Now, the next chapter after this target is completed.

Today's target -
Next chapter on Sunday.
________________________________

जैसे पर्वत पे घटा झुकती है
जैसे सागर से लगर उठती है
हो..जैसे पर्वत पे घटा झुकती है
जैसे सागर से लगर उठती है
ऐसे किसी चेहरे पे निगाह रूकती है
रोक नहीं सकती नज़रों को
दुनिया भर की रस्में
ना कुछ तेरे बस में जूली
ना कुछ मेरे बस में
दिल क्या करे..

आ मैं तेरी याद में सबको भुला दूँ
दुनिया को तेरी तस्वीर बना दूँ
आ मैं तेरी याद में सबको भुला दूँ
दुनिया को तेरी तस्वीर बना दूँ
मेरा बस चले तो
दिल चिर के दिखा दूँ
दौड़ रहा है साथ लहू के
प्यार तेरे नस-नस में
ना कुछ तेरे बस में जूली
ना कुछ मेरे बस में
दिल क्या करे..

___________________________________

He was sleeping... and I was just looking.

I don't know since when. I didn't count the seconds. I didn't want to.

My cheek rested on the pillow, eyes quietly fixed on his face. He looked so calm. So still. Like the world had nothing left to bother him.

I smiled to myself-very slowly.

"Aankhein band karke toh bade masoom lagte hain aap."
(You look so innocent when your eyes are closed.)

I whispered it so low, even I could barely hear it. My voice didn't want to disturb anything-not even the air between us.

One soft strand of his hair had slipped over his forehead. It was too close to his eyes. Without thinking too much, I raised my hand, very gently... and pushed the hair back.

My fingers trembled a little. Not out of fear... just because his face was too close, and it still made me shy.

After fixing the strand, I let my hand rest for a second, before softly brushing his cheek with the back of my fingers.

Warm.

I didn't need sunlight this morning. He was enough.

My thumb moved slowly, tracing his cheek, soft and light-like touching something I didn't want to break.

He always looked nice. But this softness... this stillness... I rarely saw it when he was awake. He looked like a boy in this sleep. A peaceful one.

A little smile came on my lips again, smaller this time.

"Par aankhein khol ke bhi aap hume utne hi pyaare lagte hain, Aarth."
(But even with open eyes, you look just as lovely to me, Aarth.)

Aarth

I don't even know why... it just felt closer than Sidharth ji. Like I was speaking directly to the boy behind that serious face.

I softly flicked his nose. A small nudge. Very light.

A tiny giggle escaped my lips. Just a little one. But I stopped it right away, quickly covering my mouth.

What if he wakes up?

No... I didn't want him to wake up. Not yet. I wanted this moment a little longer. I watched his face again. That tiny smile on his lips, those lashes resting on his skin...

I whispered again, almost like telling him a secret.

"Bas jab muh kholte ho toh aajkal bade besharam lagte hai"
(But these days, whenever you open your mouth, you act so shameless.)

I said it with a small pout, and flicked his nose again-like scolding him... but not really.

Just enough to show him, even in his sleep, that I noticed everything. Then I leaned forward. A little.

My heart skipped. It always did. Even now. Even after all this time.

He was my husband... still, this closeness made my breath slow and fast at the same time. I closed my eyes for a second, and kissed the tip of his nose. Softly. As soft as I could.

Then I pulled back-just a little bit. Not far. Just enough to let a little breeze pass. I whispered again, this time with a smile in my voice, soft like a lullaby.

"Mere bawale aur besharam pati."
(My crazy and shameless husband.)

And this time, the giggle didn't stop. It came like a soft wave, and I bit my lip, trying to hold it in.

I don't want him to wake up now.

Because these quiet mornings-where I can love him without words, without him even knowing-

They are my favourite kind of magic.

I stayed still for a few seconds, listening to his soft breathing. The room was quiet except for that. He looked peaceful... like a baby. I couldn't stop myself, so I leaned in once more and placed a small kiss on his cheek. His skin was warm against my lips.

"Just one more," I whispered to myself, smiling shyly.

Carefully, I got up from the bed, trying not to wake him. My anklets made the slightest sound, and I paused for a second, but he didn't move. I tiptoed to the bathroom with a towel in my hand.

The water felt warm on my skin. I closed my eyes as the droplets ran down my body, like a soft morning prayer touching every inch of me. After my bath, I stood in front of the mirror with wet hair and pink cheeks.

I wore my blouse first-Green with tiny gold beads stitched on the sleeves. My hands moved quickly, adjusting the hooks at the back. Then I picked up my saree, half-folded, and wrapped it around my waist slowly. I didn't rush. I liked this part of the morning-when I got to feel like myself.

Standing in front of the mirror, I began pleating the saree, pressing each fold with my fingers, gently pinning it near my shoulder. My bangles made a soft jingle as I moved. I smiled at my reflection-half shy, half dreamy. I was glowing today. Maybe because he held me tighter than usual last night. Maybe because I was falling a little deeper in love with him every single day.

I sat on the chair near the mirror and opened my small red box. The sindoor box. My fingers hesitated as I picked it up. There was something holy about this. I applied it slowly in the parting of my hair. And just when I was doing it, my eyes lifted... and they met the sight of him.

He was still sleeping, one hand under the pillow, the other resting on my side of the bed. Hair messy. Lips slightly parted. I forgot to breathe for a moment.

"Bawale," I mumbled to myself, heart thudding. "How can someone look this good while sleeping?"

I stood up, still watching him. My heart was soft, like warm ghee on a hot paratha-melting. I walked to the closet quietly, just like I always do, and picked out his clothes for the day. Shirt, pants, and his favorite watch. I placed them neatly on the sofa.

But I wasn't done.

Noor never is.

I tiptoed back to the bed like a thief with a secret. Bent down just a little, close enough to feel his breath on my face, and whispered softly, "Good morning, Aarth."

He didn't respond. Maybe he was still asleep. Maybe he heard me in his dream. Either way, I giggled softly, like a small girl who just finished her little mischief, and rushed out of the room before he could catch me.

..

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

The kitchen smelled of elaichi and boiling tea. I was standing near the stove, slowly stirring the pot, careful not to let it spill. The pallu of my soft green saree kept slipping from my shoulder, and I had to tuck it in again and again. I don't know how people wear sarees so comfortably-I still felt new in it. But somewhere, I liked how it made me feel... married.

Dadi was sitting on the wooden chair, peeling fruits while muttering things under her breath. Something about how summers were coming and how "naye zamane ke bachhe" didn't value morning breakfast. I smiled softly but didn't say much.

I focused back on the tea. It was ready. I held the kettle and brought it close to the cup. My hand was a little shaky because the steel was warm, and I didn't want to spill it.

And just then-

"Noor bahurani, aapko Sidharth sahab bula rahe hain," the servant's voice came from behind.

("Noor madam, Sidharth sir is calling you.")

My breath caught in my throat. My eyes widened. The kettle almost slipped but I quickly caught hold of it again. My cheeks... they burned. Like seriously. I could feel the heat rising from inside. I didn't even have the courage to look at Dadi, but I knew she was staring at me.

