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जादू है, नशा है,
मदहोशियां हैं,
तुझको भुलाके
अब जाऊं कहां।

देखती है जिस तरह
से तेरी नजरें मुझे,
मैं खुद को छुपाऊं कहां।
जादू है, नशा है,
मदहोशियां हैं,
तुझको भुलाके
अब जाऊं कहां।

ये पल है अपना,
तो इस पल को जी ले,
शोलों की तरह
ज़रा चलके जी ले।
पल झपकते खो न जाना,
छू के कर लो यकीं,
ना जाने ये पल पाए कहां।
जादू है, नशा है,
मदहोशियां हैं।
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The soft light of dawn seeped through the curtains, casting a delicate glow over the room. My lashes fluttered open, and for a moment, I simply lay still, the remnants of sleep lingering. But then, something... unusual caught my attention.

I stilled completely, my heart beginning to race. Slowly, cautiously, I looked down, and what I saw made the breath hitch in my throat.

Sidharth ji's face was no longer buried in the crook of my neck as it usually was. Instead, this time, it was pressed against my chest, his head nestled against me as though he were hiding from the world.

I gasped softly, the sound escaping before I could stop it. My eyes widened, and a flush crept up my neck, spreading to my cheeks and ears. His hand, as always, was tucked under my kurti, his palm resting warmly against my waist.

A whirlwind of emotions surged inside me-nervousness, shyness, and something else I couldn't name. I felt a whole zoo of butterflies take flight in my stomach, their fluttering so intense that it left me breathless.

For a moment, I couldn't move, couldn't think. My cheeks burned as I stared at him, frozen in place. My mind raced, and my heart pounded so loudly that I was certain it would wake him.

How did we end up like this?

I remembered falling asleep at a safe distance last night, as I always did, but somehow, always the space between us had disappears. And now, here he was, holding me close in a way that left me utterly flustered.

I bit my lip, my fingers trembling as I reached for his arm. My hand, shaking slightly, brushed against his skin just below the elbow. I hesitated, unsure if I should dare to move.

He'll wake up... The thought alone made my stomach flip.

But I had to. Gently, with all the courage I could muster, I tugged at his hand, trying to free myself. As I did, his fingers grazed the curve of my waist, sliding downward in a way that made my breath hitch once more. My entire body felt warm, a flush spreading down to my very toes.

I dared not look at him, too shy to meet his gaze even though he was still fast asleep. My cheeks burned hotter, and my heart thudded loudly in my chest. What if he wakes up now?

But he didn't.

Sidharth ji stirred slightly, letting out a soft groan as his face pressed deeper against me for a fleeting moment. The low sound vibrated through me, making me gasp quietly once more. Goosebumps erupted along my arms, and I quickly looked away, my breaths shallow and unsteady.

Finally, I managed to slip out of his hold, sitting up as quietly as I could. My fingers fumbled to fix my kurti, smoothing the fabric over my trembling body. I avoided looking at him, knowing that even a glance would only send my heart into a frenzy again.

My feet touched the cool floor as I stood, hurriedly adjusting my suit and trying to compose myself. I stole a glance at the mirror, catching sight of my reflection. My face was a deep shade of red, and my lips parted as if I had just run a marathon.

I pressed a hand to my chest, willing my racing heart to calm down. But even as I stood there, I couldn't shake the memory of his warmth, the way he held me so securely, as if I were his anchor.

A tiny smile tugged at my lips, shy and fleeting. I quickly shook my head, scolding myself for the thought. Sidharth ji...

Quietly, I slipped out of the room, my cheeks still burning and my heart still fluttering. The morning air was cool against my flushed skin, but it did little to calm the storm of emotions swirling inside me.

Sidharth ji... what are you doing to me?
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The sweet aroma of tea filled the kitchen as I carefully poured it into the cups. The steam rose, curling softly in the air as my fingers adjusted the handle of the pot. My red sari, with its delicate golden border, felt heavier than usual, especially with the pallu draped over my head. It wasn't something I wore every day there, but here, in Sidharth ji's ancestors' house, in this village, it seemed only right to respect their traditions.

The silence was broken when a servant entered, his voice polite yet firm. "Chhoti Bahurani, Siddharth Baba bula rahe hain."

I froze mid-pour, my fingers stiffening around the pot's handle. My heart skipped a beat at his words. Sidharth ji... calling me?

Aab kya chahiye inko?

(What does he want now?)

A sudden warmth crept up my cheeks, unbidden and undeniable, as memories of the morning flashed in my mind. His face... pressed so close, his hand resting... My heart fluttered wildly, and I shook my head quickly to rid myself of the thought. Noor, stupid gadhi! How can you think of this now?

