Now, the next chapter after this target is completed.

Today's target -.
‼️Next update on Tuesday ‼️

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आ जा पिया तोहे प्यार दूँ

गोरी बइयां तोपे वार दूँ
किस लिये तू, इतना उदास
सूखे सूखे होंठ, अँखियों मे प्यास
किस लिये किस लिये हो, आ जा पिया तोहे प्यार दूँ...

रहने दे रे, जो वो जुल्मी है
पथ तेरे गाओं के
पलकों से चुन डालूंगी मैं
काँटे तेरी राहों के
हो, सुख मेरा लेले, मैं दुख तेरे लेलूँ
तु भी जिये, मैं भी जियूँ
हो, आ जा पिया...

जल चुके, हैं बदन कई
पिया इसी आग में
थके हुए इन हाथों को
देदे मेरे, हाथ में
हो, लट बिखराए, चुनरिया बिछाए
बैठी हूँ, तेरे लिये हो, आ जा पिया...

अपनी तो जब अँखियों से
बह चली, धार सी
खिल पड़ी, बस एक हंसी
पिया तेरे, प्यार की
हो, मैं जो नहीं हारी, साजन ज़रा सोचो
किस लिये, किस लिये हो, आ जा पिया...

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The night was calm, yet something heavy hung in the air. The soft rustling of leaves in the garden mixed with distant laughter from inside the house. The world continued as usual, but between two men, a conversation was about to unfold-one that had been waiting for months.

Noor's father took a few slow steps forward, his hands folded behind his back. His movements were measured, thoughtful, as though carrying the weight of something deeply personal. Sidharth remained where he was, standing tall, his posture firm. The night breeze touched his face, but his focus was elsewhere-on the man in front of him, the father of his wife.

"Jhooth nahi bolunga," Noor's father finally spoke, his voice deep, carrying the wisdom of years. "Jab aapne uss din office me kaha tha ki aap meri beti se shaadi karege, to iss waqt humne itna socha nahi th Bas itna tha ki meri beti ka future secure ho jayega."

(I won't lie. The day you said in your office that you would marry my daughter, I didn't think much at that moment. All I thought was that my daughter's future would be secure.)

Sidharth's fingers curled slightly behind his back, his grip tightening for a brief second before relaxing again. His mind flickered back to that moment-when he had first heard about Noor's father's illness. A man who once stood strong, unwavering, had looked vulnerable that day. It was unsettling, even for Siddharth. He remembered the feeling that struck him back then-a need to help, to return what he had once received from this man.

His mind traveled further back to the moment he made his decision. Noor's father had entered his father's office with a resignation letter, but before he could place it on the table, Siddharth had spoken.

"I'll marry her."

That was the first time Sidharth had seen Noor-through a photograph placed before him, 2 months before their engagement.

A single glance at the picture had stirred something unknown in him, something unexplainable, something... significant.

Noor's father, now standing beneath the open sky, let out a soft sigh before continuing. "Par jab shaadi ke baad wo pehli baar ghar aayi to laga jaise galat faisla le liya."

(But when she came home for the first time after marriage, I felt like I had made a mistake.)

His voice carried no anger, only an old man's honest confession. He turned his head slightly towards Sidharth, waiting for a reaction. But Sidharth did not move. His eyes remained steady, unwavering. He listened. He understood.

"Hum apni beti ko acche se jaante hai," he continued, his voice a little softer now. "Jaante hai kab wo jhooth bol rahi hoti hai, kab chhupa rahi hoti hai. Uss din laga ki kahin maine jaldbazi to nahi kar di."

(I know my daughter well. I know when she lies, when she hides something. That day, I wondered if I had rushed my decision.)

Sidharth inhaled slowly, his gaze shifting slightly-to a lone flower in the garden. His jaw clenched, not out of anger, but regret. The memory of those early days of marriage crawled back into his mind. How distant he had been. Not ignorant, but indifferent. And that version of himself... he despised it.

Noor's father took a step forward, but he didn't move any further. He simply stood, watching the sky for a moment before lowering his gaze.

"Aapse shanka nahi thi... khud ke faisle pe thi," he admitted. "Laga ki do ekdum alag zindagiyan mila ke galti to nahi kar di."
(I didn't doubt you... I doubted my own decision. I feared I had forced two completely different lives together and that it was a mistake.)

Sidharth felt something shift inside him. It was an ache-one he had refused to acknowledge before. His grip tightened again, but he did not speak. He let the words settle, let them carve their place.

A hand landed gently on his shoulder. Warm, firm. Sidharth turned his head slightly, meeting the old man's gaze. There was something there-a glint in his eyes, a quiet understanding, a relief that only a father could feel. A faint smile played on his lips.

"Par jab kal wo aayi, mujhse baatein kar rahi thi, tab maine uski aankhon me wo chamak dekhi, wo ehsaas dekha, uski baaton me wo badlav dekha jo mujhe... jisne mujhe galat sabit kar diya."
(But yesterday, when she came to me, talking, I saw that spark in her eyes, that feeling in her words, the change that... that proved me wrong.)

Sidharth's heart skipped a beat. He did not react, but he heard every word.

"Maine apni beti ko bohot naaz se paala hai," Noor's father continued, his voice filled with emotion now. "Uske bachpana ko hamesha zinda rakhne ki koshish ki thi. Aur kal... kal dekha ki wo nahi badli hai. Na zimmedariyon se, na dabaav se."

(I raised my daughter with great care. I always tried to keep her childhood alive. And yesterday... yesterday, I saw that she hasn't changed. Not under responsibilities, not under pressure.)

His voice grew softer as he added, "Maine dekha ki uske saath aap hai, aur aapne use kabhi akela mehsoos nahi hone diya Aaj jo Noor hai, wo khush hai, aur isse zyada ek baap aur kya chahega?"
(I saw that you were with her, that you never let her feel alone. The Noor I saw yesterday is happy. And what more can a father want?)

Sidharth's throat felt dry, but he remained composed.

"Ab hume koi gham nahi," Noor's father said in a voice lighter than before. "Dil me koi kasak nahi. Balki aap pe... fakr hai."
(Now, I have no sorrow. No regret in my heart. Instead... I am proud of you.)

For the first time that night, Sidharth let out a slow breath, his chest rising and falling in a steady rhythm. He wasn't the kind of man to show emotions, not in words. But in that moment, he let himself feel.

Noor's father smiled again, gave his shoulder a reassuring squeeze, and then walked ahead, disappearing into the house.

Sidharth remained standing there, his gaze lingering on the flowers in the garden, on the shadows stretching under the soft moonlight.

And somewhere inside his heart, something settled.

The sound of her laughter-light, effortless, filling the air like the first drop of rain on parched earth-stilled him. Siddharth had been standing there, lost in the weight of words, the past pressing against his ribs, but that laughter... it cut through everything.

