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सुरमदानी वरगा है मेरा माही,
ते और मैंनू की चाहिएदा।
सुरमदानी...

ओधी पैर चाल सुना जद जद वी,
मैंथों बोल्या ना जान्दा इक वाक वी।
ओ वी मौके दी नज़ाकत पहचान के,
साइयों चुप कर जान्दा ओदों आप वी।
जदो अखियां दा नूर होवे सावें,
दुपट्टा सिरों नहीं लहिदा।
सुरमदानी वरगा है मेरा माही,
ते और मैंनू की चाहिएदा।

सुरमदानी...
______________________________

"Chuu!"

I sneezed again.

Third time this evening.

I sniffled softly and covered my face with my pallu. I was making tea for everyone but this sneezes were disturbing me a lot.

Ma, who was right beside me in the kitchen, kneading dough quietly - but her hands paused as soon as I sneezed. I peeked at her from the corner of my eye, already knowing what was coming.

She looked at me with so much worry that I almost felt like a little girl being scolded gently. Her eyes weren't sharp... they were soft.

"Shaam ko nahi nahana chahiye tha, beta... dekho, ho gayi na tabiyat kharab," she said, her voice calm but full of care.

(You shouldn't have bathed in the evening, dear... see, now you've fallen ill.)

I froze.

My hand was still holding the spoon I had been using to stir the tea. My cheeks warmed again. I looked away quickly and walked to the basin to wash my hands.

How was I supposed to explain?

That I didn't plan to take a bath at all...

That Siddharth ji... he-

"Woh... college se aaye to bas..." I said quickly, softly.
(I just came back from college and...)

It was all his fault.

Yeh sab unki wajah se hua hai.

I don't know when I fall asleep after that and when I opened my eyes again, it was already five. I didn't even dry my hair properly - I just rushed to take a bath and came straight downstairs to help Ma.

Now my throat felt a little itchy and my cheeks were warm.

Not just from the cold...

But because of him too.

I tugged a loose strand of hair behind my ear, still slightly damp. It stuck to my cheek a little. I looked down at the tea, which had started boiling faster now.

I tried to focus,but my mind kept on moving back to this afternoon. My cheeks had already turned red again.

"Hey bhagwan Noor..." I whispered to myself, carefully pouring the tea into cups.

I had just placed the last cup on the tray when Ma wiped her hands and said gently, "Tu bhi aaja, haan? Zyada der mat rehna, sath baith ke chai pete hai"

(You come too, okay? Don't stay too long here)

"Ji, Ma..." I nodded quickly.

She gave me one last look - still worried - and walked out of the kitchen. I watched her go, my heart full of love for her.

I fixed my saree again, checking if my pallu was neat, then picked up the tray and stepped out.

As I entered the hall, everyone looked up,the tray gently resting in my hands, the warm smell of cardamom and milk filled the room like a soft hug.

Everyone was sitting comfortably. I gave a small smile to no one in particular - just the kind you give when you enter a room full of love and feel like you belong.

And then...

My eyes found him.

Siddharth ji.

He was sitting on the single-seater, his legs crossed, flipping slowly through the newspaper like the world didn't move unless he turned a page.

But the moment I looked at him...

He looked up.

Our eyes met.

He smiled.

Just a little.

That soft, secret kind of smile that only I understood.

My heart skipped once.

And then again.

I was still standing at the edge of the hall, holding the tray, holding my breath. But something in me... slipped.

Because when our eyes met - just for that one small second - my mind quietly took me back.

To that quiet afternoon.

I looked away. Quickly.

My eyes dropped to the cups of tea like they had suddenly become the most important thing in the world.

And my cheeks? They betrayed me again. Turning pink... no, red.

I knew it.

I felt it.

The heat blooming softly across my face, spreading till even the back of my ears felt shy.

I carefully walked forward, not looking at him.

My anklets made a soft sound as I moved forward. I gave tea to each one gently, smiling quietly, trying not to let my heartbeats be heard by anyone but me.

And then...

Only one cup was left.

His.

I had kept it a little separate. The one with little less sugar.

Just like he liked it.

I didn't look at him. But I could feel it.

His gaze..

They were warm.

Deep.

Digging in.

As if they knew what my mind was trying to forget. As if he remembered every second of the afternoon too.

I placed the cup down on the side table beside him.

"Chai," I said, very softly.

And just as I was about to turn away -

I felt it.

A warm touch.

His hand, gently wrapping around my wrist.

I froze.

I could feel his thumb - brushing lightly against my skin.

I could feel him blinking, even without looking. I quietly look up at him for a second, trying to take my hand. How can he just held it in front of everyone?

"Aapki chai?" he spoke after a second.

His voice was barely above a whisper.

I felt the warmth of his hand still wrapped gently around my wrist.

I looked up... just for a second again. His eyes were not teasing. Not playful. They were steady.

Concerned.

My eyes darted around quickly -

Was anyone watching? I again tried taking my hand back but he only tightened his grip.

No one, really. No one in particular seemed to notice us.

Still, my heart raced.

I turned my eyes back to him.

He was still looking at me. Still focused. Still not blinking much.

"Tabiyat bhi kharab lag rahi hai aapki,"

he said, softly, as if only I was meant to hear it.

"Chai kidhar hai aapki?"

"Kitchen mein hai," I said quickly, keeping my voice low, "chhoriye... hum le ke aate hain."

I lowered my gaze and tried to move.

But he moved faster.

He got up from the sofa in one swift motion, his cup placed carefully back on the table. I was still standing there,.

"Baithiye aap,"
(Sit down)

he said firmly, kindly.

"Main le ke aata hoon."
(I'll bring it)

Saying he walked past me, toward the kitchen. I turned my face slightly to follow him with my eyes...

And just then - I saw her.

Ma.

Standing a little behind the sofa. Watching me. Not with any teasing. Not with any questions. Just a gentle, knowing smile.

My eyes widened slightly, and quickly - I looked away.

My cheeks were burning.

Again.

Why do they keep doing that today?

I walked slowly to the sofa and sat down, tucking the end of my pallu properly. My fingers curled into my lap.

But as I sat-

"Chu."

I sneezed again.

Authors pov-

"Dawa li ki nahi beta?" Noor's mother in law asked inspecting the pink hues on her cheeks due to cold. Noor who was now composed after the sneeze looked up at her mother in law but Before Noor could even reply, Siddharth entered the room, holding a cup of tea in his hand. He walked in without much sound, but the weight in his eyes said he'd heard the sneeze.

He came and sat down right beside her, placing the cup gently on the table, his attention still on her.

His gaze swept over her face-her nose was red, eyes a little dull, the usual shine slightly hidden behind the cold.

He didn't speak at first. Just looked. Just noticed. Just worried.

Then came the voice.

"Tune bhi nahi roka, Siddharth. Bahu ko shaam ko nahane se. Dekh kitna chheek rahi hai."
(You didn't stop her either, Siddharth. She bathed in the evening-now look how much she's sneezing.)

It was a mother's voice-worried, filled with concern. The kind of concern that wrapped itself in scolding and slipped into the middle of a crowded room.

Siddharth who was inspecting Noor stilled hearing his mother's voice & then a small smile began to rise at the edge of his lips. A very small one. But Noor felt it without even looking.

Siddharth didn't speak at once. Instead, he tilted his head toward Noor. A faint smirk played on his lips-barely there, but Noor saw it. She looked up for just a second and caught it. That was all. Her eyes dropped again to her tea.

He leaned back on the sofa now, one arm draped along the cushion behind her. His tone was casual, but his smile gave away that familiar teasing.

"Mana kiya tha Ma. Aapki bahu meri baat maanti kaha hai. Ziddi hai."
(I told her, Ma. But your daughter-in-law doesn't listen to me. She's stubborn.(

She didn't say anything, But she looked up quickly as he spoke, just in time to catch that teasing look in his eyes.

He wasn't looking at her now. He was still addressing his mother, but he knew exactly what Noor was doing-and that only made the teasing sweeter for him. And then with the innocence foreign to Noor he spkoe-

"Poochiye Ma, nahi bola maine?"
(sk her, Ma. Didn't I tell her?)

He turned slightly toward Noor now, only to find her narrowing her eyes at him. She didn't say a word. She didn't need to. Her silence was full of scolding. Siddharth looked away again, hiding the bigger smile this time.

"Aur maine toh inhe aaram karne ko bhi bola. Par kehti hain ki hum thake nahi hain."
(And I even told her to rest. But she said she wasn't tired.)

Noor's eyes widened hearing him.

It wasn't what he meant exactly.

This time, a small laugh escaped from someone in the room. Noor stayed still-silent, red-nosed, and now clearly embarrassed.

There was meaning there. Hidden, subtle, only Noor would catch. And she did.

Her breath stilled for a second. Her cheeks warmed, but she kept her face straight, but in her mind, she was raging Strom.

Siddharth, knew that too, smile teasingly at her.

Her mother-in-law sighed and leaned in again.

"Noor beta, maan leti baat. Chalo koi nahi. Jaake aaram karo. Room mein jao, so jao."
(Noor beta, you should've listened. Anyway, it's okay. Go rest now. Go to your room and sleep.)

Noor finally stood. She tucked the loose strands of hair behind her ear, adjusted her pallu, and picked up her tea.

She didn't say a word. She didn't even look at Sidharth. But the back of her ears had turned a soft pink. And he saw that.

As she walked away, the storm inside her was no longer silent.

"Kitne chalaak hain Siddharth ji...Sharam toh jaise bechi hi di ho. Besharam kahin ke..."

(How clever Siddharth ji is... How could I forget... As if he's sold away all his shame. Shameless man...)

And behind her, on the sofa, Sidharth leaned his head back and smiled to himself-still a little worried for her health, but more than anything, amused.

He hadn't said much. But he'd said enough.

And he know, what waited for him in their room.

.

.

.

.

.

The night had grown cold.

Noor stood near the bed, gently fixing the pillow covers again for the third time. The cotton of her pallu kept slipping from her shoulder, but she didn't notice anymore.

