Will let you all about my next update on my Instagram.
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हमें तुमसे हुआ है प्यार हम
क्या करे आप ही बताएं हम क्या करे

बस हम तुम्हे देखा करे
बैठी रहो आगोश में
ऐसी भी क्या दीवानगी बिलकुल
नहीं हो तुम होश में
जानेमन जनजाना
छोड़िये भी सतना हम
इस जलन में कब तक जले
तुम्हे हमसे हुआ है
प्यार हम क्या करे
आप ही बताएं हम क्या करे
हमें तुमसे हुआ
है प्यार हम क्या करे
आप ही बताएं हम क्या करे
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"Beta, tum bhi jaldi Nihal jana," Maa said, holding my hand softly.

I nodded, adjusting the pleats of my lehenga.

"Aap pahuch ke hume phone kar dijiyega. Hmm?" I said, my voice low, almost shy.

She smiled -and then gently touched my cheek with her palm. That soft motherly touch always did something to my chest. I leaned into it without even realising.

And then they left.

The whole house felt quiet the moment the door shut behind them. I stood there for a few seconds, letting the silence settle around me. They were going ahead for Abhimanyu bhaiya's wedding. We were all supposed to go together, but Siddharth ji had to rush to the hospital early this morning for some urgent work. So now, it was just the two of us at home, and we would leave a little later once he got ready.

I smiled softly at the thought of him.

My lehenga rustled gently as I turned and walked back inside, the sound of my anklets filling the empty hallway. There was something delicate and lovely about that sound today. I could feel it travel up to my heart.

I looked down.

My feet-covered in bright red alta, still fresh from last night.

My cheeks flushed. And my lips curved without control.

He had done it. My husband had sat down on the floor, taken my feet in his hands, and applied it slowly-silently-like he was decorating a temple. His hands had touched my skin so gently, so carefully. I remember how his brows had frowned in focus, how he had looked up at me once to make sure I was asleep not disturbed by him.

I was.

That image stayed in my heart like a painting-my Aarth, sitting on the floor, colouring my feet red with love.

My feet weren't perfect-far from it. But now, looking at them, they looked more beautiful than ever. Not because of the alta. But because his hands had touched them. His care still lingered on my skin.

I walked upstairs slowly, holding up my lehenga a little to avoid stepping on it.

I heard the shower running from our room. He must be tired. He had left around 4 in the morning. And now, after eight hours of hospital rounds, he was back-and still getting ready for the wedding.

I walked inside.

The room was warm, filled with a faint scent of his body wash. My heart felt full in a quiet way, like it always did when he was near. My lehenga sparkled in the mirror under the soft lights, and I sat down in front of the dressing table.

Three jewellery sets were spread out in front of me.

All of them looked so beautiful.

One had pearls, the other had green kundan, and the third was a heavy gold piece that I had worn only once before. All three seemed perfect. But I could only choose one.

I bent slightly forward, adjusting the dupatta on my shoulder, and held up one of the earrings near my face to check. My eyes scanned the rest of the pieces on the table. I was still confused. All of them looked like they belonged with the lehenga-an emerald blue one, not exactly dark, not very light either, just the kind that made me feel soft and regal at the same time.

As I was deciding which earring to hold next, I suddenly felt something cold... and warm at the same time.

Two arms slid around my waist-bare arms.

My breath paused for a second and then I relaxed.

His hands were cool from the shower, but the way they held me-firmly, possessively-made my entire body warm. I could feel his chest against my back. His cheek rested gently on my shoulder, like he was resting there-not just physically, but as if his heart had been tired, and now he finally found his place.

I didn't move.

I couldn't.

A soft smile slowly rose to my lips, my eyes still on the mirror.

I saw him.

Siddharth ji.

Still wet from the shower, a towel wrapped low around his waist, his eyes half-closed as he laid his head on my shoulder like a sleepy child. His hair was dripping slightly, the droplets falling on my back. His arms, strong and wet, tightened a little around my waist.

I could feel the way he was clinging-for peace.

For stillness.

He was tired. His body looked exhausted, his face calm but worn. But the way he was hugging me... it felt like I was his home.

I tilted my head slightly, giving him more space to rest on me. He hummed softly, a sound that came from his chest, deep and low, like it was thanking me for not moving.

I looked at him through the mirror.

His eyes were closed now. His lips slightly parted. His body pressed gently to mine. And that towel... was the only thing separating his bare warmth from my back.

But in that moment... there was no shyness.

I kept looking at him. Not blinking.

And something moved in my heart-something soft and heavy at the same time. I wanted to turn around and hug him properly. But I stayed still. Because I knew... right now, this quiet hug... this peace... was all he needed.

"Bahot thak gaye hai aap?"

(You're very tired, aren't you?)

I asked softly.

His reply didn't come in words.

Instead, Siddharth ji just nuzzled his face deeper into the curve of my neck and pulled me a little closer to him. His arms around my waist grew tighter, and I smiled. A soft, shy smile that bloomed on my lips without asking me.

"Bas, aise rehna hai."

(I just want to stay like this.)

His voice was husky, deep... it brushed against my skin like the morning wind. Heavy, slow, warm.

I raised my hand behind me, gently touching his slightly wet hair. The strands were soft and still fresh from his bath. My fingers slowly moved through them, ruffling them a little. I heard him let out a low sound, like a quiet groan in my neck, and it made me smile again-this time a little wider. He always did that when I touched his hair like that.

His body was still damp, and I could feel the weight of his muscles resting against my back, the towel loosely tied around his waist. Even without turning around, I could feel his presence. His skin, the light scent of his soap, the slight tickle of his breath on my shoulder.

He was resting like a child who had returned home after a long day. His face looked tired, but calm.

I let him stay like this, without moving him even once, and tried to fix my dupatta. It was difficult. His hold wasn't soft. He was wrapped around me like he didn't want to let go. But if this was the way he found comfort, then I wanted him to stay like this for as long as he needed. I would adjust everything else around his warmth.

The quietness in the room felt gentle. Only the soft sound of my bangles moving with me, the light clinking of earrings, and the faint music of my anklets when I shifted my feet from one to another. That sound... I always loved it. It made me feel more like myself. It made me feel beautiful.

I looked at our reflection again, still fixing the pleats and borders.

Then slowly, he lifted his face. I saw his chin rest softly on my shoulder. His cheek had been there before, but now his blue eyes were meeting mine through the mirror.

His eyes always had a way of pulling me in.

A small smile danced on his lips. A soft one.

I raised my hand and gently touched his cheek, caressing him once. He leaned into my touch a little more.

"Noor..." he said my name.

"Hmm?" I hummed back, still watching him.

His gaze grew a little deeper... a little darker.

"Ho sakta hai ye bol mai khudgarz lagu aapko par, please. Chale mujh se koi bhi galti ho. Mujhe chor ke mat jayiyega, Mujhe aapke bina jeena nahi aata."

(It's possible I might sound selfish saying this, but... please. No matter what mistake I make, please don't leave me. I don't know how to live without you.)

He didn't blink. His eyes stayed on mine.

I kept smiling. Just a little. Just enough.

I knew why he said that. I knew what happened yesterday. I really made my husband scared.

I slowly turned around to face him, his arms still holding me from around the waist. I looked up at him, and he was still watching me.

My hands moved to his cheeks. I cupped them slowly and gently.

I couldn't say what I was feeling at that moment. But it was big... deep... so warm inside my heart.

He stood straight at his full height, and I tiptoed a little. The moment I did, I noticed him leaning down slightly, his soft wet hair falling a little on his forehead.

I smiled.

And then, I kissed him-just on the tip of his nose.

"Aap Noor ke hai to aapki galtiya bhi Noor ki hai. Hum kaha jayenge aapko chor ke?"

(If you belong to Noor, then even your mistakes belong to Noor. Where will I go, leaving you behind?)

I said it quietly. Slowly.

He bent his head forward and smiled-a big, wide smile that touched his eyes.

Then he lowered himself and kissed my forehead. A warm, long kiss that stayed with me even after it ended.

"Ha wo alag baat hai ki hu rooth jayenge to thoda mehnat karna padega aapko."

(That's a different thing though... if I get upset, you'll have to work a little hard to win me back.)

I teased him softly, just to lighten his heart. And I heard him chuckle.

Siddharth chuckling always made my heart smile.

He leaned in and touched our foreheads together. A soft, beautiful gesture that made me close my eyes for a second.