I quickly nodded, trying to act normal. "Ji... le ja rahi hoon."
(Yes... I'm good.)

I barely managed to get those words out without stammering.

I poured the tea into the cup, focusing too much on the pouring-as if the world depended on it. And then... Dadi said it. Loud and clear.

"Ja bahu, mere betwa ka subha nahi hoti tujhe dekhe bina."
("Go, bahu My son's morning doesn't start without seeing you.")

I could feel my ears turn red.

"Dadi..." I whispered, half laughing, half dying inside. I bit my lower lip, completely unsure what to say.

My hands quickly placed the cup onto the tray. I adjusted my pallu again, and before anything else could be said, I picked up the tray and walked out.

I was walking fast-too fast-but my heart was walking faster. Dadi's words were stuck in my head.

His morning doesn't start without seeing me?

Really?

I wanted to hide somewhere, but at the same time... I didn't. I held the tray tighter, scared the cup would rattle and expose how nervous I was.

And still, I smiled... like a fool.

B-But Why would he do that? After smiling like fool, the sudden thought came.

I walked slowly, carrying the tray with both hands. My fingers were gripping it tighter than needed, but I didn't care.

I could still hear Dadi's laugh in my ears... looking at me with that teasing smile and him... just sitting there, calling out to me like that, without thinking twice.

Why?

What was the need to call me like that, in front of everyone? I was anyway going to him with his cup.of tea.

"Pata nahi kya zarurat thi bulane ki... Dadi thi wahan, sab the wahan... ek second ruk bhi nahi sakte the kya?" I muttered under my breath.
["I don't know what was the need to call me... Dadi was there, everyone was there... couldn't he wait even a second?"]

As I reached the door, I balanced the tray carefully, adjusting my grip on it. My lips were still slightly moving, whispering my tiny complains.

And then... I opened the door.

I blinked.

My heart stopped. I forgot to breathe.

There he was.

Sidharth ji.

Standing right there in front of me.

With nothing on his body except a towel wrapped around his waist, and another one resting on both his shoulders, like it was just lazily placed there after drying himself.

He looked so fresh... so real... so close.

His skin still glistened slightly from the bath, hair damp and falling slightly over his forehead. The towel on his shoulders clung to his muscles a little. His chest-broad, strong-and the little drops of water running along his collarbone made my throat dry. My eyes immediately flew down, but my mind... my heart... it had already seen enough.

He was smiling.

He looked at me and smiled.

And just like that... I was gone. My cheeks burned up. The little mutters I was making? All gone. I forgot what I was saying, why I was here, or how to even hold this tray properly.

My feet felt like they were rooted, but he walked towards me like he had all the time in the world. Calm. Confident. Soft smile still on his face, hidden a bit by his growing beard, but very much there.

He reached out and gently took the tray from my hand. His fingers brushed mine for a moment, and that one brush was enough to send a wave through me.

He placed the tray on the nearby table, without breaking eye contact.

And then... he slid his arm around his waist-and pulled me closer.

Closer.

I gasped a little-nothing loud, just a soft breath that escaped before I could stop it. My hands, unsure where to go, landed gently on his chest. The same chest I was pretending not to see. It was warm beneath my touch.

His eyes twinkled. And he smiled again. This time, a little teasingly.

"Subha subha uth ke, mujhe aakela chor ke bhag jati hai aap."

["Every morning, you wake up and run away, leaving me all alone."]

My eyes widened slightly, and I instantly looked away.

I could feel his breath near mine now, so close. My heartbeat was wild, but it wasn't new. He's held me like this before. He's been close like this before. But every single time feels like the first. Every single time, I forget how to speak.

He leaned in and gently bumped his nose with mine.

"Itni jaldi neeche jaane ki kya zarurat hai?"
["What's the hurry to go downstairs so early?"]

I gulped & tried smiling a little, buy I was all shy but helpless. I couldn't look into his eyes.

He knew what he was doing to me. And he loved doing it.

My cheeks were already red, but I somehow managed to whisper in reply, my voice small and sweet, my head still down.

"Nayi bahu hai hum... jaldi neeche nahi jayge to ghar wale kya sochege..."

["I'm a new bride... if I don't go downstairs early, what will the family think..."]

It was a simple answer, but it was true. I wasn't complaining. I just... didn't know how else to explain my nervousness. I liked being with him. I loved being with him. But when he looked at me like this, I became someone else. Still me, but not the brave me.

Hearing my words, he gently pulled me even closer. My breath hitched again.

I didn't look up at first, but slowly... slowly, my eyes found him.

He was already looking at me, his face close, and that teasing smile now replaced with a little smirk.

And then...

He leaned in and gave me a soft kiss on my lips.

Short. Gentle. But enough to send warmth across my entire face.

"Wahi to," he said softly, his voice teasing again, almost whispering.
"Nayi bahu hai aap... jaldi neeche nahi jaygi iska to pata nahi... par subha hote hi aap neeche kyu bhagti hai wo jarur sochte honge."

["Exactly. You're a new bride... they may not wonder if you don't come down early... but they'll surely wonder why you run away every morning."]

My eyes widened again as I understood what he meant.

And then... oh god.

My cheeks turned crimson. I didn't say a word. I just gave him a light little slap on his chest and turned away, quickly walking to the bed and sitting down without looking at him.

I was hiding my face now.

And then I heard it-

His laughter.

Loud. Happy. Echoing in the room.

That laugh... it made everything inside me flutter.

I sat there, still trying to figure out what just happened. My heart hadn't calmed down since I entered the room, and now it felt like it would escape my chest.

He was standing there... under the mirror.

The towel that was once on his head was now in his hands as he gently dried his hair. Water dripped down his neck slowly, making small trails on his skin. The towel still hung loosely around his shoulders, but the upper part of his back... his neck... it was bare now.

I didn't look at him directly. No, I couldn't. My eyes stayed fixed on a little statue on the side table, but in the corner of my vision, I saw him.

His figure. His presence. So calm, so powerful. And then-

He smirked.

My breath hitched.

My cheeks heated in an instant as if that small curve on his lips had touched my skin directly. I looked away again, biting the inside of my cheek, trying to compose myself.

But... I looked again.

His back was turned to me now, and my eyes landed on it. Right where the neck met the spine-there it was.

That tattoo.

The wing tattoo.

It wasn't too large, not too small, but it always held something. Something I never understood. It fascinated me since the very first time I saw it. Like it held a story I was never told. And somehow, it always made me feel drawn to him... a little more than I already was.

My voice came out in a whisper before I could stop it.

"Ye, ye aapka tattoo kaafi sundar hai..."
("T-this... this tattoo of yours is very beautiful...")

He heard me.

Sidharth ji chuckled softly-such a small sound, yet it made my heart skip a beat. And then...

He looked at me through the mirror. Straight into my eyes.

"And yet, it's just ink on my skin - nothing in front of the art you leave on my back with your nails, Noor."

My breath got caught in my throat.

I couldn't look away fast enough.

His words echoed inside me, pulling memories I wasn't prepared for. That night. His skin. My hands. The way his voice whispered my name like a prayer...

