Now, the next chapter after this target is completed.

Today's target -
‼️NEXT UPDATE ON Friday‼️
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ऐसा लगा मुझे पहली दफ़ा
तन्हाँ मैं हो गई यारा
हो ऐसा लगा मुझे पहली दफ़ा
तन्हाँ मैं हो गई यारा
हूँ परेशान सी मैं
अब ये कहने के लिए
तू ज़रूरी सा है मुझको
ज़िंदा रहने के लिए
हो तू ज़रूरी (तू ज़रूरी)
सा है मुझको (सा है मुझको)
ज़िंदा रहने के लिए (ज़िंदा रहने के लिए)

ऐसा लगा मुझे पहली दफ़ा
तन्हाँ मैं हो गया यारा
हूँ परेशान सा मैं
अब ये कहने के लिए
तू ज़रूरी सा है मुझको
ज़िंदा रहने के लिए
वो तू ज़रूरी (तू ज़रूरी)
सा है मुझको (सा है मुझको)
ज़िंदा रहने के लिए (ज़िंदा रहने के लिए)

धड़के आँखों में दिल मेरा
जब करीब आऊँ तेरे
देखूँ मैं जब भी आईना
हाँ तू ही रूबरू रहे मेरे
इश्क की मौज में आ
आजा बहने के लिए

तू ज़रूरी सा है मुझको
ज़िंदा रहने के लिए
वो तू ज़रूरी (तू ज़रूरी)
सा है मुझको (सा है मुझको)
ज़िंदा रहने के लिए (ज़िंदा रहने के लिए)
तू ज़रूरी
माँगू ना कोई आसमां
दो सितारों का जहां
बन जा तू मेरा हमसफ़र
ना मुझे चाहिए कोई मकाँ
दिल ही काफ़ी है तेरा
मेरे रहने के लिए
तू ज़रूरी सा है मुझको
ज़िंदा रहने के लिए

_

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Abhimanyu's voice cut through the silence like a blade.

"I don't think she will survive the night," he said, his tone stripped of its usual playfulness. His eyes were locked on the screen in front of him, the dim light reflecting off his sharp gaze.

The hospital's cold, sterile halls stretched across the display, nurses moving in hurried steps, machines blinking with indifferent rhythm.

He leaned against the table, arms folded tightly across his chest, his posture unyielding. There was no room for doubt in his words, just a stark declaration of fact.

Sidharth stood beside him, his eyes never leaving the screen. His hands were clasped in front of him, shoulders squared, his expression unreadable-an iron mask that hid whatever storm brewed beneath.

His jaw clenched, the muscle there flickering with restrained tension, but his eyes...they were sharp, clear, and cold. Not a single flicker of emotion crossed his face as he watched the woman on the screen. Her pale form lay still, wires and machines circling her like chains, binding her to fate.

But his silence spoke volumes, more than any words could. There was a weight to it, heavy and unmoving, like the calm before a storm that promised destruction.

They were inside Vikram's weapon house, the walls lined with black metal and polished steel, each weapon glimmering under dim light. Vikram stood a little away, near the stack of weapons, his hands running over a pistol with a methodical precision.

His eyes darted up just for a second, catching the screen before returning to his task.

"And that's not the exact reason we should relax," he said flatly, snapping the magazine into place with a clean, practiced motion. "There are still chances."

His voice was rough, carrying that natural gruffness, like he had seen too much, and nothing surprised him anymore. He wasn't speaking to anyone in particular, but the words settled heavily in the room, lingering like smoke.

Abhimanyu didn't move; his eyes stayed fixed, unblinking. Vikram didn't wait for a reply. He simply continued checking his weapon, every click of metal echoing in the silence.

Sidharth, though, stayed as he was-silent, immovable. His gaze didn't falter, didn't stray. Vikram and Abhimanyu exchanged a glance, something unspoken passing between them.

They knew Sidharth, knew the silence he wrapped himself in like armor. They knew his eyes spoke louder than words, even when his lips refused to move.

But still, there was that mystery. That sense of not knowing what Siddharth would do next. Because with Siddharth, silence wasn't just quiet-it was dangerous.

Vikram placed his pistol back on the counter, his movements deliberate and steady. He walked forward, his hands clasped firmly behind his back, chest slightly puffed as he came to stand directly in front of Sidharth. His eyes were sharp, unyielding as they met Sidharth's blank gaze.

"If she will survive the night..." Vikram began, pausing to glance back at the screen, the flickering image of the woman still lying motionless. His voice was flat, edged with a hint of calculation.

"She won't be going back to the asylum anytime soon. Chizein mushkil ho jaayengi, Sidharth."

At his words, Abhimanyu tilted his head, his eyes still fixed on the screen but his ears perked. Sidharth didn't blink-not once.

His eyes remained locked, a predator watching its prey. Abhimanyu shifted, stepping closer to Sidharth's side, his arms crossing loosely over his chest.

"Exactly," Abhimanyu added, his voice a low rumble, more thoughtful than casual. "Ab tak toh usko Bhabhi ka pata chal chuka hoga. She might try breaking in again."

His words hung in the air, heavy and deliberate. He glanced at Sidharth, noting the way his jaw tensed, the way his eyes burned with something unspoken, something dangerous. Abhimanyu knew that look-it was planning, calculating, wheels turning with a cold precision.

Vikram, who had been watching the screen until now, turned his attention back to Sidharth. "Have you thought anything? What will you do then, Siddharth?" he asked, voice steady, eyes sharp, reading every flicker of muscle on Siddharth's face.

Siddharth's eyes didn't move, didn't flicker, not even for a second. His face was taut, skin pale but eyes blazing with restrained fury. His fists clenched tighter, the knuckles pale, veins prominent. His gaze was fixed on the screen, unblinking, unmoving, but burning.

His voice came out low, rough, dripping with promise-a danger that did not need to be shouted to be heard. "Jab tak baat mujh tak thi-" he began, pausing for just a breath, his body leaning just slightly forward as if punctuating his words with the weight of his presence.

