quickly.)

Noor barely registered his words-her mind was too occupied with the way his lips felt against her skin, the warmth of his voice, the way he was looking at her.

Sidharth got off the bed, leaving the sheets behind as he stood up. Noor thought he was about to step outside, maybe to let her get dressed, but-

Before she could process anything, he turned back.

With one swift motion, he bent down, scooped her up in his arms, and wrapped the blanket tightly around her.

Noor gasped, her hands gripping his shoulders as she looked up at him, her eyes wide.

"S-Sidharth...ji!"

But he said nothing. He only carried her toward the bathroom, pushing the door open with his foot before setting her down gently on the counter.

Even then, he didn't step away. He leaned in, pressing a soft kiss against her lips-brief, fleeting, yet holding something deep.

And then, his fingers caressed her cheek one last time before he whispered
"Jaldi kariye."
(Hurry up.)

With that, he turned and walked out, leaving Noor sitting there, still wrapped in the blanket, still dazed.

Something felt... off.

Her heart knew it.

Even though her mind was too busy recalling last night, too busy feeling flustered over how he carried her, somewhere deep down, she knew-Sidharth was not okay.

And whatever awaited them outside... was not good.
.
.
.
.
.
The car moved smoothly along the road, the low hum of the engine filling the silence between them.

Sidharth's hands rested firmly on the steering wheel, his grip tightening and loosening every few minutes. His eyes were fixed on the road, but his mind... his mind was somewhere else. He was thinking, over and over again, about what was coming next.

He didn't want to look at Noor just yet. Because if he did, his heart might betray him. He might stop the car, take her far away, and never let her know what waited ahead.

Beside him, Noor sat quietly, unaware of the storm inside him.

Her head rested against the window, her eyes lazily following the passing buildings, people, and trees. The golden morning light kissed her face, making her look peaceful-too peaceful.

She was happy.

And she had no idea.

Her fingers moved absentmindedly, playing with Sidharth's hand that rested on her lap. She wasn't thinking about it, wasn't even aware that she was doing it. She simply twirled his fingers between hers, tracing small circles on his skin, her touch featherlight.

Sidharth felt it.

Felt the way her warmth slipped into him, grounding him, making him want to forget everything else.

But he didn't interrupt her.

He let her hold his hand and let her touch calm him in ways she didn't even realize.

The car kept moving.

Until it didn't.

A sudden halt.

Noor blinked, her smile still faint on her lips as she looked around.

And then... she saw it.

Her smile faded, confusion flickering in her eyes.

A hospital.

They were at a hospital.

Her brows furrowed slightly as she turned toward Sidharth.

And there he was.

Already looking at her.

His eyes held something-something deep, unreadable - something that made her heart skip a beat.

She didn't know why... but suddenly, the air inside the car felt different.

And for the first time since waking up, she realized-something was wrong.

The silence between them felt heavier now. The air inside the car had changed-become thick, almost suffocating. Noor could feel it.

Her heart pounded in her chest as she turned toward Sidharth, her confused eyes locking onto his.

Blue.

His eyes were always deep, always carrying something unspoken, but today... today, they held something else. Something that sent a shiver down her spine.

She didn't understand it.

But she feared it.

Her fingers, which had been resting against his hand just moments ago, now gripped him tightly. Her small hand squeezed his larger one, her breath coming out a little uneven.

"Sidharth ji, y-yha kyu aaye hai hum?"
(Sidharth ji, w-why have we come here?)

Her voice was soft, hesitant-almost as if she was afraid of the answer.

Sidharth turned to her fully, his hands moving to hold both of hers. His grip was gentle but firm, grounding, as if he was trying to keep her from slipping away.

"Cherry, jo bhi hai ander, jaisa bhi hai. Mai hu. Hmm?"
(Noor, whatever is inside. However, it is, I am here. Hmm?)

His voice was calm, deep, reassuring. But Noor... Noor could feel the weight behind his words.

She swallowed.

She wanted to believe him and wanted to hold onto his words like a lifeline.

But something was wrong.

She could feel it.

And suddenly, the calm shattered.

"Jaisa bhi hai? Hua kya hai? Aap batate kyu nahi?"
(However, it is? What happened? Why aren't you telling me?)

Her voice wavered, rising with panic. Her breaths quickened as she looked at him, searching-begging-for an answer.

But before he could say anything, something inside her shifted.

A thought. A realization.

Her body stilled, her lips parted slightly.

"P-Papa? Wo-Wo..."
(P-Papa? H-He...)

She couldn't finish.

Because suddenly, she knew.

Her heart stopped for a second, her hands frozen in Sidharth's grasp. She looked at him, waiting-pleading for him to say something. To deny it.

But he didn't.

His silence was loud.

Too loud.

And that was all it took.

Noor ripped her hands free from his grip, her breathing sharp and unsteady. Her mind screamed at her to stop, to ask again, to make sure-

But her feet had already moved.

Before she knew it, she was running.

Running toward the hospital doors, toward the truth, she didn't want to hear.

And Sidharth...

He just watched.

Noor stepped inside the hospital.

The cold air hit her face, but she barely noticed. Her heart pounded so loudly in her chest that it drowned out everything else.

She looked around. Left. Right.

Nobody.

Her breath came out sharp and uneven as her eyes scanned the long, white hallway. The smell of antiseptic filled the air, and the soft beep of medical machines echoed faintly from behind closed doors.

Where...?

Her feet moved on their own, walking ahead, searching.

But there was no one.

Not her mother. Not her brother. No familiar faces. There is nothing to confirm the storm raging inside her mind.

Noor felt a strange pressure building in her chest. It wasn't relief. It wasn't peace.

It was fear.

A different kind of fear.

Because the silence-the emptiness-felt wrong.

Like something had already been lost.