And then-

He pulled the towel off his shoulder completely.

And my eyes... they betrayed me. They landed exactly where he meant them to.

His back.

Red marks.

Fresh.

From me.

I froze. Completely.

They were real. I had done that. I had left pieces of myself on his skin.

My face turned crimson, heat spreading down to my neck. I felt like shrinking into the floor. Not because I was ashamed-but because I was overwhelmed.

I never thought... he would show me that.

My fingers clutched the edge of the bed unconsciously.

My throat felt dry. I couldn't meet his eyes now-not after this. My heartbeat was loud, too loud. I didn't even realise when he turned.

But when I looked up again-

He was walking toward me.

Step by step.

Calm. Confident. But his eyes... they burned into mine.

And before I could stand...

Sidharth ji leaned forward-slow, careful-and placed both his hands on the bed on either side of me. I was still seated, and now he was right in my space. His face was almost at my level.

I held my breath.

So close.

Too close.

My back leaned a little as he leaned in, our faces just inches apart. His scent-fresh, warm, familiar-wrapped around me like a blanket.

I wanted to say something.

Anything.

But the words got lost somewhere in my chest.

He didn't speak.

He just looked at me.

And I... couldn't look at him. I looked everywhere else. At the blanket. At my hands. At his chest.

But never into his eyes.

I wasn't uncomfortable. I wasn't scared.

I was... shy.

Shy in a way that made my hands feel warm, shy in a way that made my knees weak. After seeing those marks... I couldn't look him in the eye.

Not now.

But not once did I wish to be somewhere else.

Because this closeness... this warmth... it wasn't something I feared.

It was something I felt.

Something I loved.

And he noticed.

He always noticed.

Without a word, he leaned further, and before I could even take a proper breath-

His lips met mine.

A kiss.

Soft at first. Then deeper. Warmer. He kissed me like he remembered every second of the night we had shared, and now he wanted to remind me.

I closed my eyes.

I didn't kiss back immediately-my body took a second to realise it wasn't a dream. But when I did respond... I felt it all.

The shyness, the pull, the fire... and love.

Everything.

In that kiss.

My hands didn't know where to go. So they just held onto his arms, gently, as my eyes slowly fluttered closed.

And in that moment, it didn't matter that my cheeks were still red, or that my heart was still shy.

Because in his arms-I wasn't just Noor.

I was his.

I didn't want that kiss to end.

My hands were still trembling a little as they rested on my lap, and my lips... they felt like they still held his warmth. My chest rose and fell as I tried to breathe normally again, but I couldn't. My mind was still spinning from everything-his voice, his touch, the feel of his body so close.

And then-he pulled back.

Just a little.

Not too far.

He was still so close, I could feel the heat of his breath on my skin, but his eyes... his eyes looked straight into mine.

Deep.

Soft.

Like he was trying to read something written on my soul.

He didn't say anything at first. He just stared for a second, his eyes flicking between mine as if he was searching for something. My lips parted slightly, but no words came out.

Then slowly... he raised his hand.

His fingers brushed gently along my cheek as he cupped my face with so much care, like I was something fragile. Something precious.

He smiled-a soft, lazy smile-and said in a whisper that made my heart skip a beat again:

"Good morning, Cherry."

I didn't even get time to react, because the next second, he leaned in and kissed me again. This one was slower. Sweeter. As if he was telling me something he couldn't say out loud.

And then-

He bit his lip as he pulled away again, and I swear my breath got caught in my throat.

He looked so beautiful like that. Calm. Soft and mine. Only mine.

My heart thudded so hard in my chest, I could feel it in my ears. And then, with his fingers still holding my cheek, he looked into my eyes again and said in that same gentle voice:

"Let's go on shopping today. You will start your college in few days. You need some stuff!"
(Just like that. Like we were already a team. Like he had already planned everything with me in it.)

I didn't trust my voice to answer him. My body was still heavy from that kiss, from the way his lips had left a storm in me.

So, I just nodded.

Breathing hard.

Blushing like anything.

He chuckled again-just a small sound-and then gently raised my hand and gave a light pat on my cheek, as if teasing me for being so dazed.

And then, he stood up.

He walked over to the clothes I had laid out for him earlier and started getting dressed like it was the most normal thing. But it wasn't normal for me. It wasn't normal how he made me feel seen, touched, wanted... and calm, all at the same time.

I sat there, still quiet, trying to calm the storm inside me while watching the man I had married-and somehow, the man who had started to matter so much more than I had ever imagined.

.

.

.

.

.

We were standing at the billing counter of the electronics store.

I was holding Sidharth ji's hand. His fingers were wrapped around mine, warm and strong. He had picked out a laptop for me-something I never thought I would actually have. I was just... looking around the store, lost in the quiet noise of people talking, and then I felt him squeeze my hand gently.

He was paying for it now.

I looked at the screen, then at the price. My heart paused for a second. It was expensive.

Too expensive.

"Sidharth ji," I whispered softly, a little nervous, "yeh sab zaroori nahi hai..."

But he didn't even turn to me fully. He just looked down at me with that calm expression on his face-the one he always wears when he already knows what's right.

"Shh, hmm?" he said simply.

My lips parted, but I didn't argue again.

Because something in his voice... stopped me. Not his tone. It was never strict. It was always gentle. But full of decision. Full of care. Like he had already made a promise to himself that he would give me everything-without me asking.

I nodded quietly and stood there beside him.

Still holding his hand.

This was one of the things that made me fall for him. That one touch. That one moment where he stood for me, bought things for me-not to show money, not to show control-but because he believed I deserved it.

I kept looking at him while he finished paying, like I was watching something I never imagined would be mine. A man who doesn't speak too much-but his silence is always louder than any word.

After we stepped out, we walked around quietly.

He was holding the bag now, his fingers still brushing mine every now and then, and I didn't want to rush. The mall was big, bright, and a little cold, but everything felt warm because of him.

And then I saw it.

A shop on the left side.

It wasn't very fancy. Just a simple clothing store. But the way they had displayed clothes caught my attention.

One mannequin stood at the front.

Wearing jeans and a soft pastel top.

Nothing bold. Nothing that showed too much. Just... normal.

Comfortable.

Beautiful.

And my feet stopped on their own.

I kept looking at it. That one piece of cloth made something in my chest feel tight.

I always dreamed of this.

When I was small... when I used to see girls in movies or on TV... going to college, carrying bags, laughing with friends, wearing jeans and tops like that... I used to imagine that would be me one day.

But in my village, girls don't wear that.

Forget jeans.

Forget tops.

They are not even allowed to wear salwar kameez after marriage.

Only saree.

Only rules.

Only silence.

And even though I'm not there anymore... and I'm married to someone who doesn't stop me... I felt a small ache in my heart. A strange pain.

Because I remembered the girls I left behind.

My friends.

The girls who never got the chance to dream like I did.

Who were married off at fifteen.

Who never saw a school.

Who never wore what they liked.

Who never asked for more.

Because they were never allowed to.

I looked at the jeans again.

And smiled. A weak smile.

