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Himdu-
मरहमी सा चाँद है तू
दिलजला सा मैं अँधेरा
एक-दूजे के लिए है
नींद मेरी, ख़्वाब तेरा

तू घटा है फुहार की, मैं घड़ी इंतज़ार की
अपना मिलना लिखा इसी बरस है ना?

जो मेरी मंज़िलों को जाती है
तेरे नाम की कोई सड़क है ना
जो मेरे दिल को दिल बनाती है
तेरे नाम की कोई धड़क है ना

हो, कोई बाँधनी जोड़ा ओढ़ के
बाबुल की गली आऊँ छोड़ के
तेरे ही लिए लाऊँगी, पिया
१६ साल के सावन जोड़ के

प्यार से थामना, डोर बारीक है
सात जन्मों की ये पहली तारीख़ है

डोर का एक मैं सिरा और तेरा है दूसरा
जुड़ सके बीच में कहीं तड़प है ना

जो मेरी मंज़िलों को जाती है
तेरे नाम की कोई सड़क है ना
जो मेरे दिल को दिल बनाती है
तेरे नाम की कोई धड़क है ना
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"Kidar gye hain ye Avi?" Noor murmured while folding clothes.

She was sitting on the bed, quietly arranging both his and her clothes. It was already close to 10 p.m., and her husband was still nowhere to be seen.

Still lost in thoughts, she got up and walked to the closet to keep the clothes.

Humming a soft tune, she opened the cupboard and started arranging everything inside-when suddenly, her eyes fell on a brown bag.

Noor stopped.

Because she knew what was inside.

That red nightgown.

Her heart skipped a beat & she blinked rapidly and looked away, her lips pressing into a thin line.

She began putting the clothes in, pretending she didn't see anything... but her eyes kept drifting back to that brown bag-the biggest proof of her husband's shameless personality.

Even after she finished arranging everything, she stood there for a moment, still pretending she hadn't seen it.

Her hand reached to close the cupboard... but her heart and eyes were screaming at her to look just once more.

And this time, her heart won.

She bit her lip as the urge took over.

Before she knew unknowingly -her hand had already pulled the brown bag out and was clutching it tightly.

Her fingers were already clutching the brown bag... and slowly, very slowly, she started to open it.

Even though her mind was screaming, "Noor, bas karo, rakh do isey!"

Her eyes didn't listen.

Her hand didn't stop.

It was like something invisible was pulling her in. Curiosity.

She opened the bag fully now. And there it was. That same red nightgown. The one she had seen just once... and never dared to touch again.

Her lips parted but no words came out.

Her heart was beating even louder now.
She sat back on the bed, slowly, biting her lower lip.

She knew it-she knew it-that if she looked at this thing properly... she wouldn't be able to face her husband again.

Not with a straight face at least.

"Bas ek baar dekh lete hain... just to see what's so special in it," she told herself.

She took a deep breath. And then... her hand moved on its own. She pulled the nightgown out of the bag.

It was still messy. The same way she had thrown it in. A proof of how badly she had reacted the first time.

And yet... here she was. Touching it again. Her fingers brushed the shoulder straps. So thin. Almost like thread.

And before she could stop herself, she stood up. Holding the nightgown from the shoulders, she looked at it properly now.

It was red.

It was satin.

It was soft.

And it was short.

So short that it wouldn't even reach her mid-thigh.

The neck? Deep.

The cloth? So thin that it would stick to her skin like second skin.

And hide nothing.

Noor stared at it. Her mouth went dry.

She gulped.

And the next second, she threw it.

She threw it on the bed and turned her face away, cheeks burning and did She rubbed her face quickly with both hands. Like she was trying to wipe the experience of watching it.

And then stood up again and went straight to the mirror. Grabbed her hairbrush, acting she never saw something in red.

"Mujhe kya matlab... faltu kapra."

(What do I care... useless cloth.)

She kept mumbling as if the brush in her hand was her weapon now.

"Chii."
(Ew)

She shook her head in disbelief, eyes narrowing at her own reflection.

"Koi aisa kapra pehen kaise sakta hai? Koi aisa khareed kaise sakta hai?"
(Who wears something like this? Who even buys such a thing?)

And then...

She paused.

Her hand stopped brushing. A little thought popped inside her mind.

Her eyes shifted. From herself... to the bed... to that red cloth lying there shamelessly.

She blinked slowly.

Then narrowed her eyes again.

"Mere pati khareed sakte hai. Sharm to jaise bech ke hospital khada kar liya apna..."
(My husband can buy it. As if he sold his shame and built a hospital with it...)

She murmured, her voice angry but cheeks red. Her hands were now on her hips.

"Wo-wo dukandar ne kya socha hoga?" she added with full drama, "Iski biwi aise aise kapde pehenti hai!! Chii!"

(What must that shopkeeper have thought? That his wife wears such clothes!! Ew!)

Now she was marching toward the bed. Like that cloth was the enemy.

She picked it up again, holding it between two fingers, like it was a dangerous thing.

Her eyes looked at it.

Then... at herself in the mirror.

Then again... at the cloth.

And again at her reflection.

Her expression? Pure judgment.

And then she said, lips pressed tight-

"Unhe laga hum ye pehnge? Ye?"
(He thought I would wear this? This?)

She looked at the cloth like it had personally offended her. Then whispered under her breath with sharp eyes-

"Socha bhi kaise?"
(How could he even think that?)

And then... came the silence, because in the same second, her own heart spoke.

"Socha... tabhi to liya."
(He thought... that's why he bought it.)

Her breath caught, hands froze in mid-air.

Her eyes widened.

That soft pink slowly spread across her skin, blooming like a quiet flower under the morning sun.

Her fingers, still holding the nightdress he had gifted her, froze in mid-air. She forgot about the folded clothes that were in her lap just a minute ago. Everything else dissolved into a distant blur, and her whole world now hung upon that one realisation.

"Y-Ye kapde... Siddharth ji ne hume ismein socha tha?"
("T-These clothes... Siddharth ji thought of me in this?")

She whispered, her voice shaky, a little breathless.

Her fingers slowly tightened around the cloth, pulling it gently to her chest as if it had suddenly become precious-like something sacred. A soft gasp escaped her parted lips as her chest rose in a long inhale. She clutched it tightly, her eyes still wide in quiet disbelief.

She stood there for a second-completely still-and then she walked to the bed as the thought was suddenly to heavy. She sat down slowly, sinking into the mattress, but her mind didn't stop there.

It kept spinning.

He imagined me. In this.

Her mouth parted slightly, lips trembling with some unknown emotion.

She stared ahead, unblinking. The room, the light, the silence... all blurred, drowned beneath the weight of a thought that refused to leave. There was no place for shame now. No place for doubt. Only his silent presence inside her thoughts, more intense than ever before.

Her gaze dropped to the dress now pressed tightly between both her palms.

She blinked once. Slowly.

And then, like a soft murmur inside her head, came the thought:

"Kaise lage hone hum inki imagination mein?"

("How must I have looked in his imagination?")

The words escaped in a whisper. Her mind had wandered far ahead. this time... she didn't throw the piece of clothe away.

No, she didn't even think of it.

Instead, she gently pulled it away from her chest, held it out slightly, and looked at it. Her eyes slowly scanned every thread, every curve of the fabric. For a few seconds, she just stared.

And then her imagination took over.

She could see herself-wearing it. Standing in front of him.

His eyes would go wide first, stunned. His lips would part slightly, caught off guard, struggling to breathe normally. And then-then that small smile would tug at the corner of his mouth. The kind of smile he reserved only for her.