Sidharth hadn't moved from the car.

Not immediately.

He had watched her run inside, his hands gripping the steering wheel so tightly that his knuckles turned white. His jaw clenched, his breath shaky.

His heart ached.

A physical pain-deep, consuming.

He loved her.

Loved her in a way that made his own body hurt when she was in pain.

And right now... Noor was in pain.

He couldn't stay here.

He pushed the car door open and stepped out, his long strides quick as he made his way inside. His chest felt tight, and for the first time in years, he was afraid of what was coming.

Then he saw her.

Standing in the middle of the hallway.

Her back was toward him, her shoulders rising and falling with each breath. She wasn't crying.

But she looked lost.

Broken.

Like a little girl searching for something she wasn't ready to find.

Sidharth didn't call her name. He didn't say anything.

He just walked toward her.

Noor felt his presence before she even saw him. The warmth of his body, the steady strength he always carried-it was there, right beside her.

And then, suddenly, she felt his fingers brush against hers.

Soft. Warm.

And before she could think, before she could speak, his hand closed around hers.

A firm, grounding grip.

Not pulling.

Not forcing.

Just holding.

Just... there.

Noor blinked.

Her lips parted, but no words came out.

She turned her head slightly, just enough to see him.

Sidharth wasn't looking at her.

He was looking ahead.

And in that moment, Noor understood.

She squeezed his hand.

Tightly.

He squeezed back.

And then, without a word, Sidharth started walking.

Noor followed.

The elevator ride was silent. Neither of them spoke, but Noor never let go of his hand.

Her grip was tight, like she was afraid he'd disappear if she loosened it. And Sidharth... he held on just as tightly.

The doors opened, and they stepped out onto the floor.

And there, just a few feet away-

Her mother.

Crying.

Her brother.

Standing still, his face unreadable.

Her sister-in-law.

Trying to console her mother, but failing.

Noor's steps slowed.

Her heartbeat thundered in her ears.

Noor's steps felt weightless as she moved toward her mother.

It didn't feel like walking.

It felt like being pulled.

Her mind was still running-images, fears, and worst-case scenarios flashing like a broken reel. Her body, though, felt disconnected, like it wasn't hers.

And then-

"Noor-"

Her mother turned, and in the next second, arms wrapped around her tightly.

Noor froze.

The grip was crushing, almost desperate. Her mother's body shook against hers, the sounds of muffled sobs pressing into her shoulder.

She felt it.

The trembling, the grief, the pain.

But she didn't move. She didn't react.

Her throat tightened, the weight of something unbearable pressing against her chest. But no tears came.

She stayed still.

Eyes open, staring past her mother's shoulder at the white hospital walls. At the empty hallway.

She could hear her mother crying.

But she couldn't feel it.

It was like a distant sound, something happening far away.

Her mind-

Somewhere else.

She noticed Sidharth then.

Not in the way one notices a person standing nearby.

She felt him first.

And when her gaze shifted, she saw him walking toward her brother. His movements were steady, his face unreadable, but there was something about the way he moved-something firm - something controlled.

Noor watched as he spoke, his voice low, his eyes serious. Her brother listened, nodding at the end, the exhaustion clear in his posture.

And then-

Her brother turned.

Walked toward their mother.

Noor felt the slight shift in her mother's embrace before she heard the words.

"Maa, doctor dekh rahe hain, aap royiye mat."
("Maa, the doctors are checking. Please don't cry.")

His voice-

It was trying to be strong. But Noor could hear the desperation.

Like he had been saying this over and over.

Like he had been watching their mother cry for hours.

The thought made something deep inside Noor twist.

She lowered her gaze.

Her brother's hand rested lightly on their mother's back, his touch hesitant. As if he wanted to console her, but knew words wouldn't be enough.

Noor, still trapped in her mother's arms, felt like she was floating.

No weight.

No gravity.

Her thoughts spun, tangled in the worst possibilities.

Because her father-

He was already sick.

Cancer was already eating at him, taking away pieces of him, making him weaker day by day.

And now-

A hospital.

Again.

Noor's breath hitched, but she didn't notice. What had happened? What had gone wrong? Why was her mother crying this much? Why did her brother sound so helpless?

Why was she here?

Why wasn't anyone telling her anything?

Her mother's sobs pressed against her ear, the sound breaking, aching. Noor still didn't move.

She felt like she was sinking into nothingness.

Her fingers twitched slightly, but she didn't reach out.

She didn't return the hug.

She just-

Stayed.

Silent.

Frozen.

Until-

Her mother shifted slightly, raising her face.

Tears ran down her cheeks, her breath still uneven as she whispered-

"Kaise na royu? Cancer kam tha jo ye accident bhi ho gaya?"
("How can I not cry? As if cancer wasn't enough, now this accident too?")

Noor blinked.

The word.

Accident.

It latched onto her brain like a hook, pulling her out of the emptiness.

Accident?

Her breath hitched.

Her eyes, which had been staring at nothing, snapped toward her brother.

A silent question.

A silent plea.

Her brother met her gaze.

And then-

He nodded.

Slow.

Firm.

And that was it.

Noor shuddered.

A tremble ran through her body, but she didn't collapse.

Didn't cry.

Her lips parted slightly, the words slipping out without thought-

"Ac-Accident?"

Her brother's gaze didn't waver.

Noor's stomach twisted painfully.

And before she could even process the thought fully-

The door nearby opened.

The doctor stepped out.

Noor felt her mother move-her grip on her loosened, and then, suddenly, Noor was being pulled forward.

Her mother wasn't crying anymore.

Not because she had calmed down-

But because she was desperate.

She pulled Noor with her, stepping toward the doctor.

Her mother's voice was frantic.

Noor barely heard it.

She barely even heard what the doctor said at first.

Everything felt blurry.