Not because I was sad. But because... life was strange. I had this small childish dream. And now it was in front of me. And still... I wasn't reaching for it.

I shook my head softly.

Maybe it was never about clothes.

Maybe it was always about the thinking. The way society shapes a girl's life and then tells her to be thankful for what little she gets.

My hands folded in front of me as I kept looking.

And then-

I felt something warm.

A breath.

Right near my ear.

So close, it sent shivers down my spine.

And a deep, low voice followed.

"Kya hua?"

Author's pov

Noor heard him.

She turned her head toward Sidharth slowly, her eyes soft. A small smile played on her lips, but she gently shook her head.

Siddharth looked at her, then said with that calm voice of his,

"Uss store me jaana hai?"
(Do you want to go inside that store?)

Her smile disappeared-just like a breeze that fades without a sound. She whispered,

"Nahi... Nahi."
(No... no)

She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, fingers trembling slightly.

But Sidharth... he had already started walking. Still holding her hand, like it was the most normal thing. Like it was meant to be. Noor looked down at their joined hands, her fingers softly enclosed in his warmth.

He walked, and she walked with him-his pace slow, but firm, like he already knew what he wanted.

Noor looked at him, confused.

"Sidharth ji? Kya hua?"
(Siddharth ji? What happened?)

Her voice was quiet, filled with both wonder and worry.

She saw him stop in front of a small shop. A statue stood inside. Sidharth didn't say much. He just looked at it and then looked at her. His eyes... his eyes were always on her.

He always noticed.

Even in silence, he saw.

Even in crowds, he see her.

Even when she said nothing, he understood everything.

Noor knew this. That when she was beside him, he was nowhere else. His world stood still for her.

Siddharth stood in front of a mannequin, then asked in a quiet tone,

"Yeh pasand aaya tha aapko?"
(You liked this, didn't you?)

His hand touched the fabric gently, like he remembered her gaze on it. Noor felt her heart do that little dance it always did around him. She shook her head softly, a little smile touching her lips.

How many times was he going to win her heart?
She wondered.

"Dekh ke kuch soch rahe the hum," she said quietly.
(I was just looking at it... and thinking.)

"Kya?"
(What?)

He asked, without turning to her. But she knew he was listening.

Her voice was low, almost like a whisper wrapped in memories.

"Jab hum bache the, tab T.V. me dekhte the aur sochte the ki jab college jayenge, to hum bhi aise jeans-top pehn kar jayenge."
(When I was a child, I used to watch TV and dream that one day I'll go to college... wearing jeans and a top, just like that.)

She smiled, but it was a sad smile-like a dream that remained untouched.

Her eyes dropped to their hands again. She ran her thumb gently across the back of his hand.

"Par jaise jaise bade huye, T.V. ki duniya aur haqeeqat me antar samajh aa gaya. Samajh aa gaya ki jeena humein gaon ke niyamo ke hisaab se hoga, unki soch ke hisaab se. Na ki khud ki khushi se."
(But as I grew up, I understood the difference between the world on TV and the real world. I realized my life had to be lived by the rules of my village... by their thinking, not my happiness.)

Her voice cracked a little near the end.

Then, without a word, she felt his finger gently touch her chin. Slowly, he lifted her face. Her eyes met his.

He bent a little closer to her, just enough to make her feel seen, known, safe.

"Jeena aapko khud ki khushi se hai, Noor. Kyunki naa ab aap un niyamo se bandhi hain, na uss giri hui soch se."
(You have to live for your own happiness now, Noor. Because you're no longer bound by those old rules... or that broken thinking.)

He turned fully toward her, both feet planted like he was anchoring her world back into place.

Noor looked at him-and in his eyes, she saw it.

That fire.

But it wasn't the fire that burns.

It was the fire that warms.

The fire that tells you-you are alive.

She didn't know what to say, only that something inside her loosened. Something unspoken melted.

He stepped closer, still holding her hand, and said,

"You dreamt of going to college wearing this? Complete it."

He raised her hand slowly to his lips, and kissed the back of her hand like it was a vow.

Noor didn't blink.

Her heart swelled.

Her eyes welled up.

Then Sidharth called a staff member over. Noor noticed, silently. The staff nodded and left to bring her size.

She stood there, staring at the mannequin, lost in thoughts again.

She had left that old world, yes-but somewhere deep inside, the fear still lingered.

Could she really wear that?

After marriage?

She looked at Siddharth. He was smiling-softly, gently.

Not a care in the world.

No tension.

She was wrapped in doubts, and he... he was already carrying all her answers.

She looked at the staff returning with the clothes, and shespeak, "Rehne dete hai, shadi ke baad.."
(Let's leave it. After marriage...)

"Toh shaadi ke baad kya? Koi dress code hai shaadi ke baad ka? Kyunki mujhe to jo marzi aaye, main pehnta hoon, phir?"
(So what after marriage? Is there a dress code for it? Because I wear whatever I want, don't I?)

Noor shook her head with a weak smile.

"Sab kya sochenge..."
(What will people say...)

Siddharth looked right at her. His eyes didn't leave hers.

"Yahi sochenge ki Noor Siddharth Singh Rajvardhan ne khud ko chuna hai. Noor, baat pehnawa ki nahi hai. Baat azaadi ki hai. Baat khud ke liye koi bhi decision lene ke right ki hai."

(They'll think Noor chose herself. Noor, this isn't about clothes. It's about freedom. About having the right to make your own choices.)

Now they stood in a quieter section of the store. The world outside faded. It was just them.

Sidharth stepped forward, cupped her cheeks with both hands.

His thumbs were warm. Her skin trembled.

"Aur Noor... shaadi ho ya na ho, ek mard kaam hi yes hota hai jiske presence mein uski aurat azaad ho ke jee sake. Jo usse aage badhne mein madad kare. Jo deewar ban ke khada rahe uske aur uske sapno ke beech aane wale har patthar ke saamne. Na ki woh jo niyam lagaye. Hmm?"

(And Noor... married or not, a man duty is his presence makes his woman feel free. One who helps her move forward. One who stands like a wall between her and every stone that tries to stop her dreams. Not someone who sets rules. Hmm?)

"Aur jab tak main hoon... aapke sapne sirf aapke nahi hain. Aur na hi aap qaid hain kisi ke niyam se."
(And as long as I'm here... your dreams aren't just yours anymore. And you're not a prisoner of anyone's rules.)

Just then, the staff returned with the dress. He handed it over to Noor.

She took it slowly.

Her heart was bursting with pride-for her husband.

Her eyes filled again.

This time, not from pain.

From love.

From healing.

From hope.

Sidharth smiled softly and said,

"Try these."

Noor took a deep breath. Her feet moved forward.

But just after a few steps, she felt a small tug on her hand.

She turned.

Sidharth was still looking at her.

His eyes held only softness.

"T.V. ki duniya aur haqeeqat alag hai, Noor. Par kisi bhi duniya mein... khud ke liye, khud ki khushi ke liye, khud ke sapne poore karne ke liye... kuch bhi karna galat nahi hai. Hmm? Aur jab tak main hoon... aapke liye kuch galat hone nahi dunga."