Then our noses touched-lightly.

He whispered again, this time even softer-

"Baat agar aapki rahegi to ye Siddharth Singh Rajvardhan hazar baar, har waqt, har jagah, har kisi ke samne apne ghutno pe aake mana lega aapko. Bas mujh se door jaane ki baat nahi kijiye ga."

(If it's about you, then this Siddharth Singh Rajvardhan will a thousand times, every time, everywhere, in front of anyone-fall to his knees and convince you. Just... please don't talk about leaving me.)

My heart skipped a beat. Maybe more than once.

Our foreheads were still touching, and I nodded slightly.

He leaned a little more and pressed a soft kiss on my lips. My eyes fluttered shut.

Then he pulled back gently and kissed my forehead again.

And then, he took a step back.

"Chaliye ab tayyar ho jaiye. Late ho jayega." Noor softly said,

(Come on, get ready now. We'll get late.")

Siddharth nodded without a word. He stepped away from her slowly and walked to the bed where his clothes were neatly kept-a deep blue kurta, matching with Noor's saree. He had personally chosen it that morning, calling her just to ask the exact colour she was wearing.

Noor's eyes followed him quietly.

There was something almost childlike in that act, in the way Siddharth-so powerful, so composed in front of the world-wanted to match his outfit with hers. Noor smiled to herself. For a man whose presence could quiet a whole room, he had the sweetest ways to show love. Her fingers played with her saree's border as she watched him disappear into the dressing area.

She turned back to the mirror, her hands moving up to fix her hair. Her eyes went to the three jewellery sets spread before her. Kundan, pearl, gold.

She stared, not knowing which one to wear.

Just then, from the mirror's reflection, she saw Siddharth step out. He had already worn the kurta, and now he was searching his wardrobe again. Noor tried to decide fast, but her eyes kept going to the sets. She sighed, a bit fed up with herself.

"Siddharth ji?" she called gently.

Turning around, she saw him holding something delicately.

He was standing near the dresser, carefully hooking something onto his kurta blazer.

Frowning, Noor walked slowly toward him.

And then she saw it-the small brooch.

The one she had made for him.

Her steps paused for a second. He was so focused, treating that little handmade brooch with such quiet care, making sure it sat perfectly. Her lips curved into a small smile, heart softening without permission.

She stepped closer.

He who notice her presence, quitting stopped doing it on its own. Noor raised her hand slightly. Without a word, Siddharth moved his hand away, letting her fix the brooch for him.

She adjusted it, carefully pressing the pin down. A proud smile played on her lips as her fingers brushed the fabric. But then, she noticed something. The colour... the brooch didn't really match the kurta.

Her smile softened, and she said with her little dimmed smile that caught his attention.

"Yeh iska sath match nahi ho raha..."
(This doesn't match with this outfit...)

Siddharth looked down, briefly, then looked up at her. And then, with a calm expression, he took her hand and gently pulled her toward the mirror.

He stood behind her, placing her in front of the mirror.

Their eyes met in the reflection.

He looked at the brooch, then at Noor. Their outfits matched perfectly, but yes, the brooch did look a little out of place.

He didn't seem to care.

Siddharth bent his head and kissed the top of Noor's hair.

"Acha hai. Sab ki nazar pehle iss pe jayegi. Aur tab main bataunga... meri biwi ne khud ke haathon se banaya tha mere liye."
("It's good. Everyone's eyes will go to this first. And then I'll say... my wife made it with her own hands for me.")

His tone was soft. But proud. Deeply proud.

Noor blinked.

Looking at the mirror, her gaze shifted from the brooch to their reflection. And then her eyes rose slowly to meet Siddharth's through the glass.

Something caught in her chest.

There was so much unspoken love in that one act. The way he wore something she made, not because it matched, but because she made it. The pride in his voice... made her feel something she couldn't name.

Her eyes turned moist.

She tilted her head slightly to look back at him. He was still looking ahead, quietly admiring the moment.

And then he too turned his head, meeting her gaze. Bending slightly, he pressed a kiss to her forehead.

"Aise dekhegi to shaadi tak nahi pahuch paayenge tum dono. Room mein reh jaayenge raat bhar."

("If you keep looking at me like this, we won't even make it to the wedding. We'll just stay in the room all night.")

His voice was teasing.

Noor's cheeks flushed deep pink. Her eyes welled up even more, not with sadness, but with that overwhelming warmth he always made her feel.

She gently slapped his chest, her voice soft:

"Bawale."
("Crazy.")

And then she turned back to the mirror. Her heart was full.

Siddharth's words always did that. Made her feel beautiful, loved, talented. Like she mattered. He never held back when it came to praising her. Always flaunting her, never hiding his admiration-whether it was for her cooking, her dress, or even a little brooch she made.

She looked down for a second. Took a deep breath.

And smiled.

That feeling... it made her feel worthy.

Still standing behind her, Siddharth hadn't moved.

Noor shook her head & glanced again at the three jewellery sets and then picked up two of them.

"Inmein se kaunsa pehnein hum?"
("Which one should I wear?")

She held them both up, turning slightly toward him.

Siddharth looked at them, his eyes calm and soft and then he looked at Noor & said-

"Yeh... gold set. Yeh zyada achha lagega."
("This... the gold set. It'll look better.")

Noor smiled, her confusion finally gone. She nodded, gently set the others aside, and picked up the gold set.

The one her husband chose for her.

The one that now felt perfect.

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The car moved slowly through the soft rush of traffic. Outside, the world blurred in passing glimpses of colours and sounds-trees waving lazily, horns echoing in distance, the sky turning pale as the sun began its slow descent. Inside the car, a calm silence rested between Noor and Siddharth, broken only by the soft hum of the engine.

Noor sat quietly, her hands folded in her lap, looking out of the window. Siddharth was driving, one hand on the wheel, the other resting on the gear-calm, steady. Both dressed in the same soft shade of blue-his kurta matching hers, his scent gently mixing with the faint perfume she wore.

Suddenly, Siddharth's phone lit up on the car's built-in dashboard screen.

Abhimanyu.

Siddharth glanced at the name, and a smirk immediately appeared on his lips.

His friend was calling now, just an hour before the wedding. Siddharth gave a small shake of his head, amused, and pressed the speaker button from the touchscreen controls between the seats.

"Dulhe sahab ko meri yaad kyun aayi-"

["Why did the groom remember me now-"]

The voice was cut off midway.

"Kidar ho Rajvardhan?! Direct meri suhagraat mein aana hai kya?!"

["Where the hell are you, Rajvardhan?! You planning to come straight to my wedding night or what?!"]

The voice was loud, frustrated, and very, very Abhimanyu.

Noor's eyes widened slightly hearing that. Her lips parted like she was about to say something, but she didn't. A soft laugh almost slipped from her lips, but she pressed it down.

Siddharth, on the other hand, burst into laughter. His body shook slightly with the sound, and his grip on the steering lightened.

"The fucking hell! You're fucking laughing when you should've been here for so fucking long!"

Abhimanyu's voice cracked again from the speaker, louder this time, making Noor's eyes shoot to the screen and then to her husband, who was still laughing.

"You're just having cold feet before your wedding."

Siddharth said between his soft laughs, his voice light and teasing, as if he had waited all day to say this.

"I don't know about cold feet, but I'll give you a proper cold shoulder if I don't see you in front of me in ten minutes!"

Siddharth let out another amused laugh, shaking his head while his eyes remained on the road.

"Not ten... probably thirty."

There was a silence for a heartbeat.

And then-

"Fuck you, Rajvardhan! Fuck your hospital and fuck your-"

Siddharth rolled his eyes, smiling like a man who knew exactly how far to push his best friend. He pressed the red button on the screen, ending the call mid-abuse.

Noor blinked, wide-eyed, at the sudden wave of curses. Her lips parted in shock, but then a soft giggle escaped before she could stop it. This was a side of her husband she didn't see often. With his friends, he turned into someone else.

Siddharth shifted gears, and the car picked up speed.

His expression was still amused as he drove. His all-time not so cool, calm best friend was clearly losing it again specifically on his wedding day. And Siddharth wasn't there to watch it happen.

A second later, his hand left the gear and reached across. He found Noor's hand resting beside her, gently entwined his fingers with hers, and brought it up to his lips.

He kissed the back of her hand slowly, holding it there for a moment longer than needed. Noor turned to look at him, and his eyes were already on her.

