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जबसे हुआ तेरे नज़दीक है
दिल के मोहल्ले में सब ठीक है
जबसे हुआ तेरे नज़दीक है
दिल के मोहल्ले में सब ठीक है

ज़रा सा किताबों में कम ध्यान है
ज़्यादा तेरे खयालों में है
तुझसे जो मिलके मज़ा है
कहाँ वो गणित के सवालों में है

करके गुस्ताख़ियाँ माँगे ना माफ़ियाँ
तेरी चाहत ने बदला मेरे दिल का जुगराफ़िया
करके गुस्ताख़ियाँ माँगे ना माफ़ियाँ
तेरी चाहत ने बदला मेरे दिल का जुगराफ़िया
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The room remained hushed as if wrapped in a soft breath.
Siddharth lay still.

But his face... it wasn't at peace.

A faint crease lived between his brows. His lips were pressed, almost like he was troubled by something in a dream. His arm moved - slow, unhurried - fingers grazing the space beside him on the bed, half-asleep, half-searching.

But the warmth he was expecting... wasn't there.

His hand stilled. His fingers curled unconsciously.

There was something soft beneath them. Small. Fluffy. Light.

His grip tightened slowly, dragging it toward his chest. He exhaled through his nose and turned slightly, still on the edge of sleep.

No jasmine & sandalwood

Siddharth frowns in sleep and slowly, his eyes open - slow, heavy, narrow.

Blinking once. Then again.

And then... they landed on it.

A cherry pillow.

Right against his chest.

It sat against his chest like some shameful confession, small and innocent, but deeply out of place. For a second, he just stared. His mind caught somewhere between sleep and reality. The pillow stared back with quiet innocence.

His brows twitched.

And slowly... his jaw clenched.

The muscles along his temple moved as if he was holding something in - disbelief... or offense. A dry breath left his nose.

His eyes narrowed further, dragging over the stupid thing like it had just insulted him. His nostrils flared once.

"What the-" he muttered, his voice thick with sleep but sharp with disbelief. His arms jerked away like he'd just touched something offensive.

And then-With a cold flick of his hand, he threw it off the be. The pillow flew across the bed and landed with a dull thump on the floor. Far. Away.

"Chii..." he muttered, jaw still clenched, voice low and annoyed. "Dur hatt."
(Ew. Stay away)

His shoulders rose as he took in a deeper breath, as if shaking the remnants of sleep from his body. He sat up, the blanket sliding off his chest. A hand dragged through his hair - slow, rough. His face looked blank, but something in his eyes had turned alert.

He sat there, stiff and blinking, chest rising and falling with confused frustration. And then, his eyes narrowed, deadly and offended, at the pillow now lying innocently on the ground.

His jaw clenched.

He was still staring.

That damned thing had been in his arms. In his arms.

"What the fuck," he muttered under his breath, running a hand down his face. "I was cuddling with that? That?"

His whole body burned with a kind of rage that didn't belong to war or politics - no. This was personal. This was sacred.

He shook his head, still trying to piece it all together.

He remembered falling asleep while holding something else. Not the stupid cherry but her pallu.

Her soft, familiar pallu made him feel that her warmth had wrapped around him.

And now?

Now he was waking up tangled in a chery pillow?

"Kya bakwaas hai yeh..."
(What nonsense is this...)

He sat up straighter, rubbing his eyes like maybe this was a dream. Like maybe he still had time to wake up in the right world, with Noor next to him, her head tucked under his chin.

But no.

Noor was nowhere on the bed.

And as he blinked again, adjusting fully now, something made the hairs on the back of his neck stand.

It was slow - the feeling that crept up his spine. The way the air shifted, like silence had been disturbed. He rubbed his eyes once more, slower this time. And then, carefully, he turned his head towards the door.

Someone was watching him.

There.

By the doorframe. Siddharth turned slowly to look who it was.

Noor.

She stood there quietly with her phone in her hand like she was about to click his picture, her eyes wide, expression unreadable.

And as Sidharth's eyes met hers, something changed in him instantly. That tension in his shoulders dropped. His face softened. The corners of his lips tugged upward before he even realized it.

His Noor.

He smiled - helplessly, lovingly.

But Noor didn't smile back.

Her gaze didn't waver. She just kept staring at him -and then her eyes went to a corner of the room. Following her eyes, Siddharth turned slightly and looked down at the floor.

The cherry pillow.

Fuck

His eyes went back to Noor then at the fucking pillow & then at Noor again. and this time, he saw it.

That shift in her expression.

That tiny flash in her eyes.

Hurt & disbelief.

His body froze.

In his head, his thoughts burst into chaos.

Shit. Fuck. Fuck.

You stupid idiot. What the hell is wrong with you, Siddharth. You fucking dumbass.

Did she saw him cursing her favorite pillow like it was infected and threw it across the room like it was some filth.

His breath caught in his chest.

He stood up immediately, his posture tall but stiff, like a man ready to fight but not sure how to fix what just broke. His hand moved up, raking through his hair in frustration, and he cursed himself again.

And then, he saw her move.

Noor.

Quietly, she began walking toward the cherry pillow. Siddharth took one step toward her, instinctively.

She walked past him.

Down to the floor where the pillow lay, now bruised with wrinkles and rejection. She picked it up gently, her fingers brushing away the dust from the corner it had touched.

Siddharth just stood there, breath shallow, eyes locked on her every move.

He wanted to speak.

He wanted to say sorry.

But he didn't know how. His mind stopped working the minutes he realized his tiny secret was out.

So instead, he ran both hands through his hair again, looking around helplessly, then down at her - as if every second of silence between them was screaming louder and louder in his ears.

"Ye?" Noor whispered, touching the cherry pillow.
(This?)

It was lying on the floor-alone and crumpled-just like every morning. But this time, she had seen it fall.

Siddharth looked at her. Then at the pillow. His throat suddenly felt dry.

"Noor... woh galti se phek diya... I was-"
He paused. Swallowed. Cleared his throat.
"Was sleepy. I'm sorry... dhyan nahi diya," he muttered, softer than usual.

(Noor, I threw it by mistake. I was sleepy. I was paying much attention)

Noor slowly looked up at him. Her eyes met his. There was a hint of confusion on her face, like she was trying to remember something. To connect some forgotten dots. Siddharth saw that-he saw how her eyes were almost about to believe him. Just for a second.

And then, he saw it.

Her gaze dropped to the corner of the room. That exact corner where the pillow was lying earlier

That corner where it always used to lie.

Every morning.

His heart skipped.

Noor's head tilted slightly.

Siddharth knew that tilt. That quiet suspicion blooming behind those narrowed lashes. Her innocent face didn't change much, but her eyes were thinking. Calculating.
And just like that-

She knew.

Her body stiffened.

He gulped.

"Noor...?" he called her. His voice careful. Noor didn't answer. She took a small breath, steadying herself.

Then, slowly, she placed her hands on her waist. Her eyes narrowed further, and her lips pressed into a line. She took two steps towards him, with purpose. Her anklets made small sound.

Siddharth stood still. Not because he couldn't move. But because he didn't dare to. His very confident, very tall self-stood frozen under the storm of her eyes. His wife was now angry. His Noor. And he wasn't sure if his heart could take that.

"Ye toh wahi kona hai jahan Cherry roz subah gira hua milta tha hume," she said slowly. Her voice was soft, but her words hit like truth.
(This is the exact corner where I use to find cherry thrown away every morning)

His eyes widened.

His heart began to pound, not loudly-but like a slow knock inside his chest.

She knew.

He opened his mouth-tried to explain, maybe soften the truth-but before he could form words, she raised her palm like she sensed it

"Shhh. Hum baat kar rahe na abhi," she said, holding him still with just a hand. Her tone was calm. Too calm.
(Shh, I'm still talking)

Siddharth blinked at her. She looked too cute in this anger. Too tiny, too serious, too real. And God... too hurt.

He stayed quiet, watching her. Watching the shift in her breath, the crease in her brows, the soft quiver in her lower lip-one he knew too well.

He saw her hand pull the cherry pillow closer, like hiding it away from him & He stretched his own, gently, trying to take it from her.

"Noor aap bhi-"

But she didn't let go. She clutched it tighter and stepped back.

Her voice came next-low, steady, breaking something in him.

"Aap phekte the na Cherry ko... roz raat ko?"
(You use to throw away cheery? Every night)

A single drop of sweat slid down the side of his forehead.

He rubbed it off, shaking his head slightly. "Kya Noor, aap in sab baaton ko leke baith gayi..."
(What Noor, why are you thinking so much over this)

He was trying to dismiss it. To steer her away. He stepped sideways, trying to walk past her.

But her voice stopped him. Her mind caught something else too. Her own eyes widened remembering it.

"...Aur aapne humse jhooth bola?"
(And you lied to me?)

The air stilled.