(Idiot)

I looked up at the servant, blinking in surprise. "Ji..." I managed to say, my voice barely above a whisper.

Before I could gather my thoughts, Ma, who was arranging spices on the counter, turned to me with a kind smile. "Haan beta, jao. Pata karo kya bol rahe hain."

Her words didn't help my nerves. I swallowed hard, nodding slightly before setting the pot down carefully. My hands brushed against the fabric of my sari as I smoothed it, ensuring my pallu stayed in place.

As I stepped out of the kitchen, my mind raced back to the morning again. My cheeks burned, and I bit my lip to stop a smile from forming. Why am I like this? I cursed myself silently, feeling like an innocent fool.

Kya gadhi hoon main? Sidharth ji bula rahe hain, bas itna hi. Sochna bandh kar, Noor!

("Am I such a fool? Sidharth ji is calling, that's all. Stop overthinking, Noor!")

My steps faltered slightly as I approached the door to the room. I hesitated for a moment before lifting my hand to push it open. The sound of the door creaking echoed faintly, and I stepped inside, my heart pounding in my chest.

And then I saw him.

Sidharth ji stood in front of the mirror, his tall frame glowing in the soft morning light streaming through the window. A single white towel was wrapped around his waist, resting low on his hips. He was running a hand through his damp hair, droplets of water sliding down his bare chest and back.

I stopped in my tracks, my feet rooted to the ground as my breath hitched. My eyes widened, and I couldn't tear them away from him. My heart thudded wildly, each beat echoing in my ears.

He turned then, his electric blue eyes locking onto mine. His gaze was intense, sharp, and all-consuming. I felt as though the air had been knocked out of my lungs.

I couldn't move, couldn't breathe, couldn't think. The only sound was the wild pounding of my heart. Heat rushed to my cheeks, spreading down my neck, and I tightened my grip on the edge of the doorframe to steady myself.

"Noor..." His voice was low, deep, and it sent a shiver down my spine.

I blinked rapidly, trying to look away, but my gaze betrayed me, fixating on him instead. My fingers trembled slightly as I clutched the edge of my sari, trying to ground myself.

"Ji... aapne bulaya?" I finally managed to whisper, my voice shaky and unsure.

His eyes didn't waver, and the small curve of his lips made my pulse quicken even more. I felt trapped under his gaze, the intensity of it making my cheeks burn brighter.

My thoughts scrambled, a mixture of nerves and something deeper, something I couldn't quite name. And as he took a step closer, my knees threatened to give out.

I couldn't look at him. My gaze stayed fixed on the ground, my cheeks burning hotter with every passing second. His presence so close to me made my skin tingle, a strange mix of nervousness and something I couldn't quite name. My breath felt heavy, uneven, and I could sense his eyes on me, watching me intently.

I stayed frozen, not knowing what to do or say, when his deep voice broke the silence. "Mere kapre nikal dengi aap?"

(Will you take my clothes out)

It wasn't just my request - It was a soft command, laced with a pause that made my heart skip a beat. Slowly, almost hesitantly, I lifted my eyes to meet his.

There was a time when I used to pick his clothes out but he didn't wear to wear. And now he's asking me to pick his clothes? I was frozen.

And there he was, standing tall and broad, his electric blue eyes darker than usual. They held an intensity I couldn't understand, emotions I couldn't name. His gaze didn't waver as he whispered, "Please."

I felt my breath hitch again. My heart thudded wildly in my chest, and I nodded quickly, unable to form words. I was so nervous that my fingers trembled slightly as I moved.

Why does he have to be like this? I thought, stealing a quick glance at him. He stood there, bare-chested, with only a towel around his waist, looking as though he owned the world. The sight made my cheeks burn brighter, and I immediately looked away, my mind screaming, "Oh God, he's half-naked!" How am I supposed to even think straight?

Hey bhagwan!

Trying to focus, I turned toward the bags still packed and untouched from yesterday. My feet felt heavy, my every movement exaggerated by the chan-chan of my anklets. I knelt down, rummaging through his belongings. The rustling of clothes felt loud in the quiet room, and my entire attention stayed on the man standing behind me. I could feel his gaze, as if it was burning into my back, and it made me even more flustered.

Finally, I pulled out a simple white shirt and dark navy pants. "This should be fine," I mumbled to myself, my voice barely audible. Rising to my feet, I placed the clothes neatly on the bed, my hands slightly shaking.

Stepping back, I whispered quickly,

"H-Hum niche jaate hai.."