He turned, slow and deliberate, his steps leading him towards the window as if drawn by a force beyond his control. And there she was. Noor. Standing in the kitchen, bathed in the warm glow of the evening lights, laughing at something Aakriti had said. The way her lips curved, the way her eyes sparkled-it did something to him.

Breathe.

He forgot, just for a second, to breathe.

His fingers curled behind his back, his jaw tightening-not in anger, but in something deeper, something raw. This feeling, it had no name, no boundaries. It was something between hunger and devotion, between obsession and reverence. It was something only she could make him feel.

Noor, as if sensing his gaze, paused. Her laughter faded slightly, and her eyes, dark and questioning, searched for him. When they found him, when they locked onto his through the glass, everything else fell away. The voices, the world, the air between them-it ceased to exist.

She tilted her head slightly, mouthing a silent, "What?"

Siddharth said nothing. He only shook his head, his gaze never leaving hers. Noor's breath hitched-he saw it. The way her lashes fluttered, the way her fingers stilled mid-motion, the way a slow, unbidden blush crept up her skin.

She turned away then, her back facing him, but he saw the way her shoulders rose slightly, the way her fingers clutched the edge of the counter.

And Siddharth... Siddharth only stood there, watching her, as if she were the only thing in this world worth looking at. His lips curled-just slightly, not into a smile, but into something softer, something deeper.

His head tilted back, eyes half-lidded, letting the feeling sink into his bones. The feeling of knowing that she was his, that she was here, laughing, breathing, existing under the same roof, in a space where her presence had become his necessity.

The weight of the past, the voices in his head, the regrets-they all melted away in that moment. Because Noor was happy. His Noor was happy. And that happiness belonged to him.

His gaze flickered back to her. Even with her back turned, even with the distance between them, he could feel her. The way she fidgeted, the way her breath was uneven. She knew he was still watching.

She always knew.

And Siddharth? He would never stop.
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The air outside had changed.

Or maybe it was just me.

I stepped inside the house, but my thoughts lingered elsewhere, trapped in the words her father had spoken. His voice still echoed in my head, threading itself through my bones, curling around my ribs like a vine refusing to let go.

"Siddharth, nikalte hain ab?"
(Siddharth, shall we leave now?)

I inhaled deeply, pushing away the restless hum inside my chest, smoothing my face into something unreadable.

"Ji Maa."
(Yes, Maa.)

But my eyes-my eyes had a mind of their own, searching, seeking.

"Noor tayyar ho gayi?"
(Is Noor ready?)

Silence. A pause. A fleeting glance exchanged between her parents.

A strange, unfamiliar weight pressed against my ribs.

"Woh... aaj raat Noor yahi ruk jaati toh..."
(She was thinking of staying back for the night...)

The words barely left their lips, and something inside me twisted-sharp, unbearable, immediate.

She's not coming with me?

The thought struck like lightning, a sudden, scorching thing that burned through every nerve in my body. My breath stilled. My chest hollowed. stomach.

The thought of returning alone, stepping into that house, into our room, without her-no. No, I couldn't. I couldn't imagine it, and I refused to accept it. Our room-without her presence settled like an unbearable ache in my heart.

The mere thought of it-of her not being here, of her absence in my space-clawed at my chest like something feral.

No.

No, I wouldn't allow it.

"Nahi! Woh nahi ruk sakti!"
(No! She can't stay!)

The words spilled from me, raw and desperate before I could even think.

Eyes turned, watching, but I hardly cared. My mother, though-she was smiling. Soft. Knowing.

"Kyun beta?"
(Why, son?)

Because I was a selfish man. Because I wanted her near me. Because I was losing my mind at the idea of going a single night without her. Even after knowing she should be here, near her father.

I clenched my jaw so tight it ached. The truth balanced on the tip of my tongue, fragile, reckless-because I can't breathe when she isn't near, because my skin feels cold without her warmth, because the thought of a night without her presence makes my chest ache in a way I can't explain.

Because I can't live without her. Because the air feels too heavy in my lungs when she's not near. Because my hands feel empty, my mind restless, my heart untamed when she isn't within my sight.

I couldn't imagine waking up and knowing she wasn't under the same roof. I couldn't imagine walking through the house, only to be met with silence instead of the quiet rustling of her presence. I couldn't imagine breathing in a world where she wasn't close enough for me to reach.

But Noor-

My Noor would murder me with just a look if I said something so bold.

So I swallowed my madness, steadied my voice, wrapped my desperation in logic.

"Woh... kal meri ek bahut important appointment hai. Aur Aakriti bhi kal ja rahi. Mai jaldi nikalunga aur late aaunga, toh issliye..."
(I have an important appointment tomorrow. And Aakriti is leaving as well. I will leave early and come back late, so...)

A half-truth. A carefully crafted sentence to disguise the wildfire inside me.

But my mother-God, she was watching me too closely. Did she hear it? That unspoken plea hidden beneath my words?

Then her brother spoke, and something inside me cracked further.

"Koi baat nahi Sidharth, mai pahucha dunga Noor, Aakriti ji ke jaane se pehle. Aap apni important appointment dekh lo."
(No worries, Siddharth. I'll drop Noor before Aakriti leaves. You take care of your important appointment.)

A sharp, bitter taste filled my mouth.

My body tensed, my teeth pressing together so hard I could feel the pressure deep in my skull. My hands curled into fists at my sides. I didn't react. I didn't show it.

But inside, something snapped. I wanted to rip that plan apart, tear the words from his mouth. But I couldn't. I couldn't show just how much this mattered to me. I wanted to say it.

I wanted to claim it out loud, tell them she belonged with me. That she was mine. That I couldn't-wouldn't survive a night knowing she wasn't here.

I forced out a clipped, "Okay," but my mind was already frantic, already unraveling. But my mind was already screaming.

My eyes searched for her again, restless, impatient. Just once. Just once, I wanted her to walk in, to say she wanted to leave with me, to tell them she wouldn't stay.

But she never came.

The silence stretched, suffocating, wrapping around my throat like a noose.

I walked outside, my steps heavier than they should have been. The night air pressed against my skin, thick and unmoving. But my head-my head kept turning back, my chest clenching with every second that passed without her.

And then-

A sound.

Faint. Familiar. Like a whisper meant only for me.

Her anklet.

A sharp breath left me. My spine stiffened, my pulse pounded. I turned, as if some invisible force had pulled me toward her.

And there she was.

Walking toward me, hurried steps, her hair moving like poetry in motion. The weight of her gaze crashed into me, and suddenly, I wasn't breathing right.

My fingers ached with the need to reach out, my throat dry, my heart nothing but wild, erratic beats slamming against my ribs.

God.

How was she real?