His eyes would stay fixed-no blink, no distraction. Just her.

And then he would step forward, slowly, as if pulled by something. His hand would lift toward her cheek, but it would tremble slightly. Just a little. Because he wasn't expecting it. Because she surprised him.

The picture was so clear in her mind...

She could almost feel his fingers grazing her skin.

Her cheeks turned warmer again-this time not out of shyness, but joy. Her heart began to beat faster, filling her chest with a feeling she couldn't name. The way he looked at her when he was mesmerised... the way he forgot the world in those moments... she loved that.

She loved being the center of his gaze.

She loved being the only one his eyes wanted.

She loved that his whole world paused for her.

She loved being loved like that.

The thought of walking out to him wearing this very dress... the way he would look at her like she was the most beautiful thing in the world... it thrilled her. She could almost hear his soft intake of breath, feel his silence as his eyes drank her in.

He wouldn't be able to look away.

And just that imagination filled her with something pure. Something warm. Something exciting.

Still smiling faintly, she continued to stare at the dress.

The vision in her mind had faded... but its warmth remained.

Her chest felt fuller now, blooming with a soft kind of happiness. A quiet excitement fluttered inside her heart-sweet and shy.

And suddenly... she wanted to see that look in his eyes.

She wanted to wear it.

She wanted to feel him freeze again in front of her. She wanted to see that little smile on his lips, the one that only came when she truly surprised him.

She looked at the dress once more. And this time... a bigger smile curved her lips.

Her eyes sparkled.

Her heart had changed its mind.
..
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
Noor stood in front of the tall mirror-bare feet sinking softly into the rug. The room was dim, silent, lit only by the faintest warm glow from the bedside lamp. The same nightdress kissed her skin now, falling just below her hips, leaving her legs bare, and her neckline... deep-so deep it revealed more than half of her chest.

Noor's throat moved in a soft gulp.
Her eyes remained locked with her own reflection.

She looked like a stranger. Not a stranger-just a version of herself she wasn't used to seeing this way-The version she never saw.

She lowered her gaze and gently pulled at the hem of the gown, trying to tug it down a little-just a little. But the cloth didn't move. Her fingertips curled around the edge as if coaxing it into modesty, but the nightdress was already doing what it was meant to do. Nothing more. Nothing less.

Her heart beat faster now, slow but heavy thuds that echoed inside her ribs.
How am I supposed to go in front of him like this...?

Her lashes fluttered once, and before she could stop herself-his face came alive in her mind.

That face.
That particular face he makes... when he sees her. When he's here. When his silence speaks louder than anything, and his eyes speak of hunger, of warmth, of something that reaches inside her without touching her at all.

Her cheeks turned red-more red than they already were.

Noor looked away. Quickly.

One deep breath.
Then another.

Her hand reached up to push the loose strand of hair behind her ear. Her reflection was still there. Still looking like that. But now she avoided it. Her gaze moved instead to the clock beside the mirror.

10:30.
Siddharth ji abhi tak nahi aaye... (Siddharth ji still hasn't come...)

She murmured.

He must be in his office.

She turned away from the mirror, the soft fabric of her nightdress brushing against her thighs as she walked slowly across the room. Her hands moved gently, touching the edge of the bed, then the back of the chair. Her mind wandered as her eyes flicked toward the closed door of her room. He still hadn't come.

She waited.

One minute. Two. Five.

Her heart kept waiting too-but with every passing minute, her patience thinned.
Noor was soft. Noor was understanding. Noor was quiet. But right now... she felt something inside her grow restless.

Should I change? her mind whispered. Maybe I should wear something else?

But then another voice answered.

She wanted to know what he'd think. She wanted to feel the weight of his eyes on her.
But her mind, still soaked in shyness, fed her thoughts that made her lips purse in conflict.

She shook her head-firmly now. Her eyes flicked across the room... and then landed on it.
Her dupatta. Resting neatly on the sofa.

Without a second thought, she walked toward it and picked it up-covering herself. The fabric felt warm, familiar, soft. It gave her a sense of security she didn't realise she needed so badly.

Taking another deep breath, Noor looked at the clock again.

10:45.

Her fingers clutched the edge of the dupatta tightly.
He's not coming...

And then-something changed in her chest. A soft, subtle decision.

She walked to the door. Slowly, gently, she turned the knob. The door creaked the faintest bit as she opened it and peeked out.

Nothing.

The house was drowned in stillness. The bulbs were closed, curtains drawn, silence flowing in the air like a soft hush. No voices. No footsteps. Nothing.

Her heart thudded faster.
She stepped out.

Barefoot and covered, Noor tiptoed her way through the hallway. The cool marble under her feet made her flinch slightly, but she kept moving, carefully, not letting the dupatta slip. It covered her front, but she could still feel the cold air brushing against the back of her thighs-reminding her quietly that the nightdress was still too short. Still too daring. Still too much.

But her eyes stayed focused.

She reached the door to his office and paused for a second. Her hand on the knob.
Just check, her mind told her. Just see if he's there...

She opened it.

Darkness.

She stepped inside, eyes scanning every corner. The sofa. The table. His chair. His shelf. But no sign of him.

Her lips pressed into a thin line. Her brows furrowed.
Where was he?

Noor's eyes landed on the washroom door. He must be in washroom. She thought.

With careful steps, Noor walked toward the small washroom at the back of his office. Every step reminded her of the nightdress-the way it brushed her thighs with each soft stride. The fabric clinging at places it shouldn't. The air touching her like it knew she was bare beneath.

She took a breath.

One step.

Then another.

Her hand reached for the washroom door. Her heartbeat echoed in her ears now. She opened it, slowly.

Empty.

He wasn't there.

Noor stood still. Her hand dropped from the door.
Where could he-

Click.

The sound of the office door opening behind her made her freeze. And then, a second later-his voice. Deep. Soft. Quiet. Yet somehow enough to shake her whole body.

"Noor?."

Her name.

All her confidence-gone.
Only nervousness left behind. The corridor light hit her now-soft and warm-but enough to show her completely.

Siddharth stopped.

He didn't breathe.

His eyes fixed on her.

It wasn't just surprise that passed through him-it was something stronger, something that shook the foundation of his control. She was standing in front of him... in that nightgown.

The one he had imagined her in but never thought she would actually wear. And now, she was right there. In flesh. In silk. Looking down, as if unsure of what she had done to him.

His heart missed a beat. Then it slammed harder against his chest.

His breath caught in his throat. Lips parted slightly. Eyes... wide and dark. He didn't even blink.

The deep neck of her nightgown dipped far too low, exposing the soft curve of her breasts, and the fabric clung to her like it belonged to her skin. It ended just below her hips. His eyes dragged across her frame-slowly-taking in the delicate curve of her waist, her thighs brushing gently as she shifted her weight from one foot to another.

He swallowed hard. He could feel the heat rushing down his body-his blood thick and heavy, settling into his lower belly like fire.

For a moment, all he could do was stare. Dark blue eyes locked on her. Silent. Still.

And it was burning him alive.

Noor looked up for a second.

And that second was enough.

Her shy eyes met his. She saw his parted lips, his hard jaw, the look in his eyes that felt like a storm trapped in a man's body. He wasn't just looking at her. He was devouring her with his gaze.

She glanced down again, her eyes catching the tight fists by his side. His hands were clenched, like he was trying to keep himself from doing something. She could see how rigid his body had become, every muscle tense, screaming with restraint.

She gulped.

And then Siddharth moved.

Like a man who had finally lost the last string of control.

His steps were quiet but firm. His jaw was tight, his eyes unreadable now-darker than ever. He came so close to her that their chests brushed faintly with each breath.