He stopped walking. Eyes shut, shoulders tense, he exhaled slowly.

He remembered. That day on the hill. When she had asked. When he had lied. Told her she was the one who used to throw it away in her sleep. And how guilty she looked after that. How quiet. How sorry.

And he... he had watched her blame herself but inside. Inside how happy he was that there was no pillow in between them.

He opened his eyes, raised a hand, and rubbed them tiredly. He turned to look at her. And she was looking at him. Really looking. Her hands no longer on her waist. Her anger no longer loud. Just pain now. In those large, silent eyes.

And that killed something inside him.

The act, the casual air, the coolness-everything left him. He stood there. Just a man. Just a husband. Who had hurt the only woman he never meant to.

He stepped closer, slowly.

"Noor, I'm sorr-"

But she closed her eyes. Took a deep breath. Held Cherry close to her chest, almost like a wounded bird. And then opened her eyes & looked at him with a betrayal look. Then without a word, she placed it gently on the sofa.

And walked past him.

Siddharth turned. Watched her walk away. Her steps calm. Saree trailing behind her. And that silence louder than anything she could've said.

He stayed there. Still. Just watching her go. He turned his head slightly, thinking she might stop.

But she didn't.

She kept walking. Quietly.

As she reached near the door, Siddharth moved, ready to follow her. But just then-
She turned around suddenly.

Her voice sharp. Angry. Clear.

"Humse pass mat aayga. Humse baat mat kariyega aap"
(Don't come near me..Don't talk to me)
Her tone made the air still for a second.

Without waiting for a reply, she walked out. The pallu of her saree flowing behind her like a wave.

Siddharth stood frozen. Her anger left a mark on him. He didn't move. Couldn't. The sound of her footsteps fading... but loud inside him.

And then-his eyes fell on that pillow.

The same damn cherry pillow. Resting innocently on the sofa. Like it had done nothing.

Siddharth's jaw tightened. His fingers clenched. He glared at that cushion like it had murdered someone.

And then, without thinking, he muttered-

"I fucking hate, hate, hate you... fucking pillow."

He looked at the pillow across the room like it insulted his entire family. Then he followed her. Like a storm chasing the wind. As he walked behind her, with her flowing pallu in her hand like it was his last hope.

"Noor..."
His voice low, breathless.
"Noor..."

She didn't look back. She kept walking.

He followed, still holding the pallu.

Every ounce of calmness had left him. His wife was angry. And this time-he could feel-really angry.

She went downstairs. Without saying a word. Not caring who was watching. Not stopping. Straight into the kitchen.

Siddharth walked behind her. His fingers still holding the edge of her pallu like a child scared to be left behind.

"Ek baar sun to lijiye..."
(Just listen to me once...)

No answer.

She didn't even glance at him.

Her face was serious. Lips tight. Brows hard. She was still trying to absorb that her husband use to throw her baby pillow & he even lied to her.

Downstairs, everyone was sitting at the dining table. Waiting.

They saw them enter-Noor walking in silence. Siddharth behind her, holding her pallu like he had lost all control.

Everyone turned to look. The Siddharth Singh Rajvardhan-who never cared if someone was angry with him, never give a fuck about thjs chidish thing-was now walking behind his angry wife like a schoolboy, hoping for just one glance.

Adarsh blinked twice, then leaned closer and whispered-

"Mujhe lagta hai bhai ne bhabhi ko daant diya hai."
(I think Bhai scolded Bhabhi.)

Veer, who was casually leaning with one finger on his lip, thinking deeply, while looking at them replied-

"Nahi no chance... bhai Bhabhi ko ghur ke nahi dekhte... Daantenge kaha se?"
(No Bhai... He doesn't even stare at Bhabhi... How will he scold her?)

Dadi and Maa, sitting nearby, hummed in agreement watching the couple. Dadi didn't even try hiding her smile. Veer gave a proud smirk like he said something smart.

They all looked at the kitchen again.

Noor was placing bowls on the counter. Filling them with dishes. Not sparing Siddharth a look. Meanwhile siddharth stood behind her.

"Noor please Sorry na..."
(Noor, please Please, sorry...)

His voice was low. Filled with guilt. Desperate. Like a sinner asking for forgiveness. But Noor... she didn't blink.

She remembered everything- how guilty she used to feel. And all this time, it was him. He threw the pillow. He lied.

Her chest tightened.

She pressed her lips harder.

No. He won't melt her this time.

Siddharth ran his fingers through his hair, frustrated. He looked helpless. A man full of power-but powerless in front of his wife.

She looked adorable in her anger. So innocent. But so hurt. She picked up the serving bowl and went to the table. As she came near, everyone quickly looked down at their plates like they weren't watching anything.

Siddharth followed. Still behind her.

He didn't care who was watching. Not now. Right now, only one thing mattered-Noor.

He wasn't even looking at the family. Only her. Only Noor.

She had told him not to come near her. Not to talk.

And that was killing him.

Dadi watched him. Her smile wide, clearly enjoying the show. His mother too, her emotionless son looking like a love-sick man for the very first time.

Dadi who couldn't stop herself, teasingly said-

"Aa ja mere bawale betewa. Bhojan kar le. Apni patni ko manane ka takat chahiye ki nahi."
(Come my crazy boy, have your meal. You'll need strength to win over your wife, right?)

Adarsh laughed.

But stopped when Siddharth gave him a deadly glare.

"Sorry bhai..." he muttered, lowering his head.

Siddharth looked back at Noor. She wasn't looking.

He didn't speak. Just stared at her. His eyes soft now. Face fallen.

Dadi said again this time trying hard to suppress the smile coming on her lios-

"Baith ja, Siddharth."
(Sit down, Siddharth.)

He cleared his throat & looked awau from Noor for a second & looked at dadi & said in his low voice.

"Nahi Dadi... Main baad mein-"
(No Dadi... I'll eat later-)

But before he could finish, Noor's head snapped up.

She turned and glared at him. The look hit him like a truck. He stopped mid-sentence.

She didn't say anything. But her eyes... they said everything. For the first time in his life, Siddharth Singh Rajvardhan felt fear... from someone's glare.

He gulped.

He understood.

He left her pallu slowly from his fingers and cleared his throat & said-

"Baith raha hoon."
(I'm sitting.)

She turned back. Didn't say anything. Continued serving food.

He sat on the head chair, sill looking at her. Still waiting for her to just... look at him once so he will know what's running in her brain.

She didn't. But what he heard was a laugh. A suppress laugh.

His eyes then shifted to Adarsh-who was now pretending to eat, hiding his smile behind his hand, combing his hair nervously.

But Siddharth's glare didn't move.

Adarsh felt it. He tried to drink water. Almost choked. Then lowered his head like a guilty child.

Everyone was watching. But nobody said anything.

Because Siddharth Singh Rajvardhan-was busy chasing the only person in the world who could make him desperate.

His Noor

I sat at the dining table, my hands resting quietly on my lap, but my eyes wouldn't leave Noor. Not for a single second. She was there, just across from me, but it felt like she was miles away. Her face was still, her lips pressed tight, and she refused to look at me. Not once. Not even a tiny glance.

I waited, holding my breath inside. Just one look. But she didn't give me that. Her eyes stayed fixed on the table, on nothing. I felt the weight of her silence like a heavy stone pressing on my chest.

My heart thumped loudly, loud enough that I was sure she could hear it too, if she only looked at me. I wanted to reach out, to pull her gaze to me, to tell her wordlessly that I was sorry, that I loved her.

Seconds stretched like hours. My eyes, still searching, slowly moved away from her face. They caught sight of Adarsh, sitting nearby, a small smile playing on his lips. That smile - it was soft, but it was there, and it felt like a knife to me.

I swallowed hard. How could he smile now? How could he enjoy this moment when my Noor was angry with me, shutting me out?

Why the fuvk was he smiling?

I turned my head slightly, my gaze sharp and silent, to glare at Adarsh. The smile vanished from his face as quickly as it came. I looked away from him feeling satisfied. Then, I caught movement. Noor was walking toward me. The soft scrape of her ankle against the floor made my heart skip. She was coming. Slowly. Quietly. Without a word.

She began to serve my plate with delicate hands, careful not to make a sound. She added spoonfuls-one, then another-like she always did. I didn't stop her. I let her fill my plate as much as she wanted like always.

I waited, expecting her to sit beside me, like always. But she didn't. She passed by and sat beside my mother instead.

My heart sank deeper. That empty space beside me felt heavier than any silence. I wanted her there. Needed her there. But she chose to sit far from me.

My heart dropped. It felt like she was making a wall between us, and I hated that empty space where she should have been next to me.

Still, she just sat there, not even serving her own plate or doing anything else. I watched her and a small smile come to my lips. Even when she was angry, she waited for me to serve her-like always. That little thing told me my Noor was still there, deep inside, beneath all this silence.