"Maine sirf dekha hai... saha hai. Par agar uska saaya bhi meri Noor tak pahucha, toh duniya Sidharth Singh Rajvardhan ka wo roop dekhegi, jismein sirf barbadi likhi hai-aisi barbadi jo uske wajood ko sirf kagaz ke panno mein samet kar raakh kar degi."

("I have only seen... endured. But if even her shadow reaches my Noor, the world will witness that side of Siddharth Singh Rajvardhan-a side written only with destruction. Such destruction that her very existence will be reduced to mere ashes, captured only in the pages of paper.")

The room held its breath, silence stretching taut, waiting for what would come next.

Sidharth turned on his heel, the click of his shoes echoing in the silent room. His back was straight, his strides purposeful. He had barely taken two steps when Abhimanyu's voice broke through the silence.

"Kidar ja rahe ho?"
(Where are you going?)

Sidharth halted mid-step, his body stiffening. He didn't fully turn; just his head tilted slightly, enough for his eyes to meet Abhimanyu's. His gaze was sharp, unyielding.

"Subha hone se pehle ghar pahochna hai. Noor ka first day hai kal college ka. I have to be there."
(I have to reach home before dawn. It's Noor's first day at college tomorrow. I have to be there.)

His voice was steady, devoid of any warmth, just simple fact. He resumed his steps, but Abhimanyu and Vikram exchanged a look, then followed, closing the distance between them. Abhimanyu walked beside him, his hands stuffed in his pockets, while Vikram's eyes were sharp, calculating.

"I think tumhe bhabhi ko sab bata dena chahiye."

Abhimanyu paused, his eyes flickering to Vikram. His gaze hardened, and his jaw clenched before he spoke, his tone dropping a notch lower. "Iski wali galti mat kar."

(Don't make the same mistake as hers.)

There was a brief silence, a charged pause. Vikram's jaw tightened, and he looked away, his fists clenching unconsciously. Siddharth's eyes didn't waver; he kept them locked on Vikram's for a moment longer before his gaze returned to the screen in the distance.

"Abhi nahi. Abhi to jeena shuru kiya hai unhone. Abhi khud se bandh nahi sakta."
(Not now. She has just started living. I can't cage her right now.)

His voice was rough, but there was a strange softness to it, like he was speaking more to himself than to them. His eyes flicked back to the screen-now a distant blur-but it was enough to ignite something dangerous in his gaze. The tension in the room thickened.

A hand settled firmly on his shoulder. Siddharth didn't flinch, just turned his head enough to see Vikram standing beside him, eyes fixed ahead.

"Fikar mat karo. Shayad tab tumhe bacha nahi paya tha par ab main hoon. Hmm."
(Don't worry. Maybe I couldn't save you then, but now I'm here. Hmm.)

The words were simple, almost too casual, but the weight of them hung heavy in the room. Sidharth's jaw twitched slightly, his gaze softening for the briefest of moments before returning to its usual steel. Vikram's hand slipped away, but the bond of understanding remained, unspoken yet ironclad.

Abhimanyu turned, his footsteps fading quietly into the background, leaving Siddharth and Vikram standing side by side, their eyes locked back on the screen. The woman lay still, unmoving, just as before.

But the air was different now. Heavy. Charged. As if a decision had been made. One that couldn't be undone.

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Siddharth stepped through the heavy iron gates of his mansion, his footsteps echoing on the stone pathway. His jaw was clenched, eyes sharp with a fury that had settled deep in his bones. But as he walked further inside, his gaze fell upon the tulip garden, spread across the lawn like a gentle splash of color amidst the grayness of stone and iron.

Tulips-her favorite.

The ones he had planted himself, just for her.

He stopped. For a moment, the tension that had wound his body so tightly began to fade, slipping away like shadows at dawn. The sight of those tulips, swaying slightly in the morning breeze, did something to him-unraveled him, calmed him.

His fists loosened, shoulders relaxed. He took a deep breath, his chest expanding with the familiar scent of flowers. Anger slipped away like sand through his fingers, replaced by a pulse that thrummed with longing, an ache that rooted itself deep in his bones. His eyes lingered on the delicate petals, and with each breath, the craving grew. A need so deep, it felt like hunger.

It was like she was there, standing in front of him, her laughter mixing with the breeze, her voice echoing in his head. His obsession for her was not just deep-it was endless, like a craving that never left his bones.

His Noor.

Without another moment's hesitation, Sidharth walked forward, his footsteps steady, his heart beating just a little faster with every step. His legs moved faster, impatience humming in his veins as he strode through the halls. The air seemed different here-softer, lighter, touched with the faintest trace of her jasmine & Sandalwood scent. He glanced at the clock as he ascended the staircase.

He climbed the stairs to the upstairs, each step measured, calculated. He already knew where she would be. His eyes flicked to his watch. 7:10 AM. Thursday.

His heart thudded in his chest as he remembered-Thursday. She always washed her hair on Thursdays. The memory sent a wave of heat through him, and he swallowed hard, running a hand over his mouth as if to hide the hint of a smile that crept up.

He remembered that, the way strands of wet hair would cling to her neck, the way droplets would slide down the curve of her collarbone. His hands flexed unconsciously, remembering the way her skin felt under his fingertips.

All the tension from before had dissolved into a need that curled around his ribs, squeezing tight.

He reached her door, his hand resting on the handle. For a moment, he just stood there, grounding himself. He could hear her inside, the soft shuffle of her movements, the light thud of drawers closing. His fingertips tightened around the handle, and he took a long breath, eyes fluttering shut for a moment before he slowly turned the knob.

The door creaked open just a fraction, and he slipped inside without a sound, his eyes immediately finding her.

Noor stood in front of the mirror, her back to him, hair still damp, cascading over her shoulders. He swallowed, eyes raking over every detail-the way her cream-colored suit fit her shoulders, the straight pants brushing against her ankles, the dupatta she kept fixing nervously.