(TV world and real life are different, Noor. But in any world... doing something for yourself, for your happiness, to fulfil your dreams... is never wrong. Hmm? And as long as I'm here... I won't let anything wrong happen to you.)

She went inside. The curtain closed behind her, and I stood there, still. The noise of the store faded away for me. All I could hear was the silence she carried in her eyes-soft, quiet, always trying to hide the weight she's been carrying for years. That kind of pain doesn't shout. It sits in the corners of a smile, in the pauses between words. And standing there, I felt it again-this helplessness.

I wish I had found her earlier. Before life clipped her wings. Before people taught her how to stay small, how to adjust, how to live half-lives. I wish I could go back in time, walk into her world when she was still a girl dreaming of a hundred things-and just hold her hand.

Tell her she didn't have to do it all alone. Tell her that she had someone now, someone who would chase every dream with her, even the ones she had buried under silence. Because those dreams... they aren't just hers anymore. They are mine too.

And I'll give her all of it. Every single thing.

I turned slightly, my fingers grazing against the rack beside me, and that's when something caught my eye. A red dress. It hung quietly-long, graceful, the kind of beauty that didn't need to scream to be seen. Its sleeves were thin, the neckline modest, barely showing anything, and yet it had a softness in its cut that made you stop. It was elegant, but there was something else too. Something hard to explain.

That dress didn't shout.

It whispered.

It stood with grace-almost like it knew it didn't have to beg for attention.

And it made me think of her.

It reminded me of her.

It wasn't flashy.

It wasn't loud.

It was... Noor.

My Noor

The dress was quiet, but it had presence. Shy in color, bold in its grace. It held the kind of power that doesn't have to be loud-just like her.

That soft voice. That unsure walk. That nervous smile.

And yet-when she stands in a room, you feel her.

That's Noor.

Noor isn't someone who walks into a room and demands attention, but you feel her. She moves with silence, but somehow, you always turn your head.

And that dress-it looked like it was made only for her. A perfect mirror of her softness, her nervous energy, her strength that hides beneath layers of calm.

I don't know what happened to me. Something stirred inside. This... need. Not desire. Not hunger. But that slow, aching urge to see her in that. To see her eyes when she looks at herself and feels beautiful. To give her even a second of feeling completely, unapologetically hers. I raised my hand and called the staff. My voice was calm, but inside, something was burning quietly.

"That one," I said, nodding at the dress.

The man nodded and disappeared, and in a moment, he was back with it.

I took the dress from him, holding it like it was something precious.

And then, before I could even breathe-her door opened.

There she was.

Jeans, a soft pastel top, her hair open. That same girl with a world full of silence in her eyes, but right now... she was smiling. A big, open, warm smile that didn't ask for permission. She looked so young, so untouched by pain, like the version of herself she was never allowed to be.

And in that smile, I saw everything-freedom, joy, the quiet kind of happiness that doesn't need words. It wasn't about the clothes. It was never about the clothes.

That smile-it wasn't about clothes.

It wasn't about me.

It was about choice. Her choice.

Something life never gave her before.

She looked at me, her eyes shining, and that smile-I swear it stopped something in me. I felt my own lips curve without meaning to. I didn't even realize I was smiling back.

That smile-it shook something inside me.

And I knew-I'd give her the world.

That moment... I'll remember it forever. Because in that second, I promised myself once more -I will give her every happiness she ever wanted. Not because I feel want to. Not because I think she deserves compensation.

But because I'm a man who loves her. Deeply. Obsessively. Without shame.

And I worship her with a kind of love that doesn't ask for anything in return.

She isn't beside me in my life. She's ahead of me. She leads. She matters more than I do.

She came closer, still glowing, and her eyes met mine as she tilted her head just a little and asked, "Kaise lag rahe hai hum?"
(How am I looking?)

How do I look?

I didn't answer right away. I just stepped closer. My hand came up on its own. I cupped her cheek gently, and she leaned into it. That small tilt of her head... it wasn't just comfort. It was her way of answering me. Of saying she felt it. The love. The emotion. The madness I try so hard to hide. I said softly.

"Bahut pyaari lag rahi hai aap. Bahut zyada."

(You look so lovely. So much.)

And she did.

She always does. Even when she's quiet. Even when she's tired. Even when she's unsure of herself.

She's always the most beautiful thing I've ever seen.

I looked down at the dress in my hand, and then I held it out toward her.

"Will you try this?" I asked, almost like a boy, almost nervous.

"Please," I added, softly.

She blinked at me, surprised for a second, and then giggled-light, innocent, happy. And then she nodded, took the dress from my hand, and walked back in.

And once again, I stood there like a man who had just touched something holy-and didn't know how to let go.

Sidharth stood outside the trial room, his arms crossed, one foot tapping slowly, not out of impatience, but habit. His eyes were on the curtain Noor had just disappeared behind. He didn't say it out loud, but his mind had gone silent the moment she stepped in. He could still hear her soft footsteps, echoing in his ears like music.

And then-he heard it.

A soft voice from behind the curtain.

"Sidharth ji?"

His name. From her mouth.

His body moved before his mind did.

He didn't ask what happened. He didn't wait. The worry that came with her voice pulled at his heart like an invisible thread. He pulled the curtain aside, stepping in quickly, and with a soft thud, pushed the curtain shut again with his leg. The small trial room wrapped around them like a secret world, quiet and warm, far from the outside.

He opened his mouth to ask again-"Noor? What happened?"-but the words stopped.

His breath stopped.

She stood there. Two steps away. In that red dress.

And for a second, everything around him faded. The walls, the soft music from the store, the world outside. All of it blurred into silence. Because Noor-his Noor-looked like something out of a dream he didn't even know he had.

The dress hugged her gently, not loud or bold, but so beautiful that his heart ached. The sleeves hung light on her shoulders. The color of the fabric glowed against her skin, making her eyes look warmer, softer. Her hair was open, a little messy from changing, falling around her face in waves. There was a light in her smile he hadn't seen in a long time-pure, excited, glowing.

She took two small steps back, her fingers holding the side of the dress, showing it to him like a little girl showing off her favorite thing. And her eyes... they were shining. Like she had found a piece of herself she didn't know was missing.

Sidharth stared.

His heart was too loud.

His chest too tight.

He had imagined her in this dress. In his mind, he had pictured her. But this... this was more. This was hers. She didn't just wear the dress, the dress became her.

And the way she smiled... it undid something in him.

Her cheeks had turned red. A soft, innocent blush that spread slowly like a secret. Her lips curved in that half-shy, half-happy smile that he always found himself waiting for.

And Siddharth noticed everything.

The way her eyes held excitement.

The way she ran her hand over the dress.

The way her fingers trembled just a little.

The way her chest rose and fell as she breathed, unsure but glowing.

She stepped closer, her voice soft, gentle, holding a question she didn't really want the answer to, but asked anyway.

"Kaise lag rahe hai hum?"
(How do I look?)

Sidharth didn't speak. Not yet.

His legs moved on their own. A step closer. Then another. His hand came up, slow, careful, and cupped her cheek. His fingers rested there like he was touching something fragile, something holy.