The car moved faster now, the sound of wind rising faintly around them.

He kept his gaze on her, a playful little smirk tugging the edge of his lips.

"You okay if I speed up a bit more?"

Noor blinked at him, confused at first-until she understood. He wanted to reach early. For his friend. For himself.

A smile broke on her face before she could stop it. It wasn't just a smile. It was the kind of smile that comes from the heart-deep, sudden, and full.

She gave a small nod, still smiling at her husband.

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The car came to a smooth stop outside the grand venue. White fairy lights curled around every gate, every pillar. The air smelled like marigolds, sandalwood, and something else-something sacred, heavy, warm.

Noor stepped out first.

She stood quietly near the side of the car, her soft blue dupatta brushing against her elbow. The breeze played with her hair gently, lifting loose strands that danced near her cheek. She looked around, eyes taking in the place she had never seen before-people moving in silks, laughter trailing through air, the slight sound of dholaks floating from the hall inside.

Behind her, just two steps away, Siddharth was handing the car keys to the watchman.

His voice was calm, steady-giving short instructions like a man who didn't believe in fuss. One hand slipped into his pocket after passing the keys, while the other adjusted his kurta sleeve slightly. Noor could feel his presence even from behind. Grounded. Warm. Always there.

But her eyes caught something else.

A little to her left, walking along the curved path of the garden entry, was a man. A little bulky in build. Tall. Rough around the edges. His collar button open, hair slightly messy-as if he had just walked away from something intense. He was following a woman.

She was younger. Perhaps Noor's age.

The woman walked ahead, her chin raised in pure stubbornness. Eyes ahead, jaw clenched, her small frame looked too delicate in front of the man behind her. But she didn't turn back. Not once. Not even when the man behind her softly said something, trying to catch up.

His steps were hesitant. His face unsure. And that man-who looked like he could break walls with his bare hands-was walking behind his woman like a boy who had made a mistake and didn't know how to say sorry.

Noor stared at them for a moment.

A smile crept up on her lips without her permission.

There was something sweet about the scene. That little woman, all full of fire. And the man, big and bold, following her like a lost child. The world saw men like him and thought of power, control. But Noor had read enough softness from her husband's eyes to know that no matter how strong a man is, he's helpless in front of the one he loves.

Just then, a deep whisper came near her ear.

"Aur wo hai... mera ek aur dost. Vikram."

("And that... is another one of my friends. Vikram.")

The voice was Siddharth's-close, warm, teasing.

He had come to stand behind her. And then she felt his fingers gently come to her chin, tilting her face just a little to the right.

"Aur wo choti si aurat hai Roshni bhabhi. Uski biwi."

("And that little woman is Roshni bhabhi. His wife.")

His voice held amusement, the kind that only comes from knowing someone too well.

Noor's eyes widened a little.

This was Vikram? The royal, dominant, commanding Vikram she had heard about from Siddharth?

She blinked again, watching him trail behind his wife like a silent apology, his steps unsure, his words unspoken.

She stared in disbelief, and then-

A small giggle escaped from her lips.

Siddharth smiled behind her.

They stood there together, silently watching the scene unfold-a soft moment outside a wedding filled with noise.

But then, suddenly-

BOOM.

A loud noise burst through the hall. Sharp. Echoing. So loud, it shook the very ground they stood on.

The music inside stopped.

The laughter outside froze.

Noor turned toward Siddharth, eyes wide.

Siddharth looked back at her, his smile dropping into a quiet seriousness. His body stiffened. His eyes narrowed. He didn't say anything. He didn't have to.

He reached for Noor's hand and held it.

And then-without a word-he walked forward. His strides long, sure, the pressure in his grip telling Noor to stay close.

Inside the wedding hall, the air had changed.

It wasn't laughter anymore. It was tension.

All eyes had turned to the front of the mandap.

There, standing under the floral ceiling, was a man Noor had known for few weeks now.

Abhimanyu.

But this wasn't the playful man who had cursed like a storm in the car just minutes ago. This wasn't the happy groom Noor had imagined.

This was someone else.

He stood near the mandap, alone.

His pagdi was in his hand. His eyes-burning. His jaw-tight. He looked like a storm dressed in silk, a man one heartbeat away from destroying everything around him.

Noor stopped in her steps.

Her chest tightened at the sight.

This version of Abhimanyu... this was not the friend she had heard about. This was the Abhimanyu the world probably feared. Cold. Sharp. Ruthless. A man with fire in his veins and a silence that could make anyone freeze.

And then, his voice cut through the thick, silent air like a blade.

"What the fuck you mean your daughter went missing?!"

Every eye in the room turned.

Noor felt Siddharth's grip around her hand tighten slightly.

The hall trembled with the weight of his shout. People were frozen. Some heads turned. Others just lowered their gaze.

Noor's hand was still in Siddharth's. But her gaze had drifted slightly-to a new movement near the entrance.

From behind them- a quiet shift. A step. And then another.

Vikram.

The same man she had just watched acting like a guilty child behind his angry wife a few minutes ago. But this... wasn't the same man.

He walked with a calmness that made people uneasy. Like his silence was louder than any scream.

There was something dangerous in the way his boots hit the floor. Something cold in the way his eyes didn't flinch.

But what caught Noor's eyes- was not his eyes.

It was the gun. Held tight in his right hand.

The black metal glinted once under the wedding lights. Quiet. Still. Heavy.

And then Noor looked at up at her husband only to see the look, the look Noor was unknown till now.

And then he his grip losen around her.

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"Vivah sampann hua."

(The wedding is complete.)

The priest's voice echoed gently into the warm air, like a soft endnote to two long hours of rituals, mantras, flowers, fire, and emotions. But this line-this one peaceful sentence-was the first quiet breath the crowd had taken.

Noor sat quietly beside Siddharth on the cushioned bench just across from the mandap. Her hands rested lightly on her lap, but her chest rose as she took a deep, slow breath.

It was over.

Not just the wedding.

Something else.

Something big.

Siddharth was staring straight ahead, his posture still, his jaw set. Noor's eyes moved slowly, catching the soft sounds of a girl-today's bride-now sobbing gently under her veil. She was being hugged tightly by her mother, and her father had stepped aside, wiping his face quietly.

The girl's body was shaking with tears.

And suddenly, Noor wasn't sitting in the hall anymore.

She was back there. In the same seat.

As a bride.

Wrapped in red. Crying into her father's chest. The world around her moving in a blur. That feeling of leaving her home, her parents, her life... it all came rushing back into her chest.

Her breath caught.

Her throat turned dry.

Her eyes moved again. That girl... that same small crying figure under a bridal veil. Noor looked closely. She could see her own reflection in that scene. The way her shoulders had trembled. The way her fingers had clutched the edge of her dupatta.

And just when her heart was sinking into that painful memory...

She felt it.

A hand.

Firm. Familiar. Strong.

Wrapping around her fingers. Holding them.

Just like that day.

A teary smile touched her lips.

She looked at the crying bride again. She could see her, trembling under the weight of goodbye. Parents holding her, blessing her, crying silently. Noor's heart clenched. She had lived that pain. She had walked through that fire.

And that day, when she had looked back at her parents after she wss someone's wife it was Siddharth's hand that held her, without a word. She remembered it vividly-the silence, the grip, the presence. And now again, it was the same hand.

And today, again-

That same warmth pulled her out of it.

Her eyes shifted softly to the right. And there he was.

Her husband.

Her Siddharth.

Noor smiled. A soft, tearful smile. The kind that says nothing but means everything.

"Uss din ki tarah hi aaj bhi, bina bataye, hume sambhal liya aapne."

(Just like that day, even today, you held me without saying a word.)

Siddharth gave a faint smile. It barely reached his lips. But Noor could see that something was shifting inside him.

The anger in his eyes, the stiffness he had carried through the rituals, it was all gone now.

His eyes were deeper. Lost.

He was thinking something.

Noor slowly moved her hand. His hand was still holding hers-and she gently slid their joined hands onto her lap, wrapping both of her palms around his.

Her voice was soft.

"Kya soch rahe hain aap?"

(What are you thinking?)

Siddharth's lips lifted into a chuckle. But it wasn't a real laugh. It was hollow, full of something heavier.

Noor's brows furrowed slightly.

In front of them, the girl's sobs had grown harder. The cries of farewell. That ache of leaving home. Siddharth was still looking ahead, voice low and deep.

