Now, the next chapter after this target is completed.

Today's target -
‼️3.8k votes and 2k comments on this chapter.‼️

(I somehow know this chapter will have more comments then the target *wink*)
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भूरी भूरी आँहें तेरी
कन्हियों से तेज़ तीर कितने छोड़े
धानी धानी बातें तेरी
उड़ते फिरते पंछियों के रुख भी मोड़े

अधूरी थी ज़रा सी
मैं पूरी हो रही हूँ
तेरी सादगी में
होके चूर...ओ...

बन के तितली दिल उड़ा, उड़ा, उड़ा है
कहीं दूर...ओ...
चलके ख़ुशबू से जुदा, जुदा, जुदा है
कहीं दूर...ओ...

रातें गिन के, नींदें बुन के
चीज़ क्या है ख्वाबदारी हमने जानी
तेरे सुर का, साज़ बन के
होती क्या है रागदारी हमने जानी

जो दिल को भा रही है
वो तेरी शायरी है
या कोई शायराना है फ़ितूर...

बन के तितली दिल उड़ा, उड़ा, उड़ा है
कहीं दूर...ओ...

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The cool night air brushed against my skin as I spoke, my eyes fixed on the hibiscus plant in front of us.

"Hibiscus rosa-sinensis," I said, my voice steady. "It's not just a flower-it's used in medicines, hair oils, even teas. It's rich in antioxidants, good for reducing inflammation, and helps lower blood pressure."

My words were simple, direct, but I couldn't stop myself from glancing down at her.

She was listening, her full attention on me. Noor's lips curled into a soft smile, and it caught me completely off guard. That smile... it was small but so genuine, so pure, and it was for me.

Something deep inside me stirred, warming in a way I hadn't felt in years.

Her face, slightly illuminated by the moonlight, held a quiet beauty-gentle yet arresting. I couldn't look away. The slight curve of her lips, the way her eyes seemed to sparkle with interest, the way she tilted her head slightly to listen to me better-it all made my chest tighten.

I glanced down at her hand in mine, her fingers smaller and softer, resting in my grip. My thumb shifted slightly over her knuckles, almost unconsciously, and I smiled to myself. Holding her hand felt... right, like it was something I was meant to do, like it was something I didn't want to stop doing.

Straightening, I looked ahead at the garden, stretching before us. The tulip beds glistened under the moonlight, their vibrant colors muted but still enchanting. We started walking again, my steps slower than usual, as if I didn't want this moment to end.

I began explaining another plant, something about its ability to purify the air, but my voice trailed off when I glanced at my watch. It was late, and the coolness in the air was turning sharper. Noor was shivering slightly, even though she was trying to hide it.

"Noor," I said firmly, my tone gentle but leaving no room for argument.

"Let's get in. Its late."

She looked up at me, her eyes wide, questioning. That look... it did something to me. I could feel the weight of her gaze in my chest. I softened my voice slightly. I can feel her fingers getting cold.

"You're cold, Noor. Let's go."

We turned back, but as we passed the tulip garden, she stopped suddenly. Her eyes drifted over the flowers, and I followed her gaze. The way she looked at them-like they were something magical-brought me back to this morning.

I had seen her here, from my bedroom window. She thought I was asleep, but I wasn't. I had been waiting for her to come outside, waiting to catch a glimpse of her when she'll see me gift to her. My apology of every action I did that hurted her.

When she had walked into the garden, her movements hesitant yet graceful, I couldn't look away.

She had stopped by the tulips then, her fingers brushing against their petals. Her face had lit up with a joy so raw, so unfiltered. It had left me breathless. And then, just for a moment, there had been tears in her eyes-tears that made her smile even more poignant. Her eyes were sparking & they were making me hypnotized.

I hadn't known what to do with the way my chest had tightened then, the way my heart had skipped a beat for the first time in thirty four years of my life.

All the labour's, the hardwood was paid off. I saw her smiling & I was the reason.

And now, standing beside her, watching that same light in her eyes, that same quiet wonder-it was happening again.

