Now, the next chapter after this target is completed.

Today's target -

Hey everyone,

I'm really sorry for the late update. (I actually forgot that I have to upload today(

I'll be on a short break till 5th May due to my exams, so there won't be any new updates till then.

About the next update after 5th May, I'll keep you all posted on Instagram.

Thank you for your love and patience!

___________________________________

पल भर ना दूरी सहें आप से
बेताबियां ये कुछ और हैं

हम दूर होक भी पास हैं
नजदीकियां ये कुछ और हैं
देखा हज़ारों दफ़ा आपको
फिर बेक़रारी कैसी है
संभाले संभलता नहीं ये दिल
कुछ प्यार में बात ऐसी है
हो हो ओ ओ ओ हो हो

आगोश में है जो आपकी
ऐसा सुकून और पायें कहाँ

आँखें हमें ये रास आ गयी
अब हम यहाँ से जायें कहाँ
देखा हज़ारों दफ़ा आपको
फिर बेक़रारी कैसी है
संभाले संभलता नहीं ये दिल
कुछ प्यार में बात ऐसी है

_________________________

Sidharth pushed the door open with his shoulder, careful not to spill the two cups of tea he carried. The room was supposed to be dim, quiet, peaceful-his wife curled under the blankets, lost in dreams. Instead, the soft glow of the bedside lamp illuminated a sight that made his heart stumble.

His little wife sat cross-legged on their bed, drowning in a sea of books. Open textbooks surrounded her, ink-stained fingers flipping through pages, her brows furrowed in concentration. Her long hair cascaded over her shoulders, strands slipping forward every now and then, and he watched as she kept tucking them behind her ear, only for them to fall again.

And the saree-

His eyes darkened with something unspoken as he took in the drape of the fabric around her. When he had left, she had been wearing his shirt, drowning in its oversized warmth. But now, she sat there wrapped in a saree, soft and elegant, as if she had stepped into a different world while he was away. The sight of her like this-his wife, his Noor-made pause to take a breath.

The moment the door opened fully, she looked up, her frown vanishing the second her gaze met his. A radiant smile stretched across her lips, lighting up her face, and just like that, the storm in his heart settled. Peace. She is his peace.

Sidharth exhaled, his grip tightening around the cups as he stepped toward her.

She made a move to get up, but he stopped her with a low murmur,

"Baithi rahiye."
("Stay seated.")

Her smile grew, excitement twinkling in her warm eyes, but she obeyed, watching as he reached out, handing her one of the cups. Noor took it with both hands, her fingers brushing against his in the process. A soft warmth spread through his veins, a reminder of how much he craved her presence.

She shifted slightly, making space for him, patting the empty spot beside her in invitation. He let out a quiet chuckle at her innocence, at the way she gestured without words, so utterly unaware of the power she held over him.

Sidharth sat down, the mattress dipping beneath his weight. Noor turned toward him, resting on her knees, her eyes full of unspoken words. His own gaze softened as he lifted a hand, cupping her cheek, letting his thumb brush over her skin. She leaned into his touch, her warmth seeping into his palm.

He kissed her cheek, slow and deliberate, before gently tucking the loose strands of her hair behind her ear. His fingers lingered there for a moment, as if memorizing the curve of her jaw, the softness of her skin beneath his touch.

His eyes lowered, taking in the books spread across the bed. Numbers, equations, and pages filled with neatly written solutions. His brows knitted together.

"Uth kyu gyi? Aaram kyu nahi kar rahi aap?"
("Why did you get up? Why aren't you resting?")

She shook her head, a bright smile on her lips.

"Ab thik hai hum."
("I'm fine now.")

But Sidharth wasn't convinced. His mind drifted back to the afternoon, to the way she had clutched his hand in pain, to the tears that had escaped her eyes no matter how hard she had tried to hold them back. The memory made something ache deep within him. He had felt helpless then, utterly powerless against her suffering. Now, as she sat in front of him, smiling as if the pain had never existed, he still couldn't shake the weight in his chest.

Leaning forward, he pressed another lingering kiss to her cheek, breathing her in. Her scent, the warmth of her skin, the way she melted under his touch-it - was all he needed to feel whole.

A soft sigh left his lips as he pulled back, reaching for his cup. Noor mirrored him, taking a small sip of her tea. He watched her, the way her lips curved around the rim, the way her lashes fluttered when she looked down at her books.

"Hum neeche gaye the, par aapne unko bola ki hamare pair me chot hai, isliye Maa ne phir upar bhej diya."
("I went downstairs, but You told them my foot was hurt, Maa sent me back up.)

Sidharth, who had been glancing at the books, looked up at her, tilting his head slightly. A chuckle escaped him. "Of course, she did," he murmured, amusement lacing his tone.

Noor pouted slightly, but it was clear she wasn't actually upset. Instead, she tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear again and continued,

"Kuch tha nahi karne ko, to humne book hi nikal li. Waise bhi kuch dino me college start hai. To socha revision ho jayega."
("There was nothing else to do, so I took out my books. College starts in a few days anyway, so I thought I'd revise a little.")

Sidharth's gaze dropped back to the open pages before him. He nodded, the corner of his lips curling into a faint smile.

"Bahot acha kiya. Aap padhai pe hi dhyan dijiye."
("You did well. Just focus on your studies.")

Before she could respond, he reached for her hand, lifting it to his lips. He kissed her palm, slow and deliberate, his lips lingering against her skin. Noor's breath hitched, and a soft pink dusted her cheeks.

Sidharth smirked, satisfied.

She was his. His little wife. His world. His peace.

His cherry

Sidharth's gaze fell on the notebook Noor had left open. His fingers absently flipped through the pages, his sharp blue eyes scanning over the neatly written equations. As he turned a few more, he noticed something-she had already solved a few questions. And not just any questions, but ones that required real effort. A small, almost imperceptible smile tugged at his lips.

His wife was intelligent. He had always known that. She wasn't someone who left things undone out of laziness. If she hadn't attempted these questions, it wasn't because she wasn't capable-it was because they were genuinely difficult. His fingers stilled over the blank spaces where she had stopped, his mind filling in the gaps she had hesitated over.

"In questions ko mai try karu?"
(Should I try these questions?)

Sidharth asked, his tone casual, as if he wasn't already reaching for the pen. He knew why she had skipped them, but he didn't say it out loud. He didn't want her to feel anything less than she was. Noor, who had just taken a sip of tea, glanced at him over the rim of her cup, her gaze warm but curious.

He didn't wait for her reply. The pen in his hand moved effortlessly, his mind working through the numbers with practiced ease. It had always been like this for him. If Medicine was his passion Numbers were his language, his playground. He thrived in them. Noor watched him, the soft scratching of the pen filling the comfortable silence between them. When he finally turned the notebook toward her, he tapped the page lightly.