"Kabhi kabhi sochta hoon... apni bewakoofi mein kitna kuch kho diya maine."

(Sometimes I think... in my foolishness, I've lost so much.)

Noor stayed quiet. Her chest tightened.

He didn't look at her.

But then, softly-he turned.

"Apni shaadi yaad hai aapko?"

(Do you remember our wedding?)

Noor's gaze dropped.

A memory flickered in her mind. Her father. Her tears. Her hands trembling in her lap.

Her husband..Her eyes slowly turned to the mandap. Her mind slipped back.

She remembered everything.

How stiff he was. How distant.

How her parents had looked-proud but helpless. Her father's illness. The rush of the wedding. The worry in her heart. The thousand questions in her mind.

She had cried too. But silently. She had cried wondering if this man would ever hold her when she was weak.

He didn't even glance at her that day. Not once.

His eyes were cold.

His face unreadable.

The room was filled with people, but Noor had felt alone.

The night of the wedding still sat somewhere in her chest. She had never spoken of it.

Her heart had feared that maybe... maybe he would never accept her.

Maybe this marriage was not her destiny.

And yet, here he was. Sitting beside her. Holding her hand. His words cracking with guilt.

She smiled through the pain.

A soft breath left her lips.

She was still lost in those memories when she felt something warm press against the back of her hand.

Siddharth.

He had kissed her hand.

A warm, slow kiss.

Noor's heart skipped.

He wasn't just kissing her hand. He was saying something with it.

"Zyada acha kuch kiya nahi tha maine... jo aap yaad rakhein."

(I didn't do anything special... worth remembering.)

There was guilt in his voice. A sadness. Noor could hear the guilt in his voice. It was raw.

Noor could feel it.

And she didn't like it.

Because she had seen him.

Because she knew him.

He had made mistakes, yes.

But she understood.

She had come to know a little bit of his past. His wounds.

And she no longer blamed him entirely.

He had been cold. Yes.

He had been distant.

But even in that distance, even in that silence-

He had been fighting something much deeper.

Noor's eyes softened.

"Kiya to tha... bina jaane pehchaane, sahara bane the aap hamare."

(But you did. Without knowing me, you still became my support.)

Siddharth looked at her.

And then away.

He couldn't hold her gaze. Not now.

Because when he had held her hand that night-

It wasn't out of love.

It was a strange feeling.

A need to stop her tears.

But he hadn't known why.

He couldn't hold her gaze. Not today, not ever when they are filled with tears.

Those brown eyes.

They had always been too much for him.

He remembered the day he first saw them-her eyes, deep and still like untouched water. They had shaken something in him.

He had felt it then. And when she cried on their wedding day, something inside him cracked.

Those eyes-those soft brown eyes-had been too much for him.

And that's why he hadn't looked at her on their wedding night.

If he had looked... he would've broken.

If he had seen her crying... he would've dropped everything, even his past.

Because those eyes-

Those eyes weren't just eyes.

They were poetry.

They were a whole universe.

They had become his world the moment he first saw them.

And he hadn't known what to do with that.

So he didn't do anything.

He had walked in that room.

And walked away. Left her sitting alone. Dressed in her bridal outfit on a bed that wasn't hers.

In a house that wasn't hers.

And the only person who was hers-had ignored her.

Siddharth's throat tightened.

A lump formed in his chest.

He couldn't breathe.

That night, Siddharth Singh Rajvardhan had left his bride alone in a world she didn't know-with strangers in every corner-and the only name she could take, the only hand she could hold, was his.

And he had turned away.

He clenched his jaw now, feeling the shame rise.

Noor was still looking at him. Her hands holding his tightly. She could see the pain in his eyes.

And she knew.

She knew the storm rising in his chest.

She knew the regret.

The guilt.

She saw it all.

He remembered leaving her alone, sitting there in bridal red, beautiful and fragile, and how he had turned away like a coward.

And slowly, Noor raised her hand-soft fingers gently cupping his cheek.

He blinked. Her touch was like light.

He was drowning.

But she was the air.

Her hand pressed softly against his face.

He froze.

The demons in his mind were loud-but her touch was louder.

Her touch pulled him out. Anchored him.

"Kitna sochte hain aap..."

(You think so much...)

Her voice was a whisper.

She lifted her dupatta. Carefully. Lovingly.

And wiped his face.

Siddharth closed his eyes.

The scent of jasmine and sandalwood wrapped around him. The world, the people around them, the noise-everything faded.

It was just her.

His Noor.

She was pampering him, gently, without a care of who was watching. She didn't care.

Her husband needed her.

He opened his eyes slowly, looking into hers.

"I regret it. I regret it a lot, Cherry."

His voice cracked.

"If only I could go back in time... I would treat you like a queen. Especially that night. M-Main bahut sharminda hoon."

(I am very ashamed.)

He looked down. He couldn't face her.

But Noor moved closer. Their thighs brushed. Her shoulder rested softly against his.

"I know."

She said softly.

"Aur yahi toh aapki khaas baat hai... ki aap apni galtiyon se bhaagte nahi. Unhe mehsoos karte hain. Sudhaarte hain."

(And this is what makes you special... you don't run from your mistakes. You feel them. You fix them.)

Siddharth looked at her again.

Her eyes. There was no anger in her eyes.

Only love.

Only trust.

Only him.

And in that moment, he felt small. He felt blessed. He felt undeserving.

She was not just a woman. She was a miracle. A goddess.

His goddess.

He leaned his head into her palm. He had no words.

Only her.

Only this.

And it was enough.

.

.

.

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NOOR POV-

We had just come back. The house was silent.

I heard Siddharth ji's voice before I stepped out of the car.

"Aap chaliye... main gate dekh ke aata hoon."

(You go inside... I'll just check the gate.)

He said it softly, with a calmness in his tone, and then walked ahead.

It was almost midnight.

I was tired, not just in my body... but somewhere deep inside my chest.

We weren't supposed to come back tonight. The plan was to stay.

But not everything goes the way we plan, right? Maybe... maybe this is how it was meant to happen.

Maybe this was God's way of doing something better for them.

I stepped out of the car and slowly walked toward the door.

My lehenga made a soft, swishing sound with every step. That deep royal blue fabric brushing against the tiles felt louder than usual-maybe because everything else was so still.

The air.

The house.

The night.

Only my anklets, my pallu, and the soft rustle of my lehenga were moving in that silence.

I stepped inside. The lights were dim. Not a single soul in the living room.

Siddharth ji's parents-Ma and Dadi-had stayed back at the wedding venue. Abhimanyu bhaiya had insisted they stay. He had no parents.

They passed away when he was a child.

That truth made my heart ache a little, but at the same time...

It made me feel something warm.

Because he still got love.

He got a family.

Ma and Dadi gave him what he lost.
They cared for him like their own. And he... he looked at them like they were his entire world.

Sometimes, this world takes too much from us. But sometimes... just sometimes... it gives back something even more beautiful.

I walked upstairs quietly, the silence of the house growing thicker.

My pallu moved with me-soft clinks of metal and fabric against my skin.

There was no one to disturb. No noise, no rush.

Just me and my thoughts.

I entered our room. It was dark, peaceful. A dim yellow light from the corridor spilled in through the half-open door. I didn't switch on the lights. I didn't need to.

I let the silence stay.

I sat for a moment on the edge of the bed, my hands resting on my lap.

The dupatta I had pinned all day was heavy, and I could finally feel the weight on my head.

Without thinking much, I reached for the safety pins near my shoulder and gently unhooked them.

The cloth fell softly onto my lap.

A small relief washed over me.

I had worn it since evening, and only now it felt like I was breathing again.

I got up and walked to the closet. Opened it slowly.

The air inside felt different-like something had been waiting there.

I moved a few hangers, and that's when my eyes fell on it.

Folded neatly.

Wrapped in plastic.

Untouched.

My wedding lehenga.

Red. Deep, soft red.

The same one I wore on the day I became his wife.

My hands stopped.

My breath paused.

I hadn't touched it since that day.

Not once.

Not even by accident.

My eyes stared at it.

My fingers reached out before my mind could stop them.

I touched the plastic, then carefully pulled the bag out.

And I just stood there.

Holding it in my hands.

Holding everything that day meant.

Holding the pain, the confusion, the silence of that night.

I had worn it thinking I was stepping into love.

But that night was cold.

Lonely.

Empty.

No words.