I tightened my grip on her hand slightly, grounding myself. She was so close, sandalwood and jasmine-mixing with the cool air. Her warmth, her presence, her everything-she was undoing me piece by piece, and she didn't even realize it.

And maybe that was what made it so dangerous. So intoxicating. So... perfect.

I know.

I know the tulips are her favorite. I know she loves flowers. I've watched her enough to know. Every morning, I see her peeking from behind the curtains, her eyes fixed on the garden. She thinks I don't notice, but I do. Watching her has become my favorite part of the day.

And yet, I still asked. Asked about something I already knew. Because I was desperate.

Desperate to hear her voice, desperate to have her attention, desperate to steal a little more time with her.

Desperate to feel the peace that only settles in me when she's near.

Her hand in mine was doing things to me. It felt grounding, like her touch alone could hold me steady. And yet, it ignited something fierce inside me-something wild - something I couldn't control. My wife. My cherry.

How could someone so soft, so mild, make me feel this unhinged?

It was stupid of me to start explaining the scientific value of flowers. I know that. But I was desperate to prolonge our moment together.

But the way she listened-so attentively, her head slightly tilted, her lips slightly parted-it undid me. She never interrupted, not once.

How could someone be so perfect?

She wasn't just listening; she was absorbing everything, her soft smile making my chest ache in a way I wasn't prepared for.

That smile... I would give up my entire world just to see it again.

I could feel the warmth spreading in my chest, something unfamiliar, something I hadn't let myself feel in years. I knew, in that moment, giving this marriage a chance was the best decision I'd ever made.

And yet, I didn't want this night to end. I wanted to keep walking, keep holding her hand, and keep soaking in every second of this moment. But I knew she was cold. Her slight shivers gave her away, even though she tried to hide them.

"Chaliye," I said, my voice low, steady. She looked up at me, those beautiful brown eyes meeting mine for a moment, and it was enough to make my resolve weaken.

(Come)

Without letting go of her hand, I used my other to adjust the shawl draped around her shoulders, pulling it tighter to shield her from the cold. My fingers brushed her skin as I adjusted it, and the warmth of her body beneath my touch made something primal inside me stir.

She looked at me the entire time, her gaze unwavering. I could feel her eyes on me, but I didn't dare look back. If I did, I might lose the composure I was clinging to.

I know she was surprised by my action. Even I was.

Her skin was cold, and I instinctively tightened my grip, silently promising to keep her warm.

We walked back inside, her hand still in mine. The house was silent but my mind wasn't.

Once we were in the room, I paused and looked at her properly. That's when I saw it-the faint blush spreading across her cheeks, her lashes fluttering as she glanced away from me.

It hit me harder than I expected. I loved it.

I loved the shyness in her, the way her cheeks turned pink because of me. It wasn't just beautiful-it made me feel special. Like I had done that, like I had made her feel something.

She had no idea what she was doing to me. That blush, her shyness-it made me feel... proud. And possessive. It was mine. She was mine.

Her brown eyes flicked back to me for a moment, and I caught the hint of nervousness in them. But instead of making her more uneasy, I softened my gaze, letting her know without words that she had nothing to fear.

Her hand was still in mine, her warmth bleeding into me, grounding me. I didn't want to let go. I didn't want the moment to end. Because this-her, us-felt like everything I had been searching for but never dared to dream I could have.

But then, I let go of her hand.

I didn't want to, but I did. She needed to rest, to change, to sleep. I could see the tiredness in her eyes, the way her shoulders slightly sagged, even though she tried to hide it.

I hated seeing her work in the kitchen and hated the idea of her exhausting herself for anyone.

But I'd overheard her telling my mother that she loved it-loved cooking, loved working in the house. And how could I stop her from doing something she loved?

She is my wife. My wife. She would do everything she loved, no matter what. No matter anything.

She deserves everything she loves. Much more than that.