(I'll go downstairs..)

But before I could finish, I felt a warm hand wrap around my wrist, stopping me mid-step.

"Ahh!" A soft gasp escaped my lips as I was pulled back, the movement so sudden that I didn't even have time to react.

I collided with something hard-his chest. His bare chest pressed against my back, warm and firm, sending shivers down my spine. My pallu slipped slightly as his cold fingers brushed against the bare skin of my wrist. The contrast of his cold touch and the heat radiating from his body left me breathless.

For a moment, neither of us moved. His grip on my wrist tightened ever so slightly, and I could feel the soft rise and fall of his chest against me, his breath fanning over the side of my neck.

"Rukiye," he murmured softly, his voice sending a wave of heat coursing through me.

(Stay.)

I tried to calm my erratic heartbeat, but it was impossible. My cheeks were burning, my skin tingling, and my legs felt like they might give way. I could barely breathe as I stood there, trapped in his hold, the warmth of his chest spreading across my back like fire.

I didn't dare turn around, afraid of what I might see in his eyes. But I couldn't ignore the way his presence consumed me, leaving no room for anything else.

"J-Ji...?" I whispered softly, my voice barely audible even to myself. My heart was already racing from how close he stood, his gaze too intense to meet for long.

And then I felt it-his hand.

A jolt ran through me as his fingers brushed against my cheek. It wasn't sudden, but the warmth of his touch sent my heart into a wild rhythm, like it had jumped within my chest. My breath caught, and for a moment, I froze, unsure of what to do or how to react.

His hand moved slowly, deliberately, as if testing my patience. His thumb grazed my cheek, and my knees felt weak at the gentleness of it. I couldn't help but notice the slight roughness of his skin, a stark contrast to the softness of the moment.

My toes curled involuntarily, and I felt the heat spread from my face to my neck. It wasn't just his touch-it was the way he stood so close, his presence consuming every bit of air around me.

I tried to speak, but the words got lost somewhere between my racing heart and the lump in my throat.

He didn't said anything either,his thumb continuing its slow, purposeful movement against my skin, almost as if he was wiping something invisible away. His eyes, sharp and focused, stayed fixed on my cheek. I couldn't look away even if I wanted to, and something about the intensity in his gaze sent a shiver down my spine.

Goosebumps rose along the back of my neck, and a strange, tingling sensation coiled in my stomach. His hand paused for a brief moment, his thumb resting just under my cheekbone before moving again. Every stroke felt like a silent conversation, one I wasn't prepared for but couldn't escape.

I dared to glance up at him, and for a fleeting second, I felt trapped in his eyes. The air between us seemed heavier, charged with something unspoken.

He leaned in slightly, his voice low and rich as he finally broke the silence.

"Kuch tha," he whispered, his words brushing against my skin like a caress.

(There was something.)

My heart skipped again, and I felt my breath hitch. I couldn't tell if it was his voice or the way his hand lingered on my cheek, but my entire body felt as if it was caught in a storm of sensations I couldn't name.

He stepped back slightly, his hand falling away from my face as his gaze softened. His eyes flickered to the clothes I had placed on the bed, and for a moment, he seemed to lost. Then, as if realizing the effect he had on me, his lips curved into the faintest of smirks.

"Thank you," he murmured, his voice calm but still carrying that same undercurrent of intensity.

I stayed rooted in place, my cheeks burning, my thoughts a mess of everything that had just happened. He picked up the clothes and walked toward the bathroom without another word, leaving me standing there, trying to catch my breath.

As the door clicked shut behind him, I brought my hand to my cheek, feeling the lingering warmth of his touch. My lips trembled, and a small, shy smile crept onto my face despite my efforts to stay composed.
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The aroma of freshly brewed chai mixed with the warmth of the paratha I was flipping on the pan. The sizzle of the butter was comforting, but the peace didn't last long.

A loud crash came from the hall.

My heart skipped a beat as I turned toward the noise, the paratha forgotten. Something heavy had broken. The sound of shouts followed-a man's deep voice, sharp and loud, cutting through the air.

Sidharth ji.

Without thinking, I rushed out of the kitchen, my heartbeat thudding in my ears. I didn't know what to expect, but the sight that greeted me froze me in place.

Sidharth ji stood in the middle of the hall, his fists clenched so tightly his knuckles had turned white. His chest rose and fell with sharp breaths, his entire body radiating anger. His veins-on his neck, on his hands-popped out as if they might burst. His face was red, and his jaw set so tightly it looked painful.

He looked dangerous.

I had never seen him this way.

