Now, the next chapter after this target is completed.

Today's target -
‼️NEXT UPDATE ON FRIDAY‼️
____________________________________

किसी शाम की तरह
तेरा रंग है खिला
मैं रात इक तन्हा
तू चाँद सा मिला
हाँ तुझे देखता रहा
किसी खाब की तरह
जो अब सामने है तू
हो कैसे यकीं भला

टूटा जो कभी तारा सजना वे
तुझे रब से माँगा
रब से जो माँगा मिलेया वे
तू मिलेया तो जाने ना दूंगा मैं
हो हो हो हो हो हो हो हो हो

हाँ मैंने सुनी है
परिओं की कहानी
वैसे ही नूर तेरा
चेहरा है तेरा रूहानी
आ तुझको मैं अपनी
आजा मेरी बाहों में छुपा लूं
हाँ अपनी इस ज़मीं को
कर दूं मैं आसमां भी

ज़िन्दगी रोक दूं मैं अब तेरे सामने
पल दो पल जो रुके तू मेरे साथ में
टूटा जो कभी तारा सजना वे
_________________________________

His chest rose and fell, heavy and uneven. The room was silent, but their breathing-harsh and tangled-filled every corner like a quiet storm. A thin layer of sweat clung to their bodies, glowing against the soft light that touched the walls.

Sidharth had never felt anything like this. Not in his 34 years. Not even close. He was still inside her, but it wasn't just the body-it was something else now. Something deeper. Something that held him still, unable to move, like he was afraid this moment would slip away if he dared to breathe too deeply.

He lay collapsed over her, not crushing her, but holding her in the only way he knew how. His forehead touched her shoulder. Noor's eyes were shut tight, her lashes resting heavy on her cheeks. Her lips parted, breath trembling, chest rising and falling against his. Her hands-those tiny hands-were spread over his back, soft and unsure, like even they didn't know what to do next.

It was messy. Their hair tangled. The sheets twisted. Their skin warm and damp. But it was beautiful. Beautiful in the way it only is when two people lose themselves and find each other at the same time.

Sidharth slowly lifted himself, just enough to see her face. His eyes searched, not for answers, but for something only he could see. Her cheeks were flushed, glowing in a way that made his throat tighten. The mangalsutra rested over her chest, half-lost in the rhythm they just shared. And he smiled. A soft, stunned kind of smile-one that barely reached his lips but lived completely in his eyes.

He brushed back the strands of hair sticking to her temple, trailing his fingers gently down her cheek. The way her skin curved beneath his touch made him forget everything else. She was still breathing fast, eyes shut, lips trembling with every beat of her heart.

To him, she looked like a dream half-woken-soft, shy, and glowing in his arms.

He leaned in.

A kiss on her forehead.

Then her cheek.

Then her temple, slow and warm.

Then her nose, barely a brush.

And finally, her lips-light, tender, not asking, just giving.

His lips weren't searching for desire. They were offering silence now. Calm. Love. His way of telling her how much this moment meant to him.

He stayed like that, just looking at her. No words. Just the rise and fall of breath, the sound of their hearts beating into each other. She didn't open her eyes. She couldn't. Too many emotions running wild under her skin-nervousness, softness, a kind of shyness she couldn't hide.

Sidharth felt it. The way her hand tightened behind his neck. Her fingers curled into his shoulder, not pushing him away, but asking-no, ordering -for him to stay.

She was shy, yes. But even in that shyness, she held on to him like he was home.

And Siddharth understood. He truly did.

She didn't want to face him. But she didn't want him to go, either.

Without saying a word, he let himself lower again, this time not fully on her. Half beside her, half over, careful not to press too much weight. His hand gently wrapped around her waist. Noor turned her face, hiding it in the crook of his neck-like a child, like a secret, like someone afraid to be seen just yet.

She buried herself there, and he let her.

One of his arms stayed under her head. The other began to stroke her back, slow and soft. Over and over. As if tracing her heartbeat. As if calming a fire that was no longer wild but still burning quietly.

And slowly, carefully, he moved.

He pulled himself out of her-gentle, careful, like a whisper leaving the skin. Her nails dug into his back as It hurt, but he didn't flinch. Not even once.

When he was finally out, he placed a kiss behind her ear-quiet, warm-and kept stroking her back, her hair. She was still breathing hard, and he could feel her clinging to him. Her breath hit his neck, fast and soft. She wasn't speaking, but she was telling him everything.

She needed him.

Not just his touch. Not just his body. She needed his presence.

And Siddharth gave it.

All of it.

In silence.

In softness.

In love that looked like worship.

I didn't move. I didn't say a word. My hand slowly rubbed her back again and again. I could feel her breath slowing down. I could feel the hold she had on my neck-tight at first-start to loosen. I didn't even need to look at her to know. Her body was telling me everything.

But I did look at her.

Every single thing about her-I noticed.

The way one soft curl of hair had fallen across her cheek, the way her fingers still touched my shoulder gently even though they were tired, the soft breath that came from her parted lips... I saw all of it. I felt all of it. I remembered all of it.

Thirty-four years I lived like nothing mattered. I wasn't the type of man who believed in love. I didn't even think love was for people like me. But then... she happened. Noor. My Noor. My Cherry.

She wasn't just close. She was inside my life now. Inside me. She made me feel what it meant to have someone. Not to hold them-but to belong to them. This feeling... it burned, but not in a painful way. It burned like fire does when it's keeping you warm in the cold.

I pulled back just a little. She didn't stop me. But I knew-by the way her hand curled into the bedsheet near my waist-she didn't want me to go. I pressed a soft kiss on her forehead and leaned in to whisper near her ear, "Shh... aata hu."

(Shh, I'll just come)

I got up slowly, completely bare, but paused. Noor wasn't someone who'd be okay seeing me like that. Not yet. I picked up my boxers, wore them, and gently covered her with the thin blanket. She didn't speak, but her fingers gripped the edge of it like she wanted me to stay. I went to the bathroom.