A dream.

But then-

A voice cut through the haze.

"He is stable now. The accident was severe, but he is okay. You all can meet him, but please, not all at once."

Noor breathed.

Not a deep breath.

Not a relieved breath.

Just a breath.

Like her lungs had remembered how to work again.

Like the world had tilted back into place, just slightly.

She was still stuck in the panic, still floating in the numbness.

But she was breathing.

Her father was alive.

She didn't even realize how tightly her fingers had curled until she felt the nails pressing into her palms.

Her mother's grip on her loosened as the family moved.

One by one.

Stepping toward the door.

Going inside.

Noor?

She didn't move.

Her feet stayed glued to the floor, her body standing still as if her brain hadn't caught up with the news yet.

Her father was alive.

The words repeated in her head.

Again.

And again.

But-

The panic hadn't left.

She wasn't crying.

She hadn't shed a single tear.

But inside-

Inside, she was falling apart.

Silently.

Quietly.

Where no one could see.

Everyone moved forward.

Noor didn't.

Her body remained frozen, her feet planted on the cold hospital floor as though the world had suddenly lost its gravity. She could see her mother, her brother, and her sister-in-law disappearing behind the door where her father lay, but she couldn't move.

She should have. She should have run inside, should have clung to her father's hand, should have heard his voice just once to reassure herself that he was still there.

But her body refused to listen.

Her mind felt suspended in some unknown space, detached from reality. Even as the doctor's words echoed in her ears-"He is stable now."-her heart didn't fully believe it.

The weight of fear still wrapped around her chest, pressing down, making it harder and harder to breathe.

She stood still, trapped in an invisible cage of panic, her thoughts spiraling into the worst possible places.

What if the doctor was just saying that?

What if her father wasn't truly okay?

What if she walked inside and saw him in a state that she wasn't prepared for?

What if-

A touch.

Warm. Firm.

Fingers wrapping around her wrist, not forceful, but steady enough to make her feel something real amidst the storm raging in her mind.

Noor blinked, her vision still blurred with the weight of her thoughts, her breath still uneven. The touch was grounding, familiar, but it wasn't until she slowly lifted her gaze that she realized who it belonged to.

Sidharth.

His eyes-dark, unwavering-held something that made her insides tremble.

Not sympathy.

Not pity.

But something deeper. Something more profound.

Understanding.

As if he could hear the chaotic thoughts racing through her mind, as if he could feel the numbness creeping through her body. As if he knew that she was drowning and he was here to pull her out.

Noor didn't speak.

She didn't ask where he was taking her, didn't question the silent urgency in his grip as he gently but firmly pulled her away from the corridor, away from the noise, away from the world that suddenly felt too loud, too suffocating.

She let him.

Let him guide her down the empty hallway, let him push open a door, let him pull her inside.

A hospital room.

Dimly lit. Empty.

The door clicked shut behind them, sealing them off from everything outside.

And before Noor could even process what was happening-

Before she could find her voice, her breath-

Sidharth's arms wrapped around her.

Tightly.

Firmly.

Like a shield against the weight of her emotions.

Like he was holding her together so she wouldn't fall apart.

Noor's entire body stiffened at the sudden contact, her arms limp at her sides, her mind momentarily blank.

But then-

The weight of everything crashed down on her.

Like a dam breaking.

Like a storm swallowing her whole.

Her hands reached up without thought, grasping the fabric of his shirt, clenching onto his collar like it was the only thing keeping her from collapsing.

She pressed her forehead against his chest, squeezing her eyes shut, her breath shaky and uneven.

The silence between them was thick, but it wasn't empty.

It was heavy with unspoken words, with emotions too overwhelming to put into sentences.

His arms didn't loosen.

He didn't rush her, didn't tell her to calm down, didn't whisper meaningless reassurances.

He just held her.

Steady. Unwavering.

A pillar for her to lean on when she had nothing left to hold onto.

His heartbeat was the only thing she could hear-slow, strong, grounding.

And then, after what felt like an eternity, he finally spoke.

His voice was low, deep, filled with a quiet intensity that made her grip on his shirt tighten.

"Theek hain wo ab..."
("He is okay now...")

"Roo sakti hain ab aap."
("You can cry now.")

Noor stilled.

Her fingers curled even tighter into the fabric of his shirt, her breath hitching.

The words-

They were the last string.

The final barrier holding back the storm inside her.

And as soon as they were spoken-

She shattered.

A sharp, broken sob tore from her throat, and the moment it escaped, there was no stopping it.

Tears spilled from her eyes, soaking into the fabric of his shirt as her body trembled violently in his arms.

She wasn't crying quietly.

She wasn't crying in the composed way she was used to.

She was breaking.

Raw. Unfiltered.

Like all the years of holding it in, of swallowing her pain, of forcing herself to be strong-

They had finally caught up to her.

"Hum dar lag raha tha, Aarth..."
("I was so scared, Aarth...")

Her voice came out broken, choked between sobs, muffled against his chest.

"Hume laga... hume laga ab kuch bhi nahi bachega."
("I thought... I thought I would lose everything.")

Sidharth didn't speak.

But his arms tightened.

His grip on her became unshakable, his fingers pressing into her back like he was trying to absorb her pain into himself.

And he felt it.

Every single tear.

Every tremor in her body.

Every shattered piece of her soul as she cried in his arms.

And it hurt.

It hurt more than he thought possible.

Because this was Noor.

The woman he loved with every part of himself.

The woman whose pain felt like a dagger straight through his own heart.

He had loved her in silence.

Had adored her from a distance.

Had watched her, wanted her, needed her in ways he could never put into words.

And now, as she broke down in his arms for the first time, as she let herself be vulnerable, as she clung to him with nothing but raw, unguarded emotion-

He felt everything.

Her pain.