I got up then, the chair scraping softly on the floor. I picked up the dishes and served a little on her plate, keeping my eyes on her the whole time. I saw her cheeks blush just a little under my gaze. Around us, family was watching-the teasing smiles on dadi's face, my mother's soft eyes, my brother's knowing look. But I didn't care. Right then, the angry woman across the table was the only thing that mattered.

After serving, I went back to my seat & picked my plate & walked to her. pulling the chair beside Noor I sat on it. That's my place-beside her-not the head of the table, not anywhere else, but right there, next to the woman I love.

She didn't say anything, but I saw her hand stop for a moment when I sat down beside her. Everyone was watching, but I didn't mind. Nothing mattered except being near her.

I began to eat slowly, finishing everything she had put on my plate.
I felt the guilt settle deep inside me. Guilty that she was upset. Guilty that I had hurt her. But there was one thing I wasn't guilty for: throwing that pillow away.

Her pillow. The one she loved more than anything. I hated it. How could I not? That pillow was always between us. I couldn't stand it.

I remembered lying to her when we were coming down from the Kuldevi temple. I told her it wasn't me who threw it away. I said it was her. That was my only real guilt. Lying to her. Because now she was angry at me, and I wished I hadn't lied.

But the pillow? No. That pillow deserved every bit of it.

No matter what, no matter how small or silly this fight was, I knew I had to make it right. She was angry, yes, and I was guilty for that little lie, but my heart was set on fixing things between us. I would say sorry-quietly, deeply-because she mattered more than anything. I would never stop asking her forgiveness, again and again, until she smiled at me like before. But I knew one thing for sure: I was going to keep throwing that pillow again.

.

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.

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Dinner was quiet tonight. Atlesst for me. I pretending like he wasn't there, though every part of me knew he was.

He was eating slowly... quietly... like he was lost in something. I didn't look at him, not even once. But I could feel it-his eyes, his presence, his silence. My chest felt tight, and I knew why. I was angry. And hurt.
That cherry pillow...

My lips pressed into a line. He had lied to me. Told me it was my habit to throw it off the bed. But I saw him. I saw him picking it up and tossing it aside like it meant nothing. That pillow wasn't just a pillow. It was mine. My baby pillow. My father brought that for me when I was a child.

And the guilt I had felt for believing it was me... for thinking maybe something was wrong with me... that guilt wasn't small.

Still, I didn't say anything.

He hadn't said anything either.

Now he sat beside me, eating so slowly like he was counting each bite. And I... I peeked at his plate.

He was barely halfway through. I knew it. I knew this was because of me. No matter how angry I was, I couldn't ignore it.

I know his rhythm. When he's happy, he eats fast. When he's sad, he just pokes his food and acts like it's tasteless.

I didn't look at him. But I felt his eyes on me. Constantly. That soft stare. That quiet presence. Like he was watching me like I was the only thing worth looking at.

I quietly tore a small piece of roti, tried focusing on my food, but I couldn't stop feeling his gaze on my face. He wasn't even trying to hide it.

When I noticed he was about to finish his plate, one of the house staff came near the dining room.

"Siddharth sahab se koi milne aaya hai. Hospital se."

(Someone from the hospital has come to meet Siddharth sir.)

My spoon stopped mid-air.

Without turning my head, I did a tiny side-glance. He nodded once, slowly. No words. Just a slight nod.

Then he started eating faster. Finishing everything quickly.

I wanted to frown but... my lips smiled.

He didn't leave even one bite on the plate.

I don't know why... but it made me so warm inside. He know I don't like when he left food in his plate.

He stood up. Took the napkin. Wiped his mouth quietly. Didn't say anything. I kept my eyes on my thali, pretending I didn't care. But I was listening... waiting.

Then I felt it.

A warm hand on my head. Soft. Familiar.

My breath paused. My eyes still fixed on the plate.

He gently patted my head and bent slightly near my ear.

"Finish it."

His voice was soft. Like honey falling in silence.

Then he left.

My cheeks burned.

I didn't look up. But I smiled. A tiny smile that refused to listen to my angry heart.

But no, Noor... don't forgive him so easily. But The corner of my lips lifted on their own. Stupid man. I didn't want to smile. But... I smiled.

He walked away, and I shook my head slightly at the plate, hiding my face, hiding everything.

He thinks I'm going to forgive him so easily? No way. Let him try.

I picked up another bite, heart still beating a little fast, when Dadi's voice suddenly came from beside me.

"Jaldi maaf mat karna bahu. Oont ko pahaad ke neeche laane ke mauke bahut kam milte hain."

(Don't forgive him too soon, dear. Chances to bring a camel down from a mountain are rare.)

My fingers froze mid-air.

My cheeks burned deeper. I didn't look up. Of course, Dadi saw everything. Everyone saw everything. Hey bhagwan

A small laugh escaped from the table. Then another. And another. Everyone had noticed. My cheeks turn more red. My little war with my husband... was now their dinner entertainment.

I ducked my head lower, almost hiding behind my plate, but I couldn't help the tiny smile curling at my lips. It was embarrassing.

And just when I thought it was over, Dadi spoke again.

"Accha sun beta. Kal Abhimanyu ki shaadi mein jaana hai. Haath aur paon aaj hi rang lena. Kal tak accha rang aa jaayega. Pauranga hai tere paas?"

(Listen, dear. We're going to Abhimanyu's wedding tomorrow. Colour your hands and feet tonight. It'll get deeper by tomorrow. Do you have Paurangi?)

I looked up quickly and nodded. "Haa dadi, hai hamare pass hum aapke bhi kar denge.."

(Yes, Dadi. I have it& I will colour your too.)

I had already planned to do that tonight. Amma used to say the same thing-never colour your legs on the day of the wedding, do it a night before. The colour sets better, stays longer.

Even when I was a child, I used to watch her. Sitting near the window, applying the thick red paste to her legs, tying her hair into a bun, wearing a bright saree, her gold jewellery jingling softly as she moved. I loved watching her get ready. I wanted to be just like that.

Even now, the thought made me smile.

I loved getting ready. Loved wearing mehendi on my hands, colouring my feet red, putting on anklets, bracelets, earrings. It made me feel... something soft. Something beautiful. Something mine.

And now... tomorrow, I'll do my hair, apply kajal... maybe even wear that little nath ma had left for me. The one Siddharth ji loves smiled at whenever I wore it.

The thought made my cheeks heat up again.

But no. I'm still angry.

He shouldn't have lied. He shouldn't have throw that pillow.

He'll have to earn that smile again.

But yes, I'll let him try.

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I was pacing in the room. Slow, heavy steps, back and forth. I had checked the time. Again. It had been more than thirty minutes now. Thirty full minutes since dinner ended. Thirty minutes since I had been waiting to see her, waiting to talk to her, to be around her. She was angry. And that was enough to twist something inside my chest.

I hated when she was angry with me.

The rest of the world could fall apart, could spit fire on my name-I didn't care. But Noor... Noor being upset was enough to make the ground shake beneath my feet. That soft silence of hers... it tore through me louder than a scream.

My jaw was clenched, tight. The sleeves of my shirt were half-folded. I had thrown my watch on the table ten minutes ago. My fingers kept twitching at my sides. There was this constant restlessness in my chest-like my own heart was pacing, just like I was.

It wasn't even my fault. Not today. I had to step away during dinner because someone from the hospital had come. Just a quick file review. Some damn file that apparently couldn't wait till morning. Twenty minutes-that's all it was supposed to be. But it stretched to one hour. I came back, walked straight to the kitchen, hoping she would still be there.

But no.

Noor wasn't there.

The sink was full, A servant was doing the dishes, wiping the counters, putting food in the fridge-the things she usually monitor.

She always made sure everything was wrapped up. I had watched her quietly slipping those small containers into the fridge, makimg them wipe the table twice even when it was already clean. Always quiet. Always hers.

That quiet wasn't there anymore.

I had looked around once, twice. Nothing. The house felt too still, like it was holding its breath along with me. I had assumed she must've come up to the room. But she wasn't here either.

That's when I began pacing.

Waiting.

My eyes flicked to the side now, mid-step, and landed on that damn cherry pillow lying on her side of the bed.

My lips curled into a tight scowl.

"Sab iss gadhe ki wajah se ho raha hai," I muttered, just under my breath, eyes narrowing at the pillow.

(All this is happening because of this donkey)

I stared at it like it was an enemy. I swear, if that pillow didn't exist, half of my problems would disappear. I was sure of it.

Still, I said nothing aloud. Just pressed my fingers hard against my temple and exhaled slowly.

Another minute passed. My body was tight with tension now.

I couldn't take it anymore.

That silence from her, that distance-like I didn't matter.

I couldn't bear it. Not anymore.

Not when I knew she was angry.

Not when I knew she was hurting.