I stood under the pale light, looking at myself. Her marks were all over me. My chest. My arms. My neck. Her touch was still burning on my skin. And for the first time, I didn't want to clean myself. I didn't want water to take any part of her away from me. I didn't want to be pure. I wanted to be ruined. Ruined by her.

I wiped myself, slow and careful. Wrapped the towel low around my waist and stepped back out.

She was still there. Still curled. Still soft.

I walked closer. Dropped to one knee near her feet. The blanket was covering her legs, so I pulled it away gently-inch by inch. There was no lust in my hands. Only devotion. Obsession. Worship.

I lifted her leg and placed it on my shoulder. Wiped her slowly. Like I was touching something holy. Her skin was warm. Alive. I took my time. I wasn't rushing. How could I? She wasn't a body to clean. She was a memory I wanted to carve into my hands.

And then... a sound.

The tiny payal on her ankle made the softest chan chan sound. Like a whisper in the silence. It hit something inside me. Something I don't have words for.

I looked up at her. Her face was half-hidden in the pillow.

I bent down. Kissed her ankle.

Once. Then again. Then once more.

Three kisses. Not out of habit. Out of need. Out of madness. Each kiss said what my mouth never does:

You are mine. I am yours. And even death can't change that.

I rubbed her leg softly. Then covered it again. I stood up, walked to the bathroom... again stopped. I looked at myself one more time.

The scent of her-still on me. Her sweat, her softness, her skin-it lived on me now. And I wasn't ready to give it up. I wasn't ready to feel clean. I wanted to carry her all night. On me.

And walked back out.

I stood there quietly. My Noor had curled herself up even more now. Like she was trying to hide from the world. I looked at her and... I couldn't believe this was the same girl. The same girl who gave everything to me just now. The girl who let me in. Who pulled me in so deep, I don't even think I can come back from it.

My heart-God, my heart. It felt like it was going to break, just from how full it was. With love. With her.

And now I'm ruined. I'm destroyed. I'm hers in a way that scares even me.

This wasn't love anymore. Love is small. Weak. This was something more dangerous. I didn't just feel her-I became her. Our souls... they weren't connected anymore.

They were the same.

And if anyone tried to take her from me-even in thought-I wouldn't hesitate. I'd burn the world. With a smile.

And I'd give her anything. Every breath. Every piece of me. If she wanted it, it was already hers.

I walked slowly to the bed again. She was facing away from me, her back to me. I didn't say anything.

I took off my boxers, got into the bed, and gently slid my arm across her waist. I pulled her back, closer to me, till her soft skin touched my chest, and my face pressed into the space between her neck and hair.

She smelled like us.

And I closed my eyes-not to sleep-but to feel more.

God, that smell. It was going to kill me. I knew she wasn't asleep. I knew I wouldn't sleep either.

But in that silence... I could feel everything.

Her.

Us.

Forever.

The room was quiet.

Very quiet.

Only the soft sound of the fan, and the softer sound of two hearts trying to breathe together.

Noor's back was still touching his chest. Sidharth didn't say anything for a while. He just kept his eyes closed, feeling every breath she took. But then... very slowly, he opened his eyes, looked at the ceiling for a second, and whispered near her ear-

"Aap thik hai?"

(Are you okay?)

Noor didn't answer.

Not with words.

But her body moved.

A little.

Softly.

She pushed herself more into his chest, as if hiding in him, as if saying, "Yes," without speaking. Her back pressed deeper into him, her shoulders curling like she wanted to disappear in his arms.

Siddharth felt it.

Felt everything.

His arms wrapped tighter around her waist. His lips touched the top of her head, not as a kiss, but just to stay there. He closed his eyes again. Her hair smelled like her-like rain, like quiet, like home.

And then...

Noor's eyes closed too.

Her face was calm now. A little cold, a little soft. There was still pain in her. But in that one moment, with his arms around her and her body close to him, something else began to grow.

A small smile.

On both their lips.

It wasn't loud. It wasn't big. It was quiet. Gentle. Like the kind of smile you give in your sleep.

As if the pain was still there...

But love had become bigger than it.

Outside, in the garden where white tulips lived-there was silence too. Cold wind brushed against the leaves. It was a garden born from sorrys. A garden made of forgiveness. Every white tulip that bloomed there had bloomed because someone wanted to be forgiven.

But tonight...

Something else happened.

In the middle of hundreds of white tulips, there was one pink tulip. A single plant. It had been waiting. Waiting for nights. For warmth. For something softer than words.

And tonight...

It bloomed.

Under the cold wind. Under the moon. Under the stars. That one pink tulip finally opened.

Soft.

Slow.

Like a sigh.

Like a truth.

As Noor and Sidharth fell asleep-silent, bare, wrapped in a love that still carried wounds-the pink tulip opened fully. Like it saw them. Like it heard what wasn't said. Like it understood what love really meant.

In a garden made of forgiveness, the tulip of love had finally bloomed.

And it didn't scream.

It didn't shine.

It just... existed.

Quiet. Soft. Complete.

Like them.

Like love.

Noor's POV

The first thing I felt was the warmth.

Not the morning sun peeking through the curtains... not the soft sheet against my skin.

It was the warmth of him-his body, close, his breath slow and steady beside me.

I didn't move.

I couldn't.

My eyes stayed shut, even though I was fully awake now. Because the moment I opened them, I'd have to face a new version of everything. A new version of me. Of us.

My body ached-not painfully, but enough to remind me of the night we shared. A dull throb between my legs, a faint soreness in my thighs, and a strange flutter deep in my stomach that wouldn't settle.

I had been touched.

Not just touched-loved. Completely. Fully. For the very first time.

My breath caught, and slowly, I opened my eyes.

The room was soaked in soft light. Quiet. Peaceful. But inside me, nothing was quiet. My heart had found its own rhythm-nervous, shy, too loud for the silence around me.

I turned my head-just a little.

He was lying there. Sidharth ji.

Facing me, though his eyes were still closed. His face looked calm, his hair slightly messed up, his lashes resting against his cheek. I had seen this face a hundred times. But never like this. Never after what we had shared.

A rush of warmth crawled up my neck. I looked away instantly.