"Ho gaya."
(It's done.)

Noor leaned forward, her eyes scanning over the neatly written solutions. It didn't surprise her that he had done them so quickly. Instead, a small smile played on her lips as she traced the equations with her fingers.

"Aap bohot intelligent hain."
(You are very intelligent)

Sidharth adjusted his glasses, shaking his head slightly.

"Aab kya kre, biwi teacher hai meri. Unke kabil bhi to be rhna hai"

His voice held a teasing warmth, but his eyes-his deep blue eyes-held something else entirely. Something unwavering, something devoted.

Noor let out a soft laugh, shaking her head with a smile.

Sidharth leaned back, watching her as she focused on his solutions. There was something poetic in this-how easily they fit together, how effortlessly they existed in each other's presence. His love for her wasn't just in grand gestures; it was in moments like these, in the quiet, in the way he would sit and solve difficult equations just so she wouldn't have to struggle alone. In the way, he admired her mind as much as her heart.

And he knew, without needing to say it, that if it were the other way around, she would have done the same for him.
.
.
.
.
.
.
Noor stood by the bookshelf, carefully arranging the books into a neat row. Her fingers lingered on the covers as she made sure they were perfectly aligned.

She turned slightly, adjusting the last book when a sudden knock at the door made her pause. Her brows furrowed, and she glanced at Sidharth, who was sitting on the edge of the bed, lost in his files. Their eyes met, both of them mirroring the same unspoken question.

They weren't expecting anyone.

Noor hesitated for a second before walking toward the door. With a soft creak, she pulled it open, only to be met with the gentle face of her mother-in-law. The elderly woman stood there with a small smile, her hands resting on the handle of a trolley laden with food.

"Maa?" Noor blinked in surprise. "Kuch chahiye tha?"

(Maa? Did you need something?)

Her mother-in-law shook her head, a look of warmth crossing her features. With a gentle push, she rolled the trolley forward.

"Aapke pairo me chot lgi thi na beta. Socha, Aap upar hi khana khao. Seediyaan utarne se dard aur badh sakta hai."

(You hurt your leg, that's why I thought you should have dinner upstairs. Coming down the stairs might make the pain worse.)

Noor felt a wave of guilt wash over her. She and Sidharth had lied about her injury, and now her mother-in-law was showing such concern. She forced a small smile and shook her head.

"Koi baat nahi, Maa. Hum bas neeche hi aane wale the."

(It's okay, Maa. We were just about to come downstairs.)

Before she could complete her sentence, she felt a presence behind her. A strong arm reached forward, fingers curling around the trolley handle.

"Acha kiya Maa," Sidharth's voice came from behind her, steady and composed. "Main waise bhi kisi se kehne hi wala tha ki humare liye yahin par dinner le aaye."

(You did well, Maa. I was just about to tell someone to bring dinner here for Noor.)

Noor's head snapped toward him, her eyes widening. What was he doing? Her gaze searched his face, but Sidharth was as unreadable as ever, his expression calm and collected.

Her mother-in-law, however, seemed pleased. She nodded approvingly and then shifted her attention to Noor.

"Noor beta, pairo ke dard dard kaisa hai ab?"

(Noor, dear, how is your leg pain now?)

Noor stiffened slightly, feeling the weight of the question. She hesitated, her eyes flickering toward Siddharth for a fraction of a second before turning back to her mother-in-law.

"Almost okay"

Her mother-in-law's face softened with concern. "Dawai li thi na?"

( You took the medicine, right?)

Noor nodded quickly. "Haan, le li thi."

(Yes, I did.)

Her mother-in-law sighed, reaching out to gently pat Noor's head. "Aaram karna, beta. Tumhari tabiyat ka khayal rakhna zaroori hai."

(Take care, dear. It's important to look after your health.)

Noor forced a small smile, nodding. "Ji, Maa."

(Yes, Maa.)

Satisfied, her mother-in-law gave them both one last look before turning to leave. As soon as the door clicked shut behind her, Noor turned sharply, ready to confront Sidharth.

But before she could say a word, he took a step forward and, with a smile playing on his lips, reached for the trolley to wheel it further into the room.

Sidharth placed the trolley near the sofa and turned towards Noor, his expression unreadable. She stood there, hesitant, guilt evident in her eyes.

"Sidharth ji, Maa ko bol dena chahiye ki koi chot nahi hai."
(Tell Maa that there is no injury.)

Her voice was soft yet firm. Watching Maa fussing over her, doing everything on her own, made Noor's guilt deepen.

Sidharth's movements slowed. He walked toward her, his strides measured, his gaze locked on hers. Then, he stopped just inches away.

"Kya?" (What?)

The question came in a quiet murmur. Noor opened her mouth to repeat herself-but before a single word could leave her lips, he leaned in.

Soft. Firm. Warm.

A fleeting kiss. A stolen moment.

Noor's breath hitched, her heart lurching. Her mind went blank, her lips tingling where his had just been. Before she could even process what had happened, Sidharth stepped back as if nothing had occurred.

"Hmm?"

He repeated, his tone as calm as before, his expression unreadable.

Noor blinked, her hand instinctively rising to her lips. Swallowing, she straightened and cleared her throat, trying to regain her composure.

"Hume Maa ko bata dena-"
(We should tell Maa-)

Again.

Before she could finish, Sidharth leaned in once more. This time, his hands cupped her cheeks, his touch firm yet gentle. Another quick, deliberate press of his lips against hers. The warmth of his palms against her skin only intensified the heat rushing through her.

It was over in a blink. He pulled back again, amusement flickering in his dark eyes, as if enjoying the way she struggled to form words.

"Boliye."
(Say it.)

His voice held a teasing lilt.

Noor inhaled sharply, willing herself to stay focused.

"Maa-"

And there it was again.

fourth time. Another kiss, another stolen breath.

Her entire body stiffened in shock, her fists curling at her sides. It wasn't just the kisses-it was the way he did it. So quick, so effortless, like he was stopping her from saying.

When she finally managed to look at him, her cheeks burning, he stood there with a smug, unbearable expression. A quiet challenge gleamed in his eyes.

"Boliye na"
(Say it.)

Her mouth opened. Then closed. Then opened again-only to shut as frustration flooded her.

Letting out a small huff, she stepped away, marching straight to the sofa. She plopped down with more force than necessary, arms crossed, refusing to meet his gaze.

Sidharth chuckled, the sound low and knowing.

"Are bol kyu nahi rahi?"
(Why aren't you speaking?)

"Nahi bolna hume. Bhook lagi hai."
(I don't want to speak. I'm hungry.)