No smiles.

Just the sound of bangles and my own heartbeat in a room that didn't feel like mine.

And today...

I touched it again.

My heart didn't ache this time.

It just fluttered.

Softly.

Because this time...

I remembered his voice. Siddharth ji's voice at the wedding today.

Low. Honest. Full of regret.

The way he said it. The way his words trembled.

It wasn't just an apology.

It was a wound he carried.

A regret that stayed in his eyes.

And I knew-

I knew it then.

He had felt that pain too.

Maybe not that night.

But later.

And deeply.

His eyes tell me more than his lips ever can. And today, they were screaming with guilt.

A soft smile came to my lips.

My fingers gently held the edge of the dupatta inside the bag.

He had given me love.

Respect.

Support.

More than I ever hoped for.

He was the only man I knew who didn't just protect my heart-he understood it. And the only burden he carried... was that one mistake.

And I wanted to take that burden away.

He doesn't deserve to carry that anymore.

He had done more than enough to fix it.

And I-

I wanted to do something for him. Even if it took every bit of courage from me.

Even if I had to step out of my comfort.

I wanted to heal him.

Because he had healed so much inside me.

A soft, shy smile touched my lips.

And without thinking much, I slowly pulled the zipper of the bag. The bridal dupatta felt light in my hands now.

Not heavy like the memories it once held.

It felt like a gift.

A beginning.

I clutched it gently to my chest.

And before I could sink into my thoughts again...

Click.

The sound of the main gate locking echoed from downstairs.

A familiar sound.

The one I always heard when Siddharth ji returned at night.

My fingers tightened around the red dupatta.

Pressed against my heart.

He was coming.

I looked down at the cloth in my arms.

And softly nodded to myself.

Yes.

I was going to do this.

For him.

For us.

For all the good we had now-

We didn't deserve even one bitter memory to stay behind.

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Author's pov-

The house was silent when Siddharth stepped in.

He ended the call, his voice quiet, "For now, yes," and slipped the phone back into his pocket. As he walked inside, his fingers moved up to open the bleacher of his kurta, his mind distracted, body heavy from everything that had happened. They weren't supposed to come back tonight. That wasn't the plan. But things changed. The atmosphere, the energy, something in the air had turned sharp and heavy-and Noor had gone silent.

So he brought her home. His home. Their home.

His feet moved toward their room slowly. The air around him was still. It was the kind of silence that made his heartbeat sound louder. His hand reached for the doorknob and pushed it open.

And then...

He froze.

Just froze.

The room was dark. No ceiling lights, no lamps, nothing bright. Just a small yellow lamp glowing in the corner like a candle. It made the shadows stretch long on the walls, made the air feel heavier. But none of that touched Siddharth.

Because his eyes were fixed on her.

His Noor.

Sitting on the bed.

Like a bride.

She hadn't changed.

Still in the same blue lehenga from the wedding event. Her skirt spread across the bed like soft waves, the embroidery catching the soft lamp light like stars. Her face was hidden behind the her wedding red bridal veil. Her hands resting on her knees. She looked still. Too still.

His breath got stuck.

His chest went tight.

His eyes stayed locked on her, and for a second, it felt like nothing around him was real. His feet didn't move. His fingers didn't twitch. His brain... had just shut down.

He wasn't ready to see her like this.

Not tonight.

Not ever again.

She looked like a dream.In front of him. Dressed like that. Waiting.

It shook him.

He didn't even realise when his legs started moving. He walked inside like someone pulled him forward by the heart. The door shut behind him softly. But he didn't care. His eyes hadn't moved from her once.

He knew she was looking at him.

Even through the veil. Even without a word, he could feel her gaze burning into him. And he didn't know how to react. What to say. How to be.

His lips parted, but nothing came out.

Then, finally, in a voice so low it almost cracked-

"Noor..."

His heart was thudding. His hands were cold. His mind? Gone.

He didn't blink.

He didn't dare to move.

And then... she did.

Her hand came out slowly from under the veil. She didn't speak, didn't even raise her head. She just patted the bed beside her, gently. A soft signal. A quiet invitation.

And Siddharth?

He followed.

Like water follows gravity. Like the moon follows the night.

He sat beside her. His body was here, but his mind... still stuck in the sight of her. He couldn't stop looking. Couldn't stop feeling. Something in him had started trembling quietly.

This moment was sacred.

And while he was staring at her, caught in that soft stillness, her voice broke the silence.

Small. Sweet. Filled with a little urgency.

"Ghunghat toh uthaiye humara, Siddharth ji..."

([Lift my veil, Siddharth ji...])

His heart smiled before his lips did.

Something about the way she said it-so innocent, so warm-made a big smile rise on his face. His chest felt heavy, but not with pain. It was love. So much love, it made his hands tremble again.

He lifted his hand slowly.

Like he was touching something holy.

And gently, he raised the veil.

Her face came into view-soft, glowing under the yellow light. Her eyes were lowered, lashes casting little shadows on her cheeks. She didn't look at him right away. Just breathed. Just waited.

Then, she looked up.

And smiled.

Big. Bright. Beautiful.

Her eyes were twinkling. Her cheeks were pink. Her whole face glowed with something so soft, so real, it knocked the breath out of him.

His chest went tight again.

He had never seen anything more beautiful.

Not in this life.

Not in the next.

Noor's eyes flickered toward him shyly, her veil now folded back over her head.

She tilted her face a little, her voice barely above a whisper, sweet and slow,

"Kaisi lag rahi hai aapki dulhan?"

(How does your bride look?)

Siddharth blinked once. Then again.

He couldn't answer. Not because he didn't have words. He had thousands.

But none of them felt enough.

His throat was dry, his chest too full. There was a storm inside him, but his face looked calm. Still. Just his eyes-only they were telling the truth. And in them, Noor could see it. His awe. His surrender. His deep, aching love.

She looked at him again, gently brushing her fingers over the skirt of her lehenga, voice soft, hesitant-

"Woh... hum poora lehenga badal lete, but phir aap aa gaye. Theek lag rahe hai hum?"

(I was going to change out of it... but then you came. Do I look okay?)

He still didn't answer. Just kept looking.

Noor's knees were folded up gently in front of her on the bed, hands resting near them. Siddharth shifted. Quietly.

And then-

He placed both hands on the bed, on either side of her.

Slowly. Carefully. Like he didn't want to scare the moment away.

And without saying a word... he laid his head sideways on her knees. His cheek pressed against her folded legs, his eyes looking up at her with a softness that made her heart stop.

He was still.

Quiet.

And completely hers.

He didn't speak-but in that moment, he had said everything. His eyes were open, looking up at her like she was something divine. The world around them blurred. The room faded. All that remained... was Noor.

He didn't blink.

Didn't breathe too loud.

Noor sat frozen, her heartbeat rising by the way he was looking at her. His eyes held so many feelings, so many words, none of them spoken-but all of them loud. It was like he had peeled his heart open and placed it in her hands.

She felt her cheeks warm up.

And then, he moved.

Gently, he lifted one of her hands-the one resting quietly on her knee-and brought it to his chest.

Placed it there. Over his heart.

Noor's eyes followed, slowly looking down.

And as soon as her palm touched him, she felt it.

Dhak dhak dhak...

His heartbeat.

Wild. Fast. Loud. Alive.

She looked up.

And he was still looking at her.

The big smile on his face had softened now... melted into something deeper. A smile that didn't try to be perfect-it was peaceful, raw, and full of truth.

It looked like he had been lost.

And found himself again.

It looked like his soul had been wandering for years... and now, it had come home.

His lips parted, and this time, a whisper escaped-

"Itni pyaari lag rahi hai aap."

(You look so beautiful.)

It was the first thing he had said.

And it came out heavy... full of everything inside him. The kind of love that burns slow but forever. Noor blinked, stunned at how he said it.

A soft giggle rose from her lips.

Like a little bell. Sweet. Uncontrollable.

He was being so helpless in front of her beauty... and she was loving every second of it.

Noor raised her other hand, gently sliding it along his face, cupping his cheek like a child-sweet and delicate.

And then-kissed him.

A soft, long kiss on his cheek. Her lips warm. Her heart warmer.

She leaned back just a little, still holding his face, and smiled,

"Itne pyaare lag rahe hai?"

(Looking this cute, are you?)

Siddharth hummed, eyes half-lidded, still not looking away.

"Hmm."

His voice was a soft sound, not even a word.