She wasn't wearing a saree today, and something about that small change made his chest feel tight. Not with disappointment, but with pride. She was stepping forward, little by little, shedding the weight of expectations. He liked that.

He smiled faintly.

He knew the weight of the customs she had carried for years, the expectations that had been pressed upon her shoulders. Yet here she was, standing tall in her own comfort, prioritizing herself over old traditions.

His eyes traced the curve of her back, the line of her neck, the little mole near her lips that he always found himself staring at whenever she spoke. She was murmuring something to herself, her lips moving silently as she fixed her earrings.

His eyes traced every detail with the hunger of a starved man. Her hair spilled over her shoulders, long and dark, with ends that curled slightly, catching the light with hints of brown. They were still damp, tiny droplets clinging to the strands, glimmering under the soft glow of the room. Her cheeks were flushed, still holding the warmth of the shower, untouched by makeup. Her lips-neither pink nor brown, but a shade caught between-soft and inviting.

His heart twisted at the sight, and he couldn't stop the slow smile that spread across his face. She was beautiful-not just in the way she looked, but in the way she existed. She was his peace, his madness, his everything.

He stayed there, watching her for a moment longer, absorbing every little detail-the bangles on her wrist, fewer than usual, the anklets still wrapped around her delicate ankles, the way she kept adjusting her dupatta like she couldn't decide if it was perfect yet. She had no idea he was there, and for a moment, he just let himself watch her, like she was a painting he couldn't stop looking at.

Finally, with careful steps, he moved forward. His hand reached out, and he shut the door quietly behind him, locking out the world.

Noor still hadn't noticed, too lost in her own world, still murmuring to herself. He stepped closer, silent and deliberate, his eyes fixed on her reflection in the mirror. Just as she bent down to pick up the fallen earring, he closed the distance, his hands moving around her waist from behind, his grip firm but gentle.

She straightened instantly, her eyes snapping to the mirror in shock, her breath catching as she saw him behind her, his eyes dark and unyielding, locked onto her reflection.

B-but he wasn't there a second ago---Noor though.

He held her there, his hands splayed against her stomach, his breath hot against her ear as he whispered, "Noor..." His voice was soft but heavy, filled with a longing that ran too deep to hide.

Her eyes flickered with surprise, her lips parting slightly as she tried to process his sudden presence. But Sidharth didn't move, didn't let go. His eyes stayed on hers in the mirror, unblinking, unwavering. His world had narrowed down to this moment-to her, in his arms, right where she belonged.

For a moment, neither of them moved. Her body was stiff, his grip unyielding. But his gaze-his gaze was dark, intense, drinking her in as if she were the only thing tethering him to this world. His lips brushed against the side of her head, voice low and unyielding, "Good morning, Noor."

He did not look away from her reflection. His eyes, sharp and unblinking, roamed every inch of her-her eyes, wide with surprise; her lips, parted slightly; her chest rising and falling with each breath.

He inhaled deeply, letting the scent of her shampoo, her soap, her presence flood his senses. "You smell like heaven," he whispered, voice rough with unspoken craving.

Her hands moved to his, fingers resting lightly over his knuckles. He felt the tremor in her touch, the way her breath stuttered against his chest. His eyes softened, just a fraction, and he leaned closer, his lips brushing the shell of her ear. "You look beautiful," he murmured, voice dropping to a whisper that seemed to linger in the air.

Siddharth closed his eyes as he buried his face in the curve of her neck, his arms tightening around her waist. Her presence, the softness of her body pressed against his, melted away every bit of tension locked inside his muscles.

His breaths were heavy, uneven, as if her touch alone could calm the storms raging inside him. It wasn't just peace she gave him-it was salvation. His mind, chaotic and wild just moments before, settled into a gentle hum, his obsession for her carving itself deeper into his soul.

He pressed his forehead to her shoulder, breathing her in, letting the scent of her hair, still slightly damp, fill his senses. Noor watched him in the mirror, her eyes softening as she saw the tension still clinging to his expression.

Without saying a word, her hand moved to cover his on her waist, her cool fingers brushing against his knuckles. His grip tightened, almost as if he feared she would disappear if he let go.

A sad smile played on her lips as she tilted her head slightly, pressing a gentle kiss to his temple. Her lips lingered there for a heartbeat longer than necessary, and she felt him sigh against her, his breath warm against her neck. His eyes were closed, his face still buried in her shoulder, as if he was clinging to her for life. Noor whispered softly, her voice almost a melody, "Good morning, Aarth."

At her voice, Siddharth stirred, his arms pulling her impossibly closer. He nuzzled further into her neck, his stubble grazing her soft skin, sending tiny shivers down her spine. Noor smiled, a blush dusting her cheeks as he held her like she was his lifeline.

Noor watched their reflection again, her eyes softening with love. She couldn't help but feel her heart tug at the sight of him clinging to her like a child seeking comfort.

Thirty-four years of life had carved strength into his body, but in her arms, he was just hers-her Sidharth, seeking peace in her presence.

She moved her hand, the soft jingle of her bangles breaking the silence as she cupped his cheek. Her cool hand met his warm skin, and Siddharth breathed out slowly, his eyes still closed.

Noor's thumb caressed his cheek, her eyes watching him with soft tenderness. "Kidar gye the subha subha aap?" she asked, her voice gentle and curious. (Where did you go early this morning?)

His hands slid from her waist to her stomach, resting there protectively, his fingers splayed out as if marking his territory. His breath fanned over her ear as he mumbled a clean lie, "Walk pe. Nine jaldi khul gyi thi."

(I went for a walk. The mind was too heavy this morning.)

She only hummed in response, not questioning anymore. Her thumb softly caressing his hand as she kept watching him in the mirror. Her gaze traced the roughness of his jaw, the way his eyes were closed, and the strands of hair that fell messily over his forehead. He looked tired. So very tired.

For a while, he just stayed like that, holding her, breathing her in. Noor lifted her hand, the bangles on her wrist jingling softly, and she fixed her hair with her fingers, still damp and curling at the ends. Siddharth didn't move, his hold on her firm, his head still resting heavily on her shoulder.