She stopped in front of me, her eyes holding mine in a quiet storm of unreadable emotions.

And then, softly-so softly it made my whole body tense-

"Aap bhi ja rahe hai?"
(You're leaving too?)

Everything inside me stilled.

Her voice-low, uncertain-wrapped around my chest like a chain, pulling me in, making me lose my balance in ways I didn't know were possible.

Before I could answer, her brother's voice cut through the air.

"Inki koi important appointment hai subha subha hi Noor."
(He has an important appointment early morning, Noor.)

I didn't turn to look at him.

I didn't care.

Because her eyes-they shifted. Something flickered across them, something quiet, something knowing. And then, she nodded.

A small, simple nod.

But it felt like a knife through my ribs.

She was accepting it. She wasn't fighting me on this.

She took a step back.

And that was it.

A single step. A small distance. A mere fraction of space.

But it was unbearable.

My fists clenched, my breath coming out in sharp, uneven beats. My mind-loud, restless, begging-say something, stop me, stop me, stop me.

But she didn't.

And I hated it.

Hated the way she stood there, watching me leave, when every fiber of my being was screaming to stay.

My mother called for me, and I moved. Like a man bound in invisible chains, I forced my legs forward, got into the car, my body tight with suppressed emotions.

The door shut. The silence inside felt deafening.

I gripped the steering wheel, knuckles turning white, heart slamming against my ribs in protest.

And as I started the car, the last thing I saw was her.

Standing there. Watching me.

And I left, leaving behind something I couldn't name-something that sat heavy in my chest, clawing to get out.
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The night was heavy.

I turned off the engine and let my hands rest on the steering wheel for a moment. My fingers curled against the leather, gripping it as if holding on to something that wasn't there. A long breath slipped past my lips, the kind that carried exhaustion, frustration, and something else I didn't want to name. The house stood quiet in front of me, dark except for the soft glow of a single light in the hallway. Everyone had already gone inside.

The others stepped out. My mother, my sister. Their footsteps faded as they disappeared into the house, leaving me alone in the night.

I stepped out of the car, shutting the door with a muted thud. The air was cool against my skin, but it did nothing to calm the restlessness that had settled in my chest. As I made my way toward the entrance, my gaze flickered to the side-toward the tulip garden.

The tulip garden.

I stopped breathing for a second.

The petals shifted slightly in the night breeze, their delicate movements soft, unbothered.

A sharp ache settled deep in my chest.

I remembered her hand in mine, small and soft, her fingers curled against my palm. We had walked past this very garden every night, and she had smiled-just a little, just enough for me to notice. She had looked at me like I was someone worth holding on to.

I clenched my jaw. I forced myself to move.

The front door opened without a sound, and I stepped inside. Darkness stretched through the hall, swallowing the space whole. The silence felt different-hollow, empty. I could hear my own breathing, the faint sound of my footsteps against the marble floor as I walked deeper into the house. The living room was neat, untouched, like no one had even sat there.

I didn't bother turning on the lights.

My feet carried me up the stairs, each step dragging me further into something I didn't want to acknowledge. The door to my room was slightly open, and when I pushed it wider, the first thing I noticed was the absence.

No sandalwood. No, Jasmine.

No Noor.

The space felt lifeless, stripped of everything that made it feel like home. My jaw tightened, a familiar ache pressing at the back of my throat. I didn't like this. I hated this.

My eyes swept over the room-everything was in place, clean, untouched. Too clean. Too untouched. I walked toward the sofa, my gaze falling on the cherry pillow. It sat there, perfectly still, unaware of the way it sent irritation burning through my veins.

For no reason at all, I picked it up.

And then, without thinking, I threw it across the room.

The soft thud it made against the floor did nothing to ease the turmoil inside me. My fingers ran through my hair, pulling slightly at the strands as I exhaled sharply.

My mind wouldn't stop running, wouldn't stop replaying the moment she let me leave.

She didn't stop me.

She didn't say she couldn't live without me.

She could have said something-anything. Just once. One word. One look. One moment. And I would have fought the entire world for her.

But she didn't.

Fuck!! I'm being dramatic.

My Noor isn't the kind of person to say things like that. She was shy, hesitant, quiet. I knew that. I had always known that. But still... still...

Maybe she had looked at me. Maybe she had blinked, hesitated, almost spoken. But I hadn't noticed.

Or maybe I had noticed but ignored it.

My hands curled into fists.

She should have said it. I should have seen it.

I shook my head, pushing the thought away, and walked toward the bathroom. The cold water hit my skin like a shock, but it wasn't enough to wash her away. It wasn't enough to erase the feeling of her.

Even here, even with my eyes closed, I could still see her-flashes of her bare skin against mine, her fingers tracing lazy circles on my chest, the warmth of her breath against my neck.

I let out a harsh breath, pressing my hands against the tiles.

She's in my head.

She's everywhere.

I turned off the water, grabbed a towel, and wrapped it around my waist. The mirror fogged slightly from the steam, but even through the haze, my reflection stared back at me, unreadable. My hair dripped water onto my shoulders as I ran a towel through it, my muscles flexing with the movement.

Still, the unease didn't leave.

I stepped out of the bathroom and caught sight of the dressing table. Noor's bangles lay there, right next to a neatly wrapped package-the one I had brought for her.

The night suits. A red lingerie.

My mood darkened instantly.

I walked toward the table, picking up one of her bangles. The cool glass felt fragile against my palm. I traced the smooth surface with my thumb, my eyes narrowing slightly. I wasn't just looking at it. I was trying to feel her through it, as if the warmth of her skin still lingered there.

For a long moment, I just stood there, staring, breathing, and remembering.

Then, carefully, I set it back down.

The bed was cold when I sat on it, half-laying against the pillows. It wasn't the same without her warmth, without her presence. I reached for my phone, unlocking it with a flick of my thumb. The wallpaper lit up, and there she was-Noor, standing at the market, her eyes fixed on a set of pink bangles as she admired them in her wrist. She thought I didn't noticed, but I did. How can I not?

A small smile tugged at my lips.

I scrolled through my gallery, picture after picture of her filling my screen. Noor cooking in the kitchen. Noor asleep on the sofa. Noor walked across the room, unaware of my gaze. Noor, Noor, Noor.

There were more pictures of her than of me.

I exhaled a quiet chuckle, shaking my head.

Of course.

She was in me more than I was in myself.

My Noor.

I take a deep breath and open the drawer beside my bed. My fingers touch the cool edges of an old frame, and I pull it out gently. The picture inside is one I've looked at more times than I can count.

Noor.

It was given to me by her father Two months before our engagement & now from now, five months ago. She wasn't mine then, not officially, but something happened to me that day too. Something in my heart for which I wasn't prepared.

I look at the image-her eyes downcast, her hands folded in her lap, dressed in a soft pastel suit. She had no idea how much she was ruining me even then.