Noor giggled again, amused by his dazed reaction.

With her fingers still on his cheek, she playfully pinched him.

He blinked, still resting on her knee, still looking like a lost boy who found his favourite dream again.

She leaned down gently, her jewellery making a soft tinkling sound, and pressed a kiss on his forehead. Her face close now. Her head bowed. Her breath mixing with his.

Their faces just inches apart.

And softly, with that teasing innocence still in her voice, she whispered-

"Toh muh dikhayi dijea..."

Siddharth's lips twitched again.

That soft smile stretched-this time wider, fuller, bright like a light switched on inside him. Her mischief. Her playfulness. Her Noor.

It lit him up.

He tilted his head a bit, leaned into her touch, and pressed a kiss on her palm-the same palm that was cupping his cheek.

Then looked up again, his eyes glowing.

And said-

"Filhaal dene ko mere paas... aapki wajah se dhadak raha dil ke siwa kuch nahi hai..."

(Right now, all I have to give... is this heart, beating because of you.)

Noor blinked, her breath catching at how he said it.

And then-she flicked his nose.

With playful eyes, narrowed sweetly, she teased-

"Suna tha humari shaadi doctor se hui hai. Par aap toh businessman nikle... humari cheez hume hi tohfe mein de rahe ho."

(I heard I married a doctor. But you turned out to be a businessman... giving me my own things as gifts.)

Siddharth closed his eyes.

That one sentence...

It hit him. Right in the chest.

She claimed him. Again.

And just like always, it made something inside him burst open. Like light finding a crack in a wall.

He raised his hand slowly. Placed it right over his heart again-where her words had landed and patted it softly.

Dhadak. Dhadak. Dhadak.

His smile deepened. Not wide. Just true.

And Noor saw it.

She saw her husband again.

Not the man buried under guilt.

But the one who was rising back to her.

Because whenever Noor loved him like this...

He felt like he was worth loving.

"Aapka dil kya? Pure ke pure Siddharth Singh Rajvardhan humare hai."

(Your heart? The entire Siddharth Singh Rajvardhan belongs to me.)

Noor's voice was low... soft... but each word hit his heart like a slow, powerful wave.

Siddharth closed his eyes. Just to feel it.

He didn't reply. He couldn't. The effect of her words took over his body like a quiet storm. His chest rose deeply. He breathed in-long, slow-as if trying to calm something that could never be calmed.

And then... he opened his eyes.

Noor was still looking at him.

Same soft eyes. Same love. Same smile.

"Noor..." he whispered, voice filled with something heavy, like he was carrying a whole life's emotion in just her name.

"Hmm?" she hummed back, gently, waiting.

Siddharth slowly lifted himself up, just a little. His hand still pressed on the bed for support. The other hand came up-shaking slightly-and cupped Noor's cheek.

Her face looked soft, a little tired maybe... but glowing.

Her smile-still wide. Her eyes-twinkling.

Siddharth stared at her like she was something sacred.

"Aap kehti hai na, aapka pyaar mujh pe karz nahi... kamaya hai maine?"

(You always say your love is not a debt I owe, I've earned it, right?)

He asked softly.

Noor tilted her head a little in his palm. And nodded gently.

"Hmm."

His lips curled into a slow smile. His eyes shimmered with unspoken emotions.

"Asal baat toh yeh hai ki... aapne mujhe apna liya hai."

(The truth is... you accepted me.)

"Jitna kamaya nahi, usse zyada diya hai."

(You've given me more than I ever earned.)

"Main bata nahi sakta... utna mehsoos karwa deti hai aap mujhe."

(I can't explain it... but you make me feel it so deeply.)

His throat tightened. His eyes blurred slightly. But he didn't look away.

He couldn't. Not from her.

The weight of guilt... love... devotion... it was all there. Sitting silently inside his chest.

He was still ashamed of how he behaved before. That part didn't leave him. But somehow, here she was... dressed like his bride... loving him back, allowing him to re-live and recreate what he ruined.

He didn't know what good he did in life to deserve someone like her. He was sure it wasn't good deeds. It was something divine. Something beyond him.

Siddharth gently held both of Noor's hands and brought them close.

He pressed soft kisses on the back of her palms-one by one-and then...

He gently brought both of her hands to his forehead.

Noor just watched quietly, her head slightly tilted, her heart melting with every second.

Siddharth shifted back slightly. Noor's eyes followed him.

Then... he bent down.

Noor's eyes widened slightly, unsure what he was about to do. But she didn't move.

Siddharth reached for the end of her lehenga and lifted it just a little-just enough to reveal her feet.

And then...

He bent lower.

He pressed his lips softly on both of her feet.

And then... without lifting his head, he let his forehead rest there.

Quiet. Still. Deeply respectful.

It wasn't just love. It was worship.

Noor didn't stop him. Her breath slowed. Her fingers trembled slightly. Her eyes watered.

She loved him with her whole being-but the way he worshipped her made her feel something even she couldn't explain.

After a moment, Siddharth lifted his face up, but not fully. He was still close to the floor, still near her feet.

And he whispered softly-

"Bahut pyaar hai aapko dene ko, Noor..."

(I have so much love to give you, Noor...)

"Dil, dimaag, zubaan, shareer... sab kuch aapke liye... bahut saara pyaar samete hue hai."

(My heart, my mind, my words, my body... everything is filled with love only for you.)

"Aur phir bhi... yeh kaafi nahi hai."

(And still... even that doesn't feel enough.)

He raised his head now, just a little, enough to look at her again.

His face was heavy, but his eyes-peaceful.

Noor... looked at him. And a single tear left her eye.

She leaned forward and gently held his face with both her palms.

Her voice broke softly-

"Itne pyaare toh hum hai bhi nahi... jitna aap ek pal mein mehsoos karwa dete hai."

(I'm not even that lovable... not as much as you make me feel in just one moment.)

Her chest ached. Her heart swelled. Her fingers trembled on his cheeks.

Siddharth closed his eyes for a second-her words hitting him right in the heart.

He wanted to say something. He didn't.

Instead, he just... stayed there. Letting her touch calm every part of him.

And then... Noor leaned forward.

With both her hands still cupping his cheeks gently, she brought her forehead to his.

Their foreheads touched. Their breaths slowed. Their eyes met-soft, raw, deep.

And for a while... they just stayed like that.

Their eyes closed. Heartbeats syncing.

Noor's lips parted slightly.

And Siddharth leaned in.

Their lips touched-soft, gentle, warm.

Not rushed. Not loud.

Just still.

A kiss that held everything-his guilt, her forgiveness, his devotion, her softness.

A kiss where pain and healing met halfway.

Their hands held each other. Their faces touched.

The room had no sound, except the sound of their hearts breathing into each other.

For a second... for a long second... they just stayed like that.

Breathing through each other's lips.

Feeling everything that had been unsaid.

Everything that had been forgiven.

Siddharth's hand moved slowly.

The one resting on the bed-he lifted it, almost unsure.

His fingers reached Noor's bare waist, resting there gently... not grabbing... just holding, like she was something too delicate to hold too tight.

The other hand moved to her face again. He cupped her cheek like it was his home. His thumb brushing softly against her skin... like it needed to memorize her warmth.

Their lips began to move.

Together.

Slowly.

Softly.

There was no rush. No hunger. No force.

Noor moved her lips too... gently taking the lead.

It wasn't bold. It was tender.

A kiss filled with surrender. A kiss filled with love.

Siddharth's breath hitched.

But he followed her.

Matching her softness. Matching her pace.

They kissed again.

And again.

Her hand reached up and held the back of his neck.

Her fingers touched the gold chain he wore. She hooked one of her fingers in it-holding him close, not letting him move away.

Siddharth shifted again. He slowly sat up, straightening his back, but their lips never left. Their tongue tasting each other.

Noor followed. She leaned forward, still kissing, her hands grabbing his collar gently.

And then... something shifted.

Noor herself... softly laid down on the bed.

She didn't pull away.

She didn't pause.

Her hand still holding his collar... she guided him.

She invited him.

And Siddharth... just followed.

No words. No questions.

Only quiet understanding.

Siddharth leaned down, keeping his one hand on her cheek and the other on her waist.

He didn't move fast. He didn't move rough.

He just let her guide him.

And tonight, he wasn't the dominant one.

He was soft. Vulnerable.

He was the one held by her love.