No, no, don't stare.

But my eyes had already memorized him. The curve of his jaw. The crease between his brows. The softness in his sleeping form.

I couldn't stop the small, embarrassed smile that tugged at my lips-half hidden under the sheet. My fingers clutched the blanket tightly.

My cheeks burned.

What do I even say to him now? What do wives do the next morning?

I felt like a stranger in my own body. Like everything inside me had changed overnight.

I quietly slid the blanket off and sat up slowly. The movement made my legs protest-sore and weak, and my breath hitched. I winced softly and instinctively placed a hand between my thighs under the blanket.

It was real.

Last night really happened.

My gaze dropped to the floor beside the bed. My saree lay there-barely folded, its pleats tangled like a story told in whispers. My blouse rested on top of it, helpless and crumpled. I stared at it, my cheeks heating all over again.

I reached for it carefully, pulling the fabric close to me, hugging it to my chest like it could hide me.

The room was still quiet. I glanced at him again-just a peek.

But the moment my eyes touched him, I remembered his touch again. His voice, low and soft, whispering my name again and again. The way his fingers had laced with mine. The way he had kissed my forehead when I cried, not from pain-but from the overwhelming intimacy of it all.

I pressed the saree to my face, trying to hide the heat crawling over my skin.

Don't cry. Don't smile. Don't think.

I slowly placed my feet on the ground, steadying myself. But the moment I tried to stand, my knees buckled slightly. The ache rushed through my legs, and before I could balance myself-

A hand caught me.

Strong. Warm. Familiar.

I gasped and looked up quickly.

He was awake.

Looking right at me.

Our eyes met. I froze.

Siddharth ji's hand was still around my waist, steadying me. His face had no trace of sleep anymore. Just calm. And a soft little smile-so subtle, but it reached his eyes.

My throat dried. My fingers clutched the saree tighter.

He didn't speak. Just... watched me. And I, for the life of me, couldn't look away.

A heartbeat passed.

Then another.

And I dropped my gaze, suddenly too aware of everything again. The way I probably looked, the way my hair was still messy, the way the saree was barely covering my shoulder.

My cheeks turned crimson. My lips parted to say something-but no words came out.

And then-without a word, without asking-he lifted me in his arms.

Just like that.

I let out a soft breath, startled, my arms flying up to hold onto his neck. His bare shoulder brushed against my cheek. The scent of him-warm, clean, masculine-wrapped around me.

I couldn't breathe.

He didn't look at me now. Just walked toward the bathroom, quiet, steady, as if carrying me was routine.

But for me?

Every second felt like forever.

My heart beat against his chest. I could feel it-feel him-so close. And I knew... even if I didn't say a word, he knew what I was feeling.

He placed me down gently at the door. Not rushing me.
Then glanced up at him-just for a second.

His eyes held something I couldn't describe. Not teasing, not intense. Just... gentle. Quiet. Like he understood my silence. Like he didn't expect anything from me today except my comfort. I quickly, turned and stepped inside.

I leaned against the closed door, my chest rising and falling fast.

Tears pricked my eyes-not from pain.

But from the strange, sweet ache of being seen.

Of being loved.

Of being his.

Of the changes.

And somewhere deep inside me, shy and quiet and new.

The door clicked softly behind me as I stepped inside the bathroom, and I stood still.

Everything was quiet again.

Only the sound of soft water filling the tub, the faint smell of rose and warm steam rising in the air.

I looked around slowly.

Someone-he-had already prepared everything.

The tub was full. A clean towel was kept on the stool beside it. A soft saree kept on there, folded nearly. eyes landed on it, and without thinking, I reached for it with both hands.

It was soft. Light. Comforting. Like it was waiting for me.

I hugged it to my chest.

And then, it all came rushing back again.

Last night.

His hands on my skin.

His lips.

The way he whispered my name like it was a prayer. The way he held me so carefully, like I was made of something delicate. The way he looked at me as if nothing else in the world mattered.

My cheeks burned all over again.

I closed my eyes for a moment, trying to steady my breathing.

Then quickly shook my head, trying to push the thoughts away. Not now. Just... not now.

I cupped the soft fabric again, pressing it against my chest, needing something to calm my racing heart. Slowly, I walked to the tub. The warm steam hugged my skin as I got closer.

My fingers touched the water first-hot, but not too hot.

Just perfect.

With a shy smile-too embarrassed to even look at my reflection-I sat down inside the tub, the water wrapping around me like a gentle hand.

A soft sigh left my lips as the heat settled into my skin.

My body relaxed slowly, the pain from the night before easing, the ache in my muscles starting to melt away. My arms floated beside me. My hair loosened, the strands sticking to my neck and shoulders.

I let my head fall back.

Eyes closed.

I just wanted to breathe.

For the first few minutes, I didn't move. Didn't think. Just stayed there, letting the warmth hold me. It felt like a hiding place.

And slowly... slowly, I started to feel better.

The soreness didn't vanish, but the heaviness inside my chest-nervous, unsure, shy-softened.

I touched my shoulder gently, then my arms, washing myself slowly with the towel. My fingers brushed over the red marks he had left last night-not rough ones, but soft imprints of love. Of being held too tightly in a moment that felt too big.

And then... when I touched my chest-my breath caught again.

A sting. A soreness there too.

My hands paused, and I looked down at myself. My breasts were tender, a little swollen, and the second I touched them-my cheeks turned red again.

I looked away quickly, my lips pressing together, my whole face burning.

I couldn't believe this was me.

That I had done all that last night.

With him.

I shook my head and let the towel fall into the water.

Forty minutes passed like that-maybe more.

I didn't want to come out.

Because here, in this warm silence, I didn't have to face him. I didn't have to look into his eyes and remember the way he said my name. The way he kissed every part of me like it was his right.

But I couldn't hide forever.

With a slow breath, I sat up and reached for the cotton cloth, drying myself gently. I wore my blouse, leaving the saree still folded beside me. My fingers worked slowly, adjusting the strap. I winced a little at the pressure on my chest.

Another soft blush rose on my face.