Noor's heart raced wildly. She could barely look up.

And yet, he was calm.

Not gentle.

Not soft.

But calm-with the kind of calm that spoke of chaos underneath.

He raised his hand slowly. His fingers touched her chin, warm and strong, lifting her face up to meet his eyes.

And then, without asking, without warning-

He kissed her.

This kiss wasn't tender.

It was desperate.

Raw.

And just a little rough.

His lips pressed hard on hers, catching her breath, claiming her in that one second. His other hand reached around her waist, pulling her close. Noor gasped, but before she could say anything, he bit her lower lip-not too harsh, but enough to send a sharp jolt through her body.

And then-

He pushed his tongue into her mouth tasting her fully, like he had been waiting for this moment for too long.

Noor's hands trembled by her sides before lifting up and grabbing the sides of his shirt-fist clenching, pulling-trying to keep herself grounded. But he didn't slow down.

His mouth moved harder, more desperate. And then he bit her again-this time, a little harder.

She moaned softly against his lips. It was pain. But it was pleasure too. Her fingers gripped his shirt tighter. Her knees felt weak.

Siddharth kissed her for long... too long... until Noor could no longer breathe. Her hand hit softly against his chest-fist trembling-and only then did he pull back.

But not fully.

Just an inch.

Their chests still touching. Their foreheads brushing. Noses tangled. Both of them panting softly.

Siddharth closed his eyes for a second-like the feeling was too much.

Too much to hold in.

Too much to name.

And when he opened them again, he looked down at her-not just as a husband, not just as a man.

But as someone who was overwhelmed by her,by her softness, by her standing in front of him wearing that piece of silk with eyes full of nervous love.

And it shook him.

It shook his whole existence.

Siddharth's lips parted just slightly, almost like a breath caught in the middle. He looked at her-her face.

The innocence on Noor's face wasn't something light. It wrapped around her like soft fabric, enough to take his breath away. He didn't even realize when he moved closer. Their foreheads still resting against each other, and now... their bodies gently touched. The distance between them vanished like it was never meant to be.

His hand moved up. Slowly. Carefully. He cupped her face in both palms, and that's when he noticed-her lips... soft... slightly swollen. The sight made him clench his jaw. His body reacted in silence, moved his eyes up, looked into hers. And she-she was still looking at him. With the same soft, innocent eyes. As if she didn't even realize what kind of storm she had pulled him into.

And in that moment, his heart twisted. He realized how rough he had almost been. Regret filled his chest. So he leaned forward, gently. With a kind of deep, soul-soft tenderness... he pressed a light kiss on her lips.

Just a second.

Not demanding, not claiming. Just there-like a whisper of apology on her skin.

"I'm sorry," his voice came out thick, deep... husky. "I-I lost my control."

She looked away. Her breath caught. Her whole body trembled-just from that small kiss.

He watched her. The way she reacted to something so simple. Her lips parted, her breath shaking slightly.

Then... he couldn't hold back anymore.

His hand slowly moved downward-over the curve of her waist, and gently, firmly... he cupped her bottom. His jaw clenched again.

"Noor," he whispered again, like a prayer, before lifting her up in one smooth motion. Her small hands flew around his shoulders, her legs instinctively wrapping around his waist. His arms held her-one strong around her back, the other supporting under her thighs.

He walked. Quietly. Holding her like something delicate, sacred.

He reached the table and with his arms he brushed away the files from the table even looking at them. His eyes never left her. And then he placed her there, softly. Noor still in his arms, their faces close. He stood right there-between her legs, chest rising with his uneven breath.

One of his hands slowly slid from her waist... downward again. Over the fabric of her dress... to the edge... and then under it. His fingers brushed against her bare thighs. Soft, warm skin. He patted them lightly, as if reminding himself she was real. As if grounding his emotions through her.

Then... his hand moved up again. Slowly. Gently. Two fingers lifted her chin.

Noor looked up.

And oh.

Siddharth felt something deep break open inside him.

Her face-shy, nervous, yet still trying to stay strong. Her eyes couldn't hold his at first. But she tried. And that effort... that silent strength-it melted him.

Even in that seductive dress, she looked like the most innocent thing he had ever seen.

So untouched.

So unaware of how much power she had over him.

Siddharth felt a lump in his throat. His heart aching with a strange devotion.

"Noor..." he whispered again, but this time it was different.

His voice was low, throaty, barely holding on. Like he was one step away from losing all control.

She looked into his eyes now-and saw it.

The clenched jaw.

The fists tightening and loosening.

The hunger in his eyes, yes... but buried beneath it-pure love. Soft. Full. Powerful.

And then he said it.

"I was just teasing you," he murmured, his thumb brushing her cheek. "Aapko mere liye yeh sab pehnne ki zarurat nahi hai.
(You don't have to wear all this for me.)"

He leaned closer. His forehead brushed hers again.

"Mujhe aap waisi hi chahiye, jaisi aap ho.
(I want you the way you are.)"

He paused.

"I'm already on my knees for you... just like this. Don't ever force yourself to be someone else. Not for me."

Noor's eyes welled up. She blinked fast.

Siddharth gently wiped the corner of her eye with his thumb.

"I mean it," he whispered, his voice cracking just a little.

"Mere liye...aap hi sab kuch hao. Jaise bhi ho... meri ho.
(For me, you're everything. Just the way you are... you're mine.)"

He leaned in, and pressed the softest kiss on her forehead. Like sealing a vow. Then one more on the tip of her nose. His fingers caressed the back of her neck with a devotion that couldn't be spoken out loud.

Her innocence... her nervousness... all of it made his love deeper, not heavier.

He wanted to protect her from everything. Even from himself.

And for a second, he thought about stepping back. About giving her space. Maybe he should.

He looked into her eyes one more time-his body still tense, still holding onto control.

He was about to move.

But then-Noor moved first.

Something in her had changed. The nervousness was still there, but now it burned with a quiet fire.

She looked up at him. And before he could say another word...

Her fingers grabbed the collar of his shirt. And then, without giving him a second, Noor pulled him in-and kissed him.

Her lips met his in one sudden, warm press.

Her hands still holding onto his collar.

Noor's fingers trembled as they clutched the fabric of Siddharth's shirt near his chest. Her breaths were uneven, lips still tingling from his soft words, her heart beating so loud it echoed inside her ears. Her eyes searched his face - those eyes that always saw her, understood her, worshipped her - and tonight they had seen her in a way that made her heart melt and burn at once.

She remembered how he looked at her a moment ago - with love so deep, with control so fierce. He was about to step back, as if her comfort mattered more than his longing. And something inside her... refused to let him go. Not this time.

With courage she didn't know she had, Noor slowly tugged on his collar.

"Siddharth..." she whispered, voice shaking, her face close, her cheeks burning,

At first, he didn't move. He stood still. Breath caught. His eyes had widened a little - not expecting it from her, not ready for that soft, innocent fire. His hands hovered near her waist, not gripping, not pulling - just frozen in time.

But Noor... she kept her lips there. Eyes closed tight.

When he didn't respond, her brows furrowed. Her fingers curled tighter into his collar, and without thinking, with all her nervousness pouring into one tiny act of boldness... she pressed her lips deeper against his.

And then she bit him.

Softly.

Siddharth gasped.

His hand gripped her waist - tight. His jaw clenched, and a low groan escaped his throat, raw and deep.

He pulled her closer, one hand sliding to the back of her neck, the other still wrapped strong around her waist. His lips crushed back against hers, no longer frozen, no longer calm - now moving with hunger, with heat, with emotion so wild it made Noor tremble.