Her voice was barely above a whisper, but he heard her.

His chuckle deepened.

"Haan, woh toh mujhe bhi bahut lagi hai."
(Yeah, well, I'm really hungry too.)

He dropped onto the sofa beside her, his grin still intact, his presence still too close, too warm.

.
.
.
.
.
.
The plates were empty, the meal finished, and the quiet hum of the evening wrapped around them like a soft embrace. Noor shifted slightly, placing her hands on the table to push herself up, her eyes flickering toward the trolley. Before she could even rise, Sidharth's hand moved faster.

"Rukiye."
(Wait.)

His voice was calm but firm, stopping her in her tracks. He was already on his feet, moving past her before she could protest.

"I'll do it."

Noor blinked, watching as he took hold of the trolley, rolling it away with effortless ease. She let out a small breath, shaking her head lightly-a soft, amused disapproval, but no real resistance. The earlier tension in her features, the fleeting frustration, melted away like ice touched by warmth. It was never anger, not really. Just something unspoken that had now vanished.

As he turned back, Sidharth caught her gaze and smiled-a simple, quiet smile, one that held a hint of something deeper.

The moment passed, and she stood up again, heading toward the washroom to change. Just as she reached for the door, she felt a sudden warmth encircle her wrist.

Siddharth had returned.

His fingers curled gently around her wrist, stopping her mid-step. Noor turned, her brows lifting in question. There was something in his eyes-a glint, unreadable but not unfamiliar.

Without a word, he let go and walked toward the cupboard. The rustle of a shopping bag followed, and then he turned back, holding it out toward her.

"Aapke liye."
(For you.)

His voice was softer this time, and his smile grew a little more, as if knowing something she didn't yet. Noor frowned slightly, curiosity dancing in her eyes.

"Kya hai?"
(What is this?)

Siddharth tilted his head. "Khud dekh lijiye."
(See for yourself.)

Noor took the bag from his hands, feeling the weight of something familiar yet unknown. She walked to the bed, placing the bag down before carefully pulling apart the wrapping. The moment her fingers brushed against the fabric, her breath hitched.

It was a night suit-soft, cotton, a simple shirt and pajama set. The kind she used to wear before marriage. The kind she had once, in passing, mentioned missing.

Her fingers curled around the fabric as memories surfaced, and then, slowly, a wide smile spread across her lips. It wasn't extravagant, it wasn't grand, but it was thoughtful. And that alone made it precious.

She looked up, her eyes meeting Sidharth's. There was no need for words. She giggled, unable to hold back the happiness bubbling inside her.

Sidharth only watched, his gaze locked onto hers. Noor looked so happy. And that-her smile, her laughter-was all he ever wanted.

"Hum change karke aate hain."
(I'll go change.)

She picked up the bag and slipped into the washroom. Behind her, Sidharth stood blinking, something unreadable flickering across his face before he exhaled and lay back against the bed.

A minute passed.

Then, the door clicked open.

"Ye-Ye kya hai?"
(W-What is this?)

Her voice was barely above a whisper, and when Sidharth turned his head, his breath caught.

Her cheeks were flushed, tinged with a pink so deep it looked almost painted.

Noor stepped out of the washroom, her steps slow, hesitant. In her hands, she held the red nightdress-delicate, silky, revealing. Her cheeks burned as she looked at it, unable to believe what was in her grasp. She swallowed hard, glancing up at Sidharth.

He was lying on the bed, his hands resting behind his head, watching her with a deepening smile. His dark eyes held a glint of amusement, but there was something else-something intense, something that made her heart race even faster.

Noor lowered her gaze, her fingers gripping the fabric tighter. It was too much. Too bold. Too...

Siddharth suddenly shifted, pushing himself up from his relaxed position, now leaning back on his elbows. "Night dress hai."

(It's a night dress.)

His tone was casual, too casual, as if he had simply bought her a regular dress, not something so daring. Noor's breath hitched. She looked at him, then at the dress, then back at him.

"Pata hai hume... P-Par aap kyu laaye hain?"

(I know... B-But why did you bring this?)

Her voice came out small, uncertain. She knew Sidharth. Knew how he was with her. But still, the thought of him picking this, of him imagining her in this...

Sidharth lifted an eyebrow, his lips curving slightly as he sat up straighter. "Aapke pehne ke liye."

(For you to wear.)

Noor's breath got stuck in her throat. She opened and closed her mouth, utterly flabbergasted. Her fingers gripped the fabric tighter as she quickly lifted it, unfolding it completely. Holding it between her fingers, she stared at the piece of clothing that barely had any fabric at all. And then she looked at Sidharth.

The way he was watching her-it sent a shiver down her spine. There was amusement, but there was also danger.

Her brain took a second to process everything, and then, in one swift motion, she hid the dress behind her back. Her eyes widened, her cheeks flamed, and she snapped at him, her voice high-pitched with disbelief.

"Ye-Ye hum pehnege?!"

(I-I will wear this?!)

Sidharth's smirk grew, but before he could say anything, she narrowed her eyes, pointing an accusing finger at him.

"Sharm nahi aayi aapko ye lete waqt?!"
(Did you not feel ashamed while buying this?!)

Her voice was defensive, filled with embarrassment. Sidharth let out a low chuckle, running a hand through his hair before sitting up completely. Noor immediately went on high alert. Her grip on the dress tightened, her body tensed, her mind screaming that he might get up any second.

And then he did.

He stood, his tall frame suddenly seeming even more imposing. Noor held her breath as he took a single step forward. Her heart pounded so hard she was sure he could hear it.

And then, she did what her instincts screamed at her to do.

She ran.

With a squeak, she turned on her heels and bolted back into the bathroom, slamming the door shut behind her.

Silence.

And then-

Sidharth laughed.

Throwing his head back, he let out a deep, rich laugh that echoed through the room. His wife-his utterly adorable, ridiculously shy wife-was too much. He ran a hand down his face, shaking his head before walking towards the bathroom door. Leaning against it, he tilted his head, still grinning. He could hear her mumbling, her voice muffled but filled with frustration.

"Hadh hoti hai besharmi ki... Kis tarah ka aadmi aise kapde laata hai apni biwi ke liye... Pagal hain bilkul... Hum nahi pehnenge... Bilkul bhi nahi..."

(There's a limit to shamelessness... What kind of man buys such clothes for his wife... He's completely crazy... I won't wear it... Not at all...)

Sidharth chuckled again, shaking his head before he leaned closer to the door, lowering his voice just enough to make sure she heard him.

"Noor, sharm aayi thi, par phir aapko usme imagine kar liya maine. Sharm ki jagah, besharmo wale khayal aa gaye the."

(Noor, I did feel shy... but then I imagined you in it. And instead of shame, shameless thoughts came to my mind.)