She walked into the bathroom, closing the door behind her. And I sat down on the edge of the bed, letting the quiet of the room wrap around me. The faint scent of sandalwood and jasmine lingered in the air-her perfume. I inhaled deeply, letting it fill my senses, and for the first time all day, I felt... calm. Peaceful.

But it didn't last.

My gaze fell to my hand, and I remembered the way her fingers felt in mine-soft, warm, delicate. Now, without her touch, my hand felt cold. Empty. It was unsettling, this need for her, this ache that only grew stronger the more time I spent with her.

A small smile came to my lips. I remember how in morning she thought I was asleep & she asked can she touch my hairs.

She can. She doesn't need to ask.

My thoughts darkened as I glanced around the room, my eyes landing on the cherry- pillow resting on the sofa. A small smile tugged at my lips as I thought of her-my cherry. My Noor.

But the smile didn't last.

The pillow-that pillow. I glared at it, muttering under my breath,

"Only because of my cherry, I'm keeping you here. Otherwise, I would've torn you apart and thrown you out."

I wasn't jealous of a pillow. No, that would be ridiculous. Yet my hands itched to get rid of it. It was the way she held it in her sleep, hugged it, when I wasn't there. That should've been me.

Before my thoughts could spiral further, the door clicked open.

She stepped out, and my gaze immediately locked onto her.

She wasn't looking at me, her eyes cast down as she fumbled nervously with her hands. She look more nervous & shy then before. Her every movement was hesitant, like a scared bird unsure of its surroundings.

But I couldn't look away. I didn't even try to hide the way I watched her-intently, hungrily.

Her cheeks were flushed, a deep shade of red, and I could see the way her chest rose and fell with her quick breaths. She sat down on the bed, delicate and cautious, and the sight of her made something inside me stir.

No, not just inside.

Her presence was doing things to me. The way she wouldn't meet my gaze, the way she tried to steady her breathing, the way she looked so impossibly innocent and yet so... tempting.

A smirk played on my lips. She was affected by me. I could see it. The redness in her cheeks, the slight tremble in her fingers-she wasn't as composed as she wanted to appear.

She finally looked up at me, her doe-brown eyes locking onto mine, and softly said, "Suniye..."

That one word, spoken in her sweet voice, undid me. Completely.

Her eyes were wide, filled with something I couldn't quite place. And yet, her voice-so hesitant, so soft-set my blood on fire. My chest tightened as my gaze darkened, unable to hide what she was doing to me.

She glanced down for a moment before looking back up, whispering,

"A-ap bhi change kar le. Raat bahut ho chuki hai."

("You should change too. It's very late.")

I sucked in a sharp breath, feeling a heat rush through me that had nothing to do with the cold weather outside. Her words, her eyes, the way she looked up at me while sitting so close-it was too much.

My body reacted before my mind could stop it, and I felt myself harden, the ache growing unbearable.

I clenched my jaw, nodding quickly, not trusting myself to speak. I stood and walked toward the bathroom, each step purposeful, each step a battle to maintain control.

Because if I stayed-if I let myself linger for even a moment longer-I knew I'd lose it. I'd lose the fragile restraint I had left, and neither of us was ready for that.

Not yet.

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The cold water slid over my skin, cooling the fire burning beneath. I gripped the edge of the sink, staring into the mirror, droplets falling from my hair to the counter. My reflection bore the weight of a man who had always been in control-calm, calculated, untouchable.

Yet tonight, my thoughts were anything but.

Once dressed, I stepped out, my eyes immediately falling on her.

She shifted slightly, her lashes betraying the pretense of sleep. I knew her too well. She wasn't asleep-she was pretending. Her breathing was too measured, her body too still.

Did she think I couldn't tell?

I smirked. Let her play her little games. I loved it when she did.

She lay on her side, clutching that pillow tightly to her chest. My jaw tightened as I shook my head again. That stupid thing was testing my patience.

I shook my head, It didn't matter. I was going to throw that thing anyway.

I crossed the room with deliberate ease, sitting on the edge of the bed. Pretending I didn't notice her act, I pulled out my phone, scrolling aimlessly. I was waiting-waiting for her to fall into real sleep.