Then, he took a deep breath and slowly pulled back just a little, resting his chin on her shoulder as he met her eyes in the mirror.

His blue eyes, warm and soft, crinkled slightly as he smiled at her. Noor couldn't help but melt under his gaze, her heart fluttering in her chest. He leaned forward, pressing a kiss to her cheek from behind, his lips lingering for just a moment before he pulled back slightly, his hands never leaving her waist.

Sidharth moved to stand in front of her, leaning against the dressing table, his hands still resting firmly on her waist. Noor stopped fixing her hair and looked at him, her eyes gentle and understanding.

Without a word, she reached up, her fingers brushing through his hair, fixing the wild strands that had fallen out of place. He watched her, his eyes never leaving her face, his expression softening with every touch.

When she finished, she patted his cheek lightly, a small smile on her lips. Sidharth's expression softened, and then he stepped forward, leaning his face against her chest.

His arms came around her again, holding her firmly, his eyes closing as if he was finally at rest. "Thak gya hu,"
(I am tired)

He murmured against her, his voice barely above a whisper.

Noor's hand came up instinctively, her fingers threading through his hair, her touch gentle and loving. She leaned down and kissed the top of his head, her lips brushing against his hair softly. Her hand moved in soothing circles over his back, rubbing gently as she whispered,

"Chai bana de?"
(Should I make some tea?)

"Nahi, bas aise pakre rakhiye,"
(No, just hold me like this)

Sidharth replied, his arms tightening around her. Noor's heart clenched, and she rubbed his back, trying to ease the tension from his body. They stayed like that, wrapped up in each other, neither moving nor speaking, just holding on. It felt like time itself paused for them, leaving them in their own world.

After a few minutes, Sidharth slowly pulled back, his hands still resting on her waist. He looked into her eyes, his gaze soft and gentle. "Late ho jayga aapko. Mai naha ke aata hu,"
(You'll get late. I'll go take a bath)

He said, his voice still soft.

Noor nodded with a small smile, the warmth in her eyes making his heart swell. He stood up straight, stretching his back a little before leaning in, pressing a kiss to the tip of her nose. Noor giggled softly, her cheeks flushing pink.

Sidharth grinned at her reaction, then leaned in again, his lips brushing hers in a soft, lingering peck.

Before she could say anything, he pulled back, his eyes twinkling with mischief and love.

"Naha ke aata hu,"
(I'll be back after I bathe)

He said with a playful smile before turning and heading to the bathroom, leaving Noor standing there with her cheeks still flushed and her heart racing.

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We were all gathered in the living room, the familiar smell of fresh parathas and warm tea still lingering in the air. I held my bag close, fingers gripping the strap tightly. It felt strange, going back to college after so long, after 2 years.

My heart fluttered with excitement, but a tiny knot of nervousness sat heavy in my stomach. I hadn't been to college since Papa fell sick. His smile flashed in my mind, the way his eyes crinkled with pride whenever he spoke about my studies. I missed him.

"All the best, bhabhi!" Adarsh's voice snapped me back to the present. He stood there with that wide grin of his, waving his hand like he was sending me off to some grand adventure.

I couldn't help but smile back, my cheeks warming up with both excitement and shyness. "Thank you," I said softly, my voice almost a whisper, but he heard it, and his grin grew wider.

"Ha bahu ja, apne dactar pati ki tarah tu bhi dactarni ban ja," Dadi called out from her usual spot, her voice thick with affection.

(Yes, daughter-in-law, go become a doctor like your doctor husband.)

I chuckled, ducking my head slightly. The whole room burst into laughter, and I found myself laughing too, the sound bubbling up before I could stop it. It felt good... really good. I glanced around, soaking in their smiles, their happy faces. My heart felt full.

"Dadi yaar, bhabhi ko teacher banna hai. Doctor nahi." Adarsh stepped forward, shaking his head like he was correcting her. His voice carried that playful mischief that only he could pull off.

Dadi smacked him lightly on the back of his head, making him yelp.

"Tumhre yaar nahi hai hum, bewakoof!"

(I'm not your friend, you fool!)

She scolded, and I couldn't help the laugh that escaped me. Adarsh rubbed the back of his head, pouting like a child, and I just shook my head at him, still smiling.

My eyes wandered a bit and landed on Sidharth ji, who was standing a little behind, leaning against the pillar with his arms crossed. He wasn't saying anything, just watching us with that familiar softness in his eyes. Our eyes met, and I felt my heart skip a beat. His gaze wasn't just on me-it was on everyone, his family, his home. He looked... happy. Content.

I gave him a small smile, one just for him, and he returned it, his eyes crinkling at the corners. I blinked at him, and he blinked back, a little silent conversation that only we understood.

'Are you okay?' I asked, 'I am.' He blinked.

I watched as he straightened up, uncrossing his arms and walking towards me. My cheeks heated up, and I looked down, my fingers fumbling with the edge of my dupatta.

He came beside me, his presence warm and solid. His hand found mine, his fingers curling around mine gently. I felt my heart flutter, my cheeks turning a soft shade of pink. Siddharth ji always did that-held my hand like he was holding something precious.

"Chalein? Late ho raha hai?"
(Shall we go? We're getting late?)

He asked, his voice soft and low, just for me. I looked up, glancing back at everyone. They were all smiling, nodding, their faces full of encouragement. It made me feel... special. Loved.

I nodded back, and we turned to leave, but then I heard footsteps, hurried and quick. I turned around, eyes widening as Ma came rushing towards us, a tiffin in her hands. Her cheeks were flushed from running, and I quickly moved towards her, my hand still in Sidharth ji's

"Bhag ke kyu aayi aap? Hume awaj de deti."
(Why did you run? You could have just called me.)

I rubbed her back gently, feeling a pang of affection tighten in my chest. She was breathing heavily, still catching her breath.

"Bahar jaate waqt peeche se tokte nahi hai beta. Ye-ye lo lunch tumhara. Bahar ka mat khana. Tabiyat kharab ho jaygi."