His thumb brushed her skin lightly. Her blush deepened.

And then-he whispered. His voice lower than usual, full of something old and soft and deep.

"Bilkul mere uss khwab ki tarah... jisko paane ki meri haisiyat na ho... par woh ab meri haqeeqat ban gaya ho."
(Just like that dream of mine... the one I never thought I deserved... but somehow, it became my truth.)

Noor's heart skipped.

She couldn't look away.

But she couldn't keep looking either.

Because his eyes-those eyes-were full of something she had never seen before. Something so intense, so raw, so Siddharth, it felt too much. It felt like standing in front of a wave that was made of only feelings.

She looked into them-and then quickly looked down, biting her lower lip, her heart thumping so loud she thought he might hear it. Her cheeks were burning, her hands suddenly unsure of what to do.

And so, without a word, she gave him a small slap on the chest-light, playful, her own way of running from the weight of what he had just said. She shook her head at him, still smiling, still trying to hide behind the little courage she had left.

Then, needing to escape the intensity of his gaze, she turned toward the mirror again, her eyes falling on her reflection.

And that's when Siddharth moved again.

No hesitation. No question.

He stepped closer-right behind her-and without a single pause, wrapped his arms around her from the back. His hands found her waist gently, his chin almost touching the side of her head, his breath mixing with hers. The mirror held both of them now-her glowing in red, him wrapped around her like a quiet promise.

But even in the reflection... it was only her he kept looking at.

His eyes never moved.

His heart had already found its home.

Sidharth didn't speak.

His arms around her felt like a home that had always been waiting. Noor didn't move, not even a little. She stood there, frozen in something that wasn't fear, wasn't shock-but something soft and deep, something that felt like being held by the part of love no one sees.

In the mirror, they looked like a secret no one knew.

Her in red, glowing.

Him in black, quiet and steady behind her.

Their reflection was not loud, not perfect. But real. And too beautiful to describe.

Sidharth's eyes kept watching her. He didn't even glance at his own face. He just looked at Noor. The curve of her jaw. The softness in her eyes. The slight tremble in her lips. The way she tried to breathe slowly, but failed. Everything about her was pulling him in-pulling every part of him in.

And he couldn't stop himself.

He leaned in just a little.

And placed a soft kiss on her shoulder.

Not bold. Not loud. Just... gentle. Like something he had been wanting to do for years. Something that came out of him naturally, like breathing.

Noor closed her eyes.

It was too much and yet not enough.

He kissed her shoulder again. And again.

Little, slow kisses-feather-light. Like he wanted to say something through them. Something words would ruin. Something only skin could hear.

And still-he didn't stop.

Because even that wasn't enough.

He moved slightly to the side. His hand slid gently up her arm, his touch never rough, never fast. His fingers brushed her hair away from her face and then-he pressed a kiss on her temple. Then another on her forehead. And another.

Each one was like a quiet prayer.

Like he was thanking the universe that she was real.

That she was here.

That she was his.

Noor's heart was beating too fast now. Her cheeks were on fire, her breathing shallow. His closeness, his kisses, his silence-everything was warm. Not burning. Just... melting her.

And yet-he didn't say a word.

Because he didn't have to.

His actions were louder than anything he could speak. They said everything. Every kiss on her skin told a story.

You are mine.

You are my peace.

You are the wish I never deserved.

But still, I got you.

She looked at him in the mirror again, her eyes searching for something, and what she saw there... made her heart ache. His eyes weren't playful. They weren't teasing. They were filled. With love. With emotion. With the kind of need that was not about touch, but about presence.

About just being with her.

And Noor felt it.

All of it.

She wanted to hold it. But it was too much. Too heavy in her small hands. Too big for her chest.

So she laughed.

A small, shy, helpless laugh.

And with her tiny hands, she turned around in his hold, her palms pressing lightly on his chest.

"Bas kariye, Sidharth ji," she whispered, her voice barely a breath, filled with blush and panic and love. "Koi aa gaya toh?"

Siddharth smiled.

That soft, rare smile that only came for her. His eyes still didn't leave her. He leaned down again like he wasn't done, like he still had more kisses to give. But before he could, Noor pushed lightly at his chest-soft, playful, but firm.

And then-still holding her laugh back-she grabbed his hand and turned him around, pushing him gently toward the curtain.

"Siddharth ji," she said with mock seriousness, "Trial room ke andar aake ye sab karne ka fine hota hai. Bahar jaiye ab."

He laughed. Not loud. Just that quiet chuckle that made his shoulders shake.

But Noor was already hiding her face, pretending to fix her hair, her cheeks bright red, her eyes too shy to meet his.

Sidharth turned once at the curtain before stepping out, his hand still warm from holding her. He didn't say anything-but the way he looked at her before leaving, with that same quiet obsession in his eyes-it said everything.

And Noor stood there in front of the mirror again, heart still racing, skin still warm from his kisses, smile still dancing on her lips.

In that trial room, she wasn't just trying on a dress.

She was being seen-really seen-for the first time.

And the one who saw her?

Had already made her his world.
.
.
.
.

The quiet moment inside the store had passed like a dream.

Now, Sidharth stood at the counter, paying the bill. His back was straight, his sleeves folded neatly. The man who had just held her so gently was now calm again, with that usual quiet grace.

Noor, on the other side, had walked a little deeper into the store.

The soft lights above flickered golden on her skin. Her fingers touched the fabric of a pale pink dress. She didn't mean to try them, not seriously. But she let herself enjoy the moment. One by one, she glanced at the dresses hanging there. Soft cottons, light silks, old patterns mixed with modern designs. There was a faint smile on her lips.

She didn't need anything. But still... maybe something pretty for home.

She lifted a soft blue one, held it against her body, and tilted her head.

And that's when a voice came from behind.

"Kaisi hai aap, Noor?"

(How are you, Noor?)

Noor turned.

It took her a moment to recognize the woman.

She was wearing a simple cotton saree, but it looked like art on her. Her long black hair was open and rested over her shoulder. A big round bindi sat calmly on her forehead. Her face was calm, but her eyes... they held something. A strange pull. A weight. A silence.

Zeenat.

Noor's lips parted slightly before she softly spoke,

"Zeenat ji."

Her voice was unsure. The name came with delay, like her mind had to search through memory to match the face.

Zeenat smiled. It was not wide, not fake. But something... unsettling in its steadiness.

"Jawab nahi diya aapne. Kaisi hai aap?"

(You didn't answer. How are you?)

Noor gave a small smile. It was polite, but distant. Her mind was alert now. Her gut was unsure.

"Main theek hoon. Aap kaise hain?"

(I'm fine. How are you?)

Zeenat nodded once, her eyes still fixed on Noor.

"Achhi hoon."

(I'm good.)

She then looked around the store, her gaze soft but sharp.

"Yahaan? Koi kharidari karni thi?"

(Here? Some shopping to do?)

Noor adjusted the dress in her hand, lowering her eyes for a second before answering.

"Ji. Kuch kharidari karni thi."

(Yes. Just some shopping.)

Zeenat smiled again.