Half dressed, I looked at the door.

My heart thudded again.

He's outside. Still there. What if he says something? What if he doesn't? What if he just looks at me again like that?

I stood near the door, my hand hovering over the handle.

But I didn't move.

I just stood there, holding my breath... not ready to face him yet.

But I couldn't hide here forever. I took a deep breath, held it for a few seconds, then slowly let it out. "Okay," I whispered to myself, trying to give courage to my own feet. And then I turned the knob and walked out. One small step at a time.

But before I could even take a full step outside, I gasped-my body lifted in the air all of a sudden. I let out a soft, shocked sound, my hands automatically clutching the fabric of his shoulders.

"Ahh" I gasped, too stunned to even look up.

He said nothing. Just held me gently, like I weighed nothing, like I was the most precious thing in his world.

I could feel the warmth of his bare chest near me. He was only in his joggers. My cheeks burned as I quickly looked away. Even the scent of him made my stomach twist in a way I didn't understand. Still, I couldn't meet his eyes. My heart skipped a beat af the closeness.

He carefully made me sit on the dressing table chair, not saying a word. Then he knelt down in front of me.

My breath caught again.

Author's pov-

Noor sat on the edge of the dressing table, the soft rustle of her red saree the only sound in the quiet room. Her hands rested in her lap, fingers nervously twisting the edge of her pallu. Her cheeks were already tinted with a shy pink, and her eyes refused to meet his - not because she didn't want to, but because if she did, she knew she would melt into him completely.

In front of her, Siddharth knelt slowly, his tall frame folding with such grace, like this - right here, being on his knees for her - was the most natural place for him to be. He rested one hand gently on her knee, grounding her while his other hand came up - not in a rush, never with urgency - but with reverence.

Noor looked away, lips parting as her breath caught in her throat. Her heart pounded in a rhythm only he could hear, only he could understand.

And then, without a word, Sidharth leaned in, lifting himself just enough to press a kiss to her forehead.

It wasn't just a kiss. It was everything - an apology, a promise, a quiet worship.

Noor's eyes fluttered shut, her lashes brushing softly against her cheeks. She stayed still, not even daring to breathe. She could feel him pull back, the warmth of his lips leaving her skin... but she didn't open her eyes yet.

Until she felt something gentle touch her hairline.

Her eyes opened slowly, only to find him holding a small sindoor box in his hand. His eyes were already on her - intense, unwavering - as if she were the only thing that existed in his world.

He leaned in again, and once more, placed a kiss on her forehead, right where he would soon mark her as his. He didn't move away immediately this time. He stayed there, forehead resting against hers, his breath mingling with hers. And she didn't move either. Not an inch. Their silence was full of everything that couldn't be said aloud.

Then, slowly, he pulled back and cupped her cheeks.

His thumbs brushed the softness beneath her eyes, and he smiled. A soft, small smile. The kind that made her look away, shy all over again, her cheeks turning the same red as her saree.

And then-

Chhan...

Noor blinked at the sudden sound, her eyes darting to the source. Siddharth was holding a set of red glass bangles - the same color as her saree, glowing under the soft light of the room.

He gently held her wrist and began sliding the bangles on, one by one. His touch was light. So, so light. As if she would break.

Noor watched him from beneath her lashes. The way he was focused - completely, silently, lovingly focused - on her wrist made her heart squeeze. He looked... so sincere. So soft. It made her want to giggle and cry at the same time. It made her want to cup his face and say you don't even know how much I love you.

It made her want to pinch his cheeks.

Once the bangles were on, he picked up her earrings and with the same tenderness, brushed her hair behind her ear and put them on, his knuckles grazing her jaw, sending a shiver down her spine.

Then, without a word, he leaned forward and lifted her legs - careful, slow, always watching her face - and placed them gently over his thighs.

Noor sucked in a breath.

Her breath caught again when he took out the silver toe rings. He gently slipped them onto her toes, his fingers lingering there for a moment longer than needed.

And just when she thought her heart couldn't take any more, he tilted his head slightly, brought her feet closer, and pressed a kiss - soft, slow, tender - to her toes.

Noor's whole body shivered.

Her spine straightened a little, her breath hitching in her throat as her fingers curled around the edge of the dressing table. The room felt too still. Too full. Too quiet. Every part of her was trembling, not in fear, but in something so raw, so deep, it almost hurt.

And when he looked up at her this time, she didn't look away.

Her eyes - wide, emotional, filled with something she couldn't name - locked with his.

Siddharth reached up and held both her hands in his, raising them gently to his lips.

"Bahut khubsurat lag rahi hai aap..."
(You're looking very beautiful...)

He whispered against her skin before pressing soft kisses to the back of her hands. One, and then another.

"Itni ki... iss doctor ki buddhi kaam nahi kar rahi,"
(So much that... this doctor's brain has stopped working.)

he added with a playful sigh, trying to lighten the weight in the air.

A small smile broke on Noor's lips. She couldn't help it.

And when he saw her smile, Siddharth rubbed the back of his neck, his own face lighting up with something boyish - something innocent.

But just then, his phone rang on the dressing table beside her.

The hospital.

His face fell. Not completely - just a little.

He groaned under his breath, muttering something she didn't catch. But before turning away, he bent down again, placed another kiss on the back of her palm, and looked into her eyes.

"They better have something important... warna mai sab ko naukri se nikal raha hoon."
(They better have something important... or I'm firing everyone.)

He stood up with a soft grunt, and Noor couldn't help it - a chuckle escaped her lips.

It was soft. Sweet. Just like everything between them.

Noor blinked slowly.

The silence of the room kissed her skin. And she felt her heart thudding, loud and heavy in her chest. Like it had found a new rhythm. A rhythm made just for him.

Her lashes fluttered down, lips parting just a little as she took in a deep, trembling breath. The air was still, but inside her, everything moved.

She looked down.

Her fingers touched the thin, glass bangles around her wrist. The soft clink of them felt louder now. Her heart jumped.