(We shouldn't call from behind when someone's leaving. Here, take your lunch. Don't eat outside. You'll get sick.) Her voice came out between deep breaths, but her eyes shone with care.

I took the tiffin from her hands, my own shaking a little from the emotion building up inside me. Sidharth ji squeezed my hand gently, and I squeezed back, grounding myself. "Theek hai Ma."
(Okay, Ma.)

I whispered, my throat tight with emotion.

She smiled, reaching out to gently pat the back of my head, her fingers warm and loving. My eyes stung a little, and I blinked quickly, not wanting to cry. Not here. Not now. Ma had been more than a mother-in-law to me... she was my Ma.

"Jao jao, late ho raha hai,"
(Go, go, you're getting late.)

She urged, waving us off with a smile.

We walked out, hand in hand, and I heard Adarsh call from behind, "bye Bhabhi!" His voice was playful, and I turned back, waving at him and the rest of the family as we headed towards the car.

Sidharth ji opened the door for me, his hand resting on the handle like it was the most natural thing in the world. I slipped inside, smoothing my dupatta over my lap, and watched as he rounded the front of the car and got in the driver's seat. I gave one last wave to everyone before we pulled out of the driveway, their smiles staying with me long after they were out of sight.

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We reached the college, and the car slowed to a stop in front of the grand iron gates. My heart, which had been beating steadily, suddenly skipped a beat, and I felt my hands grow cold in my lap. I stared out of the window, unable to look away from the towering building that seemed so out of reach once. I moved my leg nervously, my fingers fidgeting with the end of my dupatta, twisting it around and around.

I should have been excited. I should have been grateful. And I was-I truly was. But sitting here now, right in front of it, the weight of everything crashed down on me.

The expectations...Siddharth ji's expectations, my family's expectations, my own expectations.

It was too much. I never imagined I'd be here, starting my education after marriage. No one from my village ever did that. I was supposed to accept my fate, stay within the four walls, and never dream of anything beyond. But here I was.

Siddharth ji shifted in his seat and looked back at me, his smile gentle. "We're here, Cherry"

I nodded but my eyes remained glued to the building, the large windows reflecting the sunlight like shimmering hopes. My breath caught in my throat. I didn't realize how tightly I was holding onto the seat until I felt warmth spreading over my hands.

His hand-warm, firm, comforting-covered both of mine. His thumb moved slowly, tracing small circles over my skin. His touch pulled me out of my spiraling thoughts, grounding me back to him.

I turned my head slowly and found Siddharth ji looking at me with that gentle smile of his, the one that always managed to calm the storm inside me. His eyes were soft, filled with something I could never quite place but always felt. He didn't say anything at first, just kept his hand on mine, his warmth seeping into my cold fingers.

His fingers curled around mine, gently entwining with my own. His hand was so much bigger than mine-strong, protective. Before I could say anything, he lifted my hand, his movements slow and deliberate, and pressed his lips to the back of it. My heart stumbled over itself, and I could feel the heat rising to my cheeks.

"Kya soch rahi hai aap?"
(What are you thinking?)

His voice was soft, barely above a whisper, but it broke through the haze in my mind. I blinked, staring back at him, the tension in my shoulders melting just a little. A small smile tugged at my lips, and I looked down, amazed by how easily he read me.

"Jab bache the, tab papa roz kehte the ki ek din apne pairo pe khada hona hai. Khud kamana hai. Padhai puri karni hai. Kehte the, sapne sirf dekhne ke liye nahi, balki pure karne ke liye hote hain."

(When I was a child, Papa used to say every day that one day I have to stand on my own feet. Earn my own living. Complete my studies. He used to say dreams are not just meant to be seen; they are meant to be fulfilled.)

My mind wandered back to those days-nights spent studying under the flickering light of the lantern, Papa sitting beside me, his hand resting on my head, his eyes full of dreams that he had tucked away just for me. He never promised me the world; he promised me that hard work would lead me somewhere, anywhere better than where we were.

He always believed I was destined for something bigger, something beyond the walls of our village. His faith in me was unshakable, and it carried me through even when I couldn't believe in myself.

My eyes drifted back to Siddharth ji, who still held my hand, his thumb still moving in slow circles. His eyes never left my face, as if he were memorizing each word, each breath I took.

"Phir papa ki tabiyat kharab hui... aur humare saare sapne sirf neend tak simat ke reh gaye."

(Then Papa's health worsened... and all our dreams got confined to just sleep.)

Sidharth ji's grip on my hand tightened slightly, and I looked up at him. His eyes softened, and before I could react, he lifted my hand again, pressing another kiss on its back.

"Ab mauka hai Noor. Purani baatein yaad karke khud ko takleef dene se acha hai ki aap yeh sochiye ki jab aap apne gaon ki pehli ladki banengi jo padhai puri karke khud ke pairo par khadi hui, toh kitna garv hoga unhe."

(Now is your chance, Noor. Instead of remembering old things and hurting yourself, think about how proud they'll be when you become the first girl from your village to complete her education and stand on her own feet.)

His words washed over me like a promise, pulling me out of the darkness I had unknowingly stepped into. His hand left mine only for a moment, just to reach up and pat my cheek gently, his touch featherlight. "Hmm?" he urged, his smile growing wider.

I closed my eyes for a moment, letting his words settle deep inside me. When I opened them, I saw him reaching for the door handle, ready to step out. "Aarth?" I whispered.

He stopped, turning back to me, his expression softening even further. I knew he loved when I called him that. His smile twinkled, and my heart warmed just a little more.

I reached out and took his hand again, his large hand engulfing mine easily. Gently, I brought it to my lips and pressed a soft kiss to the back of his hand. His eyes were on me, watching my every move. I was too overwhelmed to look back up, so I just whispered, "Aap hamesha kehte hain na ki hum aapke punya ka phal hain? Par sachai yeh hai ki..."

(You always say that I am the fruit of your good deeds. But the truth is...)