Five month.

For Five months, she has been doing things to my heart. Tying invisible strings around me. Making a home inside my chest.

I stare at the picture for a long time, my thumb running over the glass. My Noor. Even in this still image, she looks like she belongs to me. Like she was always meant to be here, with me.

My jaw clenches. She should be here now.

I let out a sharp breath and set the frame back inside the drawer, closing it carefully. Then, I lean back against the headboard, my phone still in my hand, her pictures still glowing on the screen.

I don't fight it. I don't resist.

I let myself drown in her.
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I turn to my side. Then to the other.

I exhale through my nose and adjust the pillow. Close my eyes.

Silence.

Then the sound of the ceiling fan. The distant ticking of the clock. The soft rustle of the sheets as I move again.

I try to sleep. I really do.

But sleep-stubborn, impossible sleep-refuses to come.

I open my eyes, staring at the ceiling now. My arms fold over my chest, and I let out a long breath.

This is ridiculous.

I've had long, exhausting days before. Nights when I slept in strange hotel rooms, board meetings stretching late into the evening, traveling across cities, and yet-I never struggled like this.

But tonight, my body refuses to rest.

Because she isn't here. Because I wasn't the same stupid.

I know it now. It's clear, undeniable. Noor isn't here, and my entire system is out of order.

My jaw clenches as I sit up slightly, rubbing a hand over my face. I glance at my phone, lying on the bedside table, and pick it up. The screen lights up- Noor.

My throat tightens.

I need to hear her voice.

The earlier frustration-the thoughts that had flickered in my mind-have disappeared. There's nothing left but the urge to listen to her. To know she's fine.

Without thinking, I press the call button.

It rings.

Once.

Twice.

I grip the phone tighter. She'll pick up. She always does.

Three times.

Four.

My eyes narrow slightly. My heartbeat slows in a way I don't like.

Five.

Six.

I sit up straight.

The sheets shift around me, but I don't care. My mind is running. Where is she? Why isn't she picking up?

The call disconnects.

No answer.

I stare at the phone, waiting for a second. Maybe she'll call back. Maybe she-

I inhale sharply.

No.

I need to hear her voice. Now.

Fuck this phone call.

I throw the sheets aside and get up. I grab my glasses from the bedside table, slipping them on in one quick motion. My keys are already in my pocket. I don't bother changing-sweatpants, a T-shirt, it doesn't matter.

I walk down the stairs. The house is silent, the air thick with midnight stillness.

The guards open the gate, their eyes flickering with curiosity.

I don't explain.

I don't stop.

I settle into the driver's seat, grip the wheel, and start the car.

She didn't pick up my call.

So I'll go to her.
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The digital numbers on the dashboard flicker- 12:00 AM.

I exhale through my nose, gripping the wheel tighter.

I have to leave at 6 AM. I know that. A long day waits for me. Meetings, decisions, responsibilities. And yet-

Extra hours on the road, extra miles to drive, extra exhaustion settling into my bones- all of it is better than a night spent without her.

The hospital is farther than her house. If I go there, I'll have to drive more, spend more time on the road, push myself a little harder in the morning. But what does it matter? What's a little effort in front of this ache sitting deep in my chest?

I press down on the accelerator.

The road is empty. The city sleeps.

But I don't.

Not tonight.

It takes me half an hour to reach. Faster than usual.

I let the engine hum to a stop, my hands still gripping the wheel for a second before I finally lean back and exhale.

Noor's house stands quiet before me.

Dark windows. Drawn curtains.

It's 12:30 AM. Of course, everyone is asleep. I expected this.

And yet, my eyes scan the house, searching- for a light, a shadow, a glimpse of her through the window.

Nothing.

I take a deep breath, pushing open the car door.

Stepping out into the silence, I glance up at the sky for a second. The air is cool against my skin, but it does nothing to settle the warmth buzzing under it.

I park the car just outside the gate, a house that isn't too big, isn't too small-just like her. Cozy. Warm. Safe.

Locking the car, I step forward.

The world is quiet.

But my heart isn't.

It beats, steady and certain-pulling me toward her.

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author's POV

Sidharth stood at the doorstep, staring at the wooden door in front of him. 12:30 AM.

The house was silent, the world around him drowned in the soft hum of the night. Everyone must be asleep.

His fingers twitched at his sides. He could knock. Wake someone up. But the thought of disturbing anyone, of explaining why he was here in the middle of the night like some desperate lover who couldn't survive a single night away from his wife-Yes that was the case but his wife might not talk to him after he will pull this stunt.

But he still couldn't wait until morning.

Without another thought, Sidharth turned and walked toward the garden. Noor's room was on the first floor, and from where he stood, he could see the darkened window.

His brows furrowed. Lights off.

Was she asleep?

No. No way.

She couldn't be.

She had to be twisting and turning, missing him, struggling without his presence.

Siddharth folded his arms, his sharp gaze fixed on the window. She wouldn't sleep without him. It was impossible. He could almost hear her voice complaining about how she couldn't fall asleep without feeling his warmth beside her.

So where was she?

His jaw tightened. He needed to see her.

But how?

His eyes flickered to the walls, then back to her window. A thought formed.

It was stupid. Irrational. Not something the Doctor of his status should even consider.

But climbing wasn't impossible.

His sharp eyes scanned the structure of the house. He could place his foot on the edge of the low window below, grab the drainpipe to pull himself up, and- yes.

Yes, this could work.

Sidharth nodded to himself, already calculating every movement. His mind, usually reserved for high-stakes medical knowledge, was now mapping out an entirely different kind of plan-one that involved a very questionable method of entering his wife's room.

He stepped forward, placing a hand on the window ledge, testing its strength. Perfect.

Just as he bent his knee, ready to lift himself up-

A voice.

Sidharth stood frozen.

"Gate se bhi andar aaya ja sakta hai, doctor sahab. Warna gir vir gaye to jo early morning important appointment hai kal, jiske karan aap meri behen ko rukne nahi de rahe the, wo chut jaygi."

("You could have entered through the gate, Doctor Sahab. Otherwise, if you fall, that early morning important appointment tomorrow-the one because of which you weren't letting my sister stay-will be missed.")

His ears burned. A deep, creeping embarrassment crawled up his spine, making him close his eyes for a brief moment. This is not happening. This is not happening. But it was. And he had to live through it.

Slowly, he exhaled, his throat going dry as he composed himself again. His ears were definitely red. His body still tense from the absurdity of being caught in such a ridiculous position. He cleared his throat, straightened his posture, and turned around.

There, standing with both hands casually tucked into his pockets, was Noor's brother. The man had a straight face, completely unreadable. Sidharth, on the other hand, fought every instinct to rub a hand over his face in frustration. Instead, he looked somewhere-anywhere-but at the man.