Time passed, and her breathing evened out.

Finally, she had succumbed to sleep.

I set the phone aside, turning to her fully now. Her soft features looked almost childlike in the dim light, her lips slightly parted, her hair scattered over the pillow,the soft glow of her skin-it was enough to stir something dark and consuming inside me.

Beautiful didn't even begin to cover it.

Leaning closer like it's the most casual thing, like I haven't stealing kisses from her, I brushed a stray strand from her face. My fingers lingered on her cheek, her warmth pulling me in. I kissed her forehead, tenderly, quietly. And for a moment, the tightness in my chest eased.

She was mine. My cherry. My wife.

Pulling back, I looked down at the pillow, still clutched in her arms. Irritation flared in my chest. Gently, I pried it from her grip, watching her fingers twitch as if trying to hold onto it. My lips curved into a smirk.

I stood, gripping the pillow tightly before tossing it across the room. It landed with a soft thud, and I felt an odd sense of satisfaction.

Turning back to her, my gaze fell to her feet. The payal I had given her gleamed faintly in the light. My lips curved, amusement mixing with something darker.The delicate shine drawing me in. I knelt again, my fingers brushing over her anklet, my lips pressing softly against her feet.

Her feet were perfect. Adorned, delicate, and mine.

I kissed her again, my lips lingering longer this time. The cool metal of the payal pressed against my skin, and a thought slipped into my mind-dark, dirty, and entirely mine.

I again imagined her legs over my shoulders, the payal jingling with every movement, the way it would look as it dangled.

Heat surged through me, my breathing growing heavier. I didn't shake the thought away. I didn't even try. I should feel ashamed. I was reacting to such a thought.

My body was reacting, heat pooling low, but this time, I didn't shy away from it. I couldn't blame anyone else for these thoughts-not my friends, not even her.

This was me. All me.

I looked back at her face, and for the first time, I accepted something I had been resisting. She had an effect on me. This woman, my wife, was slipping past my carefully constructed walls. Her emotions, the way she couldn't meet my eyes, the way she made me feel things I had no name for-it all left me unmoored.

And yet, I didn't mind.

This was who I was now. Because of her. And I wasn't even complaining.

I kissed her feet again, this time darker, deeper, my obsession clear in the way my lips pressed harder against her skin. The cool metal against her warm skin made my chest tighten, a mixture of reverence and something sinful

Finally, I stood and returned to my side of the bed, lying down beside her. I watched her for a moment, the way her chest rose and fell, the soft curve of her lips.

She turned toward me in her sleep, her body seeking mine even unconsciously.

A small smile tugged at my lips as I slid my hand to her waist, feeling the warmth of her skin beneath her kurti. I let my fingers rest against her waist, savoring the feel of her skin beneath my palm.

My fingers traced her side, slow and deliberate, feeling the softness, the way her body seemed to fit perfectly against mine.

I pulled her closer, burying my face in the crook of her neck. The softness of her skin against my chin, the scent of her surrounding me-it was intoxicating.

My arms tightened around her as I let out a slow breath. Everything else faded away. There was only her.

"Goodnight, cherry," I whispered, my voice low and rough, possessive, and just a little tender. A promise in the words. A reply of her morning good morning.

She didn't stir, and I let my eyes close, the silence around us broken only by the sound of her steady breathing. I tightened my hold on her one last time before sleep claimed me. The storm in my mind quieted. There was no chaos, no fury-just her.

She was my peace and my chaos. And I couldn't deny it any longer-she was mine.
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NOOR'S POV-

Inke haath kitne bade hain... I thought, my fingers hesitating as they brushed against his hand. His rough, calloused palm rested on my waist, so warm, so steady. I didn't even flinch anymore. It had become a part of my mornings-waking up to his touch, feeling the quiet weight of him so close to me.

But it wasn't his hand that made my heart race; it was his eyes.

Thank God his eyes were closed right now. When he looked at me, it was as if he knew every single thought in my mind. With his eyes shut, I could breathe, I could think.