Across from him stood my father-in-law, his face equally stern, though not as explosive as Siddharth ji's. Dada ji and Dadi ji stood nearby, their faces pale, their hands raised as if trying to stop whatever storm was brewing.

"Sidharth!" Maa's trembling voice called out, but it barely reached him. She stood beside him, her hand gently touching his arm, pleading with her eyes. But Sidharth Ji didn't even look at her. His focus was on his father, his glare sharp enough to cut through stone.

My chest tightened. What was happening? Why was he so angry?

The tension in the air was suffocating. Dadi ji grabbed Dada ji's arm, whispering something, but neither of them stepped forward. No one dared. Even papa ji didn't move, though his eyes mirrored Sidharth ji's fury.

Before I could understand or react, Siddharth ji turned sharply. Without a word, without looking back, he stormed out of the house, his steps heavy and fast.

"Sidharth!" Maa called out again, running after him, but he didn't stop. He didn't even look at her.

I followed quickly, my hands trembling as I clutched the pallu on my shoulder. By the time I reached the door, I saw him get into his car, slamming the door shut.

The rain poured heavily outside, pounding against the ground, the roof, the car. The cold wind hit my face as I stepped out, but I barely noticed. My eyes stayed fixed on the car, on Sidharth ji.

He drove off.

I stood there, frozen in place, the rain soaking the edges of my pallu. My heart pounded in my chest, and my mind raced with questions. What had happened? What had made him this angry?

I turned back toward the house. The hall was eerily quiet now, except for the faint sound of Dadi ji murmuring something to Dada ji. Baba ji stood like a statue, his face unreadable. Maa was sitting on the sofa, her face buried in her hands, her shoulders shaking.

She was crying.

The sight made my chest tighten. Slowly, I stepped closer, my wet pallu clinging to my arms. I didn't know what to say, what to do. I didn't even know what had just happened.

The rain outside continued to pour, as if mirroring the storm brewing within this house.

The air felt thick, heavy with tension. My heart pounded relentlessly in my chest as I stepped back into the house. The commotion was louder now, but it wasn't the noise that unsettled me-it was the silence that followed Sidharth ji's departure. It wrapped around me, cold and suffocating, making it hard to think.

I froze just inside the hall. Maa was sitting on the sofa, tears streaming down her face. Her hands trembled as she wiped them away, but it was no use. She looked broken. My eyes darted to Papa ji, standing stiffly in the middle of the room, his face like stone. His silence was louder than her sobs, and the way he glared at nothing in particular only added to the tension.

Then, Maa looked up, her pain pouring out as anger. "Kyun kaha aapne? Kyun yaad dilaya usko? Aapko pata hai use kitni nafrat hai innse!"

(Why did you say that? Why did you remind him? You know how much he hates this!)

Her voice cracked, sharp and accusing, as if the words themselves hurt her to say. Papa ji turned his head slightly, but he didn't answer. His silence seemed deliberate, almost cruel.

Maa's voice grew louder, trembling as tears fell freely.

"Woh iss ghar mein wapas aaye hain! Kafi nahi tha kya!! Toh aapko kya zarurat thi usko aur takleef dene ki? Kitni dukh denge mere bache ko?"

(He has come back to this house! Wasn't this enough? Why did you feel the need to hurt him further? How much more will you hurt my child?)

I swallowed hard, my hands clutching the edges of my pallu. Sidharth ji's face flashed in my mind-his anger, the way the veins in his neck bulged, the way his entire body radiated rage. I had never seen him like that before. Never. My heart squeezed painfully.

"Woh mera beta hai," Papa ji said finally, his voice cold and heavy. "Mera haq hai uss par."
(He is my son. I have rights over him.)

The argument continued, their voices bouncing off the walls, but I couldn't focus on the words anymore. All I could think about was Sidharth Ji. Where was he now? He hadn't eaten anything. He drove away in this weather-it was pouring outside, the rain so heavy I could hear it crashing against the windows. Was he safe?

My chest tightened as worry spread through me like wildfire. I tried to understand what had just happened, but it felt like I was piecing together a puzzle without knowing what the picture was. I looked around the room-Dadi ji and Dada ji seemed as sad & in pain as Maa. Akriti stood near the corner, crying silently, her face buried in her hands. Veer bhaiya was there too, his arms crossed tightly against his chest, his expression unreadable but tense.

Everyone looked shaken, but my thoughts couldn't linger on them. They kept circling back to him. Sidharth ji. Was he okay? Was he safe? What had happened to make him this angry? My worry overshadowed everything else. I couldn't breathe properly, my chest heavy with tension and fear.