With the same emotionless expression he had mastered over the years, Sidharth said,
"Ussi appointment ki file chut gayi thi, wahi lene aaya tha."
("That appointment's file was misplaced. I came to get it.")

He cleared his throat again. As if that would make this situation less painful.

Noor's brother simply nodded, his face betraying nothing as he repeated,

"Jaise maine kaha, aap gate se bhi aa sakte the."
("As I said, you could have used the gate.")

Sidharth's face felt hotter. His ears were most definitely red now. This was absurd. Absolutely absurd. He could be doing anything else in the world, but no-he was standing here, getting caught like some teenage boy sneaking into his lover's house.

But for Noor, it's okay.

He quickly nodded, trying to salvage his dignity.
"I thought sab so gaye hai..."
("I thought everyone was asleep...")

The response was immediate.
"Koi baat nahi, jag raha tha main."
("No worries, I was awake.")

Sidharth's jaw twitched. He muttered under his breath, just for himself,
"Kyu hi jaage the to..."
("Why were you even awake...")

The man tilted his head slightly. "Did you say something, Dr. Sahab?"

Sidharth straightened again, squared his shoulders, puffed out his chest slightly, and replied, "Nothing."

Another slow nod from Noor's brother. Then, with a casual but sharp tone, he said,

"Ab aa hi gaye hain toh gate se hi andar chaliye. Aur ab wapas kya jayenge? Yahin ruk jaiye."

("Now that you're here, just come inside through the gate. And why leave now? Stay the night.")

For the first time since marriage, Sidharth found himself agreeing with something this man said. He wasn't sure if it was the embarrassment still lingering in his veins or if he was actually grateful, but he wasn't about to show it.

Instead, maintaining his cool exterior, he simply said, "Okay, if you insist."

He could feel Noor's brother watching him, sensing something in his expression, but Siddharth ignored it.
Without turning back, he walked straight to Noor's room. The moment he shut the door behind him, the composure cracked.

"Fuck. Fuck. Fuck."

His hand ran through his hair in pure frustration. This had to be the most humiliating thing he had ever gone through. And as if things couldn't get any worse-his gaze darted around Noor's room.

She wasn't there.

The frustration burned hotter.

"GOD!"
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Noor's pov-

"I am so happy, Bhabhi!" I couldn't stop smiling as I held her hands, excitement bubbling in my chest.

Bhabhi laughed, her eyes shining with the same happiness.
"I know, Noor. This is really good news."

Before I could say anything more, the door opened, and my brother stepped in. His gaze softened when he saw me, but his voice held quiet authority.

"Noor, jaake aaraam kar lo."
(Noor, go and rest.)

I nodded without protest, still too happy to argue. With a last smile at Bhabhi, I walked out of the room, my heart light. But as I moved through the hallway, my smile began to fade, replaced by a different kind of thought.

Sidharth ji

I could still see his face when he was leaving. The way his eyes held back unspoken words. The way he lingered, as if hoping I'd stop him.

But I hadn't. I knew he had an important meeting. I knew the hospital was an hour away, and if he stayed, he might be late. I didn't want him to stress himself too much.

But now... now, I regretted not saying anything. I had wanted to stop him, but there were too many people around. Even Papa & bhaiya were there.

Still lost in thought, I reached my room and paused. The door was closed, just as I had left it. But something was off. The lights inside were on.

I frowned. I was sure I had turned them off before leaving.

Slowly, I pushed the door open and stepped inside.

Before I could even turn, an arm wrapped around my waist, pulling me back against something solid.

My breath hitched. A gasp almost left me, but a warm palm covered my mouth.

My heartbeat lurched.

Then-his scent. The familiar mix of fresh soap and the light musk of his cologne.

Sidharth ji.

My body relaxed instantly, my breath evening out as I turned my head slightly, trying to see him.

"Aap?"
(You?)

He didn't answer.

I could feel the warmth of his breath against my ear, slow and steady, but I knew better. His chest rose and fell a little too deeply against my back. He was upset.

Before I could ask, he turned me around, hands firm at my waist as he lifted me effortlessly, carrying me to the bed. My bangles clinked softly as I grasped onto his shoulder for balance.

I looked around, still trying to understand what was happening. I had seen him leave. Then how was he here? When had he returned?

Before I could ask, Sidharth ji dropped me onto the bed. My sari fluttered around me as I landed, but I barely had time to process before he climbed onto the bed as well.

I was still staring at him, still trying to understand when I felt it-his hand on my bare waist.

My breath hitched again. His palm was warm against my skin, and slowly, his fingers traced up my back, reaching the knot of my blouse. A quiet shiver ran down my spine as he pulled it open.

He didn't stop.

His face buried into the space between my neck and my chest, his arms tightening around me, pulling me closer, as if trying to dissolve himself into me.

A quiet gasp left me. Not because of the action-but because of the way he buried his face against the space between my neck and chest, his arms pulling me impossibly close

"Aacha hua aap aagye, waise aap kab aaye?"
(Thank god you came back,but When did you come?)

Silence.

I frowned, trying to read his expression, but he wasn't looking at me. And then it clicked.

"Gussa hain aap apni Noor se?"
(Are you angry at your Noor?)

Still, he didn't speak.

His grip tightened slightly, his forehead pressing into my collarbone, and suddenly, I understood.

He wasn't angry.

He was sulking.

My lips curved slightly, and I cupped his jaw, trying to lift his face.

He didn't budge.

I sighed, leaning forward until my forehead rested against his.
"Dekhenge bhi nahi hume?"
(You won't even look at me?)

This time, he finally lifted his gaze.

Dark, unreadable, yet impossibly soft.

Something inside me melted.

"Kuch bolege nahi?"
(You won't say anything?)

A deep breath. A slow blink. Then, in a quiet murmur-

"Nind aa rahi hai mujhe. Sona hai."
(I am sleepy. I want to sleep.)

Saying that, he dropped his head back onto my chest, holding me like a child who had been denied his favorite thing all day.

I sighed, threading my fingers through his hair, stroking the strands gently. Maybe he really was tired. Maybe that was why he wasn't talking much.

Minutes passed.

We both knew he wasn't asleep.

We both knew I wasn't asleep.

His fingers traced slow, thoughtless patterns at my waist, his breathing shallow against my skin.

Then,-quiet, almost lost in the night air, a voice came.

"Main din bhar aapse dur tha, aur jab jaane laga tab aap aayi bhi nahi. Aapka yahan rehna zaroori hai, par aap mujhe rok sakti thi. Aap jaanti hain aapke bina mujhe neend nahi aati."

(I was away from you the whole day, and when I was leaving, you didn't even come. I know you had to be here, but you could have stopped me. You know I can't sleep without you.)

My fingers stilled in his hair.

My heart skipped a beat.