I didn't care if I had to fall to my knees and hold her feet tonight. I would do it. I had no shame in front of her. No pride either. Just this ache, this stupid ache in my chest that only disappeared when she smiled at me.

I turned toward the door, walking out.

The hallway was quiet, a single lamp casting soft golden light across the floor. I could hear faint sounds from downstairs-the clatter of utensils, the murmuring voices of servants.

And then I saw one.

Standing by the staircase, wiping his hands on a towel. I walked toward him, my voice calm, deep, steady.

"Suno... Noor ji kidhar hai?"

(Listen... where is Noor ji?)

He looked up at me quickly, then lowered his gaze with quiet respect.

"Woh Sahib... choti bahurani ji toh Dadi ji ke kamre mein hain."

(Sir... the younger madam is in Dadi ji's room.)

My shoulders loosened a bit, just slightly.

Choti bahurani ji.

He had added the "ji." Good. they remembered. The rules were being followed. I had made it very clear-no one, not one soul in this house, would ever address her without respect. Not even a word, not even a tone of disrespect would be tolerated.

And when I heard that quiet respect in his voice... a small flicker of satisfaction rose inside me.

I gave him a slight nod, dismissing him. He turned and left.

But my own body didn't move for a second. I stood there in the dim light, breathing through the ache again. My eyes slowly lowered, jaw tightening again.

Dadi ke kamre mein hai.

She's going to sleep there tonight.?

Away from me.

Because she's angry. I imagined her curled up on the mattress near Dadi, hugging that cherry pillow instead of me. And suddenly, I couldn't breathe.
The thought of her spending this night away from me-it pierced straight through me.

No.

Not tonight.

Not a single second more.

My fists clenched at my sides.

Even if I have to stand the whole night outside her door, even if I have to beg or fight or fall, I don't care. But she is coming back to me tonight.

With that, I turned around, my face cold again, but my heart burning. And I walked down the stairs. Straight toward her.

.

.

.

.

.

There were no harsh lights in Dadi's room tonight. Only the soft glow of a table lamp near her chair, casting a warm yellow haze on the quiet floor. The air smelled faintly of sandalwood and old books-an oddly comforting scent that always lived in this corner of the house.

Dadi was sitting on her cushioned wooden chair, her back straight, her dupatta draped like a queen. Noor was sitting cross-legged on the floor beside her, a small round bottle of aalta resting near her knee. Her posture was careful. A pallu lay over her lap, and her long braid had slipped forward over her shoulder. Her fingers moved gently over her ankle, red liquid blooming like a flower on her fair skin.

She had already finished applying aalta on one foot-deep crimson against ivory. Her toe rings sparkled softly under the lamplight, and her payal, gifted by Siddharth, sang a faint chime whenever her foot shifted slightly.

It looked beautiful. Even she knew it.

She tilted her head, admiring the soft contrast of red and white on her foot, and her lips curled into a shy little smile. The kind of smile girls wear when they're quietly proud of how they look. Her heart fluttered with excitement-not for herself, but for someone else. He would see her like this tonight.

But only after he apologised. Of course.

He will.

She was sure of it.

Her fingers reached out to start on her other foot, but just as the brush touched her skin, Dadi's voice came softly from above.

"Kitne pyaare lag rahe dekh..."
(Look how beautiful they're looking...)

Noor paused, looked up slowly. Her eyes found Dadi's warm, smiling. Noor's heart warmed instantly. She smiled back, too happy at this point.

She looked down again, lifting her foot gently to begin the second one, when suddenly-

The door creaked open.

Both women looked up.

And there, standing in the doorway, was Siddharth.

Noor's heart skipped.

He wasn't just standing-he looked like he had stormed there. His chest rose and fell slightly faster than usual. A few beads of sweat glistened on his forehead. His white shirt had the top few buttons open, revealing just a trace of his neck and collarbone. The sleeves were folded halfway up his arms, his hands clenched at his sides. His eyes-sharp, focused, unblinking-were locked on her.

Noor's hand froze.

He was here.

And he was... not okay.

Before she could speak, even before her brain could remind her that she was angry, that she had come here to not talk to him-

Siddharth stepped inside.

Slowly, purposefully.

No words.

Just steps.

And then-he bent.

Noor gasped softly as his strong arms slipped under her. The bottle of aalta nearly tipped over, but he caught it with one hand, gripping it tightly between his fingers as he gently, without a word, lifted her up from the floor.

Her eyes widened.

Her feet left the ground. Her anklet chimed faintly. The untouched aalta smeared slightly on her ankle. But Noor's eyes weren't on her feet anymore.

They were on him.

His face was right there, close-so close. She could feel his breath against her cheek. It was heavy. Hot. Like he had run all the way here without stopping for a second.

Her hands instinctively went to his shoulders, trying to push, trying to understand what he was doing. Her voice trembled out.

"Y-Ye kya kar rahe hai..."
(W-What are you doing...)

But Siddharth didn't answer immediately. He held her in his arms for a moment longer, closing his eyes just for a second.

His nose brushed lightly near her hairline. Her scent-sandalwood and jasmine-filled his chest like oxygen. His body relaxed, just a little. And then he looked at her with a quiet firmness that only she ever got to see.

"Baaki ka apne room mein kar lijiye ga."
(Finish the rest in our room.)

His voice was low, deep, and calm. It held no anger. Just decision.

Noor's heart thudded hard in her chest.

She blinked, still trying to catch up to what just happened. Her fingers clutched the fabric of his shirt near the collar. Her eyes moved from his face... to Dadi.

Dadi was still sitting there, blinking slowly, watching her granddaughter-in-law being lifted away like a scene from an old romantic drama. But Dadi didn't stop him. She didn't even raise a brow.

Siddharth turned slightly toward her and gave a polite, short nod.

"Thik hai Dadi. Good night."
(Alright, Dadi. Good night.)

He was about to turn when Dadi finally blinked herself out of the moment, tilted her head and said with a soft teasing laugh-

"Night ko good karne ki jaldi tujhe hai betwa."
(So eager to make the night 'good', aren't you, my boy?)

Her words floated gently in the air, warm and light.

Noor's face flushed immediately.

Her forehead dropped near Siddharth's collarbone as she tried to bury her face in the curve of his neck. She pressed her small fist against his chest, gripping his shirt collar tightly, hiding herself completely. Her entire body warmed with a bashful blush. She didn't even dare look up again-not at Dadi, not at Siddharth, not at anyone.

Siddharth's lips curled slightly. Not a full smile. Just a subtle, victorious smirk that only she could feel, pressed against her.

And then he walked.

Straight out of the room.

Holding her like she weighed nothing.

Noor's eyes were shut tight, her face still hiding in his shirt. But she could feel everything-the soft sway of his steps, the movement of the air as they passed the hallway, and the presence of a few servants still quietly walking about. She knew they were watching. She could feel their eyes.

And yet...

She didn't lift her head.

She stayed right there-silent, shy, red as the aalta on her skin & embarrassed.

Siddharth's foot pushed the bedroom door open, and the soft wooden creak echoed in the quiet corridor. Noor was still in his arms, wrapped in her saree, arms folded tightly across her chest, her jaw turned slightly away now. She was no longer clinging to his shirt like before. She had just remembered-she was angry. She was supposed to be angry.

He stepped inside, the soft jingle of her saree's border brushing against his arm, her bangle lightly clinking as she adjusted herself in protest. The door clicked shut behind him as he pushed it closed with the same foot.

She squirmed a little, trying to signal him to put her down, the silence between them heavy-but Siddharth didn't loosen his hold. In fact, his grip tightened, firm, commanding.

Then, without warning, he bent a little and lowered her down onto the bed-gently. His arms released her like she was the most fragile thing he ever held.

Noor blinked up at him, half expecting him to step back. Her back rested on the soft bed, the silk beneath her catching the light. But before she could get up or even adjust the folds of her saree, Siddharth leaned down-hovering above her.

And then, in a blink, he pinned both her wrists to the bed.

One on each side of her head.

Their breaths tangled.

Her eyes widened. His nose was almost touching hers.

Their skin, their hearts, had touched in a thousand ways, closer than any two human bodies could ever be-but this, this closeness... still made Noor's heart misbehave. Still made her breath catch.

Even now. Even after everything.

Even though she had every reason to turn her face away.

But she couldn't.

Because Siddharth's eyes-those wild, restless, stormy blue eyes-were staring into hers, and they looked tired. Not from exhaustion... but from the ache of not looking at her.

And now, as he looked into her... it was like something in him exhaled. His gaze softened. The storm began to settle. And she could feel it-he was getting his peace back. Just by looking at her.

And she knew that. She could feel it in her bones.

Her breath hitched. The tip of his nose brushed hers.

Her skin shivered.

And still, she didn't look away.

Even when her heart threatened to give up and beat too loud.