A soft blush painted her cheeks, pink and sweet. Her lips trembled into a shy smile-so small, but full of something only she could feel. She shook her head slowly, eyes still stuck on her wrists. But the moment stayed. It lingered like perfume.

She remembered how the bangles last night had broken.

She remembered why they broke.

Her chest rose again. Her breath got caught in the memory. His lips. His hands. The way he touched her like she was something sacred. The way he kissed her like he was falling and she was the only place he wanted to land.

Her fingers curled lightly. She could still feel it. Feel him.

Suddenly, it was too much. Her heart was going too fast. Her cheeks too hot. Her body-too aware. Noor stood up quickly, like her body wanted to run from the heat it was holding.

But the moment she stood-

"Ahh..."

A sharp cry broke from her lips.

The pain hit low in her belly. It knocked the breath right out of her lungs. Her body folded slightly, arms wrapping around her lower stomach, trying to hold the pain in.

Her knees bent a little. She couldn't stop the moan. It wasn't loud, but it was helpless. Raw. Natural.

And just like that-he was there.

A warm hand touched her cheek. Soft, but full of urgency.

Another hand slid to her belly, rubbing gently, calming, easing.

She looked up.

Sidharth.

His hand was still holding the phone, pressed between his ear and shoulder. But his full attention-his whole world-was on her.

His brows were drawn. His jaw clenched. His eyes? They were full of worry.

"Dard ho raha hai?"
(Is it hurting?)

She couldn't speak. She nodded.

His fingers were still moving on her stomach, slow, gentle. His palm was warm. It made her body shiver. Not because of cold. But because of him.

And yet-he didn't stop.

His other hand cupped her waist, making sure she didn't lose her balance.

"Main baad mein baat karta hoon."
(I'll talk later.)

He said it to the person on call.

He didn't even wait for a reply.

The call cut.

But the phone still stayed pressed there-between his shoulder and cheek-as if his hands couldn't leave her, not even for a second.

His voice came again, soft, deep, but full of tension.

"Theek hai aap?"
(Are you okay?)

Noor didn't look up. She nodded again, slowly. The pain was fading, but his concern was making her chest ache in another way.

His hand moved to her lower back. He rubbed it too, trying to ease every bit of pain. He wasn't saying anything now. Just watching her face, watching her eyes, reading the frown that hadn't left her lips.

She could feel his gaze on her.

"...kaha ja rahi thi aap?"
(Where were you going?)

Her voice came out low. Almost like a whisper.

"Puja ghar."
(The prayer room.)

Sidharth looked down at her.

She was standing now, but still bent a little, still not meeting his eyes. Her cheeks were pink, her breaths shaky.

He bent a little and inspected her. Eyes going to her stomach, then her waist, her hands, her face-searching for any other sign of pain. As if he wanted to take it all away. As if he could.

Noor felt it.

His care.

His love.

His obsession.

It was written in his every move.

Then, without a word, he wrapped one arm under her legs and the other behind her back.

And lifted her.

Gently.

Easily.

The phone still sat between his neck and shoulder, but Noor's eyes widened. Her lips parted. A blush deepened across her cheeks. Her hands stayed frozen for a second-but then moved. Slowly. Softly.

She reached up and touched the phone lightly.

The moment her fingers touched it-he moved.

He dropped the phone on the sofa behind him, without even looking. As if now, even that one thing between them was too much.

She wanted to say something.

But her throat was dry.

Her heart thumped.

Siddharth started walking toward the stairs, holding her in his arms, his gaze soft on her. His warmth wrapping around her like a blanket.

Noor didn't look up.

She couldn't.

Her face was red, her breath uneven.

His chest was warm.

His scent was everywhere.

And her own body-cold from inside but burning on the outside.

She stayed silent.

Not because she didn't want to speak.

But because right now, silence said everything.

She was his.

And he was hers.

The room had no music, but still, the air danced with the sound of their heartbeats.

Their connection wasn't in words.

It was in his hands.

It was in her blush.

It was in the way he looked at her as if she was the only reason he ever wanted to breathe.

.

.

.

.

.

Siddharth was about to step inside the puja room. His steps were steady, calm, as always, But just as he reached the door, Noor's heart skipped a beat. Her eyes widened. She remembered something. Something that made her suddenly stop breathing for a second.

He hadn't taken a bath.

About to step inside the place she had just prayed in. The place she had lit diyas and folded her hands with a clean heart. And he-he hadn't taken bath after last night...

Her eyes went wide. Her heart skipped. Her fingers clutched the edge of her pallu tightly.

"R-Rukiye..." she said, almost in a whisper, but loud enough for him to hear.

("W-Wait...")

Siddharth stomped his foot lightly, halting instantly. He turned to look back at her, confusion flickering in his dark eyes.

Noor wasn't looking at him directly. She was looking down-at her own hand, nervously pulling the edge of her dupatta.

"U-utaraiye..." she said softly, almost like a scared kitten.

("P-Put me down...")

Siddharth didn't ask a question. He didn't raise his brow or give her any look. He simply obeyed. With a gentle hold, he bent down and carefully placed her back on the floor, not letting her slip even a little.

Noor quickly tucked her hair behind her ear, a soft flush on her cheeks. She felt Siddharth's eyes on her, and the silence between them felt too loud.

"Kya hua?" he asked, voice low and steady, as if genuinely trying to understand.

("What happened?")

Noor looked up at him with a slight frown, not angry but puzzled that he didn't already understand. Her lips parted to say it, but her gaze dropped again. Her voice came out in a hushed tone, not wanting to embarrass him but still needing to say it.

"A-Aap nahaye nahi to mandir me kaise aayge?"

("Y-You didn't take bath, so how can you enter the temple?")

She didn't meet his eyes. She couldn't.

For a moment, Siddharth blinked, still not catching the full meaning of what she was pointing out. But then something clicked.

He looked at her for a second longer, then silently stepped two steps back. His back gently rested against one of the pillars, and he folded his arms across his chest.

As he leaned slightly, his biceps flexed under the sleeves, the veins rising just enough to show. Noor, unknowingly, let her eyes fall there. Just for a second.

And then quickly looked away.