I brought our joined hands to my cheek, pressing them gently against my skin, my eyes closing as I leaned into his warmth. "

Aap mere kisi punya ka phal hain. Hum chahe jaise bhi jeeye apni zindagi mein, humein aap par hamesha garv rahega."

(You are the fruit of my good deeds. No matter how I live my life, I will always be proud of you.)

He looked at me, his eyes glassy with unspoken emotions, and his smile turned wider.

"Bas kariye, Cherry. Itna pyaar dikhayengi toh main behak jaunga."

(Enough, Cherry. If you show me this much love, I will lose control.)

He winked, making me chuckle through the tears that had gathered in my eyes.

"Bawale," I muttered, shaking my head with a smile.

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."Aap ye form bhar dijiye, Rajvardhan Sahab, aur bas, baaki ka hum khud dekh lenge."
(Please fill out this form, Mr. Rajvardhan, and that's it. We'll handle the rest.)

The man sitting in front of us was wearing a black coat, his formal attire crisp and neat. He seemed to be in his late fifties, his eyes crinkling slightly as he smiled. It surprised me; he looked too approachable to be a principal. If I hadn't seen him seated at the principal's desk, I never would have guessed.

I sat quietly beside my Sidharth ji, my hands folded neatly in my lap, my eyes wandering across the room.

Siddharth ji simply nodded in response to the man's words, his face utterly blank, void of any emotion. I glanced at him, I had never seen him like this-so emotionless, so unreadable.

His expression was a locked door, and no body have the key.

Without a word, he reached into his coat pocket, pulling out a pen. He adjusted his glasses, his movements smooth and practiced. He looked every bit the man in control-steady, unshaken. I watched as he began to fill out the form, his handwriting sharp and neat, each stroke precise.

Unlike doctors

A soft knock on the door broke the silence. The principal looked up, his smile still in place. "Come in."

The door swung open, and a girl around my age stepped inside. I turned a little to look at her. She wore a simple top and flared jeans, her hair tied back neatly. A pair of glasses sat on her nose, giving her a bookish sort of charm. She walked up to the principal's desk, her steps light and careful.

"Yes, sir? Aapne bulaya?"
(Yes, sir? You called me?)

She asked, her voice soft but clear.

The principal raised his hand slightly, gesturing towards us.

"Rajvardhan Sahab, yeh Samiksha. Ye inhe poora college tour de degi, aur inki classmate bhi hai."

(Mr. Rajvardhan, this is Samiksha. She'll give her a complete tour of the college, and she's also her classmate.)

Siddharth ji didn't look up from the form. His eyes remained fixed on the paper, pen gliding smoothly across the lines.
It was as if her arrival hadn't affected him in the slightest. But the moment the principal introduced her, he glanced up briefly, his gaze sharp and assessing. It was only for a moment, then he returned to his work, unbothered and indifferent.

He finished signing the last page, set the pen down, and looked towards me.

Then, he looked at the principal, nodding once, before turning toward me. His eyes softened, and for the first time since we stepped into the room, I saw a small smile curve his lips.

"Jaiye, tab tak main form bhar deta hoon."
(Go ahead, I'll fill out the form in the meantime.)

I hesitated, glancing between him and the girl. I wasn't very comfortable going out with someone I didn't know, but when I looked at her-when she adjusted her glasses and gave me a small, warm smile-it was enough. That one simple gesture made me realize she wasn't so bad.

Something about that action eased the tension in my chest. She didn't seem so intimidating after all.

I nodded, rising slowly from my chair, smoothing my hands over my dress. She stepped aside politely, waiting for me to join her, and I took a steadying breath before following her out the door.

The hallway stretched ahead of us, quiet and long, and as we walked side by side, I couldn't help but feel the weight of everything. New beginnings, new faces, new life.

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.

I watched Noor walk out of the room, her presence fading behind the heavy door, leaving me alone with the principal. The silence that settled was thick, almost suffocating, but I thrived in it. I didn't waste time. My pen was out, ink meeting paper in decisive strokes.

I slid the paper toward him, leaning back in the chair, eyes never leaving his face. He took it with a smile, the kind that spoke of courtesy, not comfort. He filed it away neatly, every movement careful, calculated. I watched every flick of his wrist, every blink of his eye. And when the silence grew too soft, I broke it.

"Number mera mention hai ispe. Kabhi kuch zaroorat ho to bejijhak call kar sakte hain," I said, my voice smooth, unwavering.

(My number is mentioned on it. If there's ever any need, feel free to call.)

The principal straightened up, nodding a little too eagerly. "Ji, ji, sir," he replied, his voice slipping over the words with practiced ease.

I leaned forward, elbows resting on the polished wood of his desk, my eyes fixed on his. "Aur meri biwi ko yahan koi dikkat hui toh mera call aayega aapko. Umeed karta hoon wo din nahi aayega," I said softly, almost a whisper, but there was steel underneath it.

(And if my wife faces any problem here, you will receive my call. I hope that day never comes.)

The words hung between us, delicate and dangerous. I watched his throat bob as he swallowed, his smile faltering just for a second. "Fikar mat kariye. Main khud monitor karunga unko," he replied, his voice steady, but I saw the tremor in his fingers.

(Don't worry. I will personally monitor her.)

I leaned back again, satisfied. Power wasn't in loud declarations; it was in the silence that followed after you spoke.

A few moments later, the door creaked open, and Noor stepped back in, her presence washing away whatever remained of the tension. My shoulders eased without me realizing it. She was smiling, her gaze flicking to the girl beside her. I studied her expression-the gentle curve of her lips, the lightness in her eyes. Samiksha had done her job well.

I stood up, smooth and unhurried, closing the distance between us. Noor looked up at me, still smiling, her eyes reflecting something soft, something trusting. I leaned down just a bit, enough to catch her gaze fully, my voice dropping to a whisper only she could hear. "Tayar hai aap?" I asked, and her cheeks flushed just slightly, that same innocence peeking through her eyes. (Are you ready?)