She hadn't stepped out of the room all evening. Her mother-in-law had told her to rest.

She adjusted the bedsheet with small hands and then sighed, mumbling under her breath.

"Kidar hai ye? Niche toh bara bol rahe the..."

Her voice felt like she was ready to go on a war with him.

She bent forward to fix the corner of the bed, her fingers pulling the sheet tight. Her bangles made a little sound - glass against glass, soft like rain.

And then-

In the middle of that angry softness-

She felt it.

A hand.

Warm. Big. Gentle. Sliding suddenly on her bare waist.

The touch was Familiar. And it told her everything without saying a word.

Her lips parted slightly. Her back scooted straight in one quick motion, like a flower stem suddenly pulled to attention. Her hands instantly folded in front of her as she stood stiff, not reacting... at least not openly.

Her lips pouted in a small angry line. Her eyebrows twitched, but she didn't say a single word.

She knew it was him.

Siddharth ji.

And before she could take another breath, his palm tightened around her stomach -this time, a little tighter, like he was calling her to himself without words.

He leaned forward.

His hand stayed where it was-firm but soft-and then, he gently pulled her closer. His body now touching hers from behind, gently & completely.

And then-his cheek. Warm. Unshaven. He pressed it softly to her bare back.

His face simply stayed there, quiet, content. Noor didn't move. She stayed like that-frozen, flustered & angry.

But inside...

Her heart was fluttering like a trapped sparrow. And then, she saw him. His reflection in the small mirror ahead-smiling. That same smile. Calm. Mischievous. Soft.

And then-

A breath. Just a small one. Right on her neck.

She shivered.

He shifted a little closer. Noor stood still.

And in the next moment, he rested his chin softly on her shoulder, against the curve of her neck. Her body reacted before her mind could speak.

A soft, trembling reaction she tried to hide-but couldn't. Her fingers unclenched slightly.

And then-

His lips lowered to the side of her neck. Right over her pulse.

He placed a kiss there.

Soft.

Slow.

Still.

And he didn't move away.

He just stayed there, lips resting against her skin, soft, unmoving. Breathing her in. Resting over the place where her heart was beating wildly.

Noor's breath caught in her throat. She closed her eyes.

And then... his lips moved again. Gently sliding from her neck to her ear.

And he whispered.

"Sorry."

Just one word.

But Noor felt it everywhere. In her bones. In her breath. She blinked slowly. Her lips trembled just a little. Her folded arms dropped slightly.

She could feel the beat of her heart against her chest now. Loud. Quick. Soft.

She still didn't look at him. Not yet.

And behind her, Siddharth just stood-his arms slowly sliding around her waist now, holding her close, resting his chin gently on her shoulder trying to make her forget the tiny stung he pulled down.

And then suddenly Noor sneezed, breaking the moment.

Siddharth's cheek was still resting softly against her back, but at the sound, he lifted his head, a worried frown crossing his usually still face. His hand left her waist slowly, and he stepped back just enough to see her face clearly.

She sniffled lightly, blinking her eyes, and looked away as if hiding something silly in that breath. She was holding her pallu close now.

He took a step to stand beside her, his face a little serious, and with the gentlest fingers, he moved her hair from her cheek. The way he looked at her-it was soft, careful, as if even her cold was his fault somehow.

"Chai se koi aaram nahi hai. Dawa de raha hoon, le lijiye."
(Tea didn't help? I'll get the medicine, please take it.)

And without waiting for her response, Siddharth turned toward the cabinet near the corner. Noor stood still, quiet, eyes narrowing faintly as she watched him walk away. She looked almost offended. And cute.

She sat on the edge of the bed like a stubborn child who didn't want to sit but sat anyway-just to prove a point. Her arms folded. Eyes following him with that same innocent sharpness only Noor could carry.

Siddharth poured a glass of water and took out the medicine. His fingers moved swiftly but with care-he always did things for her like that, like her comfort was a prayer.

He walked back to her, handed her the glass and the tablet.

Noor took it, looked up at him with a slight glare in her sleepy, narrowed eyes, and said under her breath, like an unsaid complaint bursting out-

"Sab aapki wajah se ho raha hai."
(All this is happening because of you.)

Siddharth paused. His brows lifted slightly. And though his lips stayed neutral, a small smile tugged at the corner, softening him. He placed the cap back on the bottle and looked at her, amused.

"Meri wajah se? Maine kya kiya?"
(Because of me? What did I do?)

Noor, already swallowing the medicine, placed the glass gently on the small table beside the bed. Her eyes didn't leave him.

She stood up with the energy of someone holding a long-pending complaint, folded her arms again, and tilted her head.

"Aapne hi dopahar mein woh sab kiya... aur hume nahaana pada. Ab thand lag gayi hai hume. Aur neeche kya kya bol rahe the aap?"
(It was you who did that in the afternoon... and I had to take a bath. Now I've caught a cold.)

At her words, Siddharth's smile widened. His eyes twinkled at her innocence, and his heart melted at her way of saying "woh sab." He loved how she couldn't even say the word. Still, she blamed him like it was a sacred law.

"Kya woh sab kiya maine, Noor?"
(What that thing did I do, Noor?)

His voice was soft. Teasing. Just enough to see her cheeks flare.

Noor opened her mouth to say something. But halfway, she realised what he meant. What she had just said. And her mouth shut again.

Her eyes darted away. Her folded arms loosened, falling gently to her sides. She tucked her hair behind her ear, her cheeks now holding a soft blush that even the cold couldn't hide.

She looked up at him again, tried to say something, but no words came.

Siddharth's smile only grew.

Noor, flustered and red, did the only thing she could-she lightly slapped his chest and pushed him away with both palms.

"Hatiye."
(Move.)

And before he could say anything, she turned and tried walking away, her pace fast, like she could outrun her shyness.

Siddharth leaned back and laughed-really laughed, the sound deep and warm, echoing through the room like a song made just for her.

Noor, while rushing away, mumbled just loud enough to be heard-

"Ajeeb bawale aadmi hai... kitni gandi-gandi baatein karte hain aap."

(What a crazy man... always saying such dirty things.)

Her words, so simple, But Siddharth heard everything she didn't say, and it only made him love her more. Her voice full of complaints. She was done with shameless-ness of him

She had taken only a few steps when she felt it.

A firm hand caught her wrist gently from behind. She gasped a little. And with a soft pull, her back met Siddharth's chest. His arms didn't even fully hold her-just that touch, his body behind hers, was enough to steal the air from her lungs.

His head dipped low again. She felt his breath just beside her ear.

"Kya karu?" he whispered, his voice a deep hush. "Meri biwi hai hi itni haseen... ki niyat aur zubaan dono kharaab ho jaati hai unke samne."

(What should I do? My wife is so beautiful... even my intentions and words both go astray in front of her.)

Noor's gasped at his statement.Her skin turned warm. Butterflies fluttered like madness in her stomach, and her whole body softened into him.

"Hey bhagwan" she muttered, her cheeks turned a deeper shade of red. She pushed him aside with one gentle shove and ran away from him, her anklets barely making a sound in the silence.

Siddharth threw his head back, laughing again.

This woman-his Noor-she was the poetry he could never write, and the prayer he never had to say aloud.

.

.
.
.
.
.

"Yeh ab bhi khila hua hai," she said, her voice barely above a whisper, soft as the wind brushing over the tulips.

(It's still bloomed)

Noor was standing a few steps ahead of me, in the middle of the white sea I had planted just for her. But her eyes-were fixed on that one pink tulip. The only one of its kind in this garden. Still in bloom. Still standing, even after days.

I didn't answer right away.

How could I, when I was too busy watching the way the moonlight touched her cheek like it had been waiting all day just to meet her?

She had left her hair open. They danced slightly in the breeze, brushing over her shoulder, brushing over the space I wanted to be. Her fingers were tucked lightly behind her back, her feet dug gently into the grass. That simple stillness she carried-it was enough to undo everything inside me.

I looked at the tulip she was admiring. Pink. The only one. I remembered planting it with the rest, but it was weak. Almost dying. The stem was too thin, the leaves too soft, the roots barely holding the soil.

I didn't even know it was pink one at that time.

And yet, she noticed it first. Even then. Before it was this tall, beautiful thing. When it was just... struggling.

I don't know why, but looking at that tulip now-it felt like I was looking at my own heart. Fragile. Fading. When she found it.

And then-she stayed.

Noor didn't do much. She never does. She doesn't talk too much, or ask for much. But she stood beside me like people stand beside sunlight-without effort, without force. Slowly, with her-something inside me found the courage to grow again. Like that plant.

That tulip is Like my heart. And she's the reason both of them are still standing.

I stepped closer, my shoes pressing softly into the grass. She didn't look at me. Still looking at that tulip, smiling so faintly like she didn't know she was changing entire seasons with her smile.

I nodded, quietly. "Hmm," I said.

Her cheeks weren't as red as this afternoon -thank God for that.
She looked better now. Still pale, but breathing softer. That was enough for me.

She stood up, brushing her hands against the ends of her pallu, and for a moment, I forgot there was a world beyond this garden. I reached for her hand. Didn't say anything-just... took it. Like I always do.

Her fingers were warm this time.

We started walking, slowly, between the rows of tulips. The grass whispered beneath our steps. Noor didn't speak, and I didn't want her to. Silence with her felt better than poetry.

I glanced at my watch. Late.

She had college tomorrow.

I slowed down, my fingers still twined with hers, and bent my head slightly-she was so small beside me, so soft-and said in a low voice, one only meant for her,

"Raat bahut ho gayi hai. Chale?"
(It's quite late. Shall we go?)

She nodded gently.

And just like that, we turned back.

Toward the house.

Toward warmth.

Toward the kind of peace only she could make me believe in.

.

.

.

.

.

The door clicked softly behind her as my Noor went into the washroom to change.

My hands stayed inside my pockets, the chill of the night air brushing against my skin as I stood near the window, watching the moon. And I was... waiting.

Waiting to sleep. Because I don't sleep without her anymore.

And just then phone vibrated in my pocket. I took it out, my eyes still on the moon, and saw the name flash across the screen: Dr. Shweta.