Her fear.

Her relief.

And his own helplessness.

Because he would take it all if he could.

Would bear every tear, every ache, every ounce of sorrow just so she wouldn't have to.

But he couldn't.

All he could do was hold her.

Let her break.

Let her cry.

Let her fall apart in the safety of his arms, knowing that no matter how much she shattered-

He would never let her fall alone.

Noor's sobs didn't slow.

If anything, they only grew stronger, rawer-like every emotion she had buried for years was forcing its way out, demanding to be felt.

Her fingers twisted in Sidharth's shirt, her nails digging into the fabric as if holding onto him was the only thing keeping her from dissolving completely.

Her body trembled-violent, uncontrollable.

Her breaths were uneven, coming out in desperate gasps between the cries that shook her chest.

And Sidharth let her.

He said nothing.

Did nothing except hold her tighter, pressing her to himself as if he could shield her from the very pain clawing at her soul.

Her forehead remained pressed against his chest, her tears soaking into his shirt, her entire weight leaning into him.

And then-her voice, small, broken, barely a whisper-

"Aarth..."

A plea.

A desperate, aching plea wrapped in just one name.

Sidharth's fingers flexed slightly against her back, his grip tightening like a silent response. Like an answer to the pain in her voice.

But Noor wasn't done.

Her pain had found its voice, and now it wouldn't stop.

"Roz dekhte the unko marte hue, Aarth"
("Every day, I watch him dying, Sidharth ji...")

Her voice cracked mid-sentence, her lips trembling as another sob broke through.

"Roz dekhte the... par kuch kar nahi sakte"
("I watch him every day... but I can't do anything.")

A shattered breath.

"Hum unke liye kuch nahi kar pa rhe the."
("I am not able to do anything for him.")

Her fingers clenched tighter in his shirt, her nails pressing into his skin through the fabric, and Sidharth barely noticed.

Because all he could feel was her breaking in his arms.

"Roz dekhte the unki takleef, Sidharth ji... Unka dukh. Unka dard."
("Every day, I see his suffering, Sidharth ji... his pain, his struggle.")

The thought stabbed her chest like a dagger.

"Aur aaj jab accident hua... ek pal ke liye laga, shayad-"
("And today, when the accident happened... for a moment, I thought, maybe-")

She couldn't even complete her sentence.

The words refused to leave her throat, as if saying them out loud would make them real.

Another sharp, wounded cry tore from her lips, and this time, she didn't just grip Sidharth's shirt-she clung to him.

Like he was the only thing keeping her standing.

And maybe he was.

Because Noor could feel herself sinking.

Into the grief.

Into the weight of what could have been.

But Sidharth wouldn't let her drown.

His hands, strong and firm, ran slowly up and down her back, grounding her, steadying her in a way words never could.

And Noor, despite the storm raging in her heart, felt it.

Felt the silent, unwavering comfort in his touch.

Felt the safety of being held-not just physically, but emotionally.

He wasn't speaking, wasn't trying to stop her cries, wasn't telling her to be strong.

He was just here.

Letting her break.

Letting her grieve.

Letting her be weak for the first time in years.

And Noor, in that moment, trusted him more than she had ever trusted anyone.

Another sob tore from her throat, shaking her entire body.

Sidharth felt it.

Felt every tremor, every ache.

And he couldn't take it.

Because Noor's pain-her grief, her suffering-felt like his own.

"Woh bohot strong hain, Noor."

His voice was low, deep, steady.

"Aur aap bhi"

Noor shook her head against his chest.

"Main nahi hoon strong, Aarth..."
("I am not strong, Aarth...")

Her fingers unclenched from his shirt, only to clutch at his shoulders instead, gripping onto him with everything she had left.

"Hum unki beti hai... par bas dekhte the unko ,dukh sehne ke alawa aur kuch nahi kar sakte."
("I am his daughter... but all I can do is watch him suffer, and I can't do anything else.")

A whispered confession, one that made her body tremble even more.

"Aur agar... agar kuch ho jata toh?"
("And if... if something had happened?")

A sharp inhale.

A pause.

Because she knew the answer.

She wouldn't have survived it.

And Sidharth knew that, too.

His hold on her tightened, one of his hands sliding up to cup the back of her head, his fingers threading into her hair, holding her close.

"Lekin kuch nahi hua, Noor."

His voice was firm now.

"Wo thik hai, hum sab ke sath hai"

Noor sucked in a sharp breath, her chest rising and falling against his, her face still buried in the warmth of his embrace.

His words-

They weren't just reassurance.

They were truth.

And Noor clung to them.

To him.

To this moment where she didn't have to be anything but what she was-a daughter who was watching her father suffer every day but still had hope.

And a woman who, despite everything, had someone to hold her through it all.

Noor's body trembled against him, her breath uneven, broken.

Her fingers, still clutched onto his shirt, loosened only to tighten again, as if afraid that if she let go, she would fall apart completely.

And maybe she would.

Because this pain-it wasn't just about today.

It wasn't just about the accident.

It was about the last two years.

The never-ending ache of watching her father suffer.

The weight of helplessness crushing her every single day.

And in between her sobs, in between the sharp, gasping breaths that made her entire body shake, she spoke.

"Do saal, Sidharth ji..."
("Two years, Sidharth ji...")

A whisper.

A confession.

Her voice barely there, but her pain-the depth of it-was undeniable.

"Do saal se unhe har din dukh mehsoos karte dekh rahe hai"
("For two years, I have watched him suffer every single day.")

Another sob broke her words apart.

"Roz unki aankhon mein dard dekhte the, par kuch nahi kar sakte the"
("Every day, I see the pain in his eyes, but I can't do anything.")

Her fingers dug into his shoulders, her hold desperate, pleading.