I turned toward the door, the rain still pouring outside. My lips trembled as a thought gripped me-what if something happened to him?
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It was already seven, and the weight of the time was crushing me. Sidharth ji still hadn't come back. The house was quiet, but the silence was suffocating, filled with nothing but the sound of my mother-in-law's heavy sobs.

Her tears echoed through the walls, breaking the stillness, yet there was no comfort to be found. Her grief seemed endless, as though the world had fallen apart around her. Her pain was raw and deep, but she refused to let go of the bitterness that had taken root in her heart.

"Mere bacha kidar hoga bhagwan" she cried again, her voice breaking with a mournful tone, as if she were mourning the very air around her.

(Where is my child God?!)

It wasn't the first time she had said it. Each repetition seemed to cut deeper, laced with a sense of something broken that could never be mended. She didn't stop, her voice rising in anguish.

"Mere bache ki zindagi barbad kar gayi. Aur ab, kitna dard sahega mere bacha!"

(She ruined my child's life. How much more pain he'll endure!)

Her words carried a weight that I couldn't fully understand. My mind raced, trying to decipher what was happening. Who was she speaking about? Who had she lost? Who had hurt Siddharth Ji? I could feel the tension growing thicker in the room.
My body was tense, but my mind spun in confusion. Why was she so desperate? Why couldn't she stop? I couldn't help but feel that something was terribly wrong, far worse than what I had first thought.

But as I stood there in the hallway, my eyes searched for answers-answers that nobody was offering. In the midst of all this pain, my grandfather-in-law, Papa ji, sat silently in the corner of the room, his face drawn with worry, his eyes shadowed by a deep concern that seemed to outweigh his ability to act. He didn't say anything; he didn't need to. His silence said it all. The anger that had erupted earlier, the conflict between him and Siddharth ji's father, still hung thick in the air. No one spoke, and no one dared to. The storm was building again, but it was inside the house, not outside.

No body was telling me exactly what happened, telling it wasn't their place to disclose It. And he, he wasn't even picking up anyone's call.

Even now, none of us knew where Sidharth Ji had gone. He had left so suddenly, storming out of the house in that moment of rage, without a word to anyone, and now he was gone. The entire family was on edge, every single person carrying a weight of worry that seemed impossible to shake off. My heart pounded in my chest, and my thoughts tangled in confusion. Why hadn't he called? Why hadn't he come back yet?

I turned toward the window, looking out at the pouring rain. It felt like a reflection of everything that was happening inside-heavy, relentless, and overwhelming. The rain only added to the tension, making the house feel even more isolated and cut off from the world outside. How could everything change so quickly? How could something so simple, a fight between father and son, turn into this unbearable storm?

In the background, my grandmother-in-law kept repeating her words, tears falling freely as if the floodgates had opened. Her pain was real, but I couldn't grasp it completely.

"Woh to chali gayi, Mere bache ko barbad kar gayi..." It was as if her words were a chant, echoing the reality she was trapped in, but it made no sense to me.
(She left, ruined my son's life.)

I walked back to my room to grab my cell. But then I realized I didn't have his number.

My heart raced, a constant thud in my chest. My mind was scattered, searching for answers, but all I could think of was him-Sidharth ji. Why wasn't he picking up his phone? I regretted not having his number, feeling the weight of my helplessness.

I reached for my phone, my hands shaking. I couldn't sit still, my thoughts racing. I threw the phone on the bed in frustration, slapping my forehead in anger. "Kyun nahi hai unka number mere paas? Kyun nahi, kyun?"

(Why don't I have his number? Why don't I, why?)

Tears blurred my vision as I stood there, helpless and desperate. The thunderstorm startled me, and I quickly wiped my eyes, hoping nobody noticed my anxiety. I hurriedly went downstairs, my legs shaking as I descended the stairs. The house felt suffocating, everyone in the hall tense and uneasy. No one had eaten anything all day. The atmosphere was thick with worry, and no one spoke. It wasn't just a family commotion anymore-it was something far more serious, more urgent.

I noticed Veer bhaiya still trying to call Siddharth ji, his face etched with frustration. His hands were trembling as he dialed the number again, but there was no response.

"Kuch pata chala"
(Any information)

"bhabhi, he's not picking up my calls," Veer said quietly, his voice rough with tension. He glanced at me, his face pale and filled with concern. He then put his cell on the table telling me to keep trying. He was going to check on Ma.

I nodded, my heart sinking even more. I couldn't sit still. I reached for the phone on the table, my hands shaking, and dialed Sidharth ji's number. The seconds felt like hours, and finally, the call connected.