The gynecologist.

I answered with a low, "Yes?"

"Good evening, Dr. Rajwardhan, You called earlier?" her voice came respectfully.

I nodded slightly. "I wanted to schedule an appointment with you."

"I have an opening tomorrow afternoon, sir, will day after tomorrow will work?"

"Yes," I said. "Book it."

"I'll update the file," she replied. "Anything specific, sir?"

"Just a consultation," I said, my voice calm. "That'll be all."

"Of course, sir. Good night."

The call ended, and I lowered the phone from my ear, slipping it back into my pocket. My eyes returned to the sky.

I stood there for a moment, silent, breathing.

I remember her mother's words about having a child-and I realized, for the first time, I do want that.

But not yet.

This time, I didn't look at it as a doctor. Or a man with titles. I just looked at it like a husband.

Like a man who, until six months ago, would have laughed if someone told him he'd be standing at a window, planning a life. Thinking of love. Of future. Of a family.

Six months ago, I would've told that person to get lost. I would've shut the door and walked away. I didn't believe I was built for this.

I thought... I wasn't meant to be loved.

A soft smile pulled at my lips as I thought of what I was doing now- thinking of a future that once, I thought would never exist.

There was a time I truly believed that I was never meant for love. Never meant to be someone's home. Never meant to have someone call me theirs.

That woman... she had almost convinced me. She made me believe I was too damaged, too cold, too lost.

I never thought I'd be a husband.

I never thought I'd want to be.

She changed everything.

Now when I think of love, I see her.

When I think of home, it's her smile.

When I think of peace, it's her hand in mine.

Like a sudden breeze on a burning afternoon. Like shade after a long walk. Like sukoon-true, quiet sukoon.

Now look at me.

Now my heart skips its beat every time she smiles. Now I forget what I have to say the second she looks up at me with those soft, serious eyes. I closed my eyes.

The thought hit me like soft thunder and I closed my eyes for a second. And then suddenly... I don't know where it came from.

An image flashed.

Her.

In a yellow saree. Standing near the mirror. Her wrists decorated with thin golden bangles. A small bindi. Her hair tied loose.

And her stomach-round and full.

Pregnant.

My throat tightened.

I opened my eyes with a small breath. My hand lifted and pressed against my chest to pat over my heart twice for it to calm down.

The image... it shook something inside me. My whole body shook & A warmth. A deep, overwhelming wave filled my heart. I didn't even know I could feel something this strong.

That image-it was too much.

The dream-It's too much.

She would be the most beautiful mother. I know it. I know it.

But... not now.

Not yet.

Because Noor has dreams. Big ones. And right now, she's just started walking toward them.

I won't let anything slow her down. Not even this.

Even if I crave to see her like that, even if every part of me is aching to build a world with her-I'll wait.

I want her to achieve her dreams first. Not mine.

Its her body. Her life. Her dream. It's her decision & her right to be where she dreamt to be with her own happiness.

The child may be both of ours, but the journey, the carrying, the sacrifice-it's hers.

And my love is not something that traps. It frees. I want her to fly, to breath, I want her to smile. And nothing came in between. Not even our child.

So we need to talk about contraception.We need to choose what's best for her. Safe. Comfortable. Something that doesn't affect her studies, her body, her rhythm

Because one thing I know-I'll never use a condom with her. Never.

Not because I'm careless.

But because I want nothing between us. Not even a layer of plastic. Not even that.

It's not about the body.

It's about what I feel when I hold her bare against me. It feels like her warmth seeps into my skin, into my bones.

Like I belong somewhere.

Like I belong to someone.

Even when I'm inside her, it still doesn't feel enough.

I want to disappear in her. I want her breath to be mine. I want her heartbeat inside my chest.

I want her scent on me. Her skin under my lips. I want her to forget my own name and just say her.

I took a long breath and opened my eyes just in time to see the door click open.

She stepped out. In a soft pink nightdress. Her hair in a bun, her cheeks clean, her eyes sleepy.

My heart...

It didn't beat. It stumbled.

She looked at me-and smiled like I was her home.

And I-

I smiled back.

Because she was my home.

And just like that... I felt complete again.

Authors pov-

As Noor stepped out of the bathroom, her eyes instinctively searched for him.

He was standing near the window, one hand resting lightly on the frame, the other tucked in his pocket. The silver moonlight poured over his face, softening the usual seriousness in his features. But what truly made her pause was the way he was looking at her.

There was a gentleness in his eyes, a kind of softness she couldn't describe-like she was something precious returning home.

And she smiled.

Automatically. Silently. Completely.

He smiled back, the kind of quiet smile that made the world feel slower.

Then, without a word, he walked to her. Calm, steady, familiar. Noor didn't move. Her feet remained planted as her husband came to stand in front of her. He gently took her hand in his. His touch was warm, grounding. She looked down at their entwined fingers-how naturally they fit-before looking up at him.

But he wasn't looking at their hands. He was still looking at her.

There was something in his eyes. Something far away, like a thought he hadn't shared yet.

It stayed with him. Quiet but loud.

"Kya hua?" she asked softly.
("What happened?")

He shook his head with a slight smile, but the dreaminess in his gaze didn't leave.

Noor tilted her head. She didn't press further, but her eyes still questioned him.

She turned to walk toward the dressing mirror, their hands still joined, her other hand gathering her loose hair over one shoulder. Siddharth followed, slow and gentle in his steps, stopping behind her as she stood in front of the mirror.

"Parso ki appointment fix kar di hai maine," he said.
("I've fixed day after tomorrow's appointment.")

Noor frowned. She looked up at him in the mirror.

"Kis cheez ki?" she asked, picking up the comb, slowly pulling it through her damp hair.
("For what?")

Siddharth didn't answer right away. Instead, he leaned down and pressed a soft kiss on the crown of her head. His hands came to rest lightly on her shoulders, firm but reassuring.

"Gynecologist ka. Best contraceptive ke consultation liye"
("With the gynecologist. For the best contraceptive consultation.")

The comb paused mid-stroke.

Noor blinked. The word felt strange in her ears, especially from Siddharth's mouth. She turned slowly to face him, her brows drawing together just a little.

"Contraceptive?" she echoed.

His eyes dropped to hers, steady and full of something deep. He took her other hand, the comb still in her fingers, and held it gently.

"You just started dreaming, Cherry," he said, voice calm but honest.

"Abhi bahut kuch hasil karna hai aapko."
("You still have so much left to achieve.")

Noor's breath slowed.

"No matter how beautiful it looks in my imagination to build a family with you," he continued,

"I can't deny the truth... You're young. You're ambitious. This is your life, Noor. Aur ye aapka shareer hai."

("And this is your body.")

He touched her stomach lightly, just for a moment, then looked up again.

"And we both know, you're not ready. Hmm?"

Something shifted inside her.

She felt it in her chest first, like a soft crack opening up in the middle of her heart. Where Noor was hesitant to talk on this topic, her Aarth understand without her saying.

Her mother's words came back to her.

A child secures a man, they said. A child ties him to you. But how could she explain... Siddharth was not a man who needed a child to stay.

He didn't need to be tied.

He chose her. Every day. Every second.

His love didn't need proof.

She could feel it-in the way he held her hand without asking, in the way he looked at her like she was the whole sky, in the way he booked a gynecologist appointment not for himself, but for her.

Because he understood.

She looked up at him-this man she had married, this man who quietly redefined everything she thought she knew.

She wasn't comparing. She couldn't.

There was no one to compare him to.

In a world where women were often silenced in such matters, where decisions about their bodies were taken without asking them, where being a wife often meant giving more than receiving-Siddharth stood quietly behind her and said:

It's your choice.

Her eyes began to burn gently.

He wasn't just different.

He was rare.

The kind of man one only gets after a thousand prayers and lifetimes of waiting.

And slowly, wordlessly, she turned and hugged him. Her face rested against his chest.

She didn't say anything. She couldn't.

There were no words for this kind of moment.

Siddharth said nothing either.

He only brought both his arms around her and held her there-firm, sure, unmoving.

Like he would protect this silence with everything in him.

And Noor thought-this is what it means to be safe.

This is what it means to be loved..

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Noor's POV

"Hopefully aaj Professor Dheer honge. Kuch bola unhone tumhe?" Samiksha asked, slinging her bag over her shoulder.
("Hopefully Professor Dheer will be there today. Did he say anything to you?")

I shook my head. Even during class, he hadn't mentioned anything.

"Koi nahi, chalo dekhte hai," she said with a smile.

("No worries, let's see.")

I nodded back at her and quietly began packing my things too.

I still had to collect the notes from the classes I had missed-Professor Dheer had them with him.

As we climbed the stairs of the university building, the usual sight greeted us-students scattered around in small groups, sitting on steps, leaning against the railings, chatting, laughing, completely absorbed in their little worlds.

We both stood in front of Professor Dheer's office.

This time, there was no peon sitting outside.

That only meant one thing-Professor Dheer was inside.

I took a quiet breath and knock on the door, when I suddenly felt Samiksha leaning close to me.

"All the best," she whispered softly near my ear.

My eyes widened a little as I turned to her.

"Aap... aap andar nahi chalengi?" I asked, surprised.
("You... you won't come inside with me?")

She took two steps back with a nervous smile and waved her hands as if refusing.

"Nahi bhai, inke office mein mujhe nahi jaana," she said, shaking her head.

("No way, I don't want to go inside his office.")

I didn't say anything to her after that.

Samiksha wasn't very expressive, but the way she said it-I could feel it.

She knew this wasn't going to be a good experience.

And now even I felt unsure, like my steps were suddenly too heavy. But still, I nodded. Because this had to be done.

Just then, a voice came from inside. "Come in."

I quickly whispered to myself, "Hey Bhagwan..."

And I walked in.

The door closed softly behind me as I stepped forward.

Professor Dheer was sitting behind his desk, looking down at some papers. He didn't look up. Not even once.

I stood quietly in front of his desk, waiting. My hands gently clutched the strap of my bag.