His mouth claimed hers.

Soft first. Then deep. Then rough, but never cruel. His kiss was full of longing - one that had waited too long.

Noor's hands gripped his shirt tighter. Her breath hitched as Siddharth tilted her head slightly, deepening the kiss. Their noses brushed, lips moving breathing against each other. He tasted her like he had been starved. And she gave herself into it, shy but bold, soft but burning.

His tongue brushed against her lips - asking, not forcing. Noor gasped - a sound he swallowed with a groan - and her lips parted. That was all he needed.

The kiss turned wild.

His tongue moved with hers, tasting, teasing, devouring every gasp that slipped from her mouth. Her hands moved to his shoulders, holding on as if the ground would disappear. His hand slid up her back, tracing the curve of her spine through the dress, pulling her more into him until there was no space left - nothing but fire.

He kissed her with passion, but never pushed beyond what she gave. He held her like she was precious - like he knew she had come to him with all her fear, with all her heart.

And that made him kiss her even deeper.

When they finally broke the kiss - breathless, foreheads pressed again - Siddharth's eyes fluttered open first.

Noor's lips were swollen. Her cheeks red. Her eyes still closed, chest heaving, lips parted like she was still feeling him there. And then Noor's eyes fluttered open slowly - lashes heavy, breath unsteady.

She didn't move away from him.

Their bodies were still close, lips just inches apart. Her cheeks burned, her chest rising and falling fast as she looked up at him through her lashes.

And what she saw... made her heart stop.

Siddharth was staring at her - lips slightly parted, breath caught in his throat, a wild storm in his eyes. His jaw was tight. His brows slightly pulled. Like he was holding back something dangerous... and failing.

He looked wrecked.

Breathless.

And only for her.

Noor swallowed hard, her own lips still tingling. Her voice barely escaped her throat as she whispered, eyes never leaving his,

"I didn't force myself... I-I did it on my own. For my own husband... Aarth..."

The way she said it - soft, shy, claiming him - hit him like a bullet.

His jaw clenched tighter.

His Adam's apple moved in a hard gulp - thick, visible.

And Noor saw it.

Her breath hitched.

That one movement did something to her. Her own throat felt dry, her knees weak. Her mind stopped working - heart beating so loud it echoed in her ears. And then she leaned in, slowly, like pulled by something she couldn't fight.

And then - gently, shakily - she pulled herself a little taller still sitting on the desk... and pressed a soft kiss right on his throat. Right where she had seen that gulp. A soft, reverent kiss.

Like surrender.

Siddharth's eyes snapped open.

Wide. Red-rimmed. Veins lightly showing on his forehead, as if blood rushed too fast through him. His hands were still at his sides, tight fists now, and when his gaze fell down to her - to those soft eyes, to that sweet mouth, to her trembling body standing this close - everything inside him exploded.

He looked at her like she was the center of his universe.

Like his control just shattered.

"Fuck!!"

The word fell from his lips in a deep groan, barely human.

He pulled her in again, fast - their foreheads touched with force this time, breaths tangled, and he was panting hard. She could feel the air leaving his mouth. Feel the heat radiating off his skin. Her fingers gripped his shirt. Her eyes wide and dazed.

"You are playing with fire, Cherry..." he breathed, voice like gravel, rough and low near her lips, "And tonight - tonight this fire will burn both of us equally..."

Noor's breath caught.

His tone - that voice - it sent a shiver straight down her spine.

And then - his hand moved down.

Tracing her side slowly, not rushed. Over her waist... then her hips... and finally resting on her thighs. The warmth of his hand made her body jolt.

And then he grabbed her there.

Firm. Possessive.

Her thighs tensed under his touch. Her body froze, but her eyes didn't leave his.

His eyes were on fire.

And then, still holding her gaze, Siddharth's hands pressed against the inside of her thighs.

Slow.

Commanding.

He parted them.

Noor's breath stuttered. Her spine straightened. Her skin broke into chills. She couldn't breathe - but still, her gaze stayed locked with his. Her heart pounded, but she didn't look away.

His hands still resting against her parted thighs, face so close it made her head spin.

Siddharth kneeled in front of her, in between her parted legs & then looked up at her who was looking down at kneeling husband.

And then, voice like a growl, his eyes blazing with a desire so deep he whispered -

"Will you mind being my dessert tonight... Cherry?"

Noor didn't move.

And her whole existence shook - from the crown of her head to her bare toes.

Her breath caught in her throat.
Her legs were already parted gently-his strong hand still resting on her thigh-but now, seeing him kneeling between them... asking her that in a voice so low, so deep... it made her skin burn.

Her lips parted but no words came.
Just a trembling breath escaped. Her eyes stayed locked on his.

Her heart was thudding. She felt it in her ears. In her fingertips. In the soft skin between her thighs.

Siddharth didn't move yet.
He didn't rush.
He just waited-watching her-his fingers tightening just slightly on her thigh, his warm breath brushing over her skin.

She gulped.
And then nodded-barely.
Her voice came out like a whisper that wasn't even meant to be heard.

"...Yes."

Siddharth's smirk was slow.
Dangerous.
But still gentle. Still his.

"Thank you... cherry," he murmured.

And then, without a second more-he leaned forward. His lips touched her inner thigh. Soft. Warm. Open.

Noor's eyes fluttered.

Her fingers dug into the edge of the table behind her for support. Her knees wobbled, he kissed her again. And again.

Higher. Warmer. Slower.

She felt something swirl inside her stomach-warm, tight, soft.
Butterflies.
Hundreds of them.

And when his tongue brushed over her thigh... so close to her dripping core... Noor gasped softly. She bit her lower lip, trying not to make a sound.
But he noticed.

He always noticed.

Siddharth looked up through his lashes. His eyes were darker now.
He didn't say a word.
But that look...
That look told her everything he was about to do.

And when his mouth finally touched her where she needed it most-Noor's whole body arched slightly forward.
Her fingers trembled over the edge behind her.
Her eyes shut tight.

His tongue moved gently at first, flicking over her clit. Testing. Tasting.
Noor's chest rose with a sharp breath. A soft sound escaped her lips-half moan, half shock.
It was too much.
Too warm.
Too wet.
Too him.

And he didn't stop.

Siddharth held her thighs steady-his grip strong but careful-keeping her open for him as his mouth worshipped her.

Slow strokes.
Then firmer ones.
Then slower again-teasing her, learning her.

Noor's head fell back.
Her chest rose and fell faster. Her breath hitched. Her fingers now slid down, gently catching in his hair for balance.

Not pulling. Just needing to hold something.

And Siddharth groaned softly into her. The sound sent a shock through her belly.
She whimpered-helplessly.

He moved deeper.

His tongue, warm and skilled, moved in slow circles on her clit. From her opening clit making her shiver.
Each one making her legs shake a little more.
Each one pulling her closer to something she had never felt this way before.

Her lips parted as if to say something, but no words came out.
Just soft, broken breaths.
Her thighs tried to close slightly-but he held them. Gently. Firmly.

She felt like she was falling apart in his hands.
Every second built more tension.
Every movement dragged her closer.
Until- he murmured her name against her, his voice deep and low and dangerous.

Siddharth could feel it-her shaking legs, her soft gasps, her fingers tightening in his hair. His smirk faded, replaced by something even more intense. His hold on her thighs tightened as he moved his tongue more faster.
Then he whispered low, "Let go, cherry. Just feel me."