I looked down at his hand, my small palm pressing into it. His hand was rough, bigger than mine in every way. The contrast made me smile softly.

"Hmara haath kitne chhote hain... inke haathon ke saamne toh bilkul bachchon jaise lagte hain." I muttered

(How small my hand is. Just like child in front of him)

Slowly, I spread his fingers, letting my fingertips glide over his skin. My mind wandered back to last night-when he had held my hand in the garden. His grip had been firm, protective, like he was silently promising to always keep me close.

My cheeks burned at the thought. I opened my palm wider, aligning it with his. His hand felt so big, so strong, and yet it didn't scare me. It felt... safe.

"Inke haath toh jaise kisi shaitaan ke lagte hain,"

I whispered under my breath, a giggle escaping my lips.

"Itni badi ungliyan... aur kitne rough."

("Their hands feel like they belong to some devil,"; such big fingers... and so rough.")

Before I could lose myself further in the quiet moment, He shifted closer, his hand on my waist pressing just a little tighter. I could feel his breath against my hair, his warmth surrounding me completely.

And a deep, groggy voice startled me.

"Kaafi chhote hain aapke haath."

I froze. My breath caught in my throat as I glanced up at him. His eyes were still half-closed, but there was a hint of a smirk on his lips. My hand jerked away as if I'd been caught stealing.

I swallowed hard, unable to look at him. Hey bhagwan, I bit my lip, trying to calm the storm inside me.

I didn't know what to say. My heart pounded so loudly that I was sure he could hear it.

As soon as his words reached my ears-"Kaafi chhote hain aapke haath"-I froze, every thought vanishing into thin air. My heart pounded louder than ever as I felt Sidharth's hand, the one resting on my bare stomach under my kurti, shifting ever so slightly. The warmth of his touch was searing, bringing me back from whatever world I had been lost in.

He was getting up. Panic surged through me as I felt him move. My fingers, still clutching his hand from our earlier moment, let go abruptly, like I'd touched fire. Without a second thought, I jumped off the bed, feeling the cold floor against my feet as I stumbled backward.

What do I say? Words jumbled in my throat, refusing to form a coherent sentence. His intense eyes followed my every move, making my cheeks burn with embarrassment. He looked at me, standing tall, the sheets sliding off him as he rose, and all I could do was stare for a split second.

Why did I have to say that? My mind raced. Did he hear everything? Did he hear me call his hands monstrous?

A mixture of shame and nervous energy made my pulse race, and I couldn't meet his gaze anymore.

Avoiding looking at him, I did the only thing that made sense in that moment-I run for the bathroom. My legs moved faster than my thoughts, and as I reached the door, I heard a low chuckle behind me.

His chuckle. It echoed through the room, a sound both dark and teasing, making my cheeks burn hotter.

Inside the bathroom, I closed the door, leaning my back against it as I tried to catch my breath. Why do I always embarrass myself like this? I thought, pressing a hand to my rapidly beating heart. The memory of his intense gaze stayed with me, lingering like an unspoken promise.
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As I turned off the shower, the realization hit me like a bolt of lightning-I'd forgotten to bring my clothes inside. My eyes widened in panic, and I let out a small, frustrated groan.

Kya karun? Kya karun ab?

(What should I do? What should I do now?)

Wrapping the towel tightly around me, I paced in the big bathroom, biting my lip as I overthought the situation.

Main Sidharth ji ko bula bhi toh nahi sakti! Matlab, kaise bulaun? Yeh toh sochne ki baat bhi nahi hai!

(I can't even call Siddharth ji! I mean, how can I call him? This isn't even an option!)

The idea of calling him to bring my clothes made my face heat up, despite the cool water still dripping from my hair. I slapped my forehead softly.

Bhagwan ji, kahaan ho aap? Yeh sab kyun hamesha mere saath hota hai?

(Oh God, where are you? Why does this always happen to me?)

After another few moments of internal debate, I made a crying face at the mirror and huffed.