And then-his voice. That low, deep, shaking voice that touched the back of her spine:

"Naraaz hai aap... aur haq bhi hai aapko. Aur main manunga bhi aapko, jab tak ki aap mujhe maaf na kar dein."

("You're angry... and you have every right to be. And I will make it up to you, until you forgive me.")

Noor didn't blink. She was trying so hard not to. She was trying not to react. Not to melt. But her chest was rising faster.

Then Siddharth paused for a second-his eyes dropped slowly to her lips. But only for a second. Then came back. Straight into hers. His voice this time carried a weight. A kind of quiet desperation that pressed deep into her bones:

"Par... mujhe saans na aaye. Itna door Mujhse jaane ka haq nahi hai."

("But... I can't even breathe. Don't go so far from me. You don't have the right to leave me like that.")

Noor's eyes flickered. She tried to avoid his gaze now.

But Siddharth didn't let go.

He stared at her face, not blinking once.

And then, with a breath that trembled at the edge of his lips, he said:

"Jaanta hoon galti ki hai maine... meri Noor se jhooth bola hai... and I-"

He swallowed hard. His chest heaving above hers.

"I'm very sorry for that. Bohot zyada. Itna... ki aap jo sazaa dengi... main seh loonga."

("I know I made a mistake... I lied to my Noor... and I'm very sorry for that. So much... that I'll take whatever punishment you give me.")

Then... he let go of one of her wrists.

Only one.

With his free hand, he gently brushed away a small tendril of her hair that had fallen over her cheek. His fingers lingered near her skin, tender. His eyes followed that hair like it was the most sacred thing he had ever touched.

And then, he looked back at her eyes.

And she-she looked up at him, still caught beneath him.

Their gazes locked. It was breathless.

Siddharth whispered again, voice quieter this time:

"Par aapse door... nahi rahunga. Mujhe yeh aata hi nahi hai."
("But I can't stay away from you. I don't know how to do that.")

Noor's chest tightened.

That line. That one line.

A small flurry of butterflies burst in her stomach. Her lips parted slightly. She loved it when he said things like this. She loved when he said exactly what was in his heart. This man, who the world feared-when he became soft like this, open like this-only with her... it made her feel special.

She stared into his eyes.

She could see it.

The truth. The ache. The apology. Everything.

And finally, finally, her throat dried a little... and she whispered, her voice barely a breath:

"Jo sazaa denge hum?"

("The punishment I'll give?")

Her softness was back. And Siddharth felt it. Like a warm punch to his heart. A small, slow smile curved his lips as he gently nodded.

"Hmm... jo kahengi aap."
("Yes... whatever you say.")

She looked away. For the first time in minutes. Her eyes broke from his.

And she bit her lower lip. Still pinned down.

Siddharth didn't move.

He kept looking at her. Drinking in her face. The light curve of her cheek. The mole near her chin. The softness of her lower lip. Her skin... her eyes.

God, her eyes.

He had memorised every version of them.

How they shone mischievously when she was about to say something naughty.

How they dimmed when she was sad.

How she sometimes used kajal. Sometimes didn't.

How she wore her lipsticks-red when she wanted to be playful, pink when she was soft.

He could look at her all night.

He had looked at her all night, on many nights.

And right now... he was falling in love with her again. All over again.

And then she whispered:

"Hatiye humare upar se."
("Get off me now.")

He blinked. A small smirk tugged at his lips.

He could tell by the way her eyes were gleaming. That tiny glint-something playful hiding there. That his Noor was little soft now.

So Siddharth slowly pushed himself up. Took two steps back from the bed.

Noor sat up, fixing her saree slightly, her voice calm but mischievous:

"Aapki sazaa yeh hai ki-"

("Your punishment is that-")

She paused.

Siddharth stood still. Tall. Hands behind him. His blue eyes watching her like she was a storm and a prayer. He didn't blink. His jaw tightened. He was waiting.

But Noor looked away, hiding the small smile creeping on her lips. And then, composed and calm, she said:

"Hum aapse door nahi jayenge..."
("I won't go away from you...")

Her smile was almost invisible.

"...Par aaj raat, aapko khud ke paas bhi nahi aane denge."
("...But tonight, I won't let you come close to me either.")

Siddharth's face froze.

What?

Her words hit him like a slow knife.

His chest tightened. His brows twitched. His mouth opened to say something-anything-but then-

Noor tilted her head and said, "Aap aaj sofa pe soiyenge. Cherry ki jagah. Aur Cherry yahaan soyegi."

("You'll sleep on the sofa tonight. In Cherry's place. And Cherry will sleep here on the bed.")

She delivered it like a queen. Calm. Final.

And Siddharth... stood there.

Siddharth's eyes widened-like someone had just slapped a truth across his face.

His body froze. His stare fixed on Noor as if she had said something impossible. Something cruel.

He didn't blink.

"Ji?" he asked, almost breathless. (What?)

His voice cracked slightly. It wasn't a proper question. Just one word, but it held disbelief. Like he didn't even hear her right.

"Ji" Noor said, In finality.

Siddharth's mouth opened slightly-he was about to say something. To stop her. To argue.

Because this-this was not possible.

She was asking him to sleep without her?

How?

How the hell was he supposed to stay away?

How to sleep, how to breathe, how to even lie on that bed when she is not in his arms?

His chest tightened.

But before he could say anything, Noor gently spoke, her tone soft but firm, "Ab koi baat nahi. Aapne kaha tha na hum jo bolenge?"

(Now it doesn't matter. You said, right, that you'll do what I say?)

Siddharth's jaw locked.

His teeth clenched. His hands balled into fists by his side.

It wasn't her fault-he knew that. But the irritation inside him boiled up.

At himself.

Not her. Never her.

Why the fuck did I lie that day?

Why the hell did I say that nonsense about the pillow?

His thoughts screamed in his head, eating him alive.

That stupid lie.

That stupid one line to make her feel better. Why, Siddharth? Why?

Noor looked at him quietly.

And deep inside, she wanted to laugh.

His face. His helpless eyes. His open mouth, like a child denied candy.

She could see the storm of regret in him. She could see it, and oh... she wanted to tease him. She wanted to pull his cheeks and say serves you right.

But she didn't.

Because this wasn't for fun.

This was her little punishment. Her tiny revenge.

For lying.

For throwing her baby pillow

That hurt. A lot.

But still... she loved him. She loved him too much.

So, just a tiny punishment.

She raised her hand slightly, pointing to the bed, her face calm. "Chaliye. Hamare Cherry ko hume dijiye."

(Come on. Give me my Cherry.)

Siddharth blinked.

His lips parted again. He looked lost. He stared at her like she had handed him a death sentence.

He stepped forward one inch, not saying a word, when he finally whispered, "Yeh kaisi sazaa hai?"

(What kind of punishment is this?)

Two full minutes passed.

And he was still standing there. Still processing.

Noor folded her arms, eyes narrowing as a small, teasing smile danced at the edge of her lips. "Jaisi hai, waisi hai."

(Whatever it is, it is.)

Siddharth's feet moved.

Slowly, like he wasn't walking-but being dragged by something heavier than his own body. His heart.

He stopped near the bed.

Noor was still sitting, her face calm but her eyes watching him carefully.

And then he spoke.

"Noor... a-ap mujhe maar lijiye... daant lijiye... mujhe koi kaam karwa lijiye. Main aap kahengi to 500 aur tulips laga dunga... par yeh nahi."

(Noor... you can hit me... scold me... make me do anything. If you say, I'll plant 500 more tulips... but not this.)

His voice was soft. His eyes were desperate. His throat moved as he swallowed back frustration, emotion... pain.

Noor looked away for a second. Her stomach twisted with butterflies. His words. His tone.

But she kept her face calm.

She looked up at him again and said quietly, "Aap denge ki hum daadi ke room mein jaaye?"

(Will you give it or should I go sleep in grandma's room?)

Siddharth frowned hard.

His brows pulled together, lips pressed in disbelief.

He shook his head with finality and said, "Main jaane thodi dunga aapko."

(Like I'll ever let you go.)

Noor's mouth opened in disbelief.

What?

What does that even mean?

He'll not give the pillow, he'll not let her go? What does he even want?

Real anger bubbled in her chest.

Her eyes narrowed, sharp now, like tiny knives of emotion. She stepped back and snapped, "Thik hai... hum bhi papa aur bhai ko yaha bula lenge. Aur kal unke saath 10 din ke liye chale jaayenge. Aur bhai se keh denge ki aapne hume tang kiya hai."

(Fine then... I'll call papa and bhai here. And I'll go with them for 10 days. And I'll tell bhai that you've been troubling me.)

The room fell silent.

Dead silent.

But Siddharth... he didn't even hear most of her sentence.

His heart stopped at just one part.

10 days.

His breath caught in his throat. His body stilled. His ears rang.

Ten days?