Noor's head fell back slightly, and her hand flew to her mouth, trying to muffle the sound escaping her throat. She felt it building-hot, dizzying pressure curling low in her belly, spreading like wildfire. Each movement of his mouth was slow, rhythmic, and controlled-but maddeningly perfect.

It was too much.

She tried to stay quiet. Tried to hold it in.

But her body arched, her legs quivered, and her hand in his hair pulled him closer without even thinking. A soft cry slipped from her lips as her whole body tensed... and then let go.

"A-Aarth"

A soft, breathless moan. A shiver that ran down her spine.

Her legs gave out, but Siddharth caught her instantly, standing up in one smooth motion, lifting her into his arms as if she weighed nothing.

Her head dropped on his shoulder, breathless and dazed.

He looked down at her flushed face, her parted lips, her half-lidded eyes.

And then, with a soft, wicked whisper against her ear, he said:

"Dessert never tasted this sweet, cherry."

Noor's body trembled as she clung to him, chest rising and falling too fast to hide. Siddharth slowly pulled away - only just enough to let her breathe - and yet even in that space.

His mouth found the curve of her neck, brushing over her skin.

He kissed her there-slow, damp kisses. Noor gasped softly, her hands tightening over the back of his shirt. His lips traveled down & bit gently into the base of her throat, her back arched in response, her body moving on its own-helpless under the slow fire he was building inside her.

His palm came up, cupping her through the fabric of her nighty, firm and reverent. She whimpered, caught between the ache and the shyness building inside her chest. But Siddharth-he was calm. Too calm. Like a storm right before it breaks.

He bend a little, still giving butterflies kisses all over her chest & neck,His lips found her breast,this time over the cloth
A breath. A press. Then a sharp little bite.

Her body jolted in his hold, a moan catching in her throat, half-swallowed. She didn't even know if it was pain or pleasure. Maybe both.

And then he stilled.

Siddharth slowly raised his head, his mouth tracing the curve of her chin as he made his way back up. His eyes - still stormy, still red at the corners - locked onto hers. She wasn't sure who was breathing harder.

When he kissed her lips again, pushing his tongue inside.

Then a pause. His lips stayed against hers. Then once... twice... he pecked her softly again. Calming her. Claiming her. Worshipping her.

Noor's hands slid up to cup his jaw, as if holding him steady would help her survive the way he was making her feel. But Siddharth had other plans. Without a word, he dipped down again, his hands now sliding beneath the thin fabric of her nighty.

And when he finally cupped her bare breast again, Noor couldn't help the breathless moan that escaped her.

He leaned forward. And pressed a kiss-soft, deep, and warm over her erect nipple.

Then again.

And then he opened his mouth and took her nipple in., slow and firm, until Noor had to hold on to his shoulders just to stay upright. Her head fell back, her breath catching in a sound that barely escaped her throat.

Siddharth slowly pulled back, breathing uneven, his shirt half open, eyes still locked on hers like she was the only thing he ever wanted to look at. Noor's lips were swollen, soft, and wet from his kisses. Her breath stuttered in her throat as he stood up in front of her, now in just his boxers-his chest rising and falling, muscles tightening like he was holding himself back.

He reached for her hand, tender but trembling with heat. Then, their foreheads touched again-his favourite place it seemed-his skin burning against hers, his scent flooding her senses. He brought her hand slowly, carefully, as if asking for her without words. And then he placed it over him-hot, hard, and alive.

Noor gasped softly, her cheeks turning a deeper shade of red. Her fingers twitched at first, unsure, but then slowly wrapped around him at his silent request. Her lips parted in shock, wonder, and a silent need. Siddharth's jaw clenched hard, his breath caught.

"You are such a tease, Cherry..." he whispered, forehead still pressed to hers, voice deep and rough like gravel soaked in honey. "So innocent... yet so damn seductive..." His hand gently guided hers, helping her feel the weight of his desire, the fire she had sparked with just her shyness and bold heart. "I want to stay inside you... always."

Noor's lashes fluttered down. She couldn't look up at him, but she didn't stop. Her hand moved shyly, and yet the need in her heart made her brave. Every stroke made him groan softly, like he was falling apart in her hands, and it sent shivers all the way down her spine.

Their breaths tangled, his heat wrapped around her like a storm, and even though her hands were trembling... she kept going.

Her soft palm still wrapped around him, moving with a mix of shyness and wonder, made his breath catch in his throat. Siddharth's hand slid back to her breast-possessive, steady-his fingers curling with just the right pressure that made a gasp leave her lips. Her moan trembled into the heavy air like a whisper against the glass.

He couldn't take it anymore.

"Fuck... fuck..." he growled under his breath, losing every last thread of control.

In one swift pull, he brought Noor even closer, their foreheads still touching-his chest rising fast against hers. His gaze dipped down, wild and dark. Her nighty-thin, helpless-surrendered to his fingers as he tore it down with a harsh tug.

The sound of fabric tearing mixed with her soft gasp.

And there she was-bare and vulnerable under the dim light, her skin flushed, chest rising and falling like waves pulled by the moon. His table beneath her. Her body trembling, already aching for him. For this.

Siddharth's throat worked hard as he swallowed, and with their foreheads still pressed, his hand slid between them.

His breath grew hotter, heavier.

And then-he lined himself against her, letting the thick length of him rest right at her entrance. Her thighs quivered slightly, breath caught in her throat.

"You'll remember this night forever, cherry," he whispered-voice rough, nearly breaking.

He didn't rush. He pressed his hardness against her folds, rubbing slowly-once... twice... a long, dragging motion that made her knees buckle slightly.

Noor let out a quiet, strangled sound. Eyes shut tight. Lips parted. Her hands clutching onto him like she would fall without his hold.

The tension, the heat, the raw intimacy wrapped around them like fire licking at the edge of restraint. Every inch of skin that touched felt like too much and not enough.

And just before anything more-

He kissed her again. Not rough this time.

"Noor" he whispered over her lips before he pushed himself inside her.

Siddharth pushed deeper inside Noor, slow and steady, his grip on her waist firm, holding her close. The soft sound of their breaths filled the space between them, quick and shaky. Noor's fingers curled into his back as a soft moan escaped her lips.

He didn't break eye contact, his dark eyes burning with desire. His hand slid from her waist to cup her cheek, thumb brushing over her flushed skin. Then, without pause, he pressed his lips against hers, hard and urgent. His tongue slipped inside, tasting her as he moved with growing intensity.

Noor's body arched against him, every nerve alive with fire. Her legs wrapped tighter around his hips, pulling him closer, needing more. Siddharth's hand moved down her back, skimming over her skin with a rough, hungry touch.

He groaned low, his breath hot against her ear as he began to move faster, deeper-each thrust sure and controlled, yet fierce with passion. Noor bit her lip, clinging to him, every movement driving her higher, closer to the edge.

His hand left her cheek, sliding down to press firmly on her breast, fingers tightening, eliciting a soft cry from her. His lips left hers to trail heated kisses down her neck, collarbone, then back up to her ear.

Siddharth's breath caught as he moved deeper inside her, slowly-like a man feeling heaven through fire. His hands slid down, strong and deliberate, gripping the soft curve of her bare hips as Noor leaned back slightly on the table, her back arching under the slow stretch. Her breath trembled, lips parted, eyelids fluttering shut.

He stayed still for a moment, almost reverent-just feeling her. Feeling every inch, every warm second. Then, with a deep, raw groan, Siddharth began to move. Gently at first, controlled, like holding back a storm. But it grew-his rhythm stronger, faster, like he couldn't wait anymore.

His fingers slipped to the back of her neck, pulling her closer, pressing their foreheads together again. Their breaths tangled, warm and heavy. Her body trembled under his, but her eyes... they were looking at him like he was her entire world.