"Roz unki awaaz kamzor hoti ja rahi thi, Sidharth ji."
("Every day, his voice is growing weaker, Sidharth ji.")

She pulled in a shaky breath, her forehead still pressed against his chest.

"Roz lagta hai ki kahin ye aakhri din na ho."
("Every day, I fear it might be his last.")

Her voice cracked on the last word.

And Sidharth-

He felt it.

Felt her breaking apart.

Felt the weight of every second she had spent carrying this pain alone.

And it killed him.

Because Noor-his Noor-wasn't meant to carry pain.

She wasn't meant to suffer alone.

And yet, she had.

For two years.

For two whole years, she had been drowning in a grief that hadn't even reached its final blow yet.

A grief that had been slowly, silently suffocating her every day.

And no one had seen it.

Not even him.

"Aarth..."

That whisper-her whisper-made something deep inside him snap.

The way she said his name-so soft, so broken-like she had held it in for too long, like she had only now allowed herself to let it out.

"Hum thak gaye hoon, Aarth"
("I am so tired, Aarth")

The exhaustion in her voice, the helplessness, the weight of everything she had endured-it burned through him like fire.

"Roz dar lagta hai... ek din aankhein kholungi, aur unki jagah sirf shaant kamra milega."
("Every day, I wake up afraid... afraid that one day, I'll open my eyes and only find an empty, silent room instead of him.")

Her words-her fear-wrapped around his heart like a vice.

She shuddered against him, her hands sliding down to clutch at his arms now, seeking warmth, seeking something solid, something real-seeking him.

And Sidharth-

Sidharth could take anything.

The world's hatred.

The weight of responsibilities.

Even death itself.

But he could not-would not-watch her break like this.

"Noor."

His voice, deep and steady, cut through the air, through the storm of her sobs.

He pulled back just enough to look at her.

Her face was still buried against him, but he tilted her chin up, forcing her to meet his gaze.

Her eyes-red, swollen, filled with pain-met his.

And what she saw there-

It was raw.

Unfiltered.

A depth of devotion that had no end, no limit.

"Aap thak gayi hain?"

His thumb brushed against her damp cheek, his fingers curling under her jaw.

"Toh bas ab aur nahi sehna."
("Then don't suffer anymore.")

A simple statement.

But the way he said it-like an unshakable truth, like a promise-made something deep inside her chest tremble.

"Aapke dukh ka ek bhi pal... ek bhi aansu bhi ab sirf mera hai."
("Every moment of your pain... every tear... from now on, they belong to me.")

Noor's breath hitched.

"Aapke aage ek bhi takleef nahi aane dunga, Noor."
("I will not let even a shadow of pain reach you, Noor.")

His hands-strong, warm-slid down to grasp hers, intertwining their fingers, holding her tight, grounding her.

"Agar dukh aayega, toh pehle mujhse takrayega."
("If suffering comes, it will have to face me first.")

His voice was low now, steady-like a silent vow. And Noor know, it wasn't about just this moment.

"Agar aansu girenge, toh pehle meri aankhon mein aayenge."
("If tears must fall, they will fall from my eyes first.")

A pause.

A breath.

His forehead rested against hers, his grip unrelenting.

"Agar dard likha hai, toh woh meri kismat banega... par aapki nahi."
("If pain is written in destiny, then let it be mine... but never yours.")

Noor felt her heart shatter all over again.

Not from pain.

But from something deeper.

Something that made her want to believe him.

Something that made her want to let go of everything she had been holding inside for so long.

And in that moment-

She did.

With a final, broken sob, Noor collapsed completely into his arms.

Not just physically.

But in every way possible.

And Sidharth-

He held her.

Like she was the most precious thing in the world.

Like nothing-no pain, no suffering, no force on this earth-could take her away from him.

And for the first time in two years-

Noor allowed herself to believe it.

Sidharth cupped her face gently, his thumb brushing away the dampness on her cheek. His voice, steady and low, held the weight of a promise that could never be broken. His blue eyes burned with something raw-something unshaken, unbreakable.Noor had seen him serious before, but this-this was something else. This was fire. This was devotion that could move mountains, tear apart fate, rewrite endings.

"Mai aapka Aarth, apase vada karta hoon, Noor... aapke Baba sirf aapke nahi, mere bhi hain. Jab tak mai hoon, unhe kuch nahi hoga."
("I, your Aarth promise you, Noor... your Baba is not just yours, he is mine too. As long as I am here, nothing will happen to him.")

There was no hesitation, no doubt-only certainty. A vow made not with grand gestures but with the kind of quiet strength that could hold up a world collapsing in grief. Noor looked into his eyes, and for the first time in years, she let go of the fear that had been crushing her heart.

His words weren't just words. They were a storm, a shield, an unshakable force of nature. Noor felt something deep inside her crack-because for the first time, she wasn't alone in this battle. Sidharth had made it his own.

she allowed herself to believe.
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I stood frozen in front of the door. My father was inside. A few feet away. Alive. Breathing. Waiting.

My fingers curled into my palms, nails pressing against my skin as if grounding me. But nothing could prepare me for this moment. Seeing him, after the accident, after everything... what if I wasn't strong enough? What if the father I knew, the one who smiled despite his pain, the one who teased me just to see me laugh, had changed? What if the sickness, the accident, had taken away more than just his health?

A warm hand wrapped around mine, steady, unshaken. Sidharth ji

His presence was quiet, but it was everything. He didn't speak, didn't tell me to move or force me forward. He just stood beside me, holding my hand, holding me. And that alone was enough to make me breathe again.

I turned my head slightly, glancing at him. He wasn't looking at me, but at the door. As if silently telling me, this door is just a door, Noor. It won't break you.

I took a deep breath, swallowed the lump in my throat, and tightened my grip on his hand.

Then I reached for the handle.