A few seconds passed. Then a few more.

And finally, he looked up.

"Yes?" he asked, his eyes directly on me-as if searching for something.

That look made me uncomfortable.

Still, I stayed calm.

"Notes, sir. I'm the new student," I said.

He didn't react at first. His face stayed still. Then he slowly nodded and opened one of the drawers. I thought he would pull out the notes, but instead, he took out a file and started flipping through pages.

My brows pulled together slightly in confusion, but I didn't say anything.

Still reading through the file, he suddenly spoke-

"So you did your second year... and then decided to sit at home for two years... and now you're joining back?"

I looked up at him, surprised.

The way he said it-it felt sharp. Like a taunt.

Before I could even respond, he looked directly into my eyes.

"Can I know the reason, Miss Noor?"

His gaze was too strong. Too direct.

And the way he asked-it wasn't just a question.

He was judging me.

I felt my fingers tightening around the strap of my bag.

There was something inside me that wanted to answer back, to defend myself.

But I swallowed the feeling and said softly, "Family problems."

I looked away from him after saying that.

My lips pressed together.

I didn't want to say more. I didn't owe him anything. Still, the silence that followed made my skin prickle. It wasn't the silence that scares you-it was the one that stays with you.

There was something about the way he was-something strange.

Not in a dirty way, no.

Just something that made me feel... watched. Measured.

Like he was trying to figure me out.

But I wasn't here for that. I didn't care what he thought. Ionly wanted the notes.

Because I knew... outside this room, my Siddharth ji was waiting for me.

And I had no space left in my world for anything else.

"Fair enough, Miss Noor," he finally said.

He took out a bundle of pages and dropped them on the desk. Without looking at him, I stepped forward and picked them up.

Just as I turned to leave, I heard him again.

"Miss Noor."

I stopped. My grip on the bag tightened.

My jaw clenched unknowingly, I didn't like the way he kept saying "Miss Noor." it was like another taunt.

I turned around slowly, looked into his eyes, and spoke-

"Sir... it's not Miss now. It's-"

I took a pause.

"Mrs. Noor Siddharth Singh Rajvardhan."

I saw his eyebrow rise a little. Something shifted in his eyes when he heard the name. Something I didn't understand.

Something I didn't even want to understand.

Again, I turned to go.

"Mrs. Rajvardhan. I want them back in two days. And remember-I will check your notes. I want them written, not printed."

I looked at the huge pile in my hands and felt a small disbelief rise inside me. Two days?

But I didn't let it show. I wouldn't give him that.

"Okay, sir."

And without another glance, I walked out.

Now I knew why people called him the meanest professor.

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Authors pov-

Noor stepped out of the college gate, her steps light but her shoulders still heavy. The air outside felt different, but her body still remembered Professor Dheer's presence-sharp like a pin in the back of her mind. She didn't look around. She didn't want to.

But then... she saw him.

Leaning casually against the passenger side of the car, Siddharth stood waiting.

The late afternoon sun caught on the chain at his neck, half-glimpsed beneath the open collar of his black shirt. His sleeves were rolled up, forearms bare, arms crossed against his chest like the world didn't bother him much. The few undone buttons made him look effortlessly sharp-and somehow even more his. He wasn't doing anything. Just standing. Waiting.

Something inside her sighed.

He was standing there like he had all the time in the world

Noor stopped. Her breath, for the first time that day, came easy.

It was strange-how just the sight of him unclenched parts of her she hadn't realized were tight. Her shoulders lowered. Her heartbeat slowed. A small, very small smile found its way to her lips-not planned, not intentional. Just... there.

She began to walk toward him.

With every step, something fluttered in her chest. She didn't even notice how the noise around her faded, how the world shrank down to just one man, standing across from her. It was like walking home after a long day, toward the only warmth that made sense.

She wanted to tell him everything. Like a child who held stories in her palms, waiting to open them only in front of one person. She wanted to tell him about the day, about the professor, about the awkwardness and the weight she had carried until now. It was silly-how excited she felt. How safe.

Her smile widened as she neared.

And then-two girls walked across her path.

Noor didn't notice them at first. Her eyes had been only on him. But the shift came like a blink. A flick of a moment. The way the girls turned their heads, once... then again. Not just a glance. Looking.

At him.

At her husband.

Something in Noor paused.

Her steps slowed by just a fraction, not enough to be seen, but enough to be felt inside. Her eyes followed the way those girls kept looking-how even after passing him, they turned to see him again. Something in Noor's chest felt warm-but not in the comforting way. It was a different kind of warmth. Unsettled. Quietly... sharp.

Her smile disappeared-just like that. Gone, as if it was never there.

Her lips pressed together in a straight line. She blinked once. Then again.

Her eyes, unsure now, moved to the left. Then to the right. She saw other people too. Some were looking at her. Yes. But most... most were looking at him, At the man in the black shirt with rolled-up sleeves and quiet eyes.

Her heart gave a small thud. Not the kind that feels nice.

And yet, when she looked at him again...

He wasn't looking at anyone else.

He was standing straight now, no longer leaning, eyes fixed only on her. As if no one else even existed. There was no confusion in his gaze. No flicker. Just her.

As if the world did not exist. Only she did.

It should have made her smile again.

But it didn't.

Her grip on the strap of her bag tightened. Her lips pressed together, a thin, serious line now. She kept walking till she reached him. He smiled the moment she stopped in front of him-a soft, relieved smile. Like someone who had waited all day for something simple and pure.

Siddharth's eyes softened the moment she reached him. A long day without her, and now she was right here, in front of him. But something felt... different. He noticed it. He always did. Noor's face wasn't the usual soft cloud. Her brows weren't relaxed. Her lips weren't curved. She looked like she was thinking. Hard.

Without a word, Siddharth leaned to open the backseat door, ready to take her bag.

And then-

"Ye wali shirt kyun pehni hai?"
("Why are you wearing this shirt?")

Noor's voice came out before she could stop it. Soft, but firm. Like it had been building inside all day and finally slipped out.

Siddharth blinked, confused. His hand paused on the car door. He was about to answer-that she had laid this shirt out for him in the morning-when Noor took a step closer.

And held his shirt.

Her fingers, tiny and unsure, gripped the third open button near his chest.

"Aur pehni to upar ke 3 button kyun khol rakhe hai aapne?"
("And even if you're wearing it, why are the top three buttons open?")

Siddharth stilled.

He didn't care who was watching. Noor-his Noor-was standing in public, holding his shirt, asking about the way he dressed. Something she had never done. Not once in all the days they had known each other.

And now, her eyes weren't soft. They were narrowed. Her cheeks were puffed. Her little nose was scrunched, not in annoyance-but in something else.

Siddharth's lips parted slightly. He didn't even know what to say.

This wasn't anger.

This was something else. And for a moment, something flickered in his heart.

Her silence that wasn't silence anymore.

And he know he was in trouble.

Siddharth gulped, unknowingly looking at her narrowed eyes.

"Aise hi... abhi laga leta hoon."
("Just like that... I'll fix it now.")

He said it quickly, quietly. Like a boy caught by his teacher.

Noor took a small step back. Folded her arms across her chest. Her eyes still narrowed.

And Sidharth-The Sidharth who everyone saw as calm, collected, serious-quickly placed her bag inside, closed the door, and buttoned up his shirt with slight hurry, like a soldier fixing his uniform before inspection.

She didn't say anything.

Her eyes dropped again to his arms. His sleeves. Bare. The buttons still open.

Siddharth noticed. And before he could ask, Noor spoke again.

"Ye baazu ke button bhi khol rakhe hai aapne."
(You've left the buttons on your sleeves open too.)

Her voice wasn't sharp. It wasn't rude. But it wasn't her usual softness either. There was a pinch in it. A tiny, adorable pinch.

And he felt every bit of it.

Because only someone like Noor could say such a line and still look like she wanted to hide behind him at the same time.

Sidharth, now truly stunned, looked at her face. And for the first time, he noticed-there was something in her voice today. A tone he hadn't heard before. Not softness. Not irritation.

Possession.

A quiet kind. A lovely kind.

He didn't say anything. He just looked at her as he buttoned his sleeves. Slowly. Not to fix his appearance now, but because it mattered to her.

And then, as he straightened his sleeves, he noticed how Noor quickly looked around. Her eyes scanning the people. And something clicked inside him.

For the first time since he had arrived, Siddharth looked away from Noor... and noticed how many eyes were indeed on him.

And then-he smiled.

A slow, deep, proud smile.

Because now he understood.

His wife... was jealous.

And it was the most beautiful thing he had seen all day.

It made his chest ache in the best way.

Noor slowly looked up and down at her husband. His shirt was buttoned, his collar neatly folded, his sleeves rolled down just like she had wanted. He was fully covered-just like her heart needed.

A small sigh of relief escaped her lips, one she didn't even know she was holding. Her fingers, still crossed around her chest, relaxed ever so slightly. Her heart, that had been stormy with silent jealousy, began to calm-like a river settling after the wind leaves. A quiet smile touched her lips, so gentle it looked like it bloomed there, not with force, but like a flower opening to soft morning light.

Siddharth had been watching her all this time. That small smile on her lips-he caught it, as if it was a treasure made only for him. His heart melted instantly. His wife... his soft-spoken, shy Noor, who couldn't even lift her gaze easily, was now secretly smiling because of him. What else could he ever want in life?

He tilted his head a little, still standing straight but lowering his face gently, leaning just enough to match her height, enough to make her feel like she had all the power in the world. His voice was teasing, warm, full of love that never had to shout-

"Aur koi hukum, Malkin?"
(Any other order Malkin?)

And just like that-her cheeks turned pink, then a deeper red. Noor blinked at him, lips parting a little, speechless. A wave of softness rushed through her body.

She realised what she had been doing just moments ago-getting jealous. And now he stood there, smiling at her like she was the only woman in the world.

Her gaze fell. Her chest rose and fell gently, her breath catching a little in her throat. There was no regret in her heart, no embarrassment either-It was realization of how stupid of her. Getting jealous? Her husband didn't even glance at any other women once and here she was getting jealous.