When his voice came through, it was harsh, rough.

"What?!!"

I freeze.

I could hear the anger and frustration lacing his tone, and it made my stomach twist. My heart jumped, and tears filled my eyes once more.

"K-kahan hai aap?" I whispered, barely able to control my trembling voice.

(Where are you?)

I couldn't stop the sob that escaped my lips. The world seemed to crumble around me, but I needed to know. I needed him to tell me where he was and what had happened.

I could hear his heavy breathing, labored, like he was trying to steady himself. It was angry. Harsh. It made my chest tighten. Then, just as quickly as it started, his breathing slowed, but it didn't sound right-almost as if he was hiding something or holding something back.

And then, after a few agonizing seconds of silence, a voice crackled through the phone, deep, hard, and unlike anything I had ever heard from him.

"Aarha hu," he said, his voice rough, with a sense of finality. It was different. Harder. I didn't know what to make of it. The call ended abruptly after that, leaving me standing there, staring at the phone, my chest heavy with an emotion I couldn't quite place.

(I'm coming)

I felt the cold grip of fear settle in my stomach. Why was he speaking like that? Why hadn't he said more? I could feel the panic rising in my chest, but before I could gather myself, the line went dead, leaving nothing but the sound of his harsh breath lingering in my mind.

I looked up at Veer bhaiya, whose was now standing beside me, eyes were filled with worry. He stood there, his gaze steady, but his lips pressed together in a line, as though trying to contain something. After a moment, he shook his head as if he, too, was trying to make sense of what had just happened. His voice broke through the silence.

"Main nahi jaanta ki wo kaise manage kar rahe hai bhai... sab kuch akela jhel rahe hai wo."

("I don't know how he's managing. He's bearing everything alone...")

His words hit me hard. Sidharth was carrying all of this by himself-whatever it was that was tearing him apart. I couldn't even imagine the weight he was carrying.

I swallowed hard, trying to process what Veer bhaiya had said. He was alone. Alone, and I couldn't help him. The realization made my chest tighten even more. I could feel my heartbeat racing, my hands shaking.

Without another word, Veer bhaiya turned and walked away, leaving me standing there, holding the phone, my heart in turmoil. I sank down onto the sofa, my head in my hands, my thoughts spinning. I wanted to reach him. I wanted to fix whatever was wrong. But I couldn't. All I could do was sit there, waiting, hoping he would come back to me-before it was too late.
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Noor stood by the window, her gaze unfocused as the minutes dragged on. It had been half an hour since Siddharth's voice-rough and different-had whispered, "Aarha hu." The words echoed in her mind, but it was the way he said it that haunted her. It wasn't just the hardness in his voice. It was the underlying pain, the heaviness in every breath he took. She could feel it, his anguish pressing through the phone, and the thought of him, alone and struggling, tore at her. Her chest tightened, and before she could stop herself, tears began to fall. She wasn't crying because of anger, but because she could sense the weight he was carrying, the pain he hadn't shared with her.

The soft knock on the door broke through her thoughts, and Veer's voice followed.

"Bhabhi, Bhai came. He is in the garden. Aap chahiye. Main baaki logon ko bata dunga."

("Bhabhi, Bhai's here. He's in the garden. You should come. I'll inform the others.")

Noor's heart skipped a beat. She barely registered the words as her feet moved of their own accord. Without thinking, she rushed towards the window. Her eyes found him immediately.

Sidharth stood there in the rain, his body drenched, the water dripping from him as if he had become one with the storm itself. His face was hidden, his eyes closed, and he stood completely still, like he was absorbing the rain, letting it wash over him. He looked so emotionless, so distant. She couldn't take it anymore.

Without a second thought, she rushed down the stairs, her heart pounding in her chest, her mind screaming at her to reach him. She didn't go through the front door; instead, she took the corridor leading to the garden, her feet quickening with each step. The gate creaked open, and there he was-standing in the rain, lost in his own world.

And then, as if everything else faded away, Noor closed the distance between them. Without a word, she wrapped her arms around him, pressing herself against his wet, cold body. She didn't care about the rain anymore, didn't care about anything except him. Her tears, which had been building up, finally fell freely, mingling with the raindrops on his skin.

She held him tightly, feeling the warmth of his body beneath her hands, and for the first time in hours, her heart began to find peace. The world outside seemed to disappear as they stood there, in the middle of the storm, together.

In that moment, everything she had feared, everything that had held her back, melted away. She didn't need to speak.