Just as my fingers touched the cold metal, Sidharth ji let go.

The warmth of his touch disappeared, leaving behind an emptiness I had forgotten could exist. Instinctively, I looked beside me-Sidharth ji was still there. He gave me a small nod, and before I could say anything, his hand moved to my shoulder, giving it a light, firm squeeze.

That one touch... it said everything.

Go.

I nodded back, though my heart felt weak, too weak.

With a shuddering breath, I pushed the door open.

The room was quiet, the only sound was the rhythmic beep of the heart monitor. My father was sitting on the hospital bed, his head resting against the pillow, eyes closed. His face looked paler than before, his body thinner, a bandage wrapped around his forehead. He looked weaker than I had ever seen him.

Something inside me cracked.

My heart skipped a beat, then another.

Forgetting everything, even my own breath, I took a step forward.

The door clicked shut behind me.

I turned, expecting to see Sidharth ji, but he was still outside. He had given me this moment. This moment just for me and my father.

I was alone.

And in that second, everything changed.

The woman who had walked in with Sidharth ji-the woman who had stood outside with steady hands, who had controlled her breathing, who had held her ground-that woman disappeared.

I was no longer Noor, the wife of Sidharth Singh Rajvardhan.

I was just Noor.

Just a daughter.

A daughter who had spent two years watching her father fade away in front of her eyes. A daughter who had spent nights outside hospital rooms, waiting for a miracle that never came. A daughter who had prayed, begged, cried, but never let herself break.

And now, standing in front of him, seeing him like this, all those emotions came rushing back.

My feet felt too heavy to move, my hands too numb to reach out. My lips trembled, but no words came out.

Then, without opening his eyes, my father spoke.

"Meri laado, humse milegi nahi?"
(My laado, won't you come meet me?)

My throat closed.

The sound of his voice, weak but still his, shattered the last piece of control I had left.

Tears blurrd my vision, my lips parted, but no words, no sounds came out.

I took a step forward. Then another.

And then, like the little girl I once was, the little girl I still was in his eyes, I ran to him.

Noor didn't know how fast she was running. All she knew was that she had to reach him.

Her heartbeat roared in her ears, her vision blurred, and her breath hitched in her throat. The sterile smell of the hospital, the beeping of machines, the distant voices of doctors-everything faded. All she saw was him.

Her father.

Sitting on that hospital bed, looking smaller than she had ever seen him before.

Her father, whose presence had always filled the room with warmth, now looked pale under the white hospital lights. His hands, once so steady and strong, rested weakly on his lap. The man who had once lifted her onto his shoulders and spun her around now had bandages around his head and bruises on his arms.

Her vision blurred completely.

Noor didn't stop.

She threw herself at him, her arms wrapping around him so tightly as if she could hold him together, as if she could protect him from everything that had already happened.

A shudder ran through her body the moment she touched him.

He was warm.

Alive.

The silent sob broke from her lips before she could stop it. Her hands curled into fists against his back as she squeezed her eyes shut, her entire body shaking from the sheer force of emotions that had been suffocating her since she got the call.

"Arre, arre, kuch nahi hua hai, beta," her father murmured softly, his hand patting her back with the same gentleness as when she was a child.
("Hey, hey, nothing happened, dear.")

Noor only shook her head against his shoulder, refusing to move.

She didn't believe him.

Did he even see himself? The bruises? The bandages? Did he really think she could just pretend everything was okay?

Her breath came out in broken gasps. The fear that had gripped her since she heard the news refused to loosen its hold.

"T-teek hai na aap, Papa?" her voice cracked as she finally pulled back, her trembling hands coming up to cup his face. Her thumbs brushed against the wrinkles that lined his skin-wrinkles she had never really noticed before. "Aapko... bohot lagi?"

("You're okay, right, Papa? Does it... hurt a lot?")

Her father let out a low chuckle, his lips curling into that familiar, comforting smile.

"Nahi beta, itni bhi nahi lagi."
("No, dear, not that much.")

Not that much?

Her throat tightened.

How could he smile? How could he laugh like this wasn't serious? How could he make this seem small when she felt like her world had been ripped apart?

She clenched her jaw, blinking back the tears that threatened to fall again. Without a word, she reached for the glass of water on the table and handed it to him.

And then-

"Roo ke aayi hai meri beti?"
(My daughter came after crying?")

Her father's teasing voice broke the heavy silence.

Noor froze.

For a moment, she just stared at him, the glass still in her hand.

When she lifted her lashes, she found him looking at her with that same old mischief in his eyes-the same mischief that had soothed her since childhood, the same mischief that told her he saw right through her.

Her lips parted, but no words came out.

Then, her father hummed thoughtfully, tilting his head.

"Mujhe lagta hai, bohot royi hai. Aankhein dekho-bilkul chhoti ho gayi."
("I think you've cried a lot. Look at your eyes-so tiny now.")

A choked laugh slipped past Noor's lips before she could stop it.

She wanted to be mad. She wanted to stay angry, to scold him for being careless, for scaring her to death. But this was him-the man who could mend her wounds with just a few words.

"Royu bhi na ab?" she sniffed, turning her face away. "Aapko fikar nahi hai meri! Kaise ja rahe the aap ki ye hua? Tab beti royegi ye yaad nahi aaya?" Her voice quivered as she spoke, frustration laced with love. "Bahut bure hain aap, Papa. Bahut bure."

("Should I not cry now? You don't care about me! Where was your attention when this happened to you? You didn't think your daughter would cry? You are very bad, Papa. Very bad.")

Her father let out a dramatic sigh, shaking his head.

"Itna gussa meri Noorie ko hai?" He flicked her nose lightly, just like he used to when she was a child. "Ek tulip dunga. Man jayegi meri Noorie toh."
("My Noorie is this angry? I'll give you a tulip. My Noorie will forgive me then.")