But others looked at him. Why anyone will look at her husband?

She shook her head softly, looking down, trying to push away the tiny smile that kept rising back at her silly thoughts.

Siddharth chuckled under his breath, eyes still glued to his wife. Then, slowly and silently, he walked to her side. He opened the passenger seat gently and stepped aside for her to sit.

Noor was still quiet, still blushing lightly, when she stepped forward. Her dupatta had slipped earlier. Without a word, Siddharth bent down and picked it up with care.

Once she sat inside, Siddharth rounded the car, came to his seat, and sat down. The engine was still off. Noor was looking down, her fingers gently brushing the edge of her dupatta now. Her smile was small but steady, and Siddharth knew. He knew exactly what she was thinking.

He leaned back a little, reaching for something in the backseat. Then, with quiet ease, he pulled out a small bouquet of red roses.

He had seen them earlier on his way. The moment his eyes had found those red petals, he couldn't stop himself. Noor had worn red today. The same shade. How could he walk past those roses and not think of her?

He had bought them without thinking twice. And now, holding them, he thought-not even these flowers could match his Noor. Maybe they could sit next to her beauty, maybe they could try to compliment it, but compete? Never.

He gently held the bouquet out toward her and smiled-

"Maaf kariye iss bawale pati ko, Cherry. Jyda hero ban raha tha mai bahar black shirt me khara hoke."

(Forgive this crazy husband, Cherry. I was acting too much like a hero, standing outside in a black shirt.)

His voice teased lightly, with a wink. Noor looked up at him, startled a bit, and then she couldn't stop the colour from rushing to her cheeks. Her fingers touched the bouquet, her eyes flicking from the flowers to her husband's face. A smile, shy but clear, broke on her lips as she took them in her hands.

Siddharth smiled even bigger, feeling like he had just been gifted something too. And then, as he turned on the car, his left hand went to the steering wheel.

His right hand reached out, gently moving toward her lap, waiting softly.

But this time, Noor didn't wait. Before his hand could even land, she reached out and placed her hand on his. Her fingers, small and warm, laced gently into his. His heart skipped a beat.

Her eyes were still on the flowers, but her voice came low, steady-

"Ab aap gaadi mein hi baithiyega. Bahar khade hone ki zarurat nahi hai."

("Now you just sit inside the car. There's no need to stand outside.")

Her words were soft, but the message was loud. Siddharth looked at her, amused and touched at the same time. Her jealousy hadn't fully left her, had it?

She looked down at their joined hands, Her eyes moved up, slowly, meeting Siddharth's again. Hewas already looking at her-with that same quiet smile.

She took a breath, her voice a little smaller now-

"Hum khud aa jaayenge aapke paas."
(I myself will come to you.)

She said, her voice still holding the innocent feeling.

Siddharth stared at her for a moment longer. She was shy just a moment ago. Now she was saying things that stirred something so sweet, so possessive, so proud in his heart. He had thought her jealousy was over. But no. It was there, quietly rooted into her love.

"Jaisa aapko sahi lage," he said softly.
(Whatever you say)

And then, he lifted their joined hands, turned it gently, and pressed a kiss to the back of her palm.

His lips lingered for a second. Then he looked at her again, his blue eyes twinkling with affection and pride.

Noor's heart skipped. Her lips trembled slightly into another smile. She looked at him as if he was the only thing her eyes knew how to see.

Siddharth looked ahead and started the car. Noor looked down again, holding the bouquet close to her chest, her heart full. Those red roses? Even they looked brighter, as if proud to sit in the arms of the woman her husband loved the most.

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The car was moving slowly through the evening traffic, as if even the wheels didn't want to disturb the softness between them. Noor sat with the bouquet still in her lap, her fingers gently brushing against the petals now and then, like she was afraid they might break. Her gaze was calm, almost dreamy, and the warmth in her chest hadn't left since he'd placed the flowers in her hands.

She looked out of the window, her eyes tracing the changing colours of the evening. The golden sun was melting into soft oranges, the shadows of the city were stretching longer across the streets, and everything looked like a painting that didn't need words.

And then-something familiar caught her eye.

A small, roadside stall stood at the corner of a busy crossing. People were gathered around it, their voices rising with excitement, and in the middle of it all, steam floated up into the air. Puchke.

Her heart stirred.

A sudden, silly craving took over her senses. It had been months-almost six-since she had last tasted one.

And now, seeing that vendor standing with a round basket, tapping holes into those little crunchy shells and filling them with tamarind water and potatoes-it sent a sudden wave of longing through her.

Her eyes stayed fixed on the stall, even when the car crossed it. Her neck turned back, almost without thinking.

Siddharth noticed.

Of course, he did.

He was looking straight ahead, one hand on the wheel, the other resting lightly near the gear. But the moment her eyes lingered behind, he turned his head. And without asking, he slowly brought the car to a stop.

He looked at her.

"Kya chahiye?"
(What do you want?)

Noor didn't act surprised. Not even a little. He always noticed. That was the thing about him. She didn't have to ask. He always, always knew.

Her lips curled into a slow smile. First shy, then wide, then brighter than the sun outside. Her eyes sparkled. A childish excitement took over her face.

"Puchke," she said with a sudden burst of joy.
(Puchka.)

Siddharth turned toward her slowly, as if time had stilled for a moment. His hand, which had been lazily trailing on the gear, tightened a little. His eyes stayed on her face.

She was glowing.

Her cheeks were pink. Her eyes were wide. Her entire body leaned just a little forward, like a child seeing her favourite thing after ages. Siddharth's heart skipped a beat. How did she manage to look like this? This beautiful? This innocent?

His lips twitched with a quiet smile, full of warmth. He shook his head, still watching her, still unable to look away from the joy on her face.

Without saying a word, he gently reversed the car, moving it back toward the stall.

Noor turned from him to the window, her heart thudding in a rhythm she couldn't slow down. She hadn't expected him to agree. Somewhere inside, she had thought he would deny. He was a doctor. He hated junk food. He always frowned at anything unhygienic. But still... here he was.

She looked at him again.

"Dila rahe aap hume?" she asked, almost breathless.
(You're really getting them for me?)

Siddharth didn't reply immediately. He stopped the car near the stall, then turned toward her fully. His eyes softened even more, his expression unreadable but so full of emotion.

Noor's face was still glowing. Her hair moved slightly across her forehead, and her smile-her smile-made his chest feel tight. She looked like a child. A child he wanted to protect forever.

He reached out. With the gentlest fingers, he tucked the loose strand of hair behind her ear. His thumb brushed her cheek-slow, soft, reverent.

"Aap bole aur main na dilata? Paap karwaygi kya?"
(You say it and I don't get it for you? You want me to sin?)

Noor giggled. Not just a small one-but a full, sweet, musical giggle that rose from her chest and lit up the whole car. Her cheeks turned red, her eyes dropped, and the moment suddenly felt too sweet to hold.

She looked away, still smiling.

Siddharth reached for the central lock. The car clicked.

"Jaiye," he said, his voice lower now but still warm.

(Go.)

Noor nodded quickly, excitement bubbling in her like a little soda fizz. She didn't wait for him. She didn't have to. She knew he'd follow. He always followed.

She stepped out, her dupatta fluttering slightly with the breeze. She walked toward the stall, where a small line of people stood waiting. But she didn't mind. Her heart was too happy, too full.

Behind her, the car door shut softly. She turned slightly, and there he was-Siddharth. Standing tall beside her now. He had changed his glasses. He wasn't wearing his usual ones. Today, he wore black sunglasses. His shirt was buttoned all the way to the collar, sleeves rolled and buttoned neatly. Good.

Noor looked up, and found him already looking down at her.

Their eyes met.

Her cheeks turned red again. But this time, it wasn't shyness alone. It was happiness. Pure, sweet happiness that made her want to hold this moment forever.

She didn't say anything. She didn't need to.

And Siddharth-he didn't say anything either.

He just stood there beside his wife, in the middle of the crowd, in the middle of the noise, in the middle of the smell of fried food and spice-and yet somehow, everything around them felt quiet.

Because all he could see was her.

And all she could feel was him.

The puchka vendor handed over a small leaf plate to Noor, the kind she remembered from her college days-fragile, simple, yet it held joy like no other. He placed the first piece delicately on it, stuffing it with mashed potatoes, spices, and filling it with that tangy tamarind water.

Noor's fingers trembled with excitement as she picked it up. Her eyes were on that little round delight as if she were greeting an old friend. She opened her mouth, placed it gently in, and-

Oh.

The first burst of sourness mixed with the gentle heat of the spices hit her tongue and her eyes closed on their own. The flavours-raw, earthy, exploding with memories-spread through her like an old forgotten monsoon song. Her face softened in pleasure, her lashes resting on her cheeks like petals.

She had forgotten what it felt like.

Forgotten how something so simple could make her feel so... full.

Her eyes slowly opened, the taste still lingering. She turned to look at him.

He wasn't watching her. His head was lowered, fingers tapping softly on his phone, probably answering something from work.

She turned again toward the vendor, a soft smile curving her lips as she said,

"Bhaiya, ek kam teekhi wali dijiyega."
(Bhaiya, one with less spice please.)

The vendor nodded and gave her another piece, slightly less spicy than before. She picked it up carefully, the water glistening over its edges, and then-without saying a word-turned toward Siddharth.

He wasn't looking at her, but he felt it.

He always did.

He looked up the very moment her eyes met his.

And she smiled.

It was the kind of smile that said nothing and everything.

Then Noor extended the piece toward him-her small palm open, offering it silently. The puchka balanced carefully on her fingers.

Siddharth raised an eyebrow. His lips curved, his eyes questioned her wordlessly.

You want me to eat that?-his eyes asked.

Noor widened her eyes in response, a silent innocent stubbornness dancing within them.

Siddharth's heart skipped beat.What was he supposed to do in front of that face?

She was his ruin, his prayer, his softest truth.

He opened his mouth slightly and leaned forward.

She placed it carefully between his lips.