"Achha. Kijiye. Main chalti hu"
(Alright. You do it. I'll leave.)

She turned to go.

But something hit Noor. A cold thought.

Wait.

Noor blinked.

She had never told her name to this woman. Not at the temple. Not before.

"Rukiye... Aapko humara naam kaise pata?"

(Wait... how do you know my name?)

Her voice was soft but strong. She didn't sound scared. Just... confused.

"Humne to-"

(I never-)

Zeenat's eyes didn't blink.

Her smile came again. And then softly, her voice floated:

"Aapko kaun nahi jaanta, Noor Sidharth Singh Rajvardhan."

(Who doesn't know you, Noor Siddharth Singh Rajvardhan?)

Noor paused.

Her breath caught for a second when she heard Sidharth's name from her lips. It was the way she said it - full, slow, like a story, not just a name.

Zeenat nodded once again, eyes still holding Noor like a silent question.

"Aapke pati bahut naamī doctor hai."

(Your husband is a very known doctor.)

Noor slowly nodded.

"Ji."

(Yes.)

Zeenat gave one final smile before turning to leave. Her saree moved quietly, no sound in her steps.

And just then-

"Noor!"

Her husband's voice. She turned.

Sidharth walked toward her, his bag in one hand, eyes searching her face.

"Noor, kis se baat kar rahi thi?"

(Noor, who were you talking to?)

His voice was soft. Gentle. Like it always was with her.

Noor turned a little, glancing toward the door where the woman had left.

"Koi Zeenat thi. Mandir mein bhi mili thi uss din."

(Someone named Zeenat. Met her at the temple that day too.)

And just like that-

She saw something shift.

A coldness passed through Siddharth's eyes. His face didn't move much, but she saw it. A flicker. His jaw tightened. His mouth pressed into a firm line.

"Zeenat?"

His voice now was not gentle.

It was hard.

Like stone.

He didn't shout. But Noor felt the change. She blinked, unsure, and nodded softly.

Sidharth clenched his jaw again. His hand came around hers.

But even now, he held it with care.

"Chaliye."

(Let's go.)

That's all he said.

No anger at her. No loud words. But there was something boiling under his silence.

He pulled her gently out of the store. Noor followed, her eyes still looking at his face.

They stepped out.

The sun was dim, clouds above. The wind was soft.

Noor's eyes looked around-and stopped.

There she was.

Zeenat. Standing near the streetlight. As if waiting. Or maybe, just standing. Still.

Noor touched Siddharth's arm.

"Sidharth ji... yehi hai Zeenat."

(Siddharth ji... this is Zeenat.)

Siddharth's eyes moved slowly.

And when they landed on her-on that woman-the tension in his face slowly... softened.

His jaw relaxed.

His hand around Noor's became lighter.

His voice returned, low but sure.

"Ye thi.?"

(This was her.)

He confirmed.

Noor nodded.

Zeenat looked at Sidharth.

She smiled again. Calmly.

But Sidharth didn't smile back.

He looked at her with eyes that didn't speak.

Then, he turned slightly and held Noor's hand tighter.

And pulled her gently away.

They walked.

Noor glanced once behind. Zeenat still stood there.

Noor felt it-something was wrong. Something was not normal. Something about this woman, about her husband's face when he heard that name.

But Noor didn't ask.

She knew his silence was saying something. And she didn't want to break it.

She just looked at him-at his face beside her now, calmer, but still not light.

And she thought...

"Who is Zeenat?"

But for now, she didn't ask.

For now, she just held his hand back.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

The sky outside was muted, the clouds hung low as if mirroring the weight inside the car. Sidharth's fingers tapped lightly on Noor's hand, resting gently on her lap. His eyes were on the road, but his mind was far away. The silence was not awkward-it was loaded. As if something was coming.

Suddenly, his phone buzzed. The ringtone wasn't loud, but it cut through the tension like a blade. Sidharth glanced at the screen-"Hospital - Emergency Line".

He answered, voice calm but tight.

"Haan?"

A pause. His brows furrowed. Jaw clenched.

"Abhi?"

Another pause.

"Main aa raha hoon."

("I'm coming.")

He cut the call. No goodbye, no questions. Just finality. The way powerful men do-when they already understand everything. He ran his hand through his hair, controlled, but the tension in his neck showed he was calculating fast.

He turned slightly to Noor. His voice was low, composed-but urgent.

"Noor, ek emergency hai. Hospital jaana hoga. Aapko pehle waha le chalta hoon, phir ghar chhod dunga."
("Noor, there's an emergency. I have to go to the hospital. I'll take you there first, then drop you home.")

Noor nodded quietly. There was something in his tone-not panic, not fear-but command. A man who didn't hesitate. Not even for a second.

The car slowed in front of the hospital building-clean, wide glass doors reflecting the soft lights of evening. Siddharth stepped out quickly. Walked around. Opened Noor's door. Not a word spoken, but his gesture was enough. Noor stepped out.

He handed the car keys to the guard, his tone curt but respectful.

"Park it properly."

His hand found Noor's again, naturally. Like it belonged there. His grip was firm. Possessive-but not harsh.

She looked up at him.

Something had shifted.

The Sidharth who was teasing her in the living room two hours ago... wasn't here. This man was different. Shoulders square, face calm-but eyes sharp. Focused. He wasn't looking around. He didn't need to. People around him were already noticing him.

"Good evening, sir."

"Namaste, doctor saab."

"Siddharth sir!"

Everyone greeted him. He didn't speak back. Just a nod. One short, strong nod. That was enough.

Noor walked beside him, still holding his hand. And now she noticed it-how everyone moved when he walked. How even the silence seemed to adjust around his footsteps. How his presence filled every space he entered.

As soon as they entered the building, that sterile smell of hospital-disinfectants, alcohol swabs, floor cleaner-wrapped around them. The AC was running cold. The lights bright. People in white coats moving fast.

Sidharth's hand never left hers.

He led her through the corridor to a black glass door. Nameplate shining:

"Dr. Siddharth Singh Rajvardhan"
Founder & chief cardiologist

Noor stared at it for a second. Her lips parted slightly. Pride spread in her chest. That's his name. That's her husband.

He opened the door for her.

The room was big. Not fancy, but strong. Bookshelves full, organized. Table clean. A two-seater sofa in one corner, a three-seater in the other. One massive desk in the center, papers kept in neat trays. A small table with bottled water. No unnecessary decoration. It looked like a war room, not an office.

He walked in with her and led her behind his desk. She stopped.

He pulled his own chair-the founder's chair-and looked at her once.

"Baithiye."
("Sit.")

Noor blinked. She looked at the chair.

His chair.

"Woh... yeh toh aapki-"
("But... this is your-")

He didn't let her finish.

"Malkin hai aap yahan ki. Is kursi ke alawa aur koi kursi aapke layak nahi."
("You're the queen here. No chair except this one suits you.")

His voice was calm & soft. It wasn't just a compliment. It was a truth.

Noor felt something warm rush through her chest. Her heart... skipped. The respect. The weight in his words. She sat, quietly.

Siddharth leaned down, just once, and pressed a slow kiss to the top of her head. No drama. Just... care.