"How does it feel, Cherry?" he whispered, voice low and hoarse.

Noor's chest rose sharply, breath catching. She couldn't speak-she just moaned softly, her mouth slightly open, eyes almost dazed.

Siddharth leaned in, brushing his lips over her jaw, her neck-then biting softly, groaning again as he lost more of his control. His hands moved-one trailing up her spine, the other cupping her boobs again, fingers brushing her breast through the thin fabric, thumb teasing until she gasped, her hands tightening on his shoulders.

Their skin was slick now-warm and damp with heat. Siddharth leaned in again, his nose sliding along her cheek, lips brushing her ear. "Does it feel good?" he murmured.

She whimpered in response, her nails digging lightly into his back. Her body was shaking, but it wasn't fear-it was everything else. Craving. Need. Trust.

He was close. She could feel it-the way his muscles tensed, the way his jaw clenched so tightly it might shatter. His veins stood out on his arms, and his chest rose hard with every breath. But instead of giving in, Siddharth paused, still deep inside her.

Noor opened her eyes, confused, breathless. Her lashes were wet, her lips parted as she looked up at him-silent, aching.

Then he wrapped her legs tighter around his bare waist. And without leaving her for even a moment, he bent, arms under her thighs-and picked her up. Her arms flew to his shoulders, holding on, her face buried in his neck.

And as he moved-her still around him, her body completely his-Siddharth moved with a low groan, carrying her.

Siddharth kept Noor's body tight against his as he lifted her legs around his waist. Without slowing his hips still moving, he started walking, the weight of her pressing hard against him. Still walking Siddharth pressed Noor's back against the wall.

Noor's breath hitched, arms clutching his neck. His hands gripped her hips, holding her firm.

He moved inside her with steady, deep thrusts. The wall's cold against her back, but everything else was burning hot.

Siddharth's pace picked up, hard and quick. His grip tightened on her hips, fingers digging in. She could feel every movement, every push.

He groaned low, rough, almost desperate, and pressed his forehead to hers for a second before pulling back just enough to catch his breath.

Then without warning, he drove into her again-faster, harder.

Siddharth didn't stop. His hips moved deep and steady, matching the tightness around him.

Siddharth held Noor close, her back against the cold wall. His hands were firm and sure, grabbing both her breasts. He pressed them together, squeezing, lifting them up for him to take them in his mouth.

Noor's legs wrapped tightly around his waist as her body pressed hard against his.

His hips pushed deep inside her, slow at first-each movement making her breath catch. Then he moved faster, harder. She felt every inch, every stroke, her whole body tightening, clinging to him.

His lips traced a path along her neck and collarbone, hot and hungry. Then his teeth found her nipple, biting down sharp enough to make her gasp and arch her back more.

Siddharth felt her shiver under his touch. She was so close, her body trembling, begging without words.

One hand slid down her neck, fingers digging in tight. The other moved up, cupping her jaw, rubbing slow and rough-making her skin flush under his touch.

His mouth pressed hard against her neck again, and for a moment, control slipped away. His breath was ragged.

He knew he had limits-he had to. This was Noor, his Noor. But right then, all that mattered was the fire burning between them.

"Fuck," he growled low, voice breaking.

"You feel so good... I-I-"

He couldn't finish. The tight coil in his stomach snapped loose as he came inside her, hips jerking in deep, strong thrusts.

Noor's body clenched, trembling in his arms, her own release crashing over her like waves.

They stayed like that for a moment-breathless, raw, tangled-lost in the heat and need that only each other could give.

They stayed like that for a moment.

Breathing hard.

Sweat dripping down their skin.

Sticky and hot, still joined together, Siddharth deep inside her.

His chest rising fast, her back pressed tight against him, her face close to his chest where his heart pounded loud.

Between her breasts, her mangalsutra rested-Siddharth noticed it, his breath still heavy, as he leaned down & gently kissed it.

Then his lips moved softly-light butterfly kisses on her cheeks, forehead, trying to calm her burning skin.

His hands held her close, steady and warm.

He whispered, "Aap thik hai?"
(Are you okay?)

Noor didn't look at him, shy and tired, her chest rising and falling fast.

Siddharth pressed a soft kiss on her cheek.

Noor tightened her hold around his gold chain, holding on like it was the only thing keeping her steady.

They stayed like that, quiet, calm-until her breath slowed and her body cooled a little.

After a moment, Noor looked up at him.

Her eyes were red, shining with tears, her cheeks sticky with sweat.

Her face was flushed, red like fire, breathing heavy but peaceful.

Siddharth saw her like this, tired but satisfied-one of the most beautiful things he had ever seen.

Slowly, he moved her body away from the wall and walked toward the sofa.

Still holding her, still inside her, he made Noor lie down.

She was still quiet, heart still pounding fast.

She looked up at Siddharth, her eyes searching his dark ones.

His hands slid gently down her legs, feeling the soft skin under his fingers.

Her legs wrapped around his waist, close and warm.

He touched her inner thighs, feeling her heat leaking for him.

Siddharth looked down at where they were joined, then slowly pulled himself out.

Noor's cheeks burned bright red when she saw him looking down, her body still trembling.

Without breaking eye contact, Siddharth pushed back inside her making Noor gasp for air. "Ah"

She looked at him, then at where he was looking -her face heating up even more.

He leaned down and kissed her lips, soft but deep.

Then he started moving again-slow at first, then steady, sure.

Thrust.

Pull.

Thrust.

Pull.

The rhythm was slow, strong, raw.

They stayed lost in each other, breath mingling, hearts beating fast, skin sticky and warm.
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The morning light was soft and golden, slipping through the curtains like a quiet guest. The room was warm, silent, still. Noor was asleep, her body wrapped gently in Siddharth's arms, both of them tangled under the blanket, bare and close, as if even the thin air between them was too much. His hand was around her waist, his chest resting against her back. One of her legs lay over his, tangled like a vine that didn't want to let go.

Siddharth was already awake.

His head rested on his hand, propped up on his elbow, and his eyes were fixed on her sleeping face. There was a calm smile on his lips, the kind that comes only when the heart is too full. He wasn't thinking about the hospital, or the files waiting, or the busy world outside. No. Right now, this moment was his. Her face-glowing even in sleep, soft, tired, red from the night-was everything he wanted to see.

He brought his hand forward and gently pinched her nose. Just a little scrunch, playful. He knew she was about to wake up. And unlike other days when he would shut his eyes quickly and pretend to sleep, just to secretly watch her, today he didn't. Today, he wanted her to see he was watching her, wide awake.

Slowly, Noor blinked her eyes open.

She looked up at the ceiling first, her lashes heavy with sleep. Then, with a tiny tilt of her head, her eyes found him. He was already looking down at her. And seeing his sleepy wife finally awake, Siddharth smiled deeper. Noor, still half in sleep, smiled back, a soft, slow smile that lit up her whole face.

Without saying anything, Siddharth leaned down and kissed her forehead.

Then he kissed the tip of her nose.

Then finally, softly, her lips.

"Good morning," he whispered over her lips.

Noor smiled, eyes still heavy, but heart full.

"Good morning," she replied, her voice low and soft, still lost between sleep and the warmth of his chest.

He didn't pull back. He kissed her again. This time, just a little longer. Just a little deeper. He could never get enough. No amount of touch, no amount of closeness, no amount of love was ever enough when it came to her.