Silence.

Noor immediately stopped mumbling.

Sidharth smirked, pressing his forehead against the door. He wasn't lying. When he had bought that dress, he had thought of her, of how she would look in it, of how utterly perfect she would be.

And yes, those thoughts were far from innocent.

Inside the bathroom, Noor stood frozen, gripping the nightdress against her chest, her entire face burning. Her mind replayed his words, her heart hammering even harder.

Shameless thoughts. About her.

Hey bhagwan

And outside, Sidharth chuckled once again, shaking his head.

His wife was too adorable for her own good.
.
.
.
.
.

Noor stepped out of the bathroom, the soft scent of her body shower lingering in the air. This all caught his attention

She was clad in a delicate pink nightdress paired with pajama bottoms, the fabric light and comfortable against her skin.

Her damp hair cascaded over her shoulder, a few strands clinging to her cheeks, which carried a natural flush from the warm shower. The soft glow of the bedside lamp illuminated her, making her look even beautiful, almost untouched by the worries of the world. She was a sight that made Siddharth's breath hitch.

Half-reclined on the bed, Sidharth had an amused smirk playing on his lips, the memory of the red lingerie still fresh in his mind. But as he observed her closely, he noticed something-she wasn't looking at him. Not even a glance.

A fond smile tugged at his lips. How could his wife be this cute? Everything about her, from the way she tucked her hair behind her ear to the way she avoided his gaze, was something he adored. His eyes trailed down, watching the slight movement of her fingers as she absentmindedly smoothed down her pajama top. He noticed everything-how she blinked, how her brows twitched in thought, how she shifted ever so slightly in place.

Noor, meanwhile, was still stuck on the fact that he had actually bought those dresses. How could he? Even now, she refused to look at him, refusing to let him see the lingering embarrassment on her face. She picked up her night cream and began applying it with slow, deliberate movements, feigning complete ignorance of Sidharth's presence.

Sidharth's smirk deepened as he pushed himself off the bed. He walked toward her with slow, unhurried steps, his eyes fixed on her every move. Noor, of course, sensed him-his presence was impossible to ignore. Her fingers faltered for a brief second before continuing their work, though her heartbeat betrayed her feigned indifference.

Just as she turned to leave, a sudden warmth enveloped her as Sidharth effortlessly scooped her into his arms. A small gasp left her lips, her hands instinctively reaching for his shoulders as she was lifted off the ground.

"Siddharth ji!" she protested, but it was barely above a whisper.

He said nothing, only smiling as he gently placed her on the bed. The mattress dipped slightly beneath her weight, and before she could even process what had happened, Sidharth was already crawling onto the bed, his every movement slow and deliberate. He hovered just enough to let her feel his presence, the mischief dancing in his dark eyes.

Noor's breath came unevenly, her fingers gripping the sheets beneath her. She knew this look. This man was dangerous.

Sidharth propped himself on one elbow, his free hand sliding down until his fingers brushed against the hem of her pajama shorts. He tilted his head slightly, the smirk still intact as he murmured,

"Itne bhole aur pyare pati ko koi ignore karta hai bhala?"
(Does anyone ignore such an innocent and loving husband?)

Noor turned her head slightly, her eyes meeting his, only to find that very smirk deepening. Shameless! But before she could retort, she felt his fingers slide just a bit further beneath the fabric, his touch featherlight yet burning against her skin.

Gasping, she shot him a look of disbelief. "Bhole? Bhagwan se dariye aap, Sidharth ji! Khud ko bhola bata rahe."

(Innocent? Fear God, Siddharth ji! You're calling yourself innocent?)

Sidharth chuckled, his eyes glinting with amusement. "Mai toh tha bahut bhola. Aapne bigaada hai mujhe"

(I was very innocent. You've spoiled me.)

Noor's mouth fell open in shock. "Humne?!" she sputtered, pointing at herself.

Sidharth gave a slow nod, his fingers tracing idle patterns against her thigh. "Haan, aapne. Jab se aap aayi hain zindagi me, tab se nai bhola Sidharth se bawala Sidharth ho gaya hu aapke liye."

(Yes, you. Ever since you entered my life, I've gone from innocent Siddharth to crazy Siddharth-just for you.)

Noor's heart skipped a beat, her breath catching in her throat. The way he said it, with such ease, such intensity-she had no words. She opened her mouth, but nothing came out. The warmth in her cheeks deepened as she abruptly turned on her side, muttering under her breath, "Baatein banwa lo aapse bas."

(You can make up anything, huh?)

Sidharth let out a low chuckle, shifting even closer. His voice dropped into a whisper, his breath ghosting over her ear. "Mai baaton ke alawa bhi bohot kuch karta hoon, cherry."

(I do much more than just talk, cherry.)

A shiver ran down Noor's spine. Her breath hitched, her fingers clutching at the sheets. This man... She turned her head slightly, only to find him wearing the most innocent expression-as if he hadn't just whispered something that sent her entire body into a frenzy.

Glaring, she lifted a hand and gave his shoulder a light slap. "A-aap so jaiye!"

(Y-you go to sleep!)

That was it. That was what broke Sidharth.

Throwing his head back, he let out a full-bodied laugh, his entire frame shaking with amusement. Noor's face burned in response, her lips pressing into a thin line as she huffed at his reaction.

Still laughing, Siddharth finally exhaled, his eyes twinkling as he looked at her. "Jaisa aap bolengi."

(As you say.)

But just as Noor sighed in relief, his hand, which was resting on her waist, slid upward ever so slowly. Her breath hitched in anticipation, even though he had done this countless times before. Then, with practiced ease, his other hand moved to the buttons of her shirt. Noor's breath caught in her throat.

And yet, she didn't stop him.

Siddharth's fingers moved with purpose, each stroke over her skin deliberate, as if memorizing her, worshiping her. Noor's breath hitched, her lashes fluttering shut as warmth spread from where his hands worked at her sore muscles. He was slow, too slow-agonizingly so-dragging his fingertips down her stomach, pressing lightly against her flesh, making her shiver. The devotion in his touch was suffocating, consuming, like she was the only thing that had ever mattered.

Her shirt lay open now, the cool air brushing against her heated skin. Siddharth's gaze darkened as he looked at her, his jaw tightening, as if restraining himself. He lifted one hand to cup her cheek, his thumb stroking over the soft skin beneath her eye. "Ab bhi dard hai?" His voice was a murmur, thick with something unspoken.
(Are you still In pain?)

Noor, whose anger had been simmering at his earlier actions, felt it wane under the intensity of his stare. She swallowed, unable to hold his gaze, and shook her head lightly. "Thoda thoda."