She nodded, glancing around, her fingers fidgeting with the ends of her dupatta.

I titled my head a bit , watching as her eyes flickered nervously around the room. I knew it-the slight tremble in her fingers, the way her gaze refused to settle on mine. She wasn't comfortable with me coming this close in front of others. I could feel it, the way she stiffened, the way her breath hitched just a little.

I straightened up and turned to the principal, signaling with just a glance. Without a word, the man stood up and left the room, closing the door softly behind him. Now, it was just the two of us-just me and her.

My cherry

Her comfort mattered more than my desire, but that didn't mean I didn't crave these moments. I stepped closer, my hand reaching out to gently tilt her chin up. My eyes locked with hers, holding her gaze. "Apse during hone se pehle akela dekhna zaroori tha," I murmured, my voice low and steady.

I didn't want to let her out of my sight, not yet. The thought of her wandering around the campus, away from me, surrounded by strangers...it stirred something fierce inside me. I wanted her time, her attention, her presence. Even the smallest moments mattered.

But my own wishes are above her dreams.

Her eyes softened, the nervousness slipping away just a little. I didn't need to say more; she knew. I straightened up, smoothing out my coat, letting the silence settle between us. There were things I couldn't control-but this, this moment, I could hold onto.

Siddharth's hands found their place on her waist, firm yet gentle, grounding her as if he feared she might slip away. His touch was warm, steady, the kind of touch that whispered possession and protection all at once.

Noor's breath hitched, her hands instinctively gripping his shoulders, fingers curling against the fabric of his coat as he effortlessly lifted her. There was something so effortless in the way he held her, like she was meant to be there, cradled in his hold.

His eyes never wavered from her face-not for a second. It was as if she were the only thing in the room, the only thing that mattered.

Her cheeks flushed as he settled her down gently on the principal's desk, his palms still resting against her waist as if he couldn't quite bring himself to let go. Noor's gaze flickered to the door, a hint of nervousness passing through her eyes, but she didn't resist.

She knew she should be more aware of the setting, of the sheer absurdity of being perched atop the polished wood of someone else's office, yet with Sidharth standing there, his gaze locked onto hers, everything else seemed to blur.

He leaned in, his hands grazing her thighs before parting them gently, his movements slow and deliberate, leaving her heart pounding in her chest.

Noor's hands still rested on his shoulders, and Sidharth's own hands traveled back up, settling on her waist again, pulling her a bit closer, their faces mere inches apart. His hands were large, warm, and they molded against her sides as if they belonged there.

His eyes held hers, dark and intense, burning with something she couldn't quite place but felt deep in her bones. Sidharth's fingers grazed her cheek, tucking a stray strand of hair behind her ear with a tenderness that contrasted the power in his presence. His hand lingered, cupping her cheek, his thumb brushing over her skin as he whispered, his voice soft yet commanding,

"Mujhe mera khud ki chahat se jyda aapki ijjat ki fikar hai. Mai aapni ektarfa chahat me zindagi guzar lunga par aisa kuch nahi karunga Jisse apke ijjat ko thori si bhi takleef ho. Hmm"

(I care more about your respect than my own desires. I would live my whole life loving you alone, but I would never do anything that would hurt your dignity, not even a little.)

His words came out like a vow, soft and weighted with devotion. Noor's eyes softened, her heart thudding painfully against her ribs as the tension in her shoulders released.

She trusted him.

It was simple and unspoken, yet it existed, threaded into the spaces between them. Siddharth smiled then, a rare, soft curve of his lips that spoke more than words ever could. His hand slid from her cheek to tilt her chin gently upward, eyes meeting hers with a tenderness that made her breath catch.

His lips found hers, gentle and exploring, brushing over her mouth like he was memorizing her feel, her taste. It was soft at first, just a delicate press of lips against lips, but then it deepened. Sidharth's hand moved from her waist, sliding up to cup the back of her neck, anchoring her to him as his mouth moved against hers.

His hand on her waist tightened, pulling her closer, and his thumb stroked the side of her thigh in lazy circles. The kiss deepened, his tongue meeting hers in slow, measured movements, as if savoring each second, each brush of skin against skin.

Noor's hands slid down from his hair to his shoulders, holding him steady, anchoring herself in the moment.

His tongue flicked over her bottom lip, teasing and coaxing, before slipping inside, tasting her in slow, deliberate strokes.

He kissed her like he had all the time in the world, unhurried, savoring, his hand moving from her neck to cup her breast gently, squeezing just enough for her to gasp against his mouth.

His other hand, firm and steady, rested on her thigh, fingers splayed wide as if grounding her there. The room seemed to fade, leaving only the two of them tangled in that breathless moment.

His mouth continued its exploration, slow and sensual, his tongue tracing the curve of her upper lip, then the lower, tasting, savoring. Noor's hands clutched at his shoulders, nails pressing through the fabric, her breathing uneven as he consumed her, piece by piece.

When he finally pulled back, it was slow and deliberate, his eyes still locked onto hers. Noor's chest rose and fell rapidly, her lips swollen and slightly parted, the faintest smear of lipstick on her lower lip.

Sidharth reached up, his thumb brushing over the smudge with a tenderness that sent warmth spreading through her. He leaned in again, pressing three soft kisses to her lips, each one gentle, almost reverent, as if sealing a promise only he knew the meaning of.

"Thik hai aap?" Siddharth whispered softly, his gaze drifting over her flushed cheeks as he began to gently arrange her hair. His fingers moved delicately, smoothing out the strands with a small smile playing on his lips. Noor's cheeks flamed a deeper shade of red, and she lowered her eyes shyly before nodding, looking up at him with a soft smile.

Sidharth's hands slipped to her waist, steady and warm, guiding her to stand. Once she was on her feet, he cupped her cheeks again, his thumbs brushing her skin gently. "Focus on your studies. Hmm? Mai aaunga sham ko lene,"
(Focus on your studies. Hmm? I will come to pick you up in the evening.)