Noor hadn't realized until this very moment just how much Sidharth meant to her-how deep his presence ran in her life. She had always thought she understood her own feelings, her own heart, but today, the way she had felt when he disappeared, when she couldn't reach him, made her realize how much he truly mattered. The sharp panic, the aching fear of losing him-it all made sense now. She had been blind to how intertwined their lives had become, how his absence could leave a void in her chest, one she never knew existed.

Standing there in the rain, with her arms around him for the first time, she felt an overwhelming wave of relief. The tightness in her chest began to ease. She hadn't known she could care for someone so much. The moments of holding him, her tears blending with the raindrops, spoke more than words ever could. His presence grounding her. But it wasn't just the rain that washed over them. There was something deeper, something unspoken. Something more intimate than she had allowed herself to believe.

She pulled back slightly, wiping the tears from her face, still feeling his warmth seeping into her skin. It wasn't until she heard the phone ringing-his phone-breaking the silence that she snapped out of the moment. The reality of the situation hit her, and she quickly glanced up at him. His eyes were still closed, but something had changed. The powerful, confident Sidharth she knew still stood there, but there was something else-something darker. His face was tense, his jaw clenched as if he was holding something inside, a struggle that only he understood. The anger she saw in him moments ago was gone, replaced by something more disturbing. Pain, perhaps, but not the kind of pain she was familiar with. It was more like a quiet storm, something brewing beneath the surface. His eyes were distant, yet sharp, watching her.

It made her heart ache for him.

Without thinking, her hand moved to his, fingers trembling slightly as she took his cold, wet hand in hers. He was drenched, and the thought of him standing out in the rain like that made her chest tighten. She remembered how he had complained about a headache yesterday. He had never let her take care of him-always the strong, unshakable man.

But now, she couldn't ignore the worry that surged through her. She wasn't just his wife in name only; she was his partner, his support, whether he acknowledged it or not.

With an almost instinctive movement, she pulled him toward her, dragging him gently inside the house. She was small compared to him, but right now, it wasn't about strength; it was about the urgency, the care that she felt for him-care that had grown so much over time, care that had become an undeniable part of who she was.

As they moved toward the room, her mind was spinning. She knew he was watching her. His gaze, heavy and unwavering, was like a pull on her back. She could almost feel the weight of it-his eyes digging into her skin, sensing her every movement. But she didn't look back at him. She couldn't. Her heart was racing too fast for her to think clearly.

Once they reached the room, she guided him to the chair, and still, he hadn't spoken. He didn't need to. His presence, his silence, was louder than any words.

She paused for a moment, just looking at him, her hand still in his. He was there, yet not there at all. The quiet between them was suffocating, and the anger she had been holding back-the frustration, the confusion, the fear of losing him-bubbled to the surface. It wasn't about the things he had done or the things they hadn't said; it was about the way he had shut himself off, the way he had carried everything alone, never once letting her in. She wanted to shout at him for pushing her away, for being so distant, for not trusting her with whatever was weighing on him. But instead, she stood there in the silence, feeling it all-the hurt, the worry, the anger, the care that had grown deep within her.

This wasn't just about him being her husband. This was about something more, something deeper that she had never fully realized until now. It was a connection neither of them had spoken about, but both had felt building over time.

And now, in this room, in this moment, it was too strong to ignore.

The storm outside raged on, its ferocity mirrored in the pounding rain, thundering across the windows as if the world itself was in turmoil. Inside the room, the air was thick with tension. Noor's heart beat fast, her chest rising and falling with the rapid breaths of a woman caught between the waves of frustration and fear.

She helped Sidharth to the chair, his wet clothes clinging to his body as if they were another layer of misery he couldn't shake off. She could feel the coldness in his touch, his body stiff and unyielding, just like his silence. Her hands shook as she moved to remove his drenched jacket, but her anger swelled within her like a tidal wave, demanding release.

"Kaha, the aap Sidharth?"
(Where were you, Siddharth?)

Her voice cracked, a mixture of fury and worry. She finally asked.

"Apko fikar hai kisi ki?"
(Do you even care about anyone?)

The words spilled out before she could stop them, each one laced with a pain she could no longer hide. Her tears, the silent witnesses of the worry and fear she had been holding back all day, began to fall freely. She didn't care anymore. The storm inside her was louder than the storm outside.

"Bina bole, bina bataye bas bacho ki tarah bhag gye- sab ko kitna chinta thi"

(You ran away like a child. Without any messages, without telling anyone. Everyone was so tensed)

Her voice faltered for a moment, the intensity of her emotions threatening to overwhelm her.