But the little smile that formed on Siddharth's lips showed-he saw it.

"Thik hai aap puja kariye. Mai wait kar raha hu," he said, a soft teasing edge to his voice.
("Alright, you do the puja. I'll wait here.")

Noor's head snapped up, eyes wide. She hadn't expected him to say that so casually.

She walked inside the mandir, clutching the end of her pallu tightly. Siddharth stood there, still leaning, watching her disappear inside.

A small smile lifted on his lips.

Her shyness. Her innocence. It always made him feel something he never knew he needed. It made him want to protect her. To shield her. To hold her and never let go.

She had that effect on him.

Minutes later, Noor came out after finishing the puja, calm and composed. Siddharth walked toward her with the same firm steps, his eyes fixed on her, his hands slightly raised, ready to hold her again.

But Noor took two steps back.

Siddharth stopped for a beat.

Then took one step forward again.

And Noor? She moved two steps more back.

His lips parted slightly, amused.

"Dur kyu ja rahi hai aap?" he asked, eyes narrowed, but the smile on his lips betrayed the seriousness of his voice.

("Why are you going away from me?")

Noor, who had been looking down, slowly looked up. Her cheeks were already red. But this-this question-made her ears turn pink too.

"K-Kyuki aap nahaye nahi hai, k-Kal raat ke baad," she said, voice trembling, lips twitching nervously.

("B-Because you haven't taken bath after... last night.")

There it was.

The truth.

And it made Siddharth freeze for a second. A soft chuckle nearly escaped his mouth, but he swallowed it, a slow smirk rising on his face instead.

He tilted his head slightly, eyes full of mischief now. Noor took a step back again-but this time, he was faster.

In a single step, he reached forward and held her hand.

Noor, who was still looking down, suddenly looked up at him, startled, her breath caught.

And before she could protest, he pulled her gently-just enough for her to land softly against his chest.

Their chests touched lightly.

Her breath hitched again.

"Aapki khushbu mujhe mujh par jyda achi lagti hai," he whispered softly.

("Your scent... feels better on me than my own.")

Saying that, Siddharth bent down again and picked her up in his arms.

Noor didn't fight. She simply looked down, her fingers gently wrapping around his neck, her cheeks pinker than ever.

She was still shy. But the smile that curved her lips-small, soft, barely there-showed how much she was secretly loving his touch, his hold, the closeness between them.

He held her a little tighter.

That smile of hers was a reward. Something he could never put into words.

With her still in his arms, Siddharth walked toward their room. He pushed open the door with one hand and closed it gently using his leg, not once letting her go.

He walked to the closet and paused there.

"Aaj mere kapre nahi nikale aapne," he said, looking at her with playful eyes.

("You didn't pick out my clothes today.")

Noor, still not meeting his gaze, had that little smile on her face again. She slowly leaned forward and reached inside the closet. Her fingers picked out a sky-blue shirt and the dark blue pant that was kept beside it.

Siddharth watched quietly, a proud smile tugging his lips.

He then walked out of the closet and gently placed her on the bed. She sat, her pallu falling gently around her, hands folded on her lap.

"Aaram kariye tab tak mai meri biwi ke complaints ko dur tak ke aata hu," he said, grinning.

("Take rest till I go and fix my wife's complaints.")

He leaned forward and bumped his nose softly against hers.

Noor looked up at him, eyes widening a little at the touch. But the moment their noses touched, she quickly looked down again, her fingers tightening.

Siddharth gave her one last smile-big, soft, and full of warmth.

And then he turned and went to freshen up.

.

.

.

.

.

The steam still lingered faintly in the air when Siddharth stepped out of the washroom - a white towel wrapped around his waist, another towel gently brushing through his damp hair. His steps were slow, calm, as though time had taken a pause to allow this moment to breathe between them.

Noor sat at the edge of the bed, her feet dangling down, her hands resting in her lap. She looked up only for a second when he walked out, and the moment her gaze met his bare skin - her cheeks turned a shade deeper, warmer, as if the sun had whispered something shy into her soul. Her eyes quickly dropped to the floor.

Siddharth smiled.

Not the kind that seeks attention - but the kind that blooms quietly, watching the person he loves pretend she wasn't just looking. He stood in front of the mirror, wiping his hair, but his gaze - hidden through the glass - stayed on Noor. Her silence wasn't cold. It was soft. The kind of silence that grows after intimacy, where love breathes, unsure and new.

He noticed she wasn't looking at him.

She wasn't avoiding him. She was just... shy. Shy of him. Shy of last night. Shy of this closeness that now lived between their breaths.

And yet, Siddharth's heart?

It ached with obsession.

How could he not want her eyes? How could he not crave her glance? She was his moon - and a moon not looking at its sky felt like darkness. He knew she needed space, but he also knew himself - he couldn't be distant. Not when she was sitting there, warm and red and quiet - with his name still resting somewhere deep in her soul from last night.

He shook his head slightly - her innocence wasn't just a part of her, it was his undoing.

Siddharth took a deep breath, his bare feet making no sound as he walked slowly towards her.

Noor didn't notice at first - her eyes still on the bed sheets, fingers playing nervously with the fabric. But the moment his hands rested on her knees, she looked up - eyes wide, lips parted in surprise.

And there he was - kneeling in front of her.

Still damp from the shower, towel still wrapped around his waist, hair still wet - and yet his presence felt like a storm wrapped in softness.

He smiled again - small, knowing, gentle.

Before she could say anything, his hand came up, cupping her cheek with that same tenderness one uses to hold glass. His other hand stayed on her knee - grounding them both.

"Cherry."

His voice broke through the silence like a prayer.

He leaned in, slowly, his forehead meeting hers - two pieces of the same sky finally touching. Noor's eyes closed as their foreheads rested together. Her breath hitched. The closeness wasn't new - but this stillness was. This safety. This silence filled with only one thing - love.

Her hand moved on its own, reaching for the one on her knee. She held it. Tight.

And Siddharth opened his eyes to look at her closed ones.

A smile touched his lips again.

"Main wahi Siddharth hoon..."