Bas, ab aur nahi sochungi. Ek baar jhaank leti hoon. Agar woh nahi hain, toh fatafat le aati hoon apne kapde.

(That's it, I won't overthink anymore. I'll just peek out once. If he isn't there, I'll quickly grab my clothes.)

I mustered all the courage I could, tiptoed to the door, and slowly opened it just enough to peek out.

My heart leapt with relief as I saw the room was empty. A wide grin spread across my face, and I whispered, Thank you, Bhagwan ji!

(Thank you, God!)

Gathering my courage, I quickly darted out, grabbed my sari from the closet, and hurried back to change.

Inside the closet, I managed to put on the petticoat and blouse, wrapping the sari haphazardly over my shoulder. It wasn't perfectly draped; the pleats were still undone, and the pallu sat unevenly, but it would do for now. Still looking down, I stepped back into the room, my focus on fixing the folds of the sari.

Woh toh room mein nahi hain, shaayad morning run ya gym gaye honge. Toh embarrassment ka sawaal hi nahi uthta!

(He's not in the room; maybe he's gone for a morning run or to the gym. So there's no chance of getting embarrassed!)

With my eyes glued to the fabric, I walked forward without paying attention to where I was going. Suddenly, I collided with something solid, warm, and unyielding. The impact made me gasp as my feet slipped on the polished floor, and I felt myself tilting backward.

Before I could hit the ground, a strong hand wrapped around my waist, pulling me upright. My cold, freshly showered skin tingled where it met the warmth of his touch. A shiver ran down my spine as I felt his fingers graze my bare waist. My heart raced uncontrollably, and I instinctively shut my eyes, bracing for the fall that never came.

When I opened them, I found myself suspended in midair, his arms holding me securely. My gaze locked with his, and I froze under the intensity of those piercing blue eyes. They stared deep into mine, searching, questioning, and something else-something that made my cheeks flush.

I thought, unable to look away. I felt the heat rise to my face as my breaths came quicker. His face was mere inches from mine, and the tension between us crackled like electricity. My fingers clenched the fabric of my sari, struggling to steady myself as my heart pounded loud enough for him to hear.

After a long moment, he gently set me upright, his touch lingering on my waist for a fraction of a second before letting go. I swallowed hard, my embarrassment reaching its peak when he spoke, his tone calm but unmistakably serious.

"Kal raat kya kaha tha maine aapse, Noor?"

(What did I tell you last night, Noor?)

I glanced up at him, my words stuck in my throat. His brows were furrowed, his concern evident even through his frustration.

I wanted to say something, kuch bhi (anything), but nothing came out. Instead, I looked away, my cheeks burning as I fumbled with my sari.

Noor's breath hitched when she noticed his grip on her waist tighten, and her eyes darted up to meet his. For a moment, her wide gaze locked with his stormy one, and she saw something unfamiliar, something that made her heart flutter wildly in her chest. But before she could decipher it, his expression hardened further, and she realized he wasn't just serious-he was angry.

Her lips parted as if to speak, but no words came out. The proximity hit her like a wave, and that's when she finally noticed... he's shirtless.

Her eyes widened, and she took a sharp breath. Her heart skipped not one but several beats, her chest heaving slightly as if trying to compensate for the lack of air. Every ounce of courage she'd mustered just moments ago evaporated, leaving her frozen and helpless.

He was naked-half naked.

The realization that their chests were practically touching, his bare skin pressing slightly against the fabric of her sari, sent a rush of heat through her. Her pulse quickened, her cheeks flamed, and she felt an overwhelming urge to look away. But his intense gaze held her captive, as if daring her to move.

She stammered, her voice barely above a whisper, her mind barely forming any sentence.

"W-woh... main... I... I'm sorry... main bas..."

(W-Well... I... I'm sorry... I just...)

Before she could complete her sentence or gather her thoughts, she instinctively tried to step back, desperate to put some distance between them.

But the moment she moved, a large, calloused hand wrapped around her wrist, firm and unyielding.

"Ahh-" she started, but her words were cut off as he pulled her back with a force that sent her colliding against his chest once more.