His lips parted slightly, as if something about that answer satisfied him. He nodded, his fingers drifting down again, undoing two more buttons of her shirt. The realization of what he was doing made Noor tense, her face heating up. She wasn't wearing a bra. Her body betrayed her, anticipation prickling over her skin.

Sidharth's hand, warm and sure, slipped beneath the fabric, his palm settling over her breast. Noor gasped, her back arching ever so slightly into his touch. He kneaded her gently, his fingers pressing in slow, circular motions. His other hand, the one resting against her stomach, moved lower, rubbing soothing circles against the aching muscles of her lower belly.

The relief was instant. It melted through her, easing the cramps, making her sigh softly. But more than that, it was him-his hands, his touch, his presence-anchoring her in ways she couldn't explain.

She had always craved this. His touch, his obsession, his complete and utter devotion to her. But now, with her body sensitive from the pain of her period, it felt like a need, something she couldn't deny.

Sidharth moved with purpose, his palm pressing more firmly against her stomach before gliding upward, his fingers tracing the curve of her breast again. His mouth followed soon after, pressing soft, lingering kisses over her skin. Noor's breath hitched, her fingers finding their way to his hair, tangling into the strands.

His lips hovered over her breast before his tongue flicked out, tasting her skin. He kissed her slowly, deliberately, dragging his lips across the swell of her chest as if marking her. His devotion was almost unhinged, a raw kind of obsession that made her dizzy.

His hands didn't stop. One continued to massage her stomach, easing the tension in her muscles, while the other mapped the softness of her curves, never ceasing, never slowing.

Noor let out a quiet whimper, her body melting under his touch. She felt vulnerable, open, but she knew-knew without a doubt-that he would never let anything harm her. That he would worship her, touch her, claim her, until she felt nothing but him.

Siddharth's lips moved up, pressing a kiss to the hollow of her throat. Then, his gaze flickered up to meet hers, something dark and possessive gleaming in his eyes.

Noor shivered. She knew that. She knew this was more than just soothing her pain. It was him needing her. Needing to feel her. To have her close.

And she wanted that too.

She closed her eyes, sinking into the sensation, into the warmth of his touch, the weight of his love. Sidharth continued his slow, obsessive worship of her body, his lips, his hands, his entire being focused on her and only her.

Minutes passed, maybe more. The tension in her stomach eased, the warmth of his touch lulling her into a hazy state of comfort and pleasure. Noor's breathing slowed, her fingers still tangled in his hair.

Sidharth didn't stop touching her. Even as sleep tugged at her, he kept one hand on her skin, tracing idle patterns, his lips pressing occasional kisses against her collarbone. His obsession was unwavering, his need for her never-ending.

And Noor... Noor wouldn't have it any other way.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.

The sharp ring of my phone cut through the silence, pulling me out of sleep. My body, attuned to years of discipline, reacted before my mind did. Eyes still heavy, I exhaled slowly, adjusting to the dim glow of the room. The warmth beside me was the first thing I registered-my Noor, curled up against me, her soft breath fanning over my chest. My irritation at the untimely call faded, replaced by something quieter, something more instinctual.

A stray lock of her hair fell across her face, and I reached out, tucking it behind her ear, my fingers lingering for a second longer than necessary. Even in sleep, she had a way of commanding my attention. A small smile tugged at my lips before the phone rang again, louder this time, more insistent.

I groaned, rubbing a hand over my face as I reached for it. "Fuck." The clock on the nightstand read 1:07 AM.

The name on the screen was one I recognized instantly-Dr. Rajeev This wasn't a call I could ignore. Sitting up carefully so as not to wake Noor, I answered.

"Yes, Doctor" My voice was rough from sleep but steady.

"Sidharth Sir, sorry for the late call, but we have an urgent case. A high-profile patient-Mr. Taneja is set to be transferred, but we need your approval on his file. There's a complication with his vitals, and I need you to review it immediately. I'll send you the required details"

Duty came first but After Noor.

"I have his file here. I'll check it now."

Ending the call, I swung my legs off the bed and ran a hand through my hair, pushing off the remnants of sleep. My laptop was already on the desk where I had left it earlier. I crossed the room, pulled open a drawer, and retrieved the thick file.

Settling onto the sofa, I flipped it open, my eyes scanning the patient's history, cross-checking the vitals against the notes on my screen. The numbers, the patterns-they made sense. The problem wasn't in the data but in the human body's unpredictability.

A slight movement caught my attention. I didn't look up immediately, but I felt it. A shift in the air, a quiet presence. Then, soft footsteps.

When I did glance up, Noor stood before me, her eyes half-lidded with sleep, her hair slightly disheveled. She didn't speak, didn't ask.

She simply reached out, her delicate fingers slipping under the laptop resting on my lap. Gently, without hesitation, she lifted it, placing it on the table beside me. Before I could react, she climbed onto my lap, tucking her legs up, curling into me like she belonged there-like she had always belonged there.

I froze.

This-this was new. Noor had never done something like this before. She was affectionate, but never this bold, never this... certain. My hands hovered for a second before instinct took over. I closed the file, setting it aside, and pulled her closer.

She fit so perfectly against me, the warmth of her body pressing into mine. Her fingers clung lightly to the fabric of my shirt, her breaths shallow but even. And just like that, I wasn't thinking about the case anymore.

I wasn't thinking at all.

My hand moved of its own accord, sliding into her hair, pressing her just a little closer. I could feel her heartbeat against my chest, steady, grounding. A deep breath left me as I settled back, adjusting so she wouldn't be uncomfortable.

She needed this.

And God, so did I.

My gaze traced the delicate curve of her jaw, the way her lashes fluttered against her cheek, the tiny mole near her chin that I had memorized a long time ago. Noor had told me she loved me many times before. But this-this unspoken claim, this quiet authority over me-this was something else entirely.

A slow, knowing smile pulled at my lips.

She needed me.

As much as I needed her.

With one arm wrapped securely around her, I reached for the file again. It was inconvenient and difficult even, but if I had to work like this, so be it.

Because Noor wasn't moving.

And neither was I.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
The warmth of the morning wrapped around me, but it wasn't the sun filtering through the curtains that made my body relax into the mattress-it was her voice. Soft, gentle, filled with the same old habit she thought she had abandoned. But she hadn't.

Noor was speaking to me.

I kept my breathing even, kept my body still, but every word she uttered crawled under my skin, wrapping around my heart. She thought I was asleep, just like always. And just like always, I wanted to hear more.

"Iss Sidharth ko bhola keh sakte hai. Jage hue Sidharth ko toh bilkul bhi nahi."
(You can call this Siddharth sweet. But the awake Siddharth? Not at all.)