Not because he was complaining.

But because... how could anyone be this innocent? This adorable?

I smiled, pressing a soft kiss to his forehead.

He didn't reply, but his arms tightened around me, like he needed to hold onto me a little longer.

And this time, I didn't stop him.

His words, barely a whisper, pressed into my skin.

"Aapko pata hai, aapke bina rehna nahi nahi acha lagta mujhe."
(You know, I don't like staying without you.)

A sharp breath escaped me.

My fingers curled into the fabric of his shirt as guilt pricked at my heart. I should have stopped him earlier. I should have-

Sidharth ji's face was still buried against my chest, his warmth seeping into me, but this time, I didn't try to move away. Instead, I cupped his jaw again, my touch softer, more hesitant, as I tried to lift his face.

He resisted, his hold tightening around me like he was still sulking, still refusing to let this go.

"Acha... sorry na," I murmured, brushing my thumb along his cheek.
"Galti ho gayi."
(Okay... sorry, okay? I made a mistake.)

At that, he finally moved, his dark eyes meeting mine with something unreadable. But before I could say anything more, his voice came-firm, yet achingly gentle.

"Aap sorry mat bola kariye mujhse."
(Don't apologize to me.)

His words landed deep inside me, pulling at something tender. A small smile curled at my lips, though my heart still ached with the weight of what I had unknowingly done.

His gaze lingered, searching mine, and for the first time, I truly noticed it-the slight shift in his expression. Not anger. Not disappointment. Just... something else.

Something quieter.

Something softer.

And yet, I knew he wasn't entirely okay.

An idea flickered in my mind, playful and reckless. I hesitated, taking a slow breath before whispering,

"Acha... hum aapko ek kiss denge, maan jaiye?"
(Okay... I'll give you a kiss, will you forgive me?)

For the first time since I entered the room, his entire body stilled.

His head, which had been stubbornly tilted away, snapped back toward me, his gaze locking onto mine with sharp focus.

My cheeks burned instantly.

I felt it-the heat rushing up my neck, the way my heartbeat stumbled over itself like I had just said something scandalous.

His eyes flickered with something.

Something dangerous.

The hand resting on my back curled slightly, his fingers pressing into my skin as he pulled me closer-sudden, effortless.

A small gasp slipped past my lips at the unexpected movement, and both my hands instinctively pressed against his chest.

His voice was low when he finally spoke.

"Ye galat baat hai, Cherry," he murmured, his breath warm against my skin. "Acha faida utha rahi hain aap meri kamzori ka."

(This is wrong, Cherry. You're taking advantage of my weakness too well.)

Before I could process the words, before I could even think, the world shifted-

And suddenly, I was no longer beneath him.

I was on top.

A startled breath left me as I felt the soft mattress beneath my palms. My hair cascaded down like a curtain, strands brushing against Sidharth ji's face where he now lay beneath me, his arms still wrapped securely around my waist.

The face that had been sulking just moments ago?

Now, it held a smirk.

A slow, knowing smirk that made my breath catch.

"Par kyun laga aapko ki main ek mein maan jaunga?" he mused, eyes glinting. "Kam se kam paanch lagenge."
(But why did you think I'd agree with just one? At least five will be needed.)

I swore my heart stopped.

The words hit me before I could even prepare, and heat flooded my face.

"S-Sidharth ji!"

The chuckle that left his lips was low and smooth, rolling through my skin like warm honey.

I could still feel the lingering press of his hands at my waist, the way he had turned the situation around in mere seconds.

I gasped softly, my heart hammering against my ribs as I whispered, "Ab aap faida utha rahe hain."
(Now you are taking advantage.)

His expression stilled for just a moment.

Then, a slow smirk curved at his lips again.

"Teacher hai meri biwi," he mused, tilting his head slightly as he gazed up at me. "Woh jo jaisa karti hai, main waise hi seekh leta hoon."
(My wife is my teacher. Whatever she does, I learn the same way.)

I barely had time to react before he pulled me down, closing the distance between us just enough to make my breath tangle in my throat.

I swore my heart forgot how to beat.

"Chaliye ab manayi mujhe."
(Come on, now convince me.)

His voice was deep, teasing, yet there was an undeniable challenge in it. He was testing me. My eyes narrowed as I glared at him, still lying on top of him, feeling the steady rise and fall of his chest beneath me.

"Din b din besharam hote ja rahe hain aap."
(You're becoming shameless day by day.)

A smirk tugged at the corner of his lips. His blue eyes-darker than usual, filled with something deep and unreadable-held me captive.

"Bawla keh lo ya besharam keh lo. Jaisa bhi hoon, aapka hoon, Noor ji. Chaliye ab kiss kariye."
(Call me crazy or shameless. Whatever I am, I am yours, Noor ji. Now, come on, kiss me.)

Heat crept up my face, my heart hammering wildly. I knew his anger had faded now, but he wouldn't let me go until I gave in to what he wanted.

Swallowing my hesitation, I slowly raised my hand and cupped his cheek. The rough stubble tickled my palm, his skin warm beneath my touch. My fingers curled slightly against his jaw, and he didn't move-he just watched, waiting, letting me decide.

I leaned in, inch by inch, my breath shaky as I hovered over his lips. His eyes never left mine, and I knew-I just knew-that if I looked into them any longer, I would lose my resolve completely.

So, I closed my eyes and kissed him.

The first touch was hesitant, soft-just a press of lips, testing, learning. He didn't move, didn't respond, as if he was waiting for me to do more.

My heart pounded. I exhaled through my nose, pressing in deeper, molding my lips against his in an unspoken plea. But still, he didn't move.

Was he punishing me?

The thought made something flutter deep in my chest-something unfamiliar, something dangerously thrilling.

He would never.

I hesitated for only a second before doing what he always did. I parted my lips slightly, swiping my tongue against his lower lip, coaxing, asking-just as he had done to me countless times before.

And just like that, everything changed.

His lips parted, and he kissed me back-slowly at first, like he was savoring the fact that I had made the first move. A low, approving sound rumbled in his throat as his hand slid up my back, pressing me closer, making me feel every inch of him beneath me.

I shivered. The warmth of his lips, the way he tasted-something sweet, something utterly Sidharth ji-made my stomach tighten. My fingers threaded into his hair, clinging as I deepened the kiss, moving my lips in sync with his.

I felt him smile against my mouth before his grip tightened, his lips tilting slightly as he angled the kiss, taking control. His tongue brushed against mine, coaxing me into a slow, sensual rhythm that sent a shudder down my spine.

I melted into him, lost in the feel of his mouth moving against mine, the way his breath mingled with mine, the way his hands held me as if I was something precious yet completely his.

Minutes passed-maybe seconds, maybe longer-I couldn't tell. All I knew was the heat building between us, the soft sighs escaping me, the way my body molded into his as if we had done this a thousand times before.