Her back met his warm, solid frame, and she gasped, feeling his hand slide from her wrist to her stomach. His other arm wrapped around her, securing her in a back hug that left no space between them. She was utterly trapped, her every movement dictated by the strength of his hold.

Her heart pounded against her ribs, and she felt a strange, unfamiliar sensation blooming in the pit of her stomach. She was breathless, nervous, and utterly overwhelmed. Her thoughts raced in every direction, unable to focus on anything but the feel of his touch and the heat radiating from his body.

"S-Sidharth ji,....?" she managed to stammer, her voice trembling with equal parts confusion and shyness.

He leaned down, his breath brushing against her ear, sending a shiver down her spine. His voice was low, commanding, and dangerously close as he whispered,

"Kahaan jaa rahi hai aap, Noor?"

("Where are you going, Noor?")

Her breath hitched, and she froze in place. She felt his breath warm against her neck, igniting goosebumps along her skin. His hand on her stomach rested just lightly enough to tease, but firmly enough to remind her she wasn't going anywhere.

Noor's thoughts scattered like leaves in the wind. She'd never been this close to anyone before, never felt anyone touch her like this. It was overwhelming, terrifying, and... something else. Something that made her cheeks burn and her pulse race even faster.

Her lips quivered as she tried to form a response, but her mind was blank.

Why isn't he letting me go? Why is he so close?

Every question only added to her confusion and her growing awareness of his presence.

Her fingers clenched at the loose fabric of her sari, trying to anchor herself, but nothing could steady the storm raging inside her. His closeness, his dominance, and the way his voice wrapped around her like a promise-it was too much.

For the first time, she didn't trust herself to speak or even move. She was completely at his mercy, and the realization left her both terrified and breathless.

Noor's lips parted, and she stammered, "B-Bahar... main... bahar..."

("O-Outside... I... outside...")

Her words came out in barely audible whispers as Siddharth's gaze darkened further. He leaned in closer, and Noor's breath hitched when she felt his nose lightly graze the curve of her ear. The soft, teasing touch sent a shiver cascading through her entire body, her fists clenching tightly against her sari.

Sidharth's lips brushed against her ear, the heat of his breath searing her skin. "Aise?" he whispered, his voice low and commanding, the word sending another wave of heat to her cheeks.

("Like this?")

Noor's knees almost gave out at the sound, her mind shutting down completely. She couldn't form a single coherent thought. Her heart raced as if trying to escape her chest.

"K-Kaise...?" she whispered back, her voice trembling, her entire being consumed by the tension between them.

("H-How...?")

Sidharth didn't answer. Instead, his nose brushed along the side of her neck, a slow, deliberate motion that left her utterly breathless. His face lingered there for a moment, the rough texture of his beard grazing her soft skin, sending sparks skittering down her spine. And then she heard it-a deep, quiet sound, almost like a groan, rumbling from his chest.

Noor's eyes widened, her confusion mounting. Why did he groan? Was he angry?. Her thoughts raced as her cheeks flushed even deeper. Her embarrassment only intensified when she realized she'd completely forgotten about the loose bunch of her sari still clutched in her trembling hands.

Before she could say or do anything, Sidharth's grip tightened on her waist, firm yet controlled, and he turned her to face him. Her breaths came in shallow bursts, her eyes shutting tightly when she felt his beard graze her skin again as he moved.

"Look at me."he said softly but firmly, his voice commanding her attention.

Noor's eyes fluttered open, her lashes wet with the tension of holding them shut so tightly. And there he was, his gaze boring into hers with an intensity that left her unable to look away. The moment their eyes met, it felt as though the entire world faded away, leaving just the two of them.

Her chest collided with his as he pulled her closer, the force of his movements causing her breath to catch in her throat. She felt the warmth of his hand sliding along her stomach, brushing against the loose folds of her sari. Without even realizing it, her hands clutched the fabric tighter, as though it could shield her from the storm of emotions raging inside her.