Her hands trembled as she wiped the tears from her face, the fury inside her still smoldering. And that's when it happened.

For the first time that evening, his eyes flickered to hers. There was something there. A shift. It was like a wave of restlessness that had gripped him loosened, fading in the presence of her gaze. The tension, the burden that had weighed him down, seemed to soften, as if her eyes had unlocked something in him. There was no more distance, no more silence. For a brief moment, all the chaos between them paused.

Noor could see it-the flicker of restlessness in his eyes. Not helplessness, but a weariness. He was worn, tired, and restless. He wasn't the man who always had control. In that moment, she saw the cracks in his walls, the hidden exhaustion that lay beneath his strength. His eyes were red, like he just drunk his ass off.

Her breath hitched as their eyes met. The silence between them was thick now, but it wasn't just the silence of distance. It was the silence of understanding-of two souls connected in the midst of chaos.

Her heart skipped a beat, and she felt something change in that moment. It wasn't just her anger that softened. It was everything. The world outside, the storm-everything seemed to fade into the background as she held his gaze.

Suddenly, Noor felt a hand on her wrist, a pull so gentle yet so firm, as if the world outside had paused for a moment just for them. The rain outside had softened to a steady rhythm, like a slow heartbeat, blending with the storm brewing inside her chest. The air was thick with emotion, and her breath hitched in her throat. The cool breeze drifted through the room, mixing with the warmth between their bodies. She landed softly on Sidharth's lap, a gasp escaping her lips, her body now pressed against his.

She looked up at him, and for a brief moment, time seemed to stand still. The thunder outside rumbled faintly in the distance, but inside, all she could hear was the quick, frantic beating of her heart. Sidharth's hand wrapped around her waist, pulling her even closer, his presence commanding yet gentle, as his dark eyes locked with hers, full of intensity. The rain continued to tap against the windows, the world around them silent except for the storm they shared.

A tendril of her hair brushed against her face, carried by the wind, and she felt the warm rush of breath on her skin. Sidharth whispered, his voice low, filled with something she couldn't name-maybe it was desperation, maybe desire, or something even deeper. What he whispered was, "Kya aapko bhi meri fikar thi?"

(Were you also worried about me?)

Noor's heart clenched at his words, the raw innocence in his voice breaking through the storm within her. The anger, the frustration, everything melted away, replaced by something soft, something more profound. She looked at him with wide, startled eyes, her heart suddenly in her throat. With a small smile, she cupped his cheek with one trembling hand, her fingers cold against his warm skin.

Her voice barely a whisper, filled with emotion, she said, "Biwi hoon aapki, khud se zyada aapki fikar hai humein."

(I'm your wife, and I care for you more than I care for myself.)

Her heart raced, her cheeks flushed as her gaze locked with his. In that moment, all the walls that had been standing between them-anger, distance, confusion-melted into nothingness. It was just them now. Just her love, raw and unspoken, flowing between them in that quiet storm of the night.

Sidharth's eyes softened, the intensity shifting to something gentler, something he had never allowed himself to feel before. The restlessness and pain she had seen earlier seemed to slip away, leaving only the chaos she hadn't noticed before.

He pulled her closer, his arms wrapping around her as he buried his face in her neck, his breath hot against her skin. The world outside-rain-soaked and thunderous-faded as they clung to each other, their wet bodies pressed together in a desperate need for comfort.

Noor felt her heart slow, the storm inside her calming, as the love between them washed away all the chaos.

There was nothing else she needed, nothing else she wanted, but to hold him close and give him the care he so desperately craved.

Sidharth was stunned, unable to say anything. Their wet bodies pressed against each other, and Noor could hear his heartbeat-strong and fast, matching the rhythm of her own. The rain outside continued to pour, but inside, the air was thick with a different kind of intensity.

Sidharth slowly lifted his face and whispered softly in her ear,

"I'm sorry... I'm sorry for making you worry." His voice was raw, filled with regret, but also something else Noor couldn't quite understand. Before she could reply, he buried his face back into her neck, the weight of his apology hanging in the air.

In that moment, the shift between their bodies and hearts was undeniable. It wasn't sudden, but rather a slow, deep change. The raw emotion slowly turned into something else, something more intimate.

His hold around her tightened, his body pressing harder against hers, his wet clothes clinging to her skin. Noor could feel the warmth of his chest beneath her, her own body responding to the closeness, to the way he held her so fiercely. Her breath caught as she felt his hand move from her waist to her back, where her blouse didn't cover her fully.

She shivered as she felt his breath on her neck, his face pressed into her skin. Her heart