When I finally pulled away, breathless and dazed, his lips were slightly swollen, his eyes dark with something unreadable. But what undid me was his smile-broad, teasing, utterly devastating.

"Paanch ka waada tha, Cherry."
(We had a deal for five, Cherry.)

"Humne ek hi bola tha."
(I only promised one.)

A wicked gleam flickered in his eyes as, in one swift move, he flipped me over, pinning me beneath him.

"Pareshani ki koi baat nahi, baaki chaar main khud le loonga."
(No worries, I'll take the remaining four myself.)

Before I could even process his words, his lips crashed onto mine again.

The first kiss was rougher, deeper-possessive. His hand gripped my waist as he stole my breath, his tongue sliding against mine with slow, deliberate strokes that left me gasping.

The second was teasing. He pulled back slightly, letting his lips brush against mine, making me chase him. And just when I thought he would leave me hanging, he kissed me again-slow, sensual, a lingering taste of him left behind as he pulled away.

The third was a whisper against my lips, a soft promise before his hand slid up my waist, his touch searing through the fabric of my clothes. My breath hitched, my body reacting to the warmth of his palm resting against my chest-familiar, comforting, yet still sending a shiver through me.

A soft gasp escaped me, one I couldn't hold back, and I felt his lips curl against mine in satisfaction.

The fourth kiss left me undone. His lips captured mine in a way that made my body arch, my hands fisting into his shirt, clinging to him. It was slower, deeper, and when his teeth grazed my lower lip, I whimpered against his mouth.

He pulled back just enough to murmur against my lips, "Hisab Barbara Cherry"

My cheeks burned, my breath uneven as I whispered back, "Bawale hai Aap"
(You're Crazy)

His chuckle was low, sinful. "Bas aapka hu."
(Just yours.)

And as his lips found mine again, I knew-I was lost in him, in us, in this moment that belonged only to the two of us.

Author's pov-

Noor's breath hitched as Sidharth's lips pressed against hers, slow and deliberate, claiming her inch by inch. His fingers tightened around her waist, pulling her against him until there was no space left between their bodies. The air thickened, heavy with something unspoken yet undeniable-a pull, a yearning that neither of them could ignore.

Then, his hand moved.

A firm, possessive touch traveled up her side, rough fingertips grazing over the fabric of her blouse, setting fire to every nerve beneath. When his palm cupped her breast, the heat of it seared through the thin cloth, sending a jolt straight to her core. Noor gasped against his lips, her body reacting before her mind could catch up. The pressure of his fingers, the way he squeezed just enough to make her arch into him, had her thighs clenching, a foreign ache settling low in her stomach.

Sidharth's lips left hers, trailing lower-down the curve of her jaw, to the sensitive spot beneath her ear, before finally reaching the base of her throat. He kissed her there, slow and teasing, letting his breath linger against her skin before his teeth grazed over it. Noor shivered, anticipation curling through her, a breathy moan slipping past her lips before she could stop it.

And then, just as suddenly, his hand covered her mouth.

"Shh..." His voice was low, thick with amusement and something darker. His lips brushed against her ear as he whispered, "We don't want Your parents to know your husband is loving you, Cherry, do we?"

Noor's eyes widened, her heart pounding against her ribs. The weight of his palm over her lips, the deep timbre of his voice, sent a fresh wave of heat rushing through her veins. She shook her head quickly, her breaths shallow, erratic.

Sidharth's lips curled into a smirk. "Good."

He let go, only to press a slow, lingering kiss against her lips, deep and consuming, stealing whatever air she had left. But he didn't let her go for long-his hand returned to silence her just as he reached for the edge of her pallu, slipping it from her shoulder in one smooth motion. Noor's breath caught as the fabric fell, baring more of her to his gaze.

His fingers found the buttons of her blouse.

One.

Two.

Three.

Four.

With each undone button, the fabric loosened, parting to reveal the delicate lace beneath. His gaze flickered from her chest to her face, as if searching for something-hesitation, resistance. But Noor only stared back, her lips parted, her breathing uneven, her body betraying her.

His lips descended again, pressing a kiss between the valley of her breasts, his warm breath seeping through the lace, teasing the sensitive skin beneath. Noor trembled, her fingers digging into his biceps, gripping the fabric of his kurta as a wave of unfamiliar pleasure coiled deep within her.

The lace still shielded her, but barely.

Her breasts swelled against the thin barrier, her nipples straining against the delicate fabric, painfully sensitive. Sidharth's gaze darkened as he took in the sight before him, his fingers trailing along the lace, teasing, testing. Then, without warning, his mouth closed over one peak, sucking gently through the fabric.

Noor's entire body jerked.

A strangled whimper caught in her throat, her toes curling as tingles spread through her, sharp and overwhelming. Her hands flew to his biceps, fingers digging in, her nails pressing against his skin in a desperate attempt to ground herself. But it was impossible-she was unraveling, spiraling into something she had never felt before.

Sidharth hummed against her, the vibrations sending another shudder down her spine. His tongue flicked out, pressing against her hardened nipple through the lace, teasing her with maddening slowness. Noor squeezed her eyes shut, overwhelmed by the foreign sensations coursing through her.

One hand clutched his wrist-the one still covering her mouth-while the other slid up his arm, gripping, clinging, as if afraid she might lose herself completely.

Sidharth didn't stop.

His lips moved to the other breast, offering it the same attention, his tongue circling over the nipple, pressing against the fabric that barely shielded her from his touch. Then, his fingers hooked beneath the lace, tugging it down ever so slightly, just enough to expose the soft swell of her flesh.

Noor gasped as cool air kissed her bare skin, heat pooling low in her stomach as his mouth descended again. His lips wrapped around her now-bare nipple, warm and wet, and the sensation was so intense, so foreign, that she almost couldn't breathe.

He sucked, slow and deep, his tongue flicking over the sensitive bud, drawing out a muffled moan from behind his hand.

Noor's thighs pressed together, an unfamiliar ache spreading through her, making her chest tighten and her cheeks burn. She was shy, overwhelmed-but she didn't want him to stop. She didn't know what this feeling was, but she wanted to drown in it.

Sidharth must have sensed it.

His grip on her mouth loosened slightly, his other hand sliding lower, palm splayed against her waist, holding her steady as he continued his slow, torturous ministrations. Every flick of his tongue, every gentle scrape of his teeth against her sensitive skin sent another jolt of pleasure rippling through her, leaving her breathless and trembling beneath him.

Her world had narrowed to this moment-his touch, his lips, the overwhelming heat between them.

Noor was trembling, her breaths uneven, chest rising and falling rapidly as she tried to ground herself. The heat of his mouth, the weight of his touch-it lingered on her skin like an imprint, an unshakable memory. She could still feel his lips against her, the ghost of his breath tracing the places he had just worshipped.