He murmured, his voice low and tender.

Noor's eyes flickered up to meet his, her nod small but firm. He held her gaze for a moment longer before he took her hand, lifting it carefully. His lips pressed against the back of her hand, soft and lingering, as if sealing a promise. Without another word, he turned and opened the door for her, his presence steady and unyielding.

As they walked out, Noor's mind spun with thoughts of what people might think if they saw them together, what they must be assuming about what had happened behind those closed doors. Nervousness tightened her stomach, but as the door swung open, she was met with an empty hallway-silent, still, and entirely devoid of people.

Noor blinked in surprise, glancing up at Sidharth, only to find him already looking down at her, his eyes softening with something she couldn't quite place. He leaned in slightly, his voice a whisper, "Panch minute me classes start hai aapki."

(Your classes start in five minutes.)

Noor nodded at him, her grip on his hand loosening reluctantly. Sidharth stood there, his gaze following her as she began to walk away. He did not move; his eyes were locked on her retreating figure.

She took two or three hesitant steps before Samiksha came back into view, approaching Noor with a smile. Sidharth stayed rooted in place, arms crossed over his chest, watching as Samiksha whispered something to Noor. Noor nodded, her face softening before she walked further down the hallway.

Siddharth watched, unmoving, his expression guarded yet calm. Noor walked ahead, her back straightening with each step, her nerves gradually settling. At the end of the hallway, just before the corner, she paused, turning back slightly to look at him.

He was still there, arms crossed, eyes on her with that faint smile that never seemed to waver. Noor's lips curved upward in response, a shy but genuine smile before she turned back around.

Samiksha began talking as they walked, her voice soft but clear. Noor listened, nodding as Samiksha explained the schedule for the day-just two classes, and they would leave early. Her words were comforting, steadying Noor's nervous heart as they approached the classroom door.

Noor's steps slowed when she saw the students, clustered and talking, their eyes turning towards her as she neared. Her breath hitched for a moment, her lips parting slightly as she swallowed back the sudden wave of nerves.

Her gaze flickered to the crowd, then back over her shoulder, almost instinctively. Sidharth was still there, a good distance away now, but his gaze was unmistakable. He was watching her-steady, strong, unyielding-and though she couldn't see his smile, she could feel it.

Noor took a deep breath, pressing her palms together in a silent prayer. "Bhagwanji, sath dena,"

(God, be with me.)

She whispered under her breath, steeling her nerves before turning back to the classroom entrance. Her hands smoothed over her dress, and with one last glance, she stepped forward, ready to face the crowd.

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.

For the first time in his life, Sidharth felt fear. A fear that settled deep in his bones, carving its way through the iron walls he had built around his heart. He never thought he would fear for someone, not after everything he had been through. But now, as he watched Noor disappear into the classroom, that fear clung to him like a shadow.

His jaw clenched, the muscles ticking as his eyes grew void of any softness. He knew she was out there-somewhere. She was in the hospital, but he couldn't trust that. He couldn't trust the woman who had turned his life upside down, who had pushed him to become this version of himself: colder, sharper, unyielding. Noor had been the only light that broke through that darkness, but it didn't erase the past. Until that woman was truly gone, he wouldn't rest. His eyes grew colder, and he adjusted his cuffs, straightening his shoulders as he stepped out of the building.

Five men were waiting for him outside, dressed in casual clothing but built like stone. Their eyes were sharp, their stances alert. As Siddharth approached, they straightened, waiting for his command. He paused, fixing his glasses with a deliberate slowness, his gaze piercing through each of them as if weighing their very existence.

"Ek second ke liye bhi nazar hati to mai jimmedar nahi hu agar tumsab dobara kuch dekhne layak nahi bache to."

(If your eyes wander for even a second, I won't be responsible if you're left unfit to see anything ever again.)

His words were not a question, but a declaration-a promise carved from steel. The five men nodded immediately, their postures stiffening as they understood. Siddharth didn't just command respect; he demanded it. His mere presence was enough to remind anyone of their place.

He turned back towards the college, his eyes sweeping over the building before his hand reached into his coat pocket. He pulled out the delicate bangle he always carried-Noor's. It was tied securely, hidden but always with him. His fingers ran over its smooth surface, brushing it gently, almost like he was touching her hand. His eyes softened for the briefest of moments, and he took a slow, measured breath, grounding himself in her memory before tucking it back safely. His gaze hardened once more as he addressed his men.

"Hope I'm clear."

His voice was sharp, unyielding, and it left no room for doubt. His reputation as a doctor might be pristine, but that didn't matter now. When it came to his wife, to Noor, he didn't care about his image. She was more important than any breath he took, more valuable than any nameplate or title he held.

Without waiting for a reply, Siddharth moved towards his car. He slid inside with the grace of a man who owned everything he stepped foot on. But before shutting the door, his eyes flicked back to the college one last time, holding on to that glimpse of her, sealing it away like a secret before finally driving off.

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Siddharth stepped out of the patient's room, his hands still cold from the surgical gloves he had just removed. The weight of responsibility still lingered in his eyes as he walked down the hallway, nodding to passing nurses with the briefest of glances. He slipped into his office, the heavy wooden door clicking shut behind him, sealing him in the silence of his thoughts. He loosened his tie and sank into the leather chair, the material creaking slightly under his weight. His gaze flickered to the watch on his wrist-2 PM.

Noor would be done with her classes, and she would step out, her eyes searching for him like they always did whenever he's near, a habit he had grown obsessed with.

He leaned back, running his hand over his face, exhausted yet restless. Just as he was about to stand and make his way toward the car, his phone buzzed sharply on the desk, its vibrations cutting through the silence. He reached for it, his fingers brushing over the screen. The name flashed in bold letters-Abhimanyu.

A flicker of tension creased his jaw, his fingers tightening around the phone. His grip firmed, eyes narrowing as he accepted the call.

There was no greeting, no idle chatter. Just a breath on the other side, heavy and purposeful.

"Rajvardhan... She's declared dead."

_________________________________

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