Noor's hands travelled-one holding his collar, the other gently behind his neck. Her fingers curled around the gold chain again, pulling him closer.

Their kiss grew deeper... still soft... but longer now.

Siddharth's hand gently moved over her waist. Up and down.

Slow. Soft. Like he was feeling something sacred.

Not touching to claim-but to understand, to remember that this body... this soul... was his.

And he was hers.

And then... the kiss broke.

But not suddenly.

Not roughly.

It broke like a quiet sigh.

Like their lips had finished saying something wordless.

Their eyes remained closed.

Both of them still breathing through the closeness.

And then... slowly... they opened their eyes.

And looked at each other.

Their cheeks were flushed.

But not with shyness.

It was the warmth.

The long, full kiss.

The weight of everything they were carrying.

And the deep, heavy love in their chest.

Noor looked at her husband.

Her breath was slow... deep. Siddharth looked back at her-his eyes still wet with devotion.

And then Noor spoke.

Her voice quiet... almost scared of her own words.

"Aarth?"

"Hmm?" he answered, his voice low, his eyes still holding hers.

Noor's throat felt dry.

She was about to say something she never imagined she would.

But she wanted it.

She needed it.

Not because she had to.

But because this man-her husband-had loved her in a way she had never felt before.

She wanted to return that love wrapped in her feeling.

Her breath caught in her throat.

But her eyes didn't move away from his.

"I want you to love me..." she whispered.

"I-I want to feel you... very close to me."

Her words trembled a little.

The sentence broke slightly in the middle.

But her eyes... they were not weak.

They were powerful.

There was still shyness in her voice, in the way she stopped mid-sentence.

But Siddharth could see-her eyes had darkened.

Not just with desire.

But with the power she felt in his love.

This was not weakness. This was strength.

And who was Siddharth to deny his wife?

Who was he to say no to her?

To the woman who gave him a new meaning to life?

He didn't speak.

Didn't need to.

His eyes softened.

His chest rose deeply.

And then...

Without any delay, without any loud emotion-he leaned in.

And pressed his lips on hers again.

Gently.

As if telling her-yes.

Yes, he would love her.

Yes, he would hold her.

Yes, he would give her every piece of himself tonight again & again till she wants it.

Their lips were still joined.

Soft at first. But slowly, the kiss deepened... growing warmer, fuller, more certain. Their mouths moved in rhythm now, learning each other again. It wasn't rushed. It wasn't wild. It was slow, and so intimate, like their breaths were tangled, and every second was something sacred.

Siddharth's hand, which was resting gently on Noor's bare waist, moved again-this time, with purpose. He didn't speak. Instead, he reached for her hand, gently lacing his fingers through hers. Their kiss still continued, soft and desperate, but his touch said what his lips didn't.

He guided her hand downward, sliding it to the front of his kurta, where the top button waited. And then... the kiss broke.

Only for a second.

Their faces were still close. Their foreheads almost touched. But they both needed a breath.

Noor's lips were slightly open. Siddharth's eyes were darker now. The air between them was thick-flushed, warm, and heavy with what was about to come.

Siddharth looked straight into her eyes, voice husky and low.

"Open it, Cherry..."

His voice dropped to a whisper.

"Please."

Noor froze for a heartbeat. Her lips parted with a silent inhale. Her cheeks were already red, but now they were glowing. Yet her eyes... they didn't drop.

She was shy, yes. Her fingers trembled. But she didn't pull away. Her hand moved slowly, resting on the first button of his kurta. She paused... and then did it.

One button. Then the next.

Her hands were unsure, but her heart wasn't.

And just as she reached the last one, Siddharth's lips returned to hers. Fierce, but not forceful. Desperate, but still soft. This time, his other hand travelled to her chest, to her blouse. His fingers found the tiny hook on the side and unfastened it quickly, without fumbling. He was always confident, always knowing-but tonight, he was careful too. Almost reverent.

Noor gasped softly against his mouth, her breath stolen by the growing heat in the room. Siddharth didn't stop. Still kissing, still holding her lips close, he reached behind her and unclasped her bra.

And then, again, he broke the kiss.

But this time... he stayed there, close. His lips only inches away. His fingers still resting on the open hooks. His chest rising and falling. He didn't move. Just looked.

Noor's hands were now done with his buttons. His kurta hung loose, exposing the skin of his chest. Slowly, Siddharth sat up straight on the bed, towering above her. And Noor... she stayed lying down, her upper body bare beneath the light, her heart beating loud enough to hear.

But tonight, she didn't cover herself.

She didn't turn her face. She didn't hide her chest. She didn't pull the blanket over her skin.

She looked at him.

Completely. Boldly. With cheeks still red-but not from shame.

And Siddharth...

He looked like a man who had just forgotten how to breathe.

He reached up, opened the rest of his kurta, and let it slide down his shoulders. His body was beautiful-strong, cut, warm under the low lights. Noor's gaze traced him slowly, lips parted, but still silent.

Then Siddharth bent forward again. He placed both his hands gently on her stomach, feeling the warmth of her skin. And from there... his hands slid up.

He moved slow. Worshipping her with every inch of his touch.

Then, carefully, he pushed the loose fabric away from her chest.

And there she was.

Bare.

Soft.

Beautiful.

His Noor.

But more than that-tonight, she was fearless.

Her heart was racing. Her breath was uneven. But she didn't close her eyes. She didn't turn away.

She kept looking at him.

Because in this moment, she wasn't just his soft, silent Noor.

She was the woman his love had built-strong, seen, and powerful. Not outside. But inside.

Siddharth didn't move. He just stared.

His breath shaking.

His eyes darker than ever.

And she looked back, still red, still innocent-but unbreaking.

Siddharth didn't wait.

He leaned back down, capturing her lips again, this time with a force that was slow but aching. Their fingers were still locked, knotted tightly like they'd never let go again. Noor's lips responded instantly, moving with his-hungry, breathless, aching for more.

And then, suddenly, she gasped.

Because in one swift motion, Siddharth pinned both of her wrists above her head. His fingers curled around her delicate wrists, holding them firm against the pillow. His grip wasn't harsh-but strong. Protective. Possessive.

Noor's back arched instinctively.

And the moment it did, their bare chests collided-skin to skin. Warmth to warmth. The sudden touch made her breath catch. Her chest rose sharply, and a soft sound left her lips, half-breath, half-plea.

The fabric of her blouse was still tangled loosely around her arms, but the rest of her was bare. And Siddharth's eyes were no longer calm.

They were fire.

He leaned in, kissed her jaw.

Then lower-slowly tracing the edge of her neck with his lips. The kisses were gentle, but his breathing was uneven now. Deep, heated, almost shaky.

Noor turned her head slightly, giving him more of her neck. She didn't say anything-but the way her lips parted, the way her chest rose again, it was enough.

Siddharth kissed lower.

His mouth moving to her collarbone, then down to the swell of her chest. One hand still held her wrists tightly above, the other slid down... cupping one side of her softness in his palm.

He exhaled slowly, almost like a growl in his throat, as his thumb brushed over her skin, testing how she shivered under his touch.

And he didn't stop there.

While one hand massaged her slowly-firm, gentle, reverent-his lips teased the other side. He kissed just near it. All around. Every inch. But not there. Not yet.

Noor whimpered softly.

Her back arched again, like her body was reaching for his mouth, silently begging. But he didn't give in yet.

He kissed everywhere but the place she wanted most.

Her chest rose harder, fuller, nipples brushing softly against his skin, cold against his heat. But still, he avoided. Still, he kissed everywhere else-slow, maddening, reverent.

And then, finally...

He looked up at her. Their eyes locked for a heartbeat. Hers were clouded-dazed, breathless, lips bitten. And his...

His eyes were full of fire and surrender.

And then, without a word, he leaned down-

And let his warm tongue flick once, slow, over her hardened skin.

Noor shivered-her entire body pulled taut.

And just as she gasped again, Siddharth took her into his mouth. Gently. Fully. Like she belonged there.

Siddharth's lips lingered over her skin, warm and trembling. For a moment, he just stayed there-his breath fanning softly across her chest, his hand still holding her wrists above her head, her fingers curled tight into the sheets. The silence between them pulsed-heavy, charged, aching.

And then... he moved.

With a low groan in his throat, Siddharth pressed a tender kiss on the side of one breast. Then another, closer to the center. And then finally... he closed his lips around her.

Noor gasped.