His eyes widened again.

No.

No. No fucking way.

Not ten days.

"Dus din?"
(Ten days?)

Siddharth's voice broke in disbelief, as if someone had pressed a tight knot inside his chest.

"Ye-ye galat kar rahi hai aap, Noor..."
(You-You're doing wrong, Noor...)

he whispered, his tone carrying the kind of hurt only Noor had the power to cause. His eyes-oh, those tired, loyal eyes-searched her face like a lost child. That was not just a sentence, it was a silent cry. As if her words had left a wound, raw and too loud to hide.

Noor almost smiled-almost. Her fingers twitched with the urge to reach forward and pinch his cheek lovingly, just to tell him she was lying. Of course she was lying. . As if she could stay away from him, let alone ten days.

How would she even breathe without her crazy husband constantly wrapped around her like second skin?

But instead of breaking her act, she pressed her lips together and looked away. Let him suffer a little.

She quietly turned toward the bed and began arranging her beloved childhood pillow, brushing her fingers across the fabric like it held some silent emotion. Without looking at him, her voice came out soft but pointed,

"Aapse hi seekha hai Siddharth ji. Chaliye, dijiye. Humein neend aa rahi hai."
(I've learned it from you, Siddharth ji. Come on, give it. I'm feeling sleepy.)

Siddharth's jaw clenched tight again, the muscle twitching at the corner like it was trying to hold back a scream. The sting of her words sank in deeper than she probably meant.

He wasn't angry at her-no, never at her. He was burning with anger at himself. How could he lie to her that day? That damn day. Over something that meant the world to her. What kind of man lies about something so delicate?

He breathed in through his nose, sharp and slow, almost as if he was punishing himself with every inhale. Tonight, fine. He could sleep on the sofa. If this was the price of his sin, then let it be. One night of hell was better than ten nights of absence.

Ten days without Noor?

That wasn't even punishment. That was death on delay. He could visit her at her parents' house, sure. But how would he survive coming home every night to these cold walls, this empty room, and a bed that no longer smelled like her? No. This one night-this little taste of separation-was still kinder than the idea of being without her for ten long, dry days.

Still locked in his guilt, he walked slowly toward the sofa, dragging his feet like a criminal walking to his own sentence. As he bent to pick up the pillow from its place, his eyes locked onto it with something like disdain- hate exactly. His fingers curled around the fabric tightly, knuckles whitening. It felt like he was lifting something cursed, something sinful, something that had stolen what was his.

"Get lost somewhere, stupid thing."

He muttered low under his breath as he walked back toward her, glaring at the pillow like it was some rival human being.

It wasn't jealousy in the usual sense. But his heart burned at the thought that this inanimate object would now lie where he should be-next to her, wrapped around her, loved by her in sleep. He held the pillow so tight it felt like it would tear apart under his hands, but he didn't apply that last bit of pressure. Because even in his rage, even in his foolishness, he knew one thing-this was hers.

And anything that was hers was sacred. Even if it was the very thing pulling her away from him tonight.

He finally reached the bed and, without a word, extended the pillow to her. She took it silently, not once meeting his eyes. That stung. God, that stung more than any shouting or slap ever could. He stood there, frozen, watching as Noor placed the pillow gently on the bed-on his side of the bed. That cut deeper.

He looked at her back, the curve of her shoulder, the way her pallu clung to her quietly moving frame, and for a moment, he wished he could go back in time and slap himself-really hard. What the hell had he been thinking that day? What was the point of lying to her? now he was here, watching his wife prepare to sleep alone while his side of the bed was being offered to a pillow.

Noor lay down slowly, her movements calm, soft, almost detached. She reached up and switched off the bulb with a soft click. The room sank into a gentle darkness, broken only by the moonlight slipping through the window.

Siddharth didn't lie down on the sofa. He couldn't. He just sat, stiff-backed and silent, on the edge of it. His arms resting on his knees, fingers locked together like they were holding onto the last thread of control.

He wasn't going to sleep tonight. How could he? Noor wasn't in his arms. His hand wasn't tucked inside the loose cotton of her shirt, resting on the warm skin of her waist. His face wasn't buried in her chest, wrapped in that quiet safety that only she offered. No, there was no sleep tonight.

His eyes stayed fixed on her back, watching her even in the silence. He wasn't expecting forgiveness. He wasn't expecting softness. This was his punishment. And he was going to live through every second of it.

And Noor? Noor lay quietly, her eyes closed, her heart quietly stirring with the weight of his gaze on her back. Of course she felt him watching her. Every nerve in her body was aware of it. But tonight... she wouldn't call him. Not yet. He needed to learn. Her tiny punishment.

And for Siddharth... it was already unbearable.

.

.

.

.

.

.

Siddharth sat on the sofa, his head leaned back, eyes shut-but there was no sleep in those tired eyes. Just heat. Burning restlessness. A body heavy with guilt, a heart swollen with ache. His neck ached, but he didn't move. What was the use? There was no Noor in his arms tonight. No softness curled up against his chest. No sleepy murmurs. Nothing. Just the weight of distance choking his chest like a rope too tight.

After a while, he slowly opened his eyes and turned his face toward her. The room was dim now. Only the streetlight falling through the curtain painted Noor's sleeping figure in golden stripes. She was lying on her side, her back facing him. Her pallu had slipped off at some point, and his eyes landed on the back of her blouse. A delicate string tied the blouse at her neck, and beneath it-bare skin. Soft, fair, untouched by cold or heat.

He stared. Then his gaze slowly fell lower, down to her waist, the part just above her saree where skin showed again. It was his favourite. The space where his hand always slipped inside when she lay on top of him. That place... it called him tonight.

His throat dried. His hand clenched into a fist. His chest burned with the helpless desire of a punished lover.

He closed his eyes tightly for a second and then opened them again. This time, his eyes went down to her feet. Her anklets were shining under the streetlight, but what caught his attention was something else. One of her feet was coloured with Aalta, bright red, glowing like it belonged to a bride. But the other... the other was bare.

His eyes narrowed.

And then he remembered. How he had picked her up in anger and brought her upstairs from Daadi's room. How she was getting ready when he interrupted. How she was applying Aalta for him... for their special night... and he-he stopped her.

His heart dropped.

A small, guilty smile appeared on his lips. He looked around the room slowly and spotted the small bottle of Aalta lying near the dressing table, thrown carelessly on the floor. Almost like it, too, had been hurt by his anger.

Without making a sound, Siddharth slowly stood up. His legs ached, but he didn't care. He walked toward the bottle like a thief, picking it up gently, as if it was glass. Then, without a single breath too loud, he came and knelt beside the bed-beside her bare feet.

Noor's legs were delicate, clean, and soft-like poetry written in skin. His big, rough hand held one of her small ankles with care. Slowly, he opened the bottle, the smell of the red dye rising faintly in the room. His hands trembled a little-Siddharth didn't know how to apply Aalta, not at all-but he didn't stop. This was for her. This was his apology. His love.

He looked at the other foot where the Aalta had already dried, and carefully copied the design. Stroke by stroke. His fingers moved awkwardly at first, but then, with care. It wasn't perfect. But the red colour bloomed on her skin under his touch, making her foot look complete again.

His heart softened as he looked at her leg now-both feet red, both shining. He smiled.

And then, he leaned down and pressed a soft kiss on the side of her ankle, right over the anklet.

"Maaf kar dijea Noor" he whispered once.
(Forgive me.)

He kissed again.

And then, he moved a little further up, his lips pressing in the space between her legs-just a small, silent kiss of devotion. A kiss full of love, guilt, and worship.

He closed his eyes for a second, forehead gently brushing her leg like a silent apology, and then got up slowly, without making her stir.

Walking toward her head side now, he knelt again, this time near her face. His eyes fell on her cheeks-soft, flushed, still pink. Her lips were slightly parted, and her breathing slow. Her lashes were down, pretending to be asleep.

But he saw it.

Her eyes were squeezed a little too tightly. Like a child who wanted to make sure the world believed she was sleeping. And he smiled. Oh, his wife was beautiful. Beautiful like heartbeat. Beautiful like air. She made him feel alive even when he was drowning.

He leaned forward, softly, and said in a low voice, "Noor, mujhe pata hai aap jaag rahi ho."
(Noor, I know you're awake.)

At that, he noticed the smallest change-her lashes fluttered, her eyes relaxed a little, like she had finally allowed herself to breathe.

He moved closer and brushed the tip of her nose with a soft kiss.

"Aapko bhi aapke Aarth ke bina neend thodi aayegi," he whispered.
(Even you won't sleep without your Siddharth.)

And slowly... slowly... Noor opened her eyes.

Brown, deep, shining-and red.

Noor was awake.

How could she not be?