His fingers moved down slowly and found her hand resting near her stomach. He lifted it gently and brought it to his lips. One by one, he kissed her fingertips. Then his lips stopped at the ring on her finger-the one he had put there. He kissed it softly. Noor's cheeks turned red. She looked at him with that shy little smile that always made his chest feel like it was holding something too big, too tender.

He placed her hand back gently on her stomach.

Then, slowly, his hand moved to her face. He pushed back the little strands of hair falling over her eyes and whispered, "Did I hurt you last night?"

Noor's eyes widened for a second.

Her mind suddenly flashed to everything that happened just hours ago-the heat, the closeness, the way his name had fallen from her lips again and again. Her whole face turned red. Her eyes, which were lost somewhere, suddenly shifted away from him, too shy to look at those eyes that knew her too well.

Siddharth saw her reaction and smiled. A low chuckle escaped from his lips, and he kissed her warm cheek.

His shy wife was back.

Noor didn't answer. She only shook her head gently, that sweet smile still sitting quietly on her lips. Her face was still turned away, but Siddharth's hand was still on her cheek, warm and still. He didn't say anything more. He leaned down once again and kissed her forehead, his lips resting there for a moment longer this time.

They stayed like that.

.

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Cherry?"

His voice was low. Barely a whisper.

They had been lying like that for a while-warm, wrapped, quiet. Noor slowly turned her eyes to him, the sleep still clouding her lashes, and a little blush crawling up again. But she looked at him-her husband-with that same softness he had come to crave.

Siddharth was watching her, his fingers lazily drawing circles on her waist under the blanket. He smiled as he leaned in a little, brushing his lips against her cheek gently before he spoke.

"I love seeing you confident around me," he said quietly. "I love seeing you open up to me..." His voice paused, but only for a moment. Then, looking at the soft strands of her hair falling near her ear, he added, "But just know... you don't ever have to go beyond your comfort to complete any of my wishes."

He pressed another kiss to her skin-this time near her temple. His lips stayed there a little longer, warm, sure, silent. Noor understood. Her eyes softened, and her lips curved in a small, thankful smile. Slowly, she shifted closer, her bare arm brushing against his chest, and tilted her head to look at him properly.

Their eyes met.

Siddharth looked into her, holding her gaze as if it were the only thing that mattered. "Main aapka Aarth hoon," he said gently. "Aapse... aur aapke liye hoon."

A pause. A slow, beautiful smile stretched across his face like the first light of morning. His hand tucked her hair behind her ear once again, then rested softly on her jaw. "Meri koi bhi ichha, aapse ek muskan se badhkar nahi hai."
(None of my wishes are more important than your one smile.)

He leaned in again, and pressed his lips to her forehead-a kiss that held everything unspoken. Noor closed her eyes for a second, her chest swelling with something too warm, too full to name.

Then, slowly, she opened her eyes. The glow of what happened still lingered in her cheeks, but so did a quiet, growing strength.

She raised her hand. The shyness hadn't vanished completely, but her fingers moved with a soft grace. She cupped his cheek with both care and comfort, her thumb brushing against his stubble.

"Hum bhi aapki Noor hai," she said with a soft voice, "aapse... aur aapke liye."

She paused, her eyes never leaving his. "Wahi Noor... jisse pata hai ki uska Aarth... uski ek muskan pe jaan chhidakta hai."

(I'm your Noor too. For you and only you. The same Noor who knows her Aarth gives his life for just one smile of hers.)

As soon as the words left her lips, Siddharth gently leaned into her palm, closing his eyes as if those words were sinking into his skin. His breath slowed, deepened. His forehead stayed against her hand for a second more before he tilted his head and kissed her palm softly, like a silent promise.

Noor kept looking at him-her gaze warm, glowing, a little shy still, but proud. Proud to be his, and his alone.

And he...

He only pulled her closer again, his arms tightening, his breath against her neck. As if even the morning wasn't allowed to take her away. Not yet.

And that's how their morning stayed-wrapped in each other, no rush, no noise. Just the quiet after love.

And the kind of silence only soulmates know.

NOOR'S POV-

I was lying on the bed with my cherry pillow tucked under me, chest pressed to the mattress, legs half bent as I read through the notes. I had joined college a little late. I was behind. But I didn't want to stay behind anymore.

I wanted to make Siddharth ji proud. He was doing so much for me-putting effort, supporting my dreams, never making me feel small. The least I could do was give my hundred percent.

The room was quiet. A soft fan sound above. My eyes were tracing each line of the page when I heard the door open behind me.

I looked back quickly.

Siddharth had come.

I smiled. I don't know how my smile looked, but it felt big, just seeing him standing there. And he smiled too. That soft, tired smile he always gave me after coming back from hospital. My fingers reached the corner of my page. I was about to close the book.

"No-no, continue," he said quickly.

His voice had that calm tone. The one that gently pulls me back to focus.

I blinked, gave a small nod, and turned my face back to the notes. He walked to the sofa, sat there. I didn't hear anything else. No TV, no sound, nothing. Just... him sitting.

I tried to focus again, reading each word aloud in my mind, lips moving slightly. But then I lifted my head a little to glance at the clock. It was 5 p.m.

And then my eyes went to him.

He was just... sitting. Looking at something on his palm

"Chai bana de hum aapke liye?" I asked softly.

He looked up at me, his eyes warm.

"Nahi, nahi. Aap padhiye."

I nodded again and went back to reading. But now my ears were more alert than my eyes.

He was moving.

I didn't look directly, but I could feel it. His footsteps were soft but present. Walking slowly in the room. Here and there. I lifted my eyes in between, not moving my head much, and saw him near the bookshelf. Then near the curtain. Then back to the sofa.

He wasn't doing anything. Just... walking.

My brows pulled together slightly. What was he doing? Why was he walking like that?

He wasn't speaking. Wasn't interrupting me. Wasn't even asking anything. Just... roaming.

I shook my head, a small smile rising on my lips. He must be thinking something. His mind never stays still.

I bent lower toward my book again, trying to focus. I finished one page. Then another. My back had started to feel a little stiff. I was about to stretch when I noticed him sitting beside me.

I looked at him.

His eyes weren't on me. They were on something beside me.

And then I followed his gaze.

It was the cherry pillow.

He was staring at it with his lips pressed tight together, brows slightly narrowed, like something serious was going on in his head.

"Kuch chahiye aapko, Aarth?" I asked.

His eyes quickly moved up to me. "Nahi, nahi. Main bas aise hi..." he said, rubbing the back of his head awkwardly.

I looked at him for a second longer. His face was a little pink, maybe because of the light. Or maybe...

He was acting... a little weird.

Cute. But weird.

I didn't say anything. Just gave a small smile and turned back to my book.

But now I could feel him.

He wasn't touching me. Not saying anything. But I could feel his eyes, again and again, on me. Or maybe the pillow.

Once I tried not to look. Tried to read. But I could see him from the corner of my eye-shifting a little, leaning back, head tilted slightly, still staring.

I pressed my lips together, not letting the smile fully come out. He had this way of silently throwing small tantrums without saying a single word.

I dipped my head lower into the book again, trying to hold my laughter in.

My Aarth was so strange sometimes.

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."Ho gaya," I murmured softly, closing the book and resting it beside me.

I slowly lifted myself up, feeling a little stretch in my back. And then my eyes went to Siddharth ji... he was lying right next to me now. I hadn't even noticed when he came so close.

His eyes were closed.

Sleeping.

A small smile came to my lips.

I watched him for a moment. His face looked so calm, without thinking, I slowly raised my hand and brushed a few strands of hair away from his forehead. They were soft and warm. His skin too-warm and soft, like always.

I tried to sit up a bit more.

But just as I moved, I felt a small tug at my pallu.