He walked across the room-flicked the AC one degree higher. Opened the small vent window. Closed the big ones.

Poured water into a clean glass, walked to her, placed it gently on the table.

"Paani."
("Water.")

He picked a small remote from beside the table.

"Yeh gate ka remote hai. Agar rest karna ho, toh yahan se lock ho jayega."

("This is for the door. If you want to rest, lock it from here.)

He didn't ask her if she needed anything. He gave her everything she might.

She watched him-every small thing he did, adjusting light, setting the fan on low swing, placing a notepad and pen in front of her like she might want to doodle.

Noor didn't speak. But her eyes were saying too much.

Sidharth came back to her. Leaned forward.

One more kiss. This time, on her forehead.

His voice was low.

"Jaldi aaunga. Hmm?"
("I'll come back soon. Okay?")

Noor looked up at him. Her chest felt tight with things she couldn't name. She just nodded.

And then, he left. After looking back twics. She smiled because -she knew he will turn.

.

.

.

.

.

.

30 Minutes Later

The air in the cabin was cold but calm now.

Noor stood near the bookshelf, her hand slowly brushing over the spines of the books. She wasn't sitting anymore-couldn't. The silence was too loud. So, she had started walking. From one corner to another. From the window to the bookshelf. From the door back to the chair. Like she was waiting for something she didn't know.

Her fingers paused on a thick, dark blue book.

Some medical term was written on it. She didn't know what it meant. Most books were like that-tall, fat, heavy titles. Some had gold letters. Some had small notes stuck in between.

Her eyes softened. She tried reading one of the titles.

"Kern's Cardiac Catheterization Handbook..-"

Whatever that was, it sounded complicated.

But the books looked... beautiful. Sharp. Serious. Like her husband.

She touched the edge of one book, and then pulled it out a little just to peek inside-

SLAM.

The door flew open. No knock. No warning.

"FUCK, FUCK, FUCK-I don't want to do it!"

A man stormed in, coat flying behind him like in some dramatic movie. He was talking to himself, clearly angry. Or maybe mad. He didn't see her.

Black coat. Black shirt. Black pants.
He looked like he had dressed for war.

Noor froze.

The book almost slipped from her hand.

She said nothing.

He said nothing.

Then-without a word-he pulled out the visitor's chair with one sharp movement and slumped into it like the world had ended. One hand on his forehead, the other dangling.

Then came the voice.

Rough. Loud. Still half talking to himself.

"You fucking man, what are you doing near the bookshelf? Come the fuck here!"

Noor blinked.

What?

Was he... talking to her?

He hadn't looked at her, so she stood still. Like a confused deer caught in headlights. Her hands were still near the shelf, body slightly turned toward him, not knowing whether to run or reply.

Then he turned. Looked directly at her.

Eyes narrowed. Expression frozen.

A small pause.

And then-

"YOU BAS-"

He cut his own word.

"BHABHI??"

That scream was louder than the door slam.

Noor flinched a little.

His face changed completely. The anger? Gone. The frustration? Gone. He sat up straight. Eyes wide. Shoulders stiff. Panic written all over his forehead.

Noor just stared. Her eyebrows slightly raised. She had no idea what was going on.

He stood up like the chair had burned him.

"FUCK-BHABHI I'M SO SORRY-"
His hands shot in the air, then straight to his head. He ran his fingers through his messy hair like the apology could be brushed into it.

"I-I thought-it was-I didn't know-you were here!"

He turned in a circle. One full circle. As if turning around would somehow erase the last two minutes.

Noor still stood near the bookshelf.

Not scared.

But definitely... weirded out.

Who was this man? Why was he acting like a TV actor stuck between three scripts?

He stood still now. Both hands on his waist. Breathing like he ran a marathon. Then, slowly, carefully, as if approaching a very dangerous but soft creature, he said:

"Bhabhi, I'm sorry. Actually-"

He cleared his throat.

"I'm Abhimanyu."

Silence.

And suddenly... click.

That name.

The one she had heard a hundred times in her house. Sidharth ji ka dost. The famous one. The mad one. The childhood best friend who had always been a storm.

"Oh," she whispered, mostly to herself.

He noticed that.

"Yes! Yes! That one! Siddharth's best friend. The loud one. That's me."
He gave an awkward laugh and placed one hand on his chest like he was declaring himself in a court case.

Noor still looked at him-blank but slightly amused now. Like she was watching a new animal at the zoo.

Abhimanyu pulled the chair back and sat again, this time more careful, still breathing heavily.

"I thought he was here, I swear. He told me to come to his cabin if I had second thoughts. I just-I was angry and I thought-he was here-and I didn't knock-and you were at the bookshelf-and I shouted at you-and-"

He slapped his forehead.

"Maa kasam, main pagal ho gaya hoon."
("I swear, I've gone mad.")

Noor... smiled. A small, tight-lipped smile she tried to hide.

Abhimanyu caught it.

"You're laughing?" he asked, one eyebrow lifting.

"Bhabhi, you're laughing at me?? First time meeting and I entered like a storm, said fuck five times, sat like I own this cabin and shouted at you-and now you're laughing?"

Noor quickly looked away. But now she was smiling a little more.

He sighed. Dramatic.

Abhimanyu was still rubbing his face when he suddenly stand straight, looking a little panicked. Noor also stood straight, now a little more confident than before.

He fixed his coat, cleared his throat like he was about to give a TED Talk, and then gave a sheepish smile.

Abhimanyu (softly):
"Oh... main bhool gaya, bhabhi... apna proper introduction dena."
("Oh... I forgot to introduce myself properly, bhabhi...")

He stepped forward, slowly raising his hand for a handshake.

Abhimanyu-
"Main Abhimanyu hoon... Manu. Siddharth ka dost, I'm a lawyer by profession. "
("I'm Abhimanyu... Manu. Siddharth's friend.")

Noor blinked.

Noor stood straight now, still awkward, but a little more clear.

Before she could say anything, though-

CLICK!

The door burst open with the same force as a climax scene in a Bollywood movie.

Siddharth entered.

Eyes sharp.

Hair slightly messy.

Tie hanging around his neck like it had been fighting him.

And the moment his eyes landed on Noor standing near Abhimanyu, and Abhimanyu's hand still slightly forward-

There was silence.

Sidharth looked at Noor.

Then at Abhimanyu.

Noor looked at Siddharth.

Then at Abhimanyu.

Abhimanyu looked at both of them.

And then tried to smile.

Big mistake.

Siddharth walked forward without saying a word.

The room's air went heavy.

He reached right behind Abhimanyu, who was still awkwardly half-turned toward Noor, and in one swift motion-

Siddharth grabbed the back of Abhimanyu's collar and jerked him back. And in low firm voice said -

"Yaha reh ke bhi tu bol sakta hai."
("You could've stayed here and still spoken.")

Abhimanyu fell into the visitor chair like he was back in school and the principal had entered.

He sat there, blinking.

His pride? On the floor.

His swag? Gone.

His hand? Still halfway raised.

Noor just stared, unsure if she should laugh... or just hide in the bookshelf behind her.

_______________________________

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