Noor blinked, her heart stuttering.

Tulips.

He still remembered.

He still remembered that tulips were the only way to make her forgive him whenever he upset her. Since she was a child, he had always brought her tulips-after every school fight, after every tearful tantrum.

But this time... she wasn't a child anymore.

This time, she will not forgive him this easily. How can he act so careless.

She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, and said.

"Nahi manenge." A beat of silence. Then, before she could stop herself, she blurted out, "Mere pati ne pura tulip garden lagaya hai mere liye. Ab Noorie ek phool mein nahi manegi."

("I won't forgive you. My husband has planted an entire tulip garden for me. Now Noorie won't be happy with just one flower.")

The second the words left her lips, Noor's eyes widened in horror.

Oh. Oh no.

She just-she just brought this up in front of her father. So casually. So effortlessly.

Her cheeks turned red as she slowly turned her head toward her father.

And-

"Arre baap re, pura garden?"
(Oh my God. Whole garden?)

He was grinning.

Noor's heart sank.

Oh, she was never going to hear the end of this.

"Pati ke garden ke samne, Papa ka ek phool chhota pad gaya." He sighed dramatically, shaking his head. "Ab hum gussa hai. Badal gayi meri Noorie."
("Compared to your husband's garden, Papa's one flower seems so small now. Now I am angry. My Noorie has changed.")

Noor's eyes widened.

"Papa!" she whined, turning her red face away.

And then-

Her father whined back, "Noorie!"

For a second, there was silence.

And then-laughter.

Real, full, warm laughter. The kind that seeped into the cracks of her heart and made her believe, even if just for a moment, that everything would be okay.
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The scent of warm khichdi filled the kitchen, wrapping Noor in a familiar comfort. The gentle bubbling of the pot was the only sound as she carefully stirred, her hands moving with the ease of habit. This was for her father-the only dish he always craved from her hands.

She could see them from here-her father and Sidharth & her brother, sitting on the sofa, engaged in a quiet conversation. Their voices didn't reach her, but she could tell it was something important. The way they leaned slightly toward each other, the way her father's brow creased, and the way Sidharth listened-attentive, serious-made her heart thump a little harder.

She wasn't part of that moment, but it mattered to her.

Noor exhaled softly and turned back to the pot. The khichdi was ready. With careful hands, she filled a bowl, letting its warmth seep into her fingers. Then, balancing it on a tray, she stepped into the room.

The moment she entered, two pairs of eyes lifted toward her at the same time.

Her father. Sidharth.

Both looking at her. Both smiling. The same warmth. The same quiet fondness.

And Noor-Noor felt something bloom in her chest, something too big, too overwhelming. She smiled back, mirroring them.

"Chaliye, khana lag gaya hai."
(Come, the food is ready.)

Hearing her, her father shifted, trying to get up. Noor instinctively took a step forward to help him, but-before she could reach him, Sidharth was already there.

Seated beside her father, Siddharth placed a firm, steadying hand under his arm and helped him rise. His movements were effortless, natural-as if he had always done this. As if it wasn't something new, but rather, something that simply belonged to him.

Noor stood frozen for a second.

It was such a small thing. Yet, it held so much weight.

The promise he had made in the hospital room echoed in her mind.

"Aapke baba sirf aapke nahi hai, Noor."
(Your father isn't just yours, Noor.)

And now, standing here, she could see it.

He meant every word.

A warmth unlike anything else spread through her, slow and consuming. Noor had always loved Sidharth-but every day, he made her fall deeper, deeper, deeper. It was frightening how much space he had taken in her heart, how much she wanted to drown in this love.

Silently, she turned and walked back into the kitchen.
.
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.
.When Noor returned, the table was set, and everyone was taking their seats. She carefully placed the food on the table, her hands moving on their own-serving her father first.

As she did, her gaze flickered toward Siddharth.

He had taken his seat, but-he had left the chair beside him empty.

He could have sat anywhere, but he didn't. And Noor-Noor knew exactly what he was doing.

Her heart stuttered.

As she turned, she noticed something else- her Bhabhi was already reaching for the serving spoon, scooping rice onto Sidharth's plate. Half a serving.

Noor's steps faltered for half a second. She had always served him herself.

She exhaled quietly and moved forward, fingers brushing against the spoon as she gently took it from Bhabhi's hands. No one questioned it. No one needed to.

Sidharth's gaze flickered up, watching. Silent. Expectant.

She served him properly-two extra spoons of rice, like always.

And then-just as she was about to step back-he moved.

Sidharth reached out and picked up the empty plate in front of the chair beside him-the one he had left for her. Slowly, deliberately, he extended it toward her.

The meaning was clear.

Serve this one too.

Noor stilled.

Her fingers curled slightly, heartbeat stammering. He wasn't saying anything. He wasn't looking at anyone else. Only her.

Slowly, she took the plate from his hands, her grip brushing against the edge of his fingertips. The contact was brief-so brief she barely had time to process it before she turned back to the serving dish.

She filled it. Carefully. The same portions. No extra spoons.

But as she turned back to place it down-Sidharth took it from her.

And just as smoothly-he swapped them.

He placed the plate she had filled in front of his seat. And the one she had originally served-with two extra spoons of rice-he placed in front of her seat instead.

No words. No explanations.

Just that one, quiet exchange.

Noor blinked.

Her cheeks burned.

He had switched the plates.

Her brother chuckled somewhere in the background. Someone made a teasing remark. But Noor couldn't focus on any of it.

Noor clenched her hands, shook her head mentally at him, and turned to leave-when she felt it.

A touch.

A hand wrapping gently around her wrist.

Her breath caught.

Slowly, hesitantly, she turned back, her cheeks warm, her skin burning where his fingers held her.