A flick to my nose followed, her touch feather-light, playful, making my fingers twitch with the overwhelming urge to grab her wrist, pull her into my arms, and drown in her presence. But I refrained. Not yet.

I wanted to hear more.

I could hear the tiny complaints wrapped in her murmurs, those soft little grievances she probably wouldn't dare say if she knew I was listening. My heart swelled, stretched beyond its limits, filling with something so warm, so unbearably sweet that it threatened to spill over.

Then, silence.

Just when I thought she had given up, I heard her whisper,
"Bhole nahi, bawale hai aap."
(You're not naive, you're crazy.)

A second later, warmth pressed against my cheek.

My heart stopped. Or maybe it skipped, tripped over itself, forgot how to function.

We had kissed before. We had been closer than this. But when she was the one initiating, when it was her choosing to press her lips against me, without hesitation, without expectation-it became something entirely different.

Something sacred.

Then, she was close. Too close. Her breath fanned against my ear, sending shivers down my spine as she whispered,

"Good morning, Aarth."
(Good morning, Aarth.)

Before I could react, another kiss-this time on my ear, just like I used to do to her.

I clenched my fists beneath the blanket, struggling to keep the act going. Struggling to keep myself from breaking this fragile moment, from scaring her away.

She had a hold on me. A complete, undeniable, and absolute hold on me.

I heard her movement, felt her absence beside me. But the telltale jingle of her anklet told me she hadn't gone into the bathroom yet. I let out a slow, deep breath, one of surrender, one of helplessness. My eyes fluttered open, my gaze immediately seeking the bathroom door she had disappeared behind.

My mind replayed her words, her actions, dissecting every second, every breath, every touch, as if they were poetry written only for me to understand.

She must be probably smiling right now. Or maybe she was pouting at the mirror, recalling what she had just done.

She is mine.

And I'm utterly, irreversibly hers.

Like every morning, I lay there, unmoving. Pretending to be asleep had become a habit. Not because I wanted to fool her, but because I wanted to savor this.

It was a routine now.

Half an hour passed. Half an hour of me battling with my own heart, struggling to keep it from leaping out of my chest. And then, she emerged.

I cracked my eyes open, just enough to watch her.

She went straight to the dressing table, her movements precise, graceful, as if she was made for this.

Getting ready.

Noor loved it. Loved adorning herself in little ways, not for anyone else, not even for me-but for herself.

She sat, tucking her hair behind her ear before reaching for her kajal. My breath hitched as I watched her line her eyes, darkening them with a care that was almost hypnotic. Then came the lipstick, a soft shade, one she always picked carefully.

Every movement was poetry in motion, every little detail a sonnet written in her name.

She reached for her bangles, sliding them onto her wrists, letting them clink softly as she toyed with them, admiring how they caught the light. Then, the jhumkas, swaying as she clipped them on, her fingers brushing against her neck, making me envy the silver pieces.

She was stunning. Unbearably so.

And I?

I was a man obsessed, a man helpless, a man utterly captivated by his wife.

I watched, memorizing every movement, every flick of her wrist, every shift of her expression.

Because she was mine. And every morning, I fell in love with her all over again.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.

The house had long settled into silence. The clang of utensils in the kitchen had ceased, the faint murmur of post-dinner conversations had faded, and the warmth of the evening had given way to the quiet hum of the night. Everyone had eaten, the dining table now empty, save for one untouched plate. Mine.

Sidharth Ji was late again.

He had called earlier, his voice steady, warm despite the tiredness laced in it. "Aaj der ho jaayegi... bas thoda aur kaam hai.
(I'll be late today... just a little more work.)"

I had nodded then, even though he couldn't see me, murmuring a soft, "Ji... main intezaar karungi. (Okay... I'll wait.)"

And so, I did.

And then, finally, it came-the familiar rumble of the engine rolling to a halt outside. My breath caught, my hands pressing lightly against the folds of my sari as I stood, anticipation fluttering in my chest. He was home.

The door opened, and there he was. Sidharth Ji stepped inside, his tall frame momentarily pausing as he glanced around. His face bore the weariness of the day, his broad shoulders carrying the weight of responsibilities I could never fully understand. But when his eyes found mine, something changed. A slow, tired yet utterly beautiful smile curled at his lips, and my heart skipped-just like it always did.

He walked towards me, and without thinking, I moved forward as well. My hands reached for his bag, a silent gesture, one he never let me do before-but today, he did. His fingers loosened around the strap, allowing me to take it from him. Just as I was about to step back, he remained where he was, unmoving.

Then, in a quiet, unspoken moment, he leaned forward, his forehead coming to rest against my shoulder. My breath hitched.

He didn't say anything. He didn't need to. The warmth of his skin against mine, the steady weight of his exhaustion, the way he simply... let himself rest against me-it was enough.

Gently, hesitantly, my hand rose. My fingers brushed against his hair, smoothing it back, a silent comfort I hoped he could feel. And then, as if drawn by something deeper, Siddharth Ji shifted, turning his face into the crook of my neck. His arm wrapped around me in a loose, exhausted embrace, pulling me closer.

My breath caught again, my cheeks warming.

We were in the hall-anyone could see us. The thought struck me just as my heart threatened to melt completely.

"H-hum hall mein hain..."
(We... we are in the hall...)

I whispered, my voice barely audible, my shyness slipping through.

He grumbled something against my skin, his voice deep and drowsy,

"Bas ek minute..."
(Just one minute...)

One minute. Just one moment of quiet, of him resting against me.

I let him.

After a while, he finally stepped back, but his hands remained at my waist, his touch grounding.

"Change kar lijiye."
(Please go and change.)

I said softly, glancing up at him.

He shook his head with a lazy smile, his dark eyes holding something warm, something I could never quite name.

"Bahut late ho gaya hai. Aapko bhook lagi hogi."
(It's too late. You must be hungry.)

Without waiting for my reply, he stepped past me.

Sidharth Ji pulled out a chair for me first, his touch lingering on the backrest for just a second longer before he did the same for himself. He didn't sit down yet. Instead, he bent down, lifting my plate first, setting it gently in front of me before reaching for his own.

Something about it-about the way he did things, the way he always thought of me first-made warmth bloom in my chest. A small smile touched my lips.

Before I could say anything, he reached for my hand. His fingers curled around mine, firm yet gentle, and without a word, he led me towards the kitchen.

There, without hesitation, he picked up one dish while I picked up another, our movements seamless, practiced-comfortable. Once, I would have hesitated, unsure of these silent acts, but now? Now, it felt natural.

When we returned, Sidharth Ji didn't serve himself. Instead, he placed the dishes down, then lifted his plate-holding it out to me. His hands didn't let go.

He wanted me to serve him.