How could she sleep peacefully when her Siddharth-her Aarth-was lying awake? Her husband, who couldn't fall asleep without her even for a single night. He had told her that a hundred times, and not just in words-his body showed it, his restless silences showed it, his gaze showed it.

So how could she sleep?

Yes, she had kept her eyes closed. Yes, she was still. But her heart wasn't.

She felt his eyes on her. Sometimes lingering on her bare back, sometimes on her waist, sometimes trailing down to her anklet-covered feet.

She felt it all-like the heat of fire grazing over her skin, without a single touch. She had decided to stay still. Just for a little while. She wanted to give him a small punishment. It wasn't anger. It was... something quieter. Softer. Just a way to make him realise he had lied.

But that one tiny punishment... it ended up becoming painful for both of them.

When she felt him shift behind her... when she felt the weight of his footsteps move gently across the room, she didn't have to open her eyes to know where he was going. She knew him. Her heart could sense the direction he took. She stayed still.

And then-

She felt it.

The warmth of his hand on her ankle. The sound of the bottle cap gently twisting open. A soft rustle, and then the cool touch of Alta against her skin.

Her heart fluttered.

He was kneeling by her feet. On the floor. Carefully holding her leg in his big, warm hands-like it was glass. She could feel the bottle between his fingers. He was learning how to do it just by looking at the Alta already applied on the other leg. He didn't know how to apply it-but that didn't stop him. Her husband was gently painting the soft curves of her skin in deep crimson. Not with perfection... but with devotion.

And that devotion made her heart ache.

When he kissed her ankle after he was done... when he pressed his lips softly again over her anklet... when he whispered a broken "Sorry" and placed one more kiss between her feet-

She felt it all.

Every single stroke, every kiss, every breath of his love poured into that one word. Sorry.

And suddenly... her small act of punishment didn't feel right anymore.

Her chest grew heavy.

She wasn't angry anymore. Not even a little. Her guilt grew loud in her ears. Siddharth wasn't just her husband-he was her heartbeat. Her Aarth. And she had asked him to sleep on the sofa. How could she?

He wasn't even coming near her now. He was obeying her words so earnestly, sitting down near the ground beside her head, not daring to crawl onto the bed. Not daring to touch her.

That broke her more than anything else.

She was still lying in the same position-her cheek against the pillow, her long lashes still pretending to rest-but her eyes slowly opened. Her brown eyes, slightly red now. Not from sleep. But from emotion. From love that was too full.

And there he was.

Siddharth. Kneeling beside her head, not coming closer. Just watching her with a gentle smile. Her man. Her obsession. Her home.

His body was slightly tilted toward her, just enough so he could watch her face clearly. As soon as their eyes met, his smile softened further, and then he whispered gently, like a lover afraid to break the moment-

"Kya hua?"
(What happened?)

His voice carried quiet desperation, the kind only lovers could hear. And Noor... Noor felt her throat close. Her heart clenched. How was she supposed to handle this kind of love?

Still lying there, her eyes wide open now, she slowly shook her head. Her voice barely a whisper, but heavy with emotion. A blend of guilt, innocence, and unbearable affection.

"Hum bahut bure hain na?"
(Am I very bad?)

Siddharth's breath caught in his throat.

Her voice. It was wrapped in the kind of softness that could break stone. It was full of sincerity, full of shame, full of something so deeply pure that it made him want to hold her forever and never let go. That sentence held oceans of love. Oceans of pain too.

He didn't reply right away.

Instead, his fingers reached toward her face. A lock of her hair had fallen near her temple-not even on her face properly-but he tucked it gently behind her ear anyway. Maybe he just wanted to feel her. To touch her skin. To remind himself she was his, and she was here.

His eyes never left hers. And then he shook his head slowly, with a soft smile.

"Bilkul nahi. Aisa kyun bol rahi ho aap?"
(Not at all. Why are you saying this?)

Noor sniffed.

Her throat hurt from holding everything in for so long. Her chest was full of unshed tears. Her body still hadn't moved. She looked at him for a long moment, and then released a shaky breath.

"Humne aapko sofa pe sone ke liye kaha..."
(I told you to sleep on the sofa...)

She paused to breathe. Just one breath. And then finished with a voice even softer-
"...ye jaante hue ki aapko waha neend nahi aayegi."

(...even after knowing you won't be able to sleep there.)

She looked away.

She couldn't bear to look at him anymore. It hurt. She had hurt him. Even if only a little, it was enough to tear at her heart now.

Siddharth's hand was still near her ear. He hadn't stopped caressing her. His eyes, which had been focused near her hair, now slowly returned to her face. His smile widened-just a little.

His palm slid down softly, cupping her cheek now, stroking it in slow, soothing circles. The way you hold something delicate in your hands. .

And in the gentlest tone that only he could speak in, he replied-

"Galti bhi toh ki thi maine."
(But I did make a mistake, didn't I?)

Noor slowly looked up at him.

Those red eyes-still heavy from crying, still filled with silent guilt-lifted to meet his. But something shifted in her expression. Her eyes softened, the weight in them changing... not disappearing, but settling down.

Her lashes fluttered a little, and she tilted her head up to look at him properly. Siddharth, who was still kneeling by the bed, saw the tiny shift in her lips. A small, almost invisible smile touched the corner of her mouth.

His heart did something strange again.

The guilt in her eyes faded away. And now... now they were narrowed.

He blinked.

She narrowed her eyes at him.

He smiled.

Even in this moment-after all those tears, all that silence-he chuckled softly, because this was still her.

Still his Noor.

"Wahi toh. Galti karte aap hai aur rona hume aata hai."

[Exactly. You make the mistakes, and I end up crying.]

Siddharth's brows lifted. His smile grew, slowly, curling into something between surprise and amusement. And here's comes his cute wife.

Sad one second. Angry the next.

He sat up straighter, still kneeling on the ground, facing her. Noor sat up too on the bed, her eyes meeting his.

His smile turned teasing now. A little playful. A little shameless. But still filled with warmth.

"Wahi toh. Itna pyaar karti hai aap mujhse."

[Exactly. You love me so much.]

He repeated her words, in the same tone she used.

Noor stared at him. Daringly. That same narrowed glare. And Siddharth only smiled wider.

Her lashes fluttered rapidly. The kind of blinking you do when you catch someone teasing you-when you're done with them, but not really. When you're trying not to smile, but your heart has already melted.

Still holding on to that little frown, she said-

"Ab hum aapse pyaar hi nahi karenge. Na hi baat karenge. Aap bahot faayda uthate hai hamare pyaar ka."

[Now I won't love you at all. I won't even talk to you. You take too much advantage of my love.]

Her voice carried a fake frustration, and Siddharth watched her with such adoration, he could hardly keep a straight face.

She looked too cute.

His heart wanted to bite those cheeks. Right now.

He leaned a little closer, smile shameless now, and said-

"Eklauti biwi hai aap. Aapka faayda nahi uthaunga toh kiska uthaunga?"

[You're my only wife. If I don't take advantage of your love, then whose should I?]

Noor's eyes narrowed more. And that was it.

Siddharth threw his head back and laughed-freely this time, his shoulders shaking. He looked ridiculously handsome while laughing like that. Raw and real.

Noor's heart skipped again.

Her anger-what little was left of it-faded completely.

But she didn't let him see that. Not yet.

Her eyes still narrowed, she crossed her arms, trying to hold on to the frown as if scolding him.

"Uthiye. Chaliye jaiye sofa pe. Chaliye uthiye."

[Get up. Go sleep on the sofa. Get up now.]

Siddharth had recovered from the laughter, though the smile still stretched across his face. His teeth showing.

He knew she wasn't angry anymore. This was just her play.

He reached up and gently picked up the loose end of her pallu, the part that had slipped down during the little argument. His big fingers curled around it, and he wrapped it slowly around his hand.

"Nahh," he said under his breath, eyes fixed on her.

"Main nahi jaaunga. Yahi baith ke raat guzaar dunga."

[I'm not going. I'll sit right here and spend the whole night.]

And then, without warning, he bent forward and kissed the wrapped pallu.

Softly. Gently. Intimately.

Noor's cheeks turned bright red.

She looked at him-at her husband who just kissed the very cloth she wore-and something in her chest felt full again. Her eyes didn't go back to normal. But that tiny smile, that soft, helpless smile, returned.

And Siddharth saw it.

He always saw it.

Her smile told him everything. She wasn't angry anymore. She never could stay angry with him for long.

Still pretending to glare, she tilted her chin at him like a queen. "Aaiye."

[Come here.]

That one word made his chest feel like it would burst.

He didn't need anything else. No permission, no warning.

He grinned.

And then, in one swift, eager movement, he jumped forward.

His body moved over hers, and Noor let out a small gasp, her back softly falling onto the bed, the mattress taking her weight as Siddharth hovered above her.

Their bodies met.

Their chests touched.

His breath was warm against her face.