I looked down.

Siddharth ji had clutched it.

Even in sleep... he was holding onto me.

My smile grew bigger. My heart did something funny inside my chest.

"Kitne pyaare pati hai mere," I whispered to myself.

How cute could one man be?

I leaned a little closer and gently flicked his nose.

He didn't wake up.

Just made a soft sound under his breath. Like a tiny grumble.

I laughed silently and carefully, very slowly, pulled my pallu out of his hand. I didn't want to wake him up. He must be tired.

I looked at the clock. It was time to help Maa in the kitchen.

But before leaving, my eyes fell on the cherry pillow.

I remembered how he kept looking at it like he wanted to take that.

I bit my lip to hide my smile and gently placed the cherry pillow near his chest, tucking it softly beside his hand. And got up from the bed slowly.

Walked around to the other side.

And then, without a sound, I leaned down and pressed a gentle kiss on his forehead. My lips rested there for a moment.

He didn't move. Just breathed slowly, like he could feel it even in his sleep.

I straightened up, walked to the mirror, and fixed my saree carefully. I smoothed the pallu over my shoulder, adjusted the pleats.

And then, I looked at him again.

Through the mirror.

My husband.

My serious, silent, sleeping husband who had held onto my pallu like it was his comfort.

I watched him for one more second.

And then... I walked out of the room.
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Authors pov-

"Noor beta, ja Siddharth betwa ko bhojan ke liye bula laa," Dadi called from the kitchen.

Noor nodded. "Ji Dadi," she said softly and turned to go upstairs.

It had been two hours since she left the room. She was sure Siddharth must still be sleeping. If he had woken up, he would have already come downstairs looking for her.

Still thinking about him, Noor shook her head with a small smile.

She gently pushed the door open and stepped inside.

And then-she stopped.

Her eyes widened.

There, on the bed, was Siddharth.

Still sleeping.

But this time, he wasn't just sleeping. He was... cuddling her cherry pillow.

His big arms were wrapped around it tightly. His bearded face was softly buried in the red fabric, and his body curled toward it like he was holding her instead of a pillow.

Noor's mouth fell open slightly at the cuteness.

His strong, bulky frame-hugging that small, soft pillow like a baby.

She couldn't take her eyes off him.

No one else was there to witness this moment. Only her.

And she didn't want to forget it.

Slowly, carefully, she lifted her phone from her hand and opened the camera quietly. Her thumb hovered over the screen, ready to click.

He was still sleeping.

Still hugging the cherry pillow like a child.

Noor bit back a giggle. This was the cutest thing she had ever seen.

Just when her finger was about to press the button-

His body moved and siddharth's eyes opened slowly.

He blinked once... then twice.

Then his eyes dropped to the cherry pillow in his arms.

And Noor smiled, thinking-This is perfect. I'll click now.

But just as she was about to capture the moment-

"Chi! Dur hatt!"

Siddharth suddenly threw the pillow away like it was some enemy object.

The cherry pillow flew from his arms, bounced on the bed, and rolled under it.

Noor just stood there, frozen.

Her phone still up in the air.

Mouth slightly open.

Eyes wide in disbelief.

She stared at him, not even blinking and then like feeling her gaze on himself he looked up..his face still having the disgusting look but as soon as their eyes meet.

Siddharth's whole existence frozen.

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Unknown pov-

College aa rahi hai woh?" the woman asked softly.

["Is she coming to college?"]

That person didn't respond. That person just sat there, eyes fixed on an old photograph placed on the table. The picture was of a family. Smiling faces. Happy frame. But that person's red eyes were not just looking... they were searching.

It had been a long silence. The kind that doesn't feel empty-but heavy.

That person's fingers gently touched the corner of the photo frame, like it held a wound, or a memory that still hurt.

"Hmm," that person finally murmured, voice low, tired.

Eyes never leaving the photograph.

"Nazar rakho uss par... hmm?" the woman said, voice soft but sharp, like a knife dipped in honey.

["Keep an eye on her... hmm?"]

No reaction again.

That person's eyes didn't move. But there was something dangerous in that stillness-like the quiet before a storm. The gaze wasn't just staring-it was remembering. It was burning.

The woman took a small step closer. Her heels tapped on the floor. She bent down slowly and placed a cold hand on that person's shoulder. Her nails were long, carefully shaped, painted a shade too bright for the moment.

She leaned in.

"Yaad rakhna... usne tumhe chuna nahi... usne kisi aur ko chuna. Yaad rakhna."

["Remember... he didn't choose you... he chose someone else. Remember that."]

The words were soft. Innocent on the surface. But they stabbed.

That person's eyes finally looked up. Bloodshot. As if those few words dragged a knife through the chest. There was no anger in the expression. Just silence. But that silence felt like thunder waiting to break.

That person stood up without a word. A chair made a low sound as it moved back.

Before leaving, that person looked again at the family photo. That person's eyes paused at one face in the frame-one face with soft blue eyes. For a second, that person blinked.

And when those eyes opened again, there was something else in them.

Something that looked like pain... but wasn't.

Something colder.

That person turned away and walked out of the room.

The woman stayed there, looking at that person's back until the door closed.

"Yaad rakhna," she whispered again. A small smile curved her lips.

["Remember that."]

Yes, her plan was working.

She had planted the seed.

And now... she was watering it.

Not to grow flowers-but thorns.

She turned to the photograph. Picked it up.

It was old.

Faded.

A photo of the Rajvardhan family.

"Bahut yaad kiya maine aap logo ko," she whispered to the frame.

["I missed you all a lot."]

Her voice was soft. Too soft. Like someone whispering to a grave.

Then-she kissed the photo.

Her lips touched the glass slowly. The way she did it... not like someone who missed a family.

She tilted her head slightly, still staring at the frame, eyes glassy with something that looked like danger.

Her nail traced over one face in the picture. It was Siddharth.

She dragged her nail across his image, slow and sharp.

"Tumhe sabse zyada... mere Siddharth... Mujhe pata hai tum bhi Zeenat ko nahi bhule ho."

["You more than anyone... my Siddharth... I know you haven't forgotten Zeenat either."]

The voice cracked on the word "mere"-my Siddharth.

A sickening smile grew on her lips now. A smile that belonged to someone who knew exactly what she was was.

Zeenat.

And Zeenat, now holding the photo tight against her chest, walked slowly to the screen in front of her. A recording was playing.

She tilted her head again. Just a little.

"Zeenat ke antim sanskaar mein... Zeenat ko hi nahi bulaya," she whispered.

["At Zeenat's last rites... they didn't even call Zeenat."]

Innocent voice.

Innocent tone.

But twisted.

She looked again at the family photo.

"Kitne lucky hain aap sab... jo Zeenat duniya ke liye mar gayi... woh aapki zindagi mein jeet jaagti wapas aayegi..."

["How lucky you all are... the Zeenat who died for the world... will return to your lives alive and breathing."]

She stared again at Siddharth's image.

And a slow, disturbing smile climbed her face.

Her finger traced his neck in the photo. Then she placed the photo frame down.

But her eyes found another picture on the table. A child's photograph.

Aryan.

She smiled.

"I think I should visit you, Aaryan... Aakhir doctor Siddharth ki sabse successful case ho tum."

["I think I should visit you, Aaryan... after all, you're Doctor Siddharth's most successful case."]

Her smile was cold.

It was a smile that could freeze bones.

A smile that didn't look human.

And just like that, the silence in the room returned.

Except now... it wasn't silence.

It was the sound of something about to begin.

Something that had been buried for years.

But Zeenat never let it die.

________________________________

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