"Aapka Aarth... Aapka bawla pati."

("I am the same Siddharth... your Aarth... your crazy husband.")

Noor's eyes opened.

Something fluttered in her chest.

The moment their eyes met - he leaned in and kissed the tip of her nose.

Not out of desire.

Not out of habit.

But out of something deeper.

Devotion.

Her cheeks turned a deeper red. Her hand still holding his. Eyes speaking a language no dictionary could ever hold.

He whispered again - voice softer, breath warmer.

"Kuch nahi badla hai, Noor...maine bas khud ko aapke thoda aur kareeb kar liya hai."

("Nothing has changed, Noor... I've just brought myself a little closer to you.")

She didn't speak - but her eyes did. The way she looked at him - as if her soul knew he was home.

And Sdharth - he wasn't done. His voice dropped to a softer murmur, eyes still locked with hers.

"Main woh aadmi hoon Noor... jo aapki khamoshi mein bhi aapka naam dhoond leta hoon."

"Jo aapki muskurahat se roz jeeta hai... aur aapki aankhon se har roz har baar haar jaata hai."

("I'm the man, Noor... who finds your name even in your silence. Who lives every day through your smile... and loses every time in your eyes.")

Noor's eyes welled a little - not from pain, but from that kind of love which fills without asking.

She gave him a soft nod.

Just that.

A nod.

And it was enough.

Siddharth smiled again, lifted his hand, and patted her cheeks gently - then leaned in and kissed her forehead.

Once.

Twice.

Thrice.

Like a promise sealed three times - once for yesterday, once for today, once for forever.

Then he stood up slowly, towering above her - his hand reached down, gently brushing away the strands of hair from her face, tucking them behind her ear with all the love he never said out loud.

And then, he spoke - lightness in his voice, warmth in his eyes.

"Kahi le jaana tha aapko...Chalengi apne Aarth ke saath?"

("I had to take you somewhere...Will you come with your Aarth?")

Noor looked up at him - small smile tugging her lips.

And she nodded.

Sidharth stood quietly for a second, just looking at her - his gaze soft, as if he was memorising her face all over again. Noor could feel the weight of it - not heavy, not uncomfortable... just warm. Like sunlight on cold skin.

And then, he smiled.

A small, honest smile - the kind that melts the room around it.

He leaned in again, gently patted her cheek once more, the pad of his fingers so light, it felt like a whisper on her skin.

"Main aapke liye chai bana ke laata hoon..."

("I'll go make you some tea...")

His voice was low, almost playful.

And before Noor could react, he leaned in again - the space between them disappeared just long enough for his lips to kiss the tip of her nose, then her forehead.

This time... Noor smiled.

The kind of smile that slips out slowly - not loud, not shy... just full. Full of comfort. Full of something soft inside her loosening for the first time in a long time.

She closed her eyes.

Just for a moment.

Letting the warmth of his kiss rest on her skin.

"Hum bhi chalte hain aapke saath..."

("I'll come with you too...")

Her voice was low. Sleepy. But sure.

Siddharth moved back a little, just enough to look at her properly - his hands still resting gently on her cheeks.

Her eyes opened.

She looked up at him - the quiet in her gaze now laced with trust.

He didn't say anything right away.

Just smiled again, a little softer this time.

And then, with his thumb, he gently caressed her cheek - slowly, once, twice - as if telling her he heard her heart without her saying a word.

"Manta hoon..." he said,

"Aap jitni pyaari namak wali chai to nahi bana paunga...par iss bawale par bharosa to kariye."

("I agree... I won't be able to make that perfect salty-sweet tea like you do... but at least trust your crazy husband a little.")

Noor, still smiling... paused.

And then -

That smile faded.

She blinked once, narrowed her eyes at him slowly - her head tilting just a bit.

She winced.

"Sidharth ji..."

Her voice was slow - stretched, warning him.

Siddharth's eyes widened in mock fear. He leaned back a little, placed a hand dramatically on his chest.

"Noor ji..."

He matched her tone perfectly - overacting like a child caught stealing cookies.

For a second, they stayed like that - both pretending, both locked in their silly drama.

And then -

Noor couldn't hold it anymore.

A giggle escaped her lips. Light. Sweet. The kind of sound that made flowers bloom in hearts.

She tried to hide it behind her hand. Failed. Laughed again, her eyes glowing now.

Sidharth chuckled too - quietly, but deeply. Watching her laugh like that felt like winning something he never asked for but needed all his life.

And in that small room - with love in the air, damp hair still dripping, and smiles exchanged without effort - time took a breath.

And didn't move.

.

.

.

.

.

.

The car slowed down and came to a smooth stop. Sidharth quietly stepped out, and Noor, without asking anything, stayed seated inside. A soft breeze brushed against the windowpane. The sky was heavy with clouds, grey and quiet, as if rain could fall any second - but it didn't. The air was thick with silence, not uncomfortable, but the kind that made you feel something soft was about to unfold.

Siddharth walked around the front of the car and opened the door on Noor's side. Without a word, she slipped her hand into his, letting him guide her out. Her saree gently fluttered with the breeze, and as her feet touched the ground, her eyes lifted, scanning the space in front of her.

It was a stable.

She looked around again.

"Stable?.." she said softly, her lips curving in a smile, recognizing the place.

The wind played with the ends of her open hair. She remembered Siddharth had once told her he had something waiting for her here. The same place he had spoken of back at haveli

Once, horses had scared her. But ever since they had started meeting Siraj back at the village, something changed inside her. She started understanding them - their silence, their innocence. Now, she found comfort near them. She didn't even realize when that fear faded, leaving space for something gentle, something close to love.

Her eyes searched around - the stable grounds were empty.

"Ghore kidar hai?" she said with a curious glance, her brows slightly raised as she looked at Siddharth, who had been silently watching her all this while.
(Where are the horses)

And then, he smiled. That soft, secret smile of his.

He raised two fingers to his lips and gave a sharp whistle that echoed in the air.