Siddharth looked down into her eyes, his own still shining with that same teasing smile-except now, it held something else too. Something deeper.

His voice was husky. Thick. Heavy.

"Am I forgiven?"

Noor's cheeks were on fire now. She could feel his closeness-his warmth, his weight, his gaze. She couldn't look away.

A soft, shy smile threatened to take over her lips. But she held it in... until she saw his twinkling eyes, that smirk still resting on his face like he already knew her answer.

And then...

A small smile came. The kind that showed her love.

"Thoda sa."

[A little.]

Siddharth grinned again. His voice deepened as he leaned even closer, their faces now just inches apart.

"Koi baat nahi... Thoda thoda karke poora mana loonga."

[No problem... I'll win you over little by little.]

His voice was low, slow, and something about the way he said it made her lips part slightly. She didn't look away.

Noor knew what he was about to do.

And for the first time tonight, she didn't blink or turn her face.

Their necks tilted. His stubbled jaw brushed softly against her skin. His breath touched her lips.

And then...

He kissed her.

Gently. Deeply. Sweetly.

His lips rested on hers like a promise.

Her eyes slowly closed.

Her hands moved up his chest.

Siddharth's lips moved slowly against hers-gentle, soft, like he had waited forever just for this kiss.

His hand wandered to her bare stomach, that same skin that had teased him all day-calling him without a word, without a touch.

His fingers, warm and possessive, now rested there, feeling the soft curve that belonged only to him. As his lips deepened the kiss, his tongue lightly swept across her lower lip, making Noor's fingers tighten around the collar of his shirt.

She was already breathless, eyes fluttering shut, her body melting under his touch.

No, Siddharth kissed her like a man who had all the time in the world to love her. Like a man who'd rather die than hurt her. His body hovered over hers, close but careful, never pressing down-his strength wrapped in gentleness.

Their lips parted, yet their foreheads stayed gently pressed together, breath mingling in the space between. Siddharth's eyes were closed for a second-like he was steadying the chaos inside him. When he opened them again, they found Noor's shy eyes, her gaze now looking away, down-like the moment had melted her whole.

And it had.

She looked like a shy bride again-cheeks red, lips swollen, eyes glowing with a strange nervous calm. It made something wild stir in Siddharth's chest.

He pressed a soft kiss on her forehead, then on the tip of her nose, and then-unable to resist-the corner of her lips again, just enough to make her blush deepen.

And then, he just stayed like that-staring at her face, drinking her in like he'd lost her a thousand times in his head.

That face.

That face he had waited all evening to see again-smiling shyly, glowing with innocence, looking at him with nothing but softness.

The whole evening, he had been tense-tight in his chest, heavy in his heart. And now... watching her with that soft smile on her lips, her lashes fluttering gently... it felt like the sun had come out again after a long storm.

The night around them was still. Silent.

There was no sound-just the hum of their breaths, the soft rustle of bedsheets.

"Noor?" he whispered.

"Hmm?" she answered, her voice delicate, her fingers now nervously playing with the button on her shirt collar.

Siddharth shifted closer. His hand moved slowly down from her waist. Gently, he cupped her palm in his.

She looked at him, quiet but wide-eyed.

He lifted her hand and kissed the inside of her palm.

Softly. Lovingly.

Like it meant everything.

Her fingers curled slightly as his lips lingered there, like he was kissing something fragile.

Siddharth leaned on his elbow now, his body still close, but resting more into the bed. His face inches from hers. The moonlight from the window fell softly across their skin, silvering their outlines like a painting.

"I'm sorry for lying to you," he said suddenly.

His voice was low, quiet... serious.

Noor blinked. Her lips parted, but she said nothing.

"My intention was never to hurt you," he continued, eyes locked onto hers. "That's the last thing I'll ever think of doing."

"I lied because I couldn't stand it," his voice dropped, darker now, quieter. "I couldn't bear the thought of something else being close to you... when it wasn't me."

He paused.

"It wasn't me who was the closest to you."

Her breath caught.

And just like that, the air between them shifted.

His thumb moved slowly near her lips, tracing her skin.

His blue eyes-so calm, so soft moments ago-now looked deeper, darker. Not angry. But intense. Possessive. As if he couldn't help himself. As if this emotion had been locked inside him too long.

Noor noticed the way his jaw clenched at the end of that sentence. The muscles tightened slightly, the look in his eyes changing.

It made her cheeks grow hot. Her heart beat faster.

For a second, she realized... he hadn't lied out of carelessness. He hadn't hidden anything to hurt her.

He had lied because of something else.

Something so silly it almost made her smile.

He was jealous.

Of a pillow.

Her lips curved, soft and teasing. She looked into his intense eyes and whispered with a gentle laugh, "Aap chery issliye phekte the kyuki-" she paused to laugh

"You were jealous, Aarth? Over a pillow?

There was amusement in her voice. awe. She couldn't believe how deeply this man felt for her.

But Siddharth didn't smile.

Not even a bit.

He leaned in again, slowly. His thumb was still near her lips. His gaze lowered to the small mole on her chin-the one he always noticed, always stared at when she wasn't looking.

He pressed a kiss there.

Soft and slow.

Noor's breath hitched.

His hands came up to cup her cheeks gently, like she was made of glass.

And then he kissed her again.

Longer this time. Still soft, but filled with an intensity that made Noor's heart stutter.

There was no rush, no force. Just raw, honest need.

When he pulled back, he stayed there. His eyes locked onto hers.

Noor was still beneath him, breath shaky, lips trembling slightly.

He didn't say anything.

He just looked.

Like she was the only thing that existed in his world.

She was his sunshine.

And he... he was the night that had wrapped itself around her light, never letting go.

His jaw tightened-his hold on her waist just slightly more firm now.

"Over a pillow?" he repeated, almost chucking, voice suddenly deeper-raw. "That's still a thing, cherry"

Then his voice dropped further, like it was coming from some place far below the surface.

"I'm jealous of everything-living or dead. Anything that enters your mind... your heart... even for a second... if it's not me, I hate it."

His hand rose again-still holding hers-and he pressed a kiss on her knuckles, slower this time.

"Anything that makes your heart skip... anything that touches your softness... your presence... anything that holds even a piece of you that should be mine..."

He looked at her then, eyes gleaming like a storm.

"So yeah, I'm jealous, cherry."

His voice was calm, but it was a calmness filled with dangerous love. His fingers curled around her waist, and the other hand now traced the shape of her wrist gently-as if calming himself.

"And I accept it..." he whispered, leaning closer.

"With no shame and With full pride."

His voice, deep and low, wrapped around her like a silk thread soaked in fire. The words didn't just echo-they settled inside her bones. There was something in the way he said it-something obsessive, yes, but not wild. Something sacred. Like worship. Like he was engraving his love inside her, word by word.

Noor's breath trembled. Her fingers twitched against his shirt.

And just then-like he hadn't just said something so intense it could make the heavens fall-Siddharth smiled.

A small, soft smile.

Like he'd whispered poetry instead of confessions soaked in fire.

And then he leaned in again-this time slower, surer-and kissed her lips, so softly that it almost hurt.

When he pulled back, his lips lingered on her cheek for a moment longer... and then he moved lower. His eyes still carried that dark tint, that same fierce claim-but now it was quieter.

He gently brushed aside the edge of her saree's pallu, his fingers moving with slow motion

His lips touched the bare skin just below her collarbone, and Noor let out a shaky breath, her hand finding the side of his neck without thinking. He unhooked the back of her blouse, moving slowly, never breaking eye contact-always watching her as if she was the only thing he saw.

When the blouse loosened, his eyes flicked down... and his smile returned-just a bit crooked this time.

"You shouldn't sleep in a bra, cherry," he whispered, kissing the centre of her chest like it was something sacred. "It suffocates them."

Her face flushed deeply as she saw his eyes boring in her breast.

Noor didn't say anything-she couldn't. Her chest rose and fell in shallow breaths as his lips touched the nipple still hidden behind the delicate fabric. She felt her heart beat so loud, she was sure he could hear it.

Then, with slow, care, he unclasped her bra.

Her breath caught.

She looked at him-at how he stared at her, at how he smiled faintly at the sight of her bare, delicate self. That smile-full of wonder, possession, and something far deeper-made her heart ache.

She couldn't look anymore. Her eyes fluttered closed, her head falling back softly onto the pillow as he leaned in again.

His lips captured her nipple -gentle, warm, and focused.

Her back arched slightly at the sensation, and her fingers slid into his hair, holding on as her lips parted from the feeling he was pouring into her.

And somewhere between all that-

Her voice came out soft, trembling with emotion.

"Don't lie to me & throw cherry again Hmm?"
["Mujhse dobara jhooth mat kehna, hmm?"]

Siddharth looked up, his lips still grazing her skin, his breath warm and heavy.

He met her eyes

"Never," he said.
____________________________

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