A quiet laugh almost escaped me as I shook my head, my heart aching with how utterly cute he could be. I scooped food onto his plate, and as I did, I served two extra spoonfuls-just like always.

He exhaled softly, that small, knowing sound that told me he noticed, that told me he knew exactly what I was doing.

And in that moment, as we sat across from each other, as he ate the meal I served, as his gaze softened with every glance he stole at me-I knew.

He feels for me too.

Deeply. Wordlessly. Unconditionally.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.

Author's pov-

The sky stretched vast above them, painted in the soft hues of dawn, as Noor and Sidharth stepped outside. The morning air carried the crisp scent of earth, laced with the subtle fragrance of blooming flowers. Their hands were intertwined, fingers gently laced together-a quiet routine, a familiar comfort.

As they reached the tulip garden, Noor inhaled deeply. The air here was different, softer, laced with nostalgia and warmth. Her gaze swept over the flowers-rows upon rows of white tulips swayed gently in the breeze, their delicate petals catching the early sunlight.

It had been a long time since she had been here, and now, standing amidst the very garden her husband had planted for her smile, she felt an unspoken relief settle deep within her.

A small smile graced her lips, and beside her, Sidharth noticed. His heart skipped a beat. The sight of her happiness, so simple yet so profound, always had the power to unsteady him. Lifting their joined hands, he brought the back of her palm to his lips, pressing a soft kiss against her skin.

Noor turned to him, caught off guard, and warmth spread across her cheeks in a delicate blush. The fresh air curled around them, carrying the sound of tulips rustling in the gentle wind. The moment felt untouched, sacred, wrapped in the quiet melody of nature's breath.

As Noor's eyes wandered, they landed on a tiny plant near the fountain. A plant that had once been frail, barely standing, its roots trembling as though it wouldn't survive. Yet now, it stood stronger, taller than the rest.

Though the flower had not yet bloomed, its stem stretched higher, outshining its surroundings in quiet defiance. Noor, felt her heart getting warm. It was same flowers she has shower her love a little more.

Noor's steps carried her towards it, her fingers slipping from Sidharth's grasp as she knelt beside the plant. Siddharth followed, his movements unhurried. He adjusted the shawl around him, shielding himself from the morning chill, before crouching beside her. Noor reached out, her fingertips brushing against the sturdy stem.

"Yaad hai aapko? Ye kitna kamzor tha... ab dekhiye."
(Do you remember? It was so weak... look at it now.)

Her voice held quiet wonder, a sense of admiration that was not just for the plant but for the resilience it represented. Sidharth watched her, his gaze soft, filled with something unspoken, something deeper than mere affection. He reached forward, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear, his touch lingering just a second longer.

"Aap hain hi aisi... kamzor cheezon ki taqat banna, unko pyaar dena... aapse behtar kaun jaanta hai?"
(You are like this... becoming the strength of fragile things, giving them love... who knows it better than you?)

Noor's breath caught in her throat. This was not about flowers. They both knew it. His words held meaning beyond the surface, wrapping around her like an unspoken truth. Her heart stuttered, overwhelmed by the weight of emotions in his gaze-so deep, so full, that she felt herself drowning in it. She couldn't hold it for long; it was too much, too raw, and yet, it felt impossibly good.

A small, hesitant smile curved her lips.

Siddharth, stood up, extended his hand toward her. Noor glanced at it before placing her palm against his. With gentle ease, he pulled her to her feet. But instead of letting go, he brought her hand closer, pressing another kiss against the back of her palm, his voice barely above a whisper.

"Jaise mera dil."
(Like my heart.)

Noor's heart skipped multiple beats. His words, so simple yet so devastatingly sincere, made warmth bloom in her chest. She looked down, unable to meet his gaze, feeling cherished in a way that words could never fully capture. The weight of his emotions wrapped around her like an embrace, making her feel something indescribable-something infinite.

And as they stood there, lost in the quiet intensity of the moment, something miraculous happened.

Among the sea of white tulips-the flowers Sidharth had planted as an apology, as a plea for forgiveness-one single bud emerged. The plant, once fragile and weak when was planted, had finally gathered its strength, and from it, a pink tulip unfurled.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
Noor and Sidharth sat on the wooden bench, side by side, watching the tulips standing proudly amidst the sea of white. The wind played with Noor's pallu, the scent of blooming flowers filling the air. There was peace-tranquil and undisturbed-until loud footsteps and an even louder voice shattered it.

"Sidharth bhai! Sidharth bhai!"

Sidharth rolled his eyes before the familiar voices even reached them. Noor, recognizing what was coming next, giggled softly, hiding her amusement behind her hand.

Adarsh and Veer came running towards them, their usual bickering preceding their arrival.

"Bhai yaar, ye Veer bhai ki bandi mujhe kyun call karti hai?" Adarsh groaned, throwing his hands in the air.
(Brother, why does Veer's girl call me?)

Veer stopped dead in his tracks, his expression instantly morphing into one of pure rage. His eyebrows furrowed, his jaw tightened, and his entire aura screamed 'angry bull.'

"Toh tu uthata kyun hai, saale?" Veer barked, eyes flashing with irritation. (Then why do you pick up, idiot?)

Siddharth, who had been watching the exchange with complete boredom, rolled his eyes yet again.

"Yeh baat mujhe kyun bata rahe ho?" he asked in an uninterested tone, adjusting his shawl.
(Why are you telling me this?)

Both Adarsh and Veer, who had been seconds away from tearing each other apart, paused. Then, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world, they turned towards him in unison and chorused,

"To kisko batayenge? Aap faisla karoge na?"
(Then whom should we tell? You'll make the decision, right?)

Siddharth let out a slow exhale, his patience thinning.

"Mujhe kuch faisla nahi karna."
(I don't want to make any decision.)

A dramatic gasp left both their mouths, their hands flying to their chests as if Sidharth had just betrayed them.

"Haww, bhai... bhabhi ke aate hi-" Adarsh began with a teasing lilt, only to be cut off by Sidharth's sharp gaze. His previously lazy demeanor shifted, his eyes narrowing dangerously.

"Oye, sambhal ke. Biwi hai meri."
(Watch it. She is my wife.)

Adarsh gulped, clearing his throat while shooting a quick apologetic glance at Noor, who, at this point, was shaking with laughter.

"Sorry, bhabhi... I mean, bhabhi ji ke aane ke baad aap pure biwipagalu ho gaye hain."
(Sorry, sister-in-law... I mean, after bhabhi ji came, you've gone completely love-crazy.)

Veer chuckled, nodding in agreement, while Noor burst into laughter, clearly enjoying the rare sight of Siddharth being teased.

Sidharth frowned, his eyebrows twitching slightly. "What?"