But then, just as suddenly as he had taken, Sidharth pulled back.

His hand, which had been firmly pressed over her lips, slid away, his fingers grazing her jaw before resting against her throat for a fleeting moment, as if feeling her racing pulse beneath his touch. Noor gasped, dragging in air, but the moment her lips parted, Siddharth moved again.

Slow. Deliberate.

His fingers found the delicate clasp of her bra first, the lace still slightly askew, barely shielding her from his gaze. Noor's heart pounded as she felt the soft click of the hooks slipping back into place, the fabric tightening once more around her. He didn't fumble. Didn't hesitate. His movements were sure, precise, like he had done this a hundred times before-not in experience, but in instinct.

Button by button, he closed her blouse.

Each touch of his fingers against her skin sent another jolt through her, but this time, it wasn't hunger. It wasn't urgency. It was something deeper. Something reverent.

Sidharth's gaze remained on her as he worked, his brows slightly furrowed, his lips pressed together in concentration. The hunger in his eyes was still there, simmering beneath the surface, but something else had taken over now.

Control.

Restraint.

Respect.

Noor could feel it.

The way his fingers trembled just slightly as he fastened the last button. The way his throat bobbed when he swallowed, his jaw clenching like he was holding back. He wanted her-there was no question about that-but he wouldn't take more than she could give. Not here. Not now.

And then, as if sealing that unspoken promise, Sidharth leaned in.

A single, lingering kiss pressed against her forehead.

Warm. Firm. Final.

His lips stayed there for a moment longer than necessary, his breath fanning over her skin before he finally pulled away, his voice low and steady when he spoke.

"Aapne yahan apna bachpan bitaya hai.I don't want to ruin it for you.

(You spent your childhood here. )

Noor's lashes fluttered, something thick forming in her throat.

She hadn't expected those words.

Hadn't expected him to think like that, to care like that.

He was above her, his body still caging hers in, but instead of trapping her, it felt like protection. Like shelter. She didn't even realize she was gripping his shirt until she felt the shift-the slow, careful way he moved beside her.

Not away from her. Beside her.

Sidharth turned, gathering her against his chest as he settled onto his side, pulling her close like it was the most natural thing in the world. His arm looped around her waist, securing her against him, while his head lowered-his face finding the soft space where her shoulder met her chest.

He exhaled deeply.

Noor felt it-the way his breath warmed the fabric covering her skin, the way his hold on her tightened just a fraction before relaxing again.

For a moment, she didn't move.

She just lay there, blinking at the ceiling, the warmth of his body pressed against hers sending a different kind of heat through her now. Not the unbearable fire from before. Not the ache of need.

But something softer.

Something quieter.

A warmth that wasn't burning-but healing.

Noor swallowed, her fingers twitching against his back before she gave in, her hand sliding up slowly, before resting on his nape. He sighed into her, shifting even closer, his nose brushing against the fabric of her blouse. His grip on her waist loosened, no longer possessive but gentle. No longer taking-just holding.

The silence stretched.

Minutes passed, but Noor didn't count them.

She was too lost in the sensation-the way his heartbeat thudded steadily against hers, the way her own pulse slowed, syncing with his. The way her body, once trembling, now felt safe.

A breath left her. Soft. Unsteady.

And then, before she could stop herself-before she could even think-she whispered,

"Aarth... .I love you"

She felt it before she saw it.

The way his lips curled. The way his body tensed for half a second before relaxing completely. The way his fingers dug into her waist just a little before smoothing over her back.

And then, warm lips pressed against her chest.

A simple, fleeting kiss over the fabric.

Noor's eyes stung.

It wasn't the kiss itself-it was the way he did it. The way it felt more like a silent answer than any words ever could.

He pulled back just a little, just enough to look at her.

There was something different in his face now. The control was still there. The restraint. The devotion. But there was something else too-something softer.

A small, boyish smile curved his lips.

"Roz bola kariye. Sunna acha lagta hai."

(Say it every day. I like hearing it.)

Noor let out a breathless chuckle, shaking her head at him.

He was impossible.

She nudged his shoulder lightly, but he only grinned, tightening his grip around her before burying his face into the crook of her neck again, sighing deeply.

Noor's fingers combed through his hair.

Her eyes fluttered closed.

And just like that, the night wrapped around them, cocooning them in warmth, in something that no longer felt like tension-but peace.

And love.
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THE UNKNOWN POV

The dim light flickered, casting eerie shadows across the small, cluttered room. A woman sat on the edge of a chair, her posture unnervingly still, her fingers tracing the edges of a photograph she held between them. Her head tilted slightly, blue eyes locked onto the image with an intensity that didn't waver.

Siddharth and Noor.

A perfect little couple. A perfect little life.

Her gaze lingered on Noor first-those soft features, the wide, innocent eyes that held no understanding of the world she lived in. Noor was delicate. Easily breakable.

A slow, almost thoughtful smile curled on the woman's lips as she whispered, her voice light, almost amused-mocking in its innocence.

"Kamzor ho, Noor. Chhote se accident pe itna royi?"

(So weak, Noor. Crying so much over a little accident?)

A quiet giggle followed, delicate yet unnatural, like a child playing with something they shouldn't. Her fingers tapped lightly against the glossy surface of the picture, before sliding over-her focus shifting.

To him.

Siddharth.

The devoted husband. The protector. The man who thought he could build walls high enough to keep what was his safe.

Her smile widened slightly as she murmured, almost sweetly, "Badi masoom biwi hai tumhari, Siddharth."

(Your wife is so innocent, Siddharth.)

It was the kind of voice that would have fooled anyone. Gentle. Kind. The voice of a woman who meant well.

But then-

The warmth faded.

Slowly, her expression twisted. The smile lost its charm, curving into something sharper. Something dangerous. Her lower lids dropped slightly, gaze narrowing, lips parting just a little-her entire face shifting from feigned amusement to something void of it altogether.

"Par tumhari life mein main koi masoomiyat nahi chahti. Tum masoomiyat ke liye nahi bane ho."

(But I don't want innocence in your life. You weren't made for innocence.)

The fingers that once traced the picture so delicately curled around it-tightening.

Then-

A sharp tear echoed through the room.

She ripped the photograph in two, separating Noor from Siddharth, the two halves left dangling between her fingers for a moment, before she let them slip from her grasp.

The pieces fluttered to the floor, discarded like something insignificant.

A low chuckle escaped her lips, barely a whisper at first. But then it grew.

Higher.

Louder.

It was the kind of laugh that sent chills crawling up the spine. A laugh of something broken. Something unhinged. It was too delighted. Too entertained.

Because this-

This was just the first crack before the thunder.

_________________________________
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Spoiler of chapter -58

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