But Sidharth was relentless. His large hand covered hers, gently prying her fingers open, his grip both commanding and oddly soothing. Her hands trembled under his, but he didn't falter. With ease, he gathered the fabric she'd been clutching, his movements slow and deliberate.

Noor's heart thudded loudly as she felt his other hand slide from her waist, grazing her hip before finding her free hand. His touch was light yet firm, and before she could process what was happening, their fingers intertwined. She stared at their joined hands, her breath hitching again when he gave a soft squeeze.

Her gaze darted back to his face, but he wasn't looking at her hands-his deep blue eyes were locked onto hers. The intensity in his gaze was enough to steal the breath from her lungs, leaving her utterly helpless under its weight.

Sidharth's grip on her hand remained steady as he began to fold the fabric of her sari with their joined hands.

Noor was barely aware of his actions; all she could focus on was the way his fingers moved against hers, the way his touch left trails of fire on her skin.

Her stomach fluttered when she felt his hand brush against her lower stomach as he tucked the pleats into place. She gasped softly, the sensation too overwhelming, too intimate. Her entire body felt like it was on fire, and for the life of her, she couldn't understand how he remained so composed while she was unraveling completely.

Noor's eyes fluttered shut again, her lips trembling as she tried to steady her breathing. But it was useless-this moment, this closeness, was too much for her to handle.

Noor's breath trembled as she stood frozen, realizing what he meant-this is how she should go out. A deep blush crept across her cheeks as it dawned on her that he'd just dressed her, his hands folding and tucking the fabric with an intimacy that left her unable to move.

Before she could gather her thoughts, Sidharth's hand firmly but gently turned her around again, her back now pressed against his chest. Her breath hitched, the warmth of his body enveloping her as she looked ahead-and froze.

Her heart raced as she saw the mirror in front of them. He wasn't looking at the reflection. His eyes were on her back, dark and intense, burning like they had a purpose only he knew.

Her lips parted, but no words came. She felt the heat of his gaze tracing her skin, like a touch without touch. His hand slid up her waist, slow and deliberate, his fingers grazing her as if they had all the time in the world. Her toes curled, and she balled her fists at her sides, trying to contain the shivers running through her.

His hand stopped at her shoulder, his touch so light but so commanding, it sent sparks down her spine. She couldn't breathe properly; every inhale felt too shallow, every exhale too shaky. Her eyes stayed locked on the mirror, unable to look away from the man behind her. His face was calm, but his focus was sharp, every movement deliberate, like he was memorizing every inch of her.

His fingers brushed her neck, gathering her hair to one side. The soft scrape of his knuckles against her skin made her knees weaken, and her breath faltered again. Her heart was pounding so loudly she was sure he could hear it.

He leaned closer, and Noor felt his breath on her bare shoulder. It was warm, intimate, and sent a shiver so deep she felt it in her chest. His face hovered near hers, but he wasn't in any rush. He moved as if time was theirs alone.

When his hand found the knot of her blouse, he pulled it gently but firmly. The knot tightened against her back, and her breath hitched sharply. Her back arched at the force.

She felt his fingers brush her skin again, the roughness of his touch leaving her tingling. Her eyes darted to the mirror.

And then she saw him. Siddharth's eyes lifted, meeting hers in the reflection. They were darker now, almost unreadable, but the intensity in them left no room for doubt. Her breath stopped completely as their gazes locked.

He leaned down further, his lips just a breath away from her ear. She could feel the heat of him, the difference in their heights making her feel small, delicate. He moved her hair aside, letting his fingers trail down her back, slow and purposeful.

"You'll go out like this now," he murmured, his voice low and deep, making her shiver again. "Not like before."

His words made her blush fiercely. She couldn't speak, couldn't think. Her cheeks burned, and her chest tightened, every part of her overwhelmed by him.

When he stepped back, she felt cold. She glanced at the mirror again, seeing her flushed face and trembling hands.

But what stayed with her was the way Siddharth looked at her, the quiet possession in his gaze, the promise that he'd undone her, and he knew it.

_________________________________________

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