Siddharth closed his eyes the moment the water touched his tongue. The unexpected flood of sour, tangy water, the sharpness of spice-it was too much. He didn't eat junk food. He was always disciplined. But this? This had a taste he had never known.

He chewed slowly, his eyes still closed, and Noor watched him as if she had just discovered something new in her husband-something that made her love him even more.

There was a little drop of water trailing down his lips. Noor, without a second thought, gently lifted her dupatta and wiped it.

He opened his eyes at the soft brush of her fabric.

And there she was, looking at him with a bright smile, proud of what she'd just done.

Siddharth let out a soft laugh under his breath, the kind of laugh that carried no sound, only warmth.

The vendor passed her the next one, placing it gently on her plate again.

She turned slightly, took the piece, and brought it to her mouth, stealing small glances at Siddharth from the corner of her eye.

The sun had dipped lower now, casting warm golden rays across the street. Its glow spilled across Noor's face, catching her cheeks, already a little red, and her lashes, fluttering every time she blinked with joy. Her smile was small but full, and there was something so innocent, so sacred in the way she chewed slowly-like this moment mattered.

Like it was a prayer.

Siddharth didn't even blink.

All the sounds of traffic, the noise of the street, the calls of vendors-everything faded into the background.

All he could hear was her soft breathing. All he could see was her.

Noor turned toward the vendor again and softly said something Siddharth couldn't catch.

When she turned back, there was another piece in her hand.

Again, she held it out to him, quietly, lovingly.

This time, Siddharth gave her a small teasing smile and said:

"Ek doctor ko ye sab khila rahi hai aap, Cherry."
(You're feeding all this to a doctor, Cherry.)

Noor didn't say anything. She simply smiled more, and without waiting, placed the puchka into his mouth once again.

This time, the water was even more, some of it slipped near his lips.

Noor lifted her dupatta again and wiped it gently, with care, with love, with so much pride.

And then she looked into his eyes and softly said,

"Doctor honge aap apne hospital mein. Humare samne bas humara Aarth hai."
(You might be a doctor in your hospital, but in front of me, you're just my Arth.)

Siddharth froze for a heartbeat.

Her words... they fell on his chest like the softest thunder, like petals with weight.

He couldn't move.

She had claimed him.

Again.

And every time she did that, every time she said something so soft yet so powerful, it brought him to his knees.

The world could call him doctor, Rajvardhan whatever name they wanted. But to her-he was just her Aarth

And he wouldn't want it any other way.

He raised his hand, tugged that same strand of hair behind her ear once again, a strand he had already fixed a few minutes ago, just for the sake of feeling her again.

And then, his voice deep and quiet, he said,

"Jo aap bole, Malkin."

(Whatever you say, My Queen.)

Noor's cheeks turned red at the nickname. The moment was too intense, too full. She dropped her gaze, breaking the eye contact. Her shy smile pulled at the corners of her lips as she turned toward the vendor again.

Siddharth watched her, smiling to himself.

Then Noor mumbled under her breath, shaking her head cutely with a little laugh,

"Bawale."
(Crazy.)

And Siddharth just watched her.

In awe.

In love.

In surrender.

To his Malkin.

To his Sukoon, his world.

To his Cherry

To Noor.

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The hospital lights were dimming slowly, slipping into the silence of night. It was almost time to leave. Siddharth stood from his chair, fingers brushing against the cold metal of the table as he picked up the keys from the tray. The soft jingle broke the stillness of his cabin. He adjusted his sleeves, his coat still resting perfectly on his shoulders, and turned toward the door.

The second he opened it, there stood Dr. Sinha, already dressed to leave.

"See you, Dr. Rajvardhan. At 4 a.m.," the older man said with a nod.

Siddharth's lips moved into a polite, professional smile-the kind he wore every day without effort. "Hmm," he nodded. Nothing more. That was all he needed to say.

As Dr. Sinha walked away, Siddharth's steps turned toward the east wing. His phone buzzed quietly in his pocket, but he didn't check it.

Tomorrow was the day.

Aryan's surgery. The surgery he had dreamt of, planned for, and prayed for silently. Every heartbeat in his chest had carried that promise. To make Aryan stand. To give him a life beyond the quiet walls of illness. To gift him something so many children are born with, but he had to fight for.

Siddharth's steps slowed as he reached the glass-panelled observation bay outside the paediatric ICU. The lights inside were soft. Gentle. Like they understood that hope slept in those rooms.

Through the glass, Siddharth saw him.

Aryan. Just five years old. So small on that big hospital bed. Curled up slightly, arms wrapped around a tiny red car.

The same car he had brought him.

It was lying close to his heart, hugged like a treasure. Even in sleep, the boy's face had a certain seriousness-just like his own. Siddharth's eyes stayed on the child for a long moment.

His hand lifted, resting gently against the glass.

A soft touch.

No warmth passed through the cold panel, but still, Siddharth stayed there. Breathing slowly. Steady.

I promised you, he told the silence. I promised I would fix you.

And promises made by Siddharth Singh Rajvardhan were not ordinary. They were written somewhere deep in his soul.

This boy had found a place there. Quietly. Slowly. Just like someone else had.

He watched Aryan for a few more minutes. His eyes didn't move, but his heart did. It felt tight. Like something inside him was swelling. Not pain. Not fear. Just... something that had no name.

After some time, Siddharth finally stepped back.

Without a word, he turned around, walked down the corridor, and descended the wide staircase leading to the parking. His shoes echoed lightly, cleanly, in the empty space. The cold night air touched his skin as he unlocked his car.

He didn't start it immediately.

He sat still.

One hand on the steering wheel.

His eyes staring forward.

His mind, though... it was full.

Aryan.

Noor.

His promises.

His past.

His present.

His hand quietly went inside his pants pocket & he clutched Noor's bangle that he always carries. The feeling of being near her filled hjs sense

Everything existed in quiet waves inside his head. But he didn't say a word. Not even to himself.

Because Siddharth Singh Rajvardhan didn't need words to feel, he needs those brown eyes looking at him with love in them to breath.

He just closed his eyes for a second-one deep breath-and then pulled his hand put of his picket & started the engine. The car came alive. But inside him, the storm stayed silent.

Until he would reach her again.

Until he would see the only place where his chaos calms.

Noor.

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Siddharth pov-

I parked the car outside Rajvardhan Mansion and took a deep breath.

My mind was still busy thinking about Aryan. It might not be the most critical case in my medical history, but it is the most important one.

My head was hurting a little with all the overthinking, and now all I wanted... was to bury my face in her chest and close my eyes. To breathe in that jasmine and sandalwood smell of hers until I smelled like her too.

Just the thought of it made my jaw clench. My throat dried up.

I got out of the car and walked in.

As I walked, my eyes fell on the tulip garden.

Her tulip garden.

And just like her presence, a soft smile came to my lips. Like Noor, it had a quiet way of relaxing my heart.

Shaking my head at my desperate heart, which I had laid bare only for her, I walked inside.

I looked around. She would either be in the kitchen... or sitting with Maa.

But as I stepped in, I saw Maa and Dadi sitting on the sofa.

She wasn't there.

I frowned. My eyes looked around, hoping to hear the soft sound of her payal somewhere in the house.

But there was none.

"Aagya beta,"
(You've come, son)

Maa said, and my attention shifted to her. She was smiling at me, and without thinking, my feet moved toward her.

I sat near her, and she ran her hand through my hair. Just like that, my thoughts settled.

I smiled.

"Nashta kiya kuch aapne?"
(Did you eat something?) I asked.

She smiled again and nodded.

My eyes shifted to Dadi, who was now looking at us with a small smile.

"Are betwa, teri patni ko chain se baithne ki aadat thodi hai. Din bhar apni saas bahu gappe lagati hai, hasti rehti hai."
(Oh son, your wife doesn't know how to sit still. She keeps gossiping with her mother-in-law the whole day, always laughing.)

My heart warmed.

For some reason, knowing the two women I owe my life to get along this well... it gave me a kind of relief I never knew I needed.

"Maa, abhi toh bacha aaya hai..."
(Maa, he just came home...)

Maa said in a low voice, but I heard her.

"Ha toh hum kaun sa jung pe bhej rahe. Tu chipki rehti thi mujhse, ab teri bahu tujhse chipki rehti hai. Jaan chhuti meri tum dono se."

(It's not like we sent him to war. You used to cling to me, now your daughter-in-law clings to you. Finally, I've gotten some peace from both of you.)

I let out a small laugh.

"Maa..." Maa winced, and I couldn't help but chuckle softly again.

My eyes quietly scanned the house again.

Where is she?

Is she in the kitchen?

But why hasn't she come out?

Did she not hear me coming?

And just then, Dadi spoke with a smirk in her tone-

"Tujhe sahi naam diya hai maine betwa... bawala."
(I gave you the right name, son... mad one.)

"Ja... bahu kamre mein hai. Bechari ko bhi chain nahi hai."
(Go... your wife is in the room. Poor girl doesn't even get peace now.)

I froze for a second.

My ears... suddenly felt hot.

Neck too.

Without saying a word, I stood up. My hand awkwardly went to the back of my head. I tilted my head slightly toward Maa and muttered-

"Aata hoon."
(I'll be back.)

And I started walking upstairs.

Behind me, I could hear Maa and Dadi laughing softly.

A small smile came to my lips too.

I sighed, hugged that warmth inside my chest, and shook my head at myself again.

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The door was closed.

I stood in front of it. Then I took a deep breath... slowly, I opened the door, without making a sound.

And then I saw her.

She was lying on the bed... chest toward the mattress. One leg half raised, one down. Her soft skin glowing in the little sunlight slipping through the curtain. Her saree had moved up from her leg, showing soft skin that made something stir inside me.

I forgot to breathe.

My eyes stopped at her bare back... only one thin blouse strap was there. The rest of her smooth skin was open to my gaze. Her long hair had fallen to one side, giving my eyes a clear view of that soft back... delicate, warm... like poetry made of skin.

My throat dried.

She hadn't heard me. Her anklets were making a soft sound again and again, matching the slow movement of her leg going up and down. Like a child... like she had no idea someone was watching her. Like she had no idea her husband was falling in love all over again.