Adarsh smirked, mischief glinting in his eyes. "Haan, sahi bola maine. Pagal ho aap bhabhi ke liye."
(Yes, I said it right. You're crazy for bhabhi.)

Sidharth leaned back slightly, completely unfazed. "Haan toh?"
(Yes, so?)

As if expecting denial or at least some hesitation, Adarsh stepped back dramatically, acting the last stroke "Main bhi bhabhi-pagal hoon."
(I'm also crazy for bhabhi.)

Sidharth's expression darkened. "Tu kyun meri biwi ke liye pagal hone laga?"
(Why are you going crazy for my wife?)

A teasing grin spread on Adarsh's face as he took a cautious step back.

"Kyunki meri bhabhi hai, jisse main bohot pyaar karta hoon."
(Because she's my sister-in-law, whom I love very much.)

The second the words left his mouth, Sidharth lunged at him.

"Ruk, tujhe abhi pyaar karwata hoon!"
(Wait, I'll show you love right now!)

Adarsh let out a yelp, instantly turning on his heels and sprinting in the opposite direction. Sidharth was right behind him, his long strides rapidly closing the distance.

Veer and Noor, watching the chaotic chase unfold, laughed uncontrollably. Adarsh dodged left, then right, but it was futile. Within moments, Sidharth caught him, grabbing him by the collar.

"Bhai, bhai, bhai, maaf kar do! Mazak tha!" Adarsh cried, hands raised in surrender.
(Brother, brother, brother, forgive me! It was a joke!)

Sidharth smirked, but his grip didn't loosen.
"Abhi bata, pyaar hai?"
(Tell me now, is it love?)

"Nahi bhai, nahi! Mujhe koi pyaar nahi hai, bhabhi sirf meri bhabhi hain!" Adarsh pleaded, causing another wave of laughter from Noor and Veer.

(No brother, no! I don't have any love, bhabhi is only my bhabhi!)

Eventually, Sidharth released him, and the four of them erupted into laughter. The tulip garden, once serene, now echoed with their joy, the bond between them tangible and strong.

As the laughter settled, they sat back on the bench, their smiles lingering. But, unbeknownst to them, a pair of eyes watched from a nearby window-silent, observant, unknown.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
Abhijeet Rajvardhan (Sidharth's father) stood by the window, his hands folded behind his back, his sharp blue eyes fixed on the scene outside. Laughter rang through the air, the kind that tugged at something deep inside him. He didn't move, didn't blink, as if afraid that even the slightest movement might shatter this rare moment before him.

Aditi ji (Mother) sat on the sofa, her pen gliding over paper, lost in thought. The faint sound of laughter made her pause. She turned her head slightly, watching her husband standing so still. A frown creased her forehead as she got up and walked toward him.

"Kya dekh rahe hai aap?"
(What are you looking at?)

she asked softly, standing beside him.

Abhijeet Rajvardhan didn't answer immediately. His throat tightened as he tried to find the right words. He heard her, but his mind was caught in a whirlwind of emotions. His fingers twitched behind his back before he let out a slow breath. Only then did he turn his gaze slightly toward her, as if acknowledging her presence, yet not ready to speak.

Aditi ji followed his line of sight, tilting her head slightly to see what he was looking at. There, in the garden, Sidharth sat on a bench, being teased mercilessly by his younger brothers. Noor was laughing, her eyes crinkling in joy, and Sidharth-her serious, quiet, restrained son-was laughing too. A full, unguarded laugh. The sight made something in her chest tighten, something old and aching.

A soft smile curved her lips, but it was a smile filled with years of silent pain. "Kitna badnaseeb baap hu na Aditi,"
(What an unfortunate father I am, Aditi,)

Abhijeet Rajvardhan murmured, his voice barely above a whisper. "Khud ke bete ki muskan dekhne ke pachis saal tarsa hu."
(I have waited twenty-five years to see my own son smile.)

Aditi ji exhaled slowly, the weight of his words pressing down on her. Her smile didn't fade, but it changed-no longer just pain, but a quiet acceptance of all the years lost.

"Sab samay ka khel hai,"
(It's all a game of time,)

She said, her voice laced with a quiet melancholy.

"Do mahine pehle tak maine bhi mere bete ko jhooti hasi haste dekha hai."
(Until two months ago, I only saw my son faking smiles.)

She lifted her gaze to meet her husband's. His blue eyes remained locked on Sidharth, but she could see the storm within them-years of longing, of regret, of a love that had been buried under layers of mistakes. His grip on his wrist tightened behind his back.

"Noor ke aane se badal gaya hai woh,"
(Noor's arrival has changed him,)

she added. "Ache ke liye."
(For the better.)

Abhijeet Rajvardhan's lips pressed together, his jaw tensing. A second passed, then another. Finally, a dry chuckle left him, one devoid of humor yet tinged with something close to pride.

"Bahu toh bahu hi hai meri..."
(A daughter-in-law is my the daughter-in-law...)

The chuckle faded almost as soon as it came, replaced by a deep, silent exhale. His eyes flickered back to the garden, watching the way Sidharth's head tilted back as he laughed-unburdened, carefree, almost as if the past years had never existed. But they had. And he had been the one to carve those silent scars into his son.

"Aaj Siddharth ko hasta dekh ke,"
(Seeing Siddharth laugh today,)

he murmured, his voice thick with an emotion he wasn't ready to name,

"Pata chala ki khud ke dil ko tutne se bachane ke chakkar me maine ek nanhe se dil ki kurbani dedi."
(I realize now that in trying to protect my own heart from breaking, I sacrificed a little child's heart instead.)

His gaze wavered, and this time, he couldn't bear to keep looking. The happiness in Sidharth's face was a beautiful reminder of something he had stolen for so long.

Abhijeet Rajvardhan turned away sharply, his chest rising and falling with a breath that carried years of weight. Staring at the wall, his voice came out quieter than before, but it held the full force of his self-loathing.

"Aditi," he said, his throat tightening. "Zindagi barbaad kar di na maine sabki."
(I ruined everyone's life, didn't I?)

Aditi ji looked at him, her lips parting slightly as if to respond. But then she stopped. Because she realized something-

It wasn't a question.

It was a truth he had finally accepted.
______________________________
How was the chapter? Hope you'll
like it!

Thoughts about Sidharth?
Thoughts about noor?

Any favorite moments from this chapter? Do comment.

So, if you're curious to read further, the next 5 chapters are already up on ScrollStack! All you need to do is follow me there, and you'll always be a few chapters ahead as I have planned that this book will be 5 chapters ahead on scrollstack than on wattpad.

A small spoiler from chapter-61 (It's already uploaded on stck & is paid)

╰┈➤Follow me on Instagram & scrollstack for spolier and early updates.