His mouth was gentle-but desperate. Hungry. Worshipping.

He sucked slowly, pulling her soft skin into the heat of his mouth, as if he'd been starving. As if she was the only thing that could ever satisfy him.

His other hand slid across her side and cupped her second breast-thumb brushing over the hardened peak-teasing, circling, claiming.

And then he moved his mouth from one to the other.

Again and again.

He kissed, licked, and sucked both-slowly. Reverently. He wasn't rushing. He was savoring her. Like he'd waited his whole life to taste her. And tonight, he wasn't letting a second slip away.

Noor's head rolled back against the pillow. Her hair scattered in wild strands around her. Her lips parted-soft moans escaping in breathless whispers. She couldn't hold them back.

Because Siddharth wasn't being gentle anymore.

Not the way he used to be.

Tonight, something inside him had snapped free-something raw. Something he had always held back. But now, his lips, his hands, his mouth... everything about him felt unchained.

Still loving. Still careful. But not controlled.

He looked up at her, and his eyes were dark. Wild.

Then he moved up again.

His lips returned to hers-urgent, full of fire. And Noor kissed him back, just as fiercely, like she was trying to tell him with her mouth alone that she was his. Entirely.

Their fingers found each other again-tight, knotted. Siddharth's hand slid along her arm and gently pinned both her hands back above her head once more. Their bare chests pressed together, skin burning, heartbeats slamming into each other.

And then he kissed her again-deeper this time.

His tongue slid between her lips, not forcefully, but with dominance. A kind of tender claim. A silent question. A reverent demand. And she let him in. She welcomed him.

When he pulled back, both of them were gasping-breathless and trembling.

Siddharth looked down at her, eyes wild, face flushed, hair falling across his forehead. His voice was barely a whisper, but it hit like thunder.

"I don't want to hold back tonight, Cherry."

His voice cracked a little at the edges. Like he was bleeding from the inside. Like he had waited too long.

Noor looked up at him-her body hot, her breath stolen, her heart pounding in her ears.

This man. Her husband.

The one who could do anything, who never needed permission from the world... was asking her. He was telling her, with his entire body trembling above hers, that even now-especially now-her word still mattered more than his desire.

And that thought alone made her burn.

She could feel it-how powerful his love had made her. How worshipped, how wanted. Even in her silence, she knew her answer had the power to set him free.

So, she looked at him-eyes soft but unwavering-and whispered,

"You don't have to."

That was it.

That one sentence held more permission than a thousand yeses.

It was trust. It was love. It was surrender.

And Siddharth felt it hit him straight in the heart. His lips trembled as he bent forward, pressing a deep, aching kiss to her mouth-his way of saying thank you. His way of saying I'll never stop loving you for this.

Then, he moved back down.

He kissed her breasts again-but this time, slower, deeper, messier. Like he was drowning in her. His tongue flicked gently across her nipple before he drew it back into his mouth-sucking, licking, even biting lightly-making her gasp and arch again beneath him.

His fingers loosened around her wrists now-but she didn't move them. She stayed there, breathless, offering herself to him. Not because she had to.

But because she wanted to.

Because tonight... she was the one letting him lose control.

And she had never felt more loved than this.

Siddharth didn't lift his mouth from her breast.

His lips were wet. Desperate. Obsessive. He sucked her in like he was parched-like this part of her could quench something that had burned inside him for years. His tongue moved in slow, unhurried circles, only to flick her again with a low groan vibrating through his throat.

And as he did, his hand-shaking but hungry-slid down her stomach, disappearing under the heavy fabric of her lehenga.

Noor gasped.

Her hips twitched. Her thighs clenched for a moment before parting just enough.

And then she felt it-his fingers over the soaked cloth between her legs. The heat of her own body against the cold of his fingertips made her whimper.

He didn't stop his mouth. Didn't even look up. His tongue was still rolling over her nipple, his lips still open and warm, but his hand...

His hand began to move. Slowly. Teasingly.

He rubbed her through the cloth. Back and forth. Pressing lightly. Drawing slow circles that made her breath falter with every movement.

"Ahh... Aarth..."

Her voice broke.

Her eyes squeezed shut, and her entire body trembled. Her stomach tightened so fast she thought she'd cry.

His lips on her chest, his fingers on her soaked panties-cold and rough against her softness-it was too much. Too hot. Too close.

She felt his breath shake against her skin.

Then-he shifted the fabric aside.

Her legs jolted. She didn't even realise her toes were curling into the bedsheet.

His bare fingers finally touched her.

The wetness. The heat. The softness of her skin under him made Siddharth freeze for a heartbeat. Just one.

He groaned low in his throat, his lips still dragging over her skin. And then-he moved again.

His fingers rubbed her clit with slow, dizzying circles.

Noor arched.

Her hands clutched at his hair. Her chest rose so high she almost pulled away from him-but he caught her, held her down, his hand on her hip while his other hand worked her like he knew her every nerve.

She was breathing through her mouth now. Short, open breaths. Lips red and parted. Sweat collecting over her collarbone.

And then he bit her.

Right over her nipple.

Soft, but firm. And she cried out-loud this time.

His fingers never stopped moving.

And then, without a word, without asking-he slipped two fingers inside her.

Her body stilled.

She moaned like she was breaking. Her legs spread wider instinctively, her hands pulling at him.

Siddharth kissed her again-this time on her lips. Messy. Open-mouthed. Tongue slipping in without warning, without pause.

And she didn't hold back. She moaned into his mouth as he pumped his fingers inside her, her body arching again, hips rising against his hand, as if begging for more.

Siddharth kissed her harder.

Her lips. Her neck. Her throat. Her shoulder.

His fingers moved deeper, harder, curling inside her just right.

She could feel every motion-raw, deep, intimate. Her back arched again. Her body was trembling so hard she thought she'd fall apart.

And then-it hit her.

Her mouth dropped open. Her thighs shook. Her fingers dug into his back. Her body tensed, lifted, froze-and then collapsed with a moan that tore through the silence of the room.

She came. Hard. All over his fingers.

Siddharth didn't pull away. He kissed her collarbone, her cheek, her jaw. His hand slowed, caressed her as she fell apart in his arms.

And when her body stilled...

When her eyes fluttered open, glassy, her lips swollen and face flushed-

He kissed her forehead and whispered softly, hot breath brushing her skin,

"Cherry..."

Like she was both the storm and the shelter.

Her body lay trembling beneath him-bare, breathless, undone.

Siddharth didn't move.

Not yet.

He stayed close. His lips brushed softly against her face-her cheek, her eyelid, her nose-tender, like he was apologizing for how much he loved her.

Noor's chest still rose and fell fast.

Her heart hadn't settled.

Her body was warm, skin flushed, but her eyes-those slow, sleepy eyes-held the kind of softness that melted into his soul.

Siddharth gently pulled his fingers out of her.

And even that simple movement made her gasp.

She looked at him. Barely. Her lashes heavy. Her lips slightly open, still wet from his kiss.

Then she saw it.

He lifted his hand.

Her eyes followed, her gaze locked to the two wet fingers glistening under the low golden light above them.

And then-he brought them to his lips.

Noor's heart skipped.

Her breath hitched.

He looked at her-dark, deep, and full of something so dangerously beautiful that it made her body shiver all over again.

His blue eyes didn't blink. They stayed fixed on hers as he sucked his fingers slowly into his mouth.

His tongue moved.

Deliberate. Controlled.

Hungry.

And then-his lips curled into a sinful half-smile, like he just tasted heaven. Like she was heaven.

He leaned closer again. His face just an inch away from hers. His forehead gently touching hers.

His breath warm against her skin as he whispered-low and rough,

"Are you ready for more, cherry?"

Her stomach twisted.

Her legs moved slightly against the sheets.

That one sentence, that voice-desperate, dark, and dipped in obsession-sent a fire down her spine.

And she couldn't even find words.

But he saw it in her eyes.

The answer. The yes. The surrender. The desire.

She was ready.

And Siddharth knew it.

He placed one soft kiss just above her lips.

One hand slid down her waist again-slowly-possessively.

And then he whispered again, this time softer-

"Then don't look away."

And Noor-shy, trembling, but bold in love-held her gaze with his.

Naked. Vulnerable. Powerful.

Their bodies still, hearts loud, breaths caught in a rhythm too dangerous to break.

And just as he began to lower his mouth back to her chest, his hand sliding lower-

"I want to see your eyes tonight."

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