I felt something stir inside me. Something warm and wild. I wanted to run my hand over her skin. Touch her. Feel her.

Her saree was coffee-coloured today. It suited her skin like a whisper. She looked like someone you could worship in silence.

And my eyes... they moved again. From her leg... to her waist... to her back... to her neck to her face.

Then they stopped.

There was a pen between her lips.

She was reading something, a notebook open in front of her. Her fingers slowly writing, copying something.

My legs moved without asking me.

I walked closer.

And then I looked at her face.

Peaceful.

Soft smile.

Even in this moment where my body was burning, my heart... it smiled too.

She looked like a feast. Her body, her back, her face. Everything about her was saying - come close.

All I wanted in that moment... was to bite her soft cheek.

To mark her mine once again tonight.

I walked more near her, now in front d her when-

My eyes stopped again.

Thay fucking herry pillow.

It was under her chest. Pressed tight. Her soft body was relaxed on it.

My smile faded.

What the fuck.

That place... that place was mine.

My jaw locked. My fingers curled.

Why was that pillow touching her there?

It should have been my face, my face pressed against her chest, that belonged to me. Not some stupid cherry pillow. My eyes were now narrow. My mood had already changed.

Fuck.

I wanted to throw that pillow away. Right then.

I was staring at it like it was my biggest enemy. And then I heard her voice.

"Aagye aap? Chai banau aapke liye?"
[You came? Should I make tea for you?]

My eyes left the pillow and looked at her face. And again... my smile returned.

She was looking at me now. Innocent. Like she didn't even know what she was doing to me just by lying like that.

I moved to her side, ignoring that fucking pillow for her sake. Assignments were in front of her. And before I could ask, she said softly-

"Notes hai. Jo classes missed hui uski."
[These are notes. For the classes I missed.]

I frowned.

Why was she writing all this down? We could have just printed it. She didn't need to stress herself.

I looked at her again.

Lifted my finger.

Slowly, I touched her bare back. My skin met her skin... and something inside me melted. My hand moved up, reaching her ear... touching her jhumka.

She twisted her head and looked at me.

I asked quietly, "Aap likh kyu rahi hai? We could get it printed out?"
[Why are you writing? We could get it printed out.]

She looked at me and replied with those soft eyes-

"Wo, professor Dheer ne bola hai ki likhna hoga. Print nahi karwana."
[That professor Dheer said it has to be written. No prints allowed.]

My frown became deeper.

Even yesterday, she said something about that professor. And now again?

In just two days, he was already troubling her. Giving her stress. My jaw clenched. It looks like the principal didn't understood my message exactly.

I made a note in my mind. Tomorrow, I will talk to the principal.

"Hmm," I replied quietly, my voice low. My mind was already thinking what I have to do next.

Then... I felt her touch.

Her finger softly touched my eyebrow.

My body relaxed. Like magic.

Everything stopped.

All that anger...

Gone.

My body relaxed, just like that. Just by her one soft touch.

"Chai la ke aaye hum aapke liye?"
[Shall I bring tea for you?]

I shook my head.

No.

She had work to do. Notes to complete. I didn't want her to leave that for tea.

Still holding her jhumka, I looked at her with a soft smile and whispered-

"Aap padhiye. Mai baad me pi lunga"
[You study. I'll drink it later.]

Authors pov-

Siddharth stood beside the bed for a few more seconds after Noor's soft smile. His mind didn't want to leave her side, but his body listened. He quietly turned, walked to the corner of the room, and sat on the small sofa - the one facing her bed.

His body was calm.

But his eyes? His mind?

Far from it.

He leaned slightly forward, placing his elbows on his knees, trying not to make a sound, not to disturb her. But the notes in front of her... they were disturbing him. The pen in her hand... the tired lines on the paper... the way her fingers moved again and again, as if she was trying to finish something fast before it swallowed her peace.

It was all his.

This time was his.

She was supposed to be in his arms right now. Her soft body pressed against his. Her head tucked under his jaw. Her fingers maybe inside his shirt, her words maybe nothing but sleepy complaints of his shameless-ness he would hold like gold. That was the plan. That's what he had waited for the whole day. That soft, quiet peace with his Noor.

And here she was.

Buried in notes. And the man behind this mess?

Professor Dheer.

Siddharth's jaw tensed. His eyes locked on those handwritten pages Noor was copying. He was reading everything from where he sat, quietly. Mentally, he was taking notes.

Because tomorrow, Siddharth was going to meet him.

This was his time. This was Noor's resting hour. This was meant to be the softest, most gentle hour of her day. And instead, her soft fingers were being forced to work like this.

No.

He was not going to forget this.

He looked at her face again. Noor, unaware of the fire building in her husband's heart, was writing with her head slightly tilted. She looked tired. Beautiful, yes. But still, tired.

Just then, Noor looked up again.

Their eyes met.

And something happened inside him again.

She gave him a soft smile. A simple, small smile - the kind that made him forget how to be angry for a second. The kind that made him love her more than he could say.

She looked back down and continued writing.

Siddharth sat still.

Silent.

Watching.

And then Noor did something.

She picked up the cherry pillow from under her chest &turned and looked at him.

And forwarded it.

Toward him.

His face froze.

She wanted him... to sit with that thing?

Noor was still smiling, her eyes full of soft mischief, and said sweetly, "Aap cherry ke sath baithiye... tab tak hum likh lete hain."

[You sit with Cherry for now... until I finish writing.]

Siddharth blinked.

She was serious?

He looked down.

At the pillow in her hands.

Cherry.

He frowned. That soft, serious kind of frown that made his whole face look ten years older and ten shades more intense. Slowly, he took the pillow from her, as if he was picking up poison.

He sat back.

Placed the cherry pillow on his lap.

And stared at it.

His eyes narrowed. His heart heavy.

This was not how tonight was supposed to go.

He was supposed to hold her, not it.

He was supposed to kiss her forehead, not sit across the room like a guest.

What the actual fuck.

His mind was raging, but his body looked calm. And that made it worse. He wanted to throw the pillow out of the house. Tear it apart. Lock it in a cupboard.

But instead, he just sat.

With that thing in his lap.

His eyes moved back to Noor, who was still writing.

And then again... their eyes met.

She smiled.

He smiled back, but it was a little tight. A little helpless.

He looked down again.

The cherry pillow was still there.

Still soft. Still annoying. Still acting like it belonged near her.

He clenched his jaw.

His voice low, almost a whisper, almost a curse, almost a prayer, escaped his mouth -

"I fucking hate you."

He was talking to the pillow.

He wasn't joking. He stared at it like it was a person.

Then said again, quietly, like a soldier giving one last warning before war -

"Stay the fuck away from my wife."

His voice was serious. Deep. Cold.

Like he was warning a man to back off. Like he was talking to something real. Something dangerous. Something he could not fight... but still had to tolerate.

He kept staring at it.

All he wanted was to throw it out. Burn it. Lock it away.

But he couldn't.

Because Noor loved it.

Because she had memories with it. And Siddharth, for all his fire, for all his possessiveness, could never take something away from her that made her feel sad.

But that didn't mean he had to like it.

He was enduring it.

Only because it was her.

And this was his final warning to that stupid, soft, red-printed thing that dared to take his place on her bed.

Just then, he heard a soft sound.

Noor's file closing.

He looked up, fast.

And there she was - gathering her pages, her notebook, her pen. Slowly arranging everything.

She looked at him.

Soft smile still on her lips.

"Ho gaya."
[It's done.]

That was it.

Siddharth didn't wait even a second more.

He held the cherry pillow.

Not harshly, but not gently either.

He pushed it back on the sofa like it was something he was never touching again.

Then stood up.

Walked to her.

Noor was half sitting now, soft and sleepy.

And Siddharth?

He didn't speak.

He just walked to her side, gently - but firmly - slid one arm around her waist from the front. And then...

He kissed her.

Siddharth lowered his face, brushing his lips softly against hers-once, then again-slow and patient, like someone drinking in a prayer he had waited too long to recite.

Then, his lips parted hers. A soft nudge of his tongue, a teasing sweep along her lower lip, asking-not forcing-her to open. She did. When she realised what was happening. Their mouths met again, deeper this time. His tongue moved inside, tasting the silence between them. When his teeth gently caught her lower lip, she gasped, her fingers curling slightly over his shirt.

And when he finally broke the kiss, there was a rare kind of peace on his face. He exhaled slowly, eyes still locked on hers, lips red from the kiss, curved in a boyish, breathless smile.

"Beshram ho gayi hai aap."
(You've become shameless.)

Noor's face flushed with colour. Her lower lips hurting a little because of the bite. Her breath stammered. Her chest rose and fell too fast, too visibly. But her eyes didn't pull away-not yet.

He paused. And then, with a slight chuckle under his breath, pressed a kiss on the tip of her nose-once, twice. Noor's eyes fluttered shut for a moment, her lips parting slightly at the softness of it. Her cheeks were burning now. She was still breathing unevenly.

Siddharth lowered his head again, kissing her lips with the same slowness, but more hunger this time. Noor looked up, and when their eyes met, he kissed her again. Firmer. Possessive. Not rushed, but full of longing.

His hands, still holding her waist, now slid down slowly, gently cupping her from behind. Noor gasped, half in surprise, half in breathless anticipation. Her sari lifted slightly as he pulled her up in one quick motion, her legs instinctively wrapping around him, one on each side. She felt the heat of his body, the strength in his arms, and the madness in his kiss.

He carried her across the room, not breaking the kiss, his steps slow but purposeful. Then, gently, he laid her down on the sofa, his body hovering above hers. Noor looked up at him, breathless, her hands now resting on his chest, right above his heart. She could feel it beating-wild, unguarded, alive under her palms.

"I was waiting all day to kiss you," he murmured.

Her eyes widened at the rawness of his voice. She looked away, trying to push him off without real effort, her hands soft against his chest.

"Hatiye..."
(Move away...)