Suddenly, from behind a nearby house, hooves thundered - four horses came running. The wind rushed past with them. Noor's grip on Sidharth's hand tightened in surprise. They circled around them, like a scene painted in dreams. Her open hair lifted with the breeze, her saree swayed, and her eyes widened.

A giggle escaped her lips - a soft, innocent one.

She turned, her gaze following the horses.

Siraj.

She knew him the moment her eyes found him - the brown one.

Her eyes lit up.

"Siraj!" she said aloud, happiness spilling from her voice, turning quickly towards Siddharth.

But he wasn't looking at the horses.

He was looking at her.

With that same soft smile.

Noor's breath slowed for a moment.

Siddharth gently let go of her hand and stepped two steps back. His arms crossed over his chest as he stood there, watching her, not moving, not speaking. Just watching her be herself.

Noor turned her face left and right, looking at all of them. Two of them were white, shining like mist under the cloudy sky. One brown - Siraj. The other black.

Siraj came and stood close to Noor, brushing his head near her arm, soft and gentle, as if remembering her, too. She raised her hand and softly touched his neck, fingers moving with care. He nudged her arm again, and she chuckled, stroking him again.

The black one moved towards Siddharth. Calm, steady. The two white horses stood beside Noor, peaceful.

Noor, still stroking Siraj with one hand, reached her other hand towards one of the white horses. It didn't move away. It let her touch it.

She turned to Siddharth, glowing with surprise.

"He's letting me touch him..." she whispered, wonder filling her voice.

Siddharth stepped closer again, still holding the reins of the black horse. He walked till he stood beside her, lifted one hand, and gently touched the same white horse she had.

"She," he corrected with a small smile, eyes still on Noor.

Noor's eyes softened.

She looked at both the horses again - they were both mares. She smiled wider now, lovingly. Her hands moved gently to hold both their faces, and she bent slightly, pressing a kiss on each of their heads, one after the other. And the horses... stood still. Calm. Accepting her completely.

She didn't even notice the hand on her waist - not right away.

Familiar.

Siddharth pulled her gently into a back hug, his hand resting on her bare waist. She didn't move. Just stayed there. Not surprised. She was used to him now. It felt like home.

He moved her hair aside from her shoulder, placed his chin there, and then, in a voice deep and husky, filled with quiet love, he whispered,

"Apne inke malik ke mar chuke dil ko dhadkaa ke apna gulaam bana liya.

Ye to phir pyaar ke bhookhe bache hai. Aapse door kaise rahenge..."

"You already made the heart of their master beat again after it was long dead.

These are just children hungry for love... how could they ever stay away from you..."

Noor turned her head slightly to glance at him. Her cheeks flushed a soft red. She gave a tiny, shy smile, and turned back to look at the horses again, lips pressed in happiness.

Siddharth smiled seeing her all shy, and without moving back, kissed her cheek from behind. Twice

Noor blushed more, her head ducking down a bit, but before her shyness could grow, a soft snort from one of the horses made her look up again. Her eyes met Siraj's, his large brown eyes looking right into hers. Her palm was already resting against his forehead, and this time, she smiled wider, her fingers gently rubbing his forehead in slow, calming strokes.

She then looked at the other three horses. Her voice dropped to a soft, almost curious whisper as she asked,

"Naam kya hai inka?"

(What are their names?)

Hearing her, Siddharth smiled from behind. He slowly pulled his head back, and his hand slid down her waist until he found her fingers again. Intertwining their hands, he gently lifted them, guiding her to turn slightly toward the black horse standing beside them. Still wrapped around her from the back, he made her hand touch the black horse's neck.

Their joined hands caressed the horse gently when Siddharth leaned close again, his lips barely brushing her ear as he whispered in a low, husky voice,

"He's Viraj. Siraj's twin."

(He's Viraj. Siraj's twin.)

Noor's attention had been on the black horse, but the sudden warmth of his breath near her ear sent a shiver through her. She gulped softly, her gaze flickering toward the two white horses now, and she asked again-this time with a little hesitation, her voice slightly shaky,

"A-Aur inke?"

(A-And what about them?)

Siddharth smiled at her innocence, and instead of answering right away, he pressed a kiss to her ear, letting it linger before whispering again,

"Kamal hai, Malkin aap hai aur naam mujh se puch rahi? Hmm?"

(Amazing, you're the mistress and you're asking me their names? Hmm?)

He then pulled back slightly, just enough to look at her face. Noor turned her head to face him too, frowning lightly at his teasing words-but the small smile playing on his lips made her heart flutter instead of getting annoyed. And then, with a calm, deep tone, eyes locked with hers, he asked,

"Bataye Noor. Inka kya keh ke bulau mai?"

(Tell me, Noor. What should I call them?)

Noor turned to face the white mares fully now. Her smile was soft-almost reverent. Her fingers moved to touch one of the white horse's foreheads. Whispering sweetly, she said,

"Gayatri..."

And then, shifting her gaze to the other, her voice barely a breath,

"...Pankti."

She had remembered. These were the names of the celestial horses of Lord Surya-the very ones she'd once heard about, their names now softly breathed into life by her lips.

Siddharth watched her closely. His lips curved into a bright smile. He took a step back, slowly unwrapping his arms from around her. The wind kept blowing gently across the stable, lifting stray strands of Noor's open hair. Siddharth stepped between both the white mares, placing one hand gently on each of their backs.

Looking at them with pride and affection, he called out,

"Toh Gayatri aur Pankti... miliye apni Malkin se."

(So Gayatri and Pankti... meet your mistress.)

There was warmth in his tone. Something sweet. Something boyish and endearing. And then, leaning slightly toward Gayatri's ear, he whispered in mock secrecy-his eyes never leaving Noor,

"Aapki Malkin to... bahut pyari."

(Your mistress... is very lovely.)

Noor heard that. She laughed-softly, shyly-while Gayatri gave a small snort, almost as if in agreement. Siddharth laughed out loud, throwing his head back, and Noor giggled too, hiding her smile behind her fingers for a moment.

The stable, the breeze, the laughter, the warmth-everything felt like a dream stitched together in the gentlest threads of affection.
__________________________________

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