He was acting so casual. As if this was nothing. As if half the room wasn't watching.

"Kaha ja rahi hain aap? Baithiye aur khana khaiye."
(Where are you going? Sit and eat.)

His voice was soft. But there was a command in it.

Noor's lips parted. She tried to free her hand, murmuring weakly-

"B-baad mein kha lenge hum."
(-I'll eat later.)

The moment she said it, his expression changed.

It wasn't anger. It wasn't irritation.

It was something else. Something firm. Something certain.

Siddharth tightened his hold-not painfully, not roughly-just enough to make her feel it.

"Baithiye, Noor. Mai aapke bina nahi khaunga"
(Sit, Noor. I won't eat without you.)

He didn't wait for her reply. Still seated, he pulled her gently forward, guided her with his grip. With his other hand, he pushed the chair beside him back, then gestured for her to sit.

Noor swallowed.

She could hear the quiet chuckles around the table.

She knew who they belonged to.

Her cheeks burned as she slowly lowered herself onto the chair, eyes downcast, heart racing.

She felt his gaze on her, felt the warmth of his presence beside her.

And then-her bhabhi appeared with a dish.

A vegetable curry. A little too spicy.

Before she could serve, Noor-without thinking-quickly said, "Nahi bhabhi, yeh zyada mirchi nahi khate."
"No, bhabhi, he doesn't eat too much spice."

Her words hung in the air for a second.

Then-her brother chuckled.

Noor felt heat rise to her face again as she looked down, pretending to focus on her food.

They began eating.

Sidharth had switched their plates, so Noor had a little more than usual. But by now, she had gotten used to eating slightly more.

And as she ate, she glanced at Sidharth's plate-he was nearly finished.

Without a word, without thinking, she picked up the serving spoon and placed a little more rice on his plate.

Sidharth didn't react.

He simply leaned back, letting her do as she pleased.

At the head of the table, her father watched it all-watched his daughter, watched his son-in-law.

And he smiled.

A peaceful, quiet smile.

He had made the right choice for Noor.
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Noor's father had insisted they stay the night. Sidharth, with his usual quiet nod, had agreed. So here they were, in the small garden of her childhood home-nothing as grand as Rajvardhan House, but something softer, something filled with memories.

As they walked, Sidharth glanced at Noor. She was a step ahead, lost in the flowers, her fingers grazing the petals gently. She loved flowers-her eyes softened when she looked at them, her lips curved just slightly, as if whispering silent words to them.

Sidharth wanted to hold her hand.
It was such a simple desire.
But he knew Noor would die of shame if he even tried in front of her family.

So instead, he did something else.
His fingers caught the end of her pallu.

A small, delicate touch. Nothing too noticeable. Nothing too much. Just enough to feel connected to her. Just enough to make his presence known in the smallest way possible.

A casual grasp. Noor, lost in her own thoughts, didn't notice, but he did. He noticed everything.

How the fabric felt between his fingers. How the moonlight softened the shadows on her face. How, after a whole day of tear-stained silences, there was the faintest hint of a smile on her lips.

She kept looking at the flowers.

And Sidharth walked behind her, the soft fabric between his fingers

Her father sat in the small chair nearby, his presence grounding them. Inside, Noor's mother and sister-in-law were preparing tea. Her brother, meanwhile, was giving their father his nightly medicines.

Noor, completely unaware of Sidharth's quiet devotion, knelt in front of one of her plants, inspecting it with the kind of care she rarely gave herself. It was a small thing, but it was hers.

Sidharth had never envied a plant before.

A few minutes later, Noor's sister-in-law came outside, carrying a tray of tea. She handed a cup to her father, another to Sidharth. He took it absently, gaze still fixed on Noor.

Her brother approached next, holding his own cup, stopping beside Sidharth with an easy smile.

"Sidharth ji, these are the plants Papa planted for Noor," he said, voice light, "She used to love them."

Siddharth didn't answer immediately. He only nodded, his eyes still on Noor. Because she was smiling. Small, barely there-but smiling.

He was thinking of her. The way her fingers skimmed the petals, the way the light touched the curve of her cheek.

His fingers tightened slightly around her pallu. Just enough to remind himself she was real.

Noor, hearing her brother, felt warmth creep up her neck. She remembered-too vividly-how she had blurted out, in front of her father, that Sidharth had planted an entire tulip garden for her.

She didn't look up. She pretended to stay busy with the plant, but her heart was beating a little too fast.

And then-

Her father cleared his throat.

Noor froze.

She turned slightly, still kneeling, and saw it-a teasing on her father's face. Her heart skipped a beat.

"Ab inki koi kadar nahi hai, beta," her father said, voice thick with emotion. "Ab mere beti ke pati ne iske liye poora tulip garden lagaya hai. Ye to chhoti si baat ho gayi ab."

(Now, they hold no importance son. My daughter's husband planted a whole garden for her. Now it's a very small thing for her)

Noor's heart skipped a beat.

Her cheeks burned, the words settling deep inside her. Quickly, she stood up, dusting off imaginary dirt from her clothes, trying to compose herself. But there was a moment-just a brief moment-where silence hung in the air, thick and warm.

And then-

She turned, only to see it.

The heat crawling up Sidharth's neck. The slow flush spreading to the tips of his ears. He looked away, but it was too late. Noor had seen it.

And then-he did something unexpected.

Still holding onto the end of her pallu, he lifted it.

And hid his face behind it.

Noor's breath hitched.

A grown man, serious and unreadable Sidharth Ji, hiding behind her pallu like a boy caught in something sweetly embarrassing.

Noor didn't know whether to laugh or let her heart melt.

Her father let out a soft chuckle. Noor's brother just smirked. Her sister-in-law pretended not to see.

But Noor?

Noor feel in love his cuteness again.

_________________________________

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