But Siddharth only smiled. He leaned in, rubbing his light beard against her cheek, making her shiver. He kissed her there-on the softest part of her skin-and whispered with that maddening smile,

"Abhi toh paas aayi hain aap... abhi jaane doon?"
(You've just come close... should I let you go now?)

Noor's face turned crimson, her chest rising with every nervous breath. Her hands held on to him, but she didn't push again. She didn't need to. She belonged there.

Siddharth smirked as if he could read her silence. He leaned down once more and kissed her-slower this time, almost grateful. His hand moved again, up from her waist, skimming across her blouse. Noor felt it. The warmth of his palm, the ache in her belly, the butterflies that turned violent.

Then something shifted in her. Her lips began to move under his, uncertainly at first, then with growing softness. She kissed him back-slowly, sweetly-and when Siddharth felt it, a quiet sound escaped him. A smile, hidden in the kiss. He kissed her deeper, holding her as if he would never let her go.

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After dinner, the room was quiet, touched only by the soft ticking of the clock and the dim warmth of the nightlamp. Noor was already lying in bed, her head resting against the pillow. She had changed into a soft, light shirt, her hair slightly damp after a shower. Siddharth was beside her, his head bent low, his hand slipping inside her shirt, palm resting gently against her bare waist.

"Kal jaldi uthna hai na aapko?" Noor asked softly, her voice holding a little smile, as her gaze landed on her husband who was now completely focused on her.
(You have to wake up early tomorrow, right?)

Siddharth looked up at her, his eyes holding a boyish glint, as if she had interrupted something sacred. He didn't reply in words-just nodded once like a small, guilty child, and then dipped his face back toward her again, both hands now busy with the buttons of her shirt.

Noor blushed, deeply. She knew what he wanted. She looked at him with eyes full of affection, a soft scolding laced with tenderness.

"Toh kya kar rahe hai?"
(Then what are you doing?)

Siddharth didn't speak. The top buttons of her shirt had already come undone. His face was close to her chest now, breath slightly heavier. Noor's cheeks burned pink as she felt his warm breath brushing her skin. He stared at her silently, his eyes stopping just over her front, unmoving, deep, almost reverent.

He licked his lower lip, unable to hide the hunger in his eyes. Noor saw it. And her cheeks turned a deeper shade of red. She looked away, the edge of her dupatta still clenched in her hand.

He leaned a little closer, whispered like a secret against her skin,

"Sone ki taiyari."
(Getting ready for sleep.)

Noor closed her eyes. His voice was low, but the heat in it wrapped around her like a blanket. His hands, warm and careful, gently touched her bare skin-slow, reverent. Not rushed. Not wild. Just... his way of worshipping what was his.

He held her close, the tip of his nose brushing her nipple as be buried hus face in between her chest. Noor's breathing turned shallow, her hand rising to his arm, fingers clutching softly.

Siddharth moved a little, pulling her deeper into him, wrapping one arm fully around her waist.

His one hand moved higher, gently, slipping beneath the fabric and then he removed it from the front.

His touch was slow, like someone rediscovering something he had long missed. Noor couldn't look anymore. Her eyes fluttered shut, her lashes trembling. She could not see him like this so shamelessly gentle.

She let out a soft breath as his lips brushed against her chest-tender. His arms pulled her closer, and her fingers, by instinct, moved up to clutch his shoulder, gently yet firmly. She needed something to hold on to.

Siddharth stayed there, unmoving for a while, just listening to the rhythm of her heartbeat. For him, it had been more than a day without his lost himself in her. His lips moved agai, kissing her softly, giving attention to her with a kind of longing only a man madly in love could understand.

Still kissing all her breast, be slowly wrapped hus warm mouth around her eract nipple.

Noor's hand curled tighter on his shoulder, her heart thudding beneath her chest. Her cheeks were red-burning with both shyness and something else. A quiet, peaceful surrender.

She was tired. Her body was heavy from the long day, her breaths growing slower, steadier. But Siddharth remained there, sucking on her breast like a child.

Even as Noor drifted into sleep, her hand still resting on his shoulder, Siddharth didn't stop. He moved with care, with quiet need, with the kind of obsession that didn't scream-but stayed.

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It was around 3:10 a.m. The room was dim, filled with the quiet hum of early morning silence. Noor sat on the edge of the bed, her hands resting on her lap. She was in her soft night suit, hair loosely tied, eyes heavy with sleep-but she stayed awake. She knew Siddharth had to leave soon. Before 4.

The bathroom door opened. A soft sound of water still clung to the air.

Siddharth stepped out, a towel wrapped around his waist. His hair was wet. Drops of water rolled down his neck, his face a little tense. He saw Noor sitting there-waiting for him.

He walked to her slowly and sat beside her, cupping her cheek with his warm palm. Noor smiled at him, her eyes dropping, sleepy-but there was love in them. Quiet, knowing love. She could see how much was going on in his mind.

"Kyu jag rahi hai aap? So jaiye," he said, his voice soft.
(Why are you awake? Go to sleep.)

Noor gently shook her head. She didn't say anything-just a quiet no. She wanted to stay up until he left.

Siddharth bent forward. He pressed a kiss on her forehead. Then a smaller one, right on the tip of her nose. Noor closed her eyes, her smile still there.

He stood up and began getting dressed. The mirror in front of him reflected his silent focus. He wore his clothes with care. This wasn't just another day. Noor knew it, even if she didn't ask too many questions. She knew there was a child-Aaryan. She didn't know everything. But she knew it meant something to Siddharth. Something important.

Noor stood up. The pile of her bangles made a soft sound as she moved. She walked behind him and wrapped her arms around his waist. A back hug. Her cheek rested softly on his back.

Siddharth closed his eyes.

For a moment, he didn't move. He needed this. Her arms, her silence, her presence. He had not said much to her, but his heart was restless. Today had to go right. For the first time in a long while, he wanted to prove something to himself. That he could be there. That he could do this.

He placed his hand over hers, resting on his stomach.

Then he tilted his head back slightly and pressed a kiss on Noor's forehead.

"I will miss you," he whispered.

Noor opened her eyes slowly and looked at him. Her eyes were sleepy, but full of emotion. Siddharth turned his head to see her expression. He didn't know how to stop himself. He wanted to pull her close, kiss her again, forget everything and just stay here.

But he couldn't.

"Hum bhi," Noor whispered.

(Me too.)

Siddharth chuckled quietly. That one small line touched something deep inside him.

Still holding her hands around him, Siddharth turned. He faced Noor, lifting both hands to cup her cheeks. Her hair had fallen over her face. He softly brushed it all back, tucking the strands behind her ear. Her cheeks were round, still puffy from sleep. But she was awake. For him. Only for him.

Siddharth looked at her, cupping her face gently. A full minute passed like that. Silence between them. But it wasn't empty. It was full of quiet love.

"I will ask Veer to drop you to college today. Hmm?" he said softly.

Noor nodded. And then he quickly got dressed. After getting dressed, he again came to Noor. To feel her up again.

Siddharth leaned down again and kissed her nose-another soft goodbye.

Then he turned to leave. Noor stepped aside to let him go.

He took one step.

And then-he felt her fingers hold his wrist.

He turned.

Noor stood there with a small smile. Her eyes still sleepy, but calm.

"Sab acha hoga. Aap pe bharosa hai hume," she said.

(Everything will go well. I believe in you.)

She lifted his hand and pressed a kiss on the back of his palm.

Siddharth's chest rose as he took in a deep breath. A new kind of strength passed through him. The kind that only comes when someone believes in you completely.

He looked at her. The sky outside had started to lighten. Birds had begun to sing.

He wanted to say something. He had so much inside him. Something sacred. Something pure. But he didn't.

His throat moved.

And softly, he just said-

"Aata hu."
(I'll be back.)

He turned and left.

Noor stood there quietly. Then she looked up at the sky, hands still folded at her chest.

And in that very moment, she prayed.

For him.

Just for him.

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The car stopped in front of her college gate.

Noor softly opened the door and stepped out, adjusting her dupatta on her shoulder. The early morning breeze touched her face. She turned toward the car window, where Veer, was sitting.

"Thik hai bhaiya. Chalte hai hum."
(Okay, brother. I'm going now.)

Veer smiled, slightly leaning toward the open window. "Kitne baje college khatam hoga, bhabhi?"
(What time will college end, sister-in-law?)

Noor thought for a second. "3 bje" she said simply.

She gave a small smile and turned to walk toward the college gate. Just then, someone brushed past her quickly-too close-making her take a step back in surprise. Her hand touched the side of her dupatta. She looked to her side, a little startled.

From inside the car, Veer had noticed. His voice came out, light but careful.

"Aap thik hai, bhabhi?"
(Are you okay, sister-in-law?)

Noor's eyes followed the back of the girl who had walked past her. A group of girls were now laughing and walking away.

She turned back to the car and gave Veer a small nod.

Just then, a voice came from her left-calm, low, and oddly sharp.

"Done with the notes, Mrs. Rajvardhan?"

Noor paused. For a second, she didn't turn. Her face became still.

Then she slowly turned her head.

Professor Dheer was standing there. His hands behind his back, his face unreadable, watching her closely.

Noor stood up straighter. Her face showed no emotion. Her voice was polite but flat.

"Half done," she answered softly.

"Good," he replied with a small nod. "I expect them back on my table tomorrow."

As he said that, Noor heard a familiar sound behind her-the car door shutting.

She blinked and looked beside her.

Veer had stepped out and now came to stand beside her. He looked at Noor for a second, then shifted his eyes toward the professor.

"Any problem, bhabhi?" he asked, his voice casual, but Noor could feel the small pause in his tone.

She shook her head quickly. "Nahi...," she replied softly.

Dheer's eyes stayed on both of them-first on Noor, then on the Veer. Quietly watching. Noor looked up at her professor once & there was something unreadable in his gaze... something calm, but sharp. Noor couldn't understand it. Not fully.

Then Veer looked at the professor.

And the professor looked back at him.

They both just stood, facing each other.

And for the very first time, since Noor had seen her professor...

She noticed how similar they somehow look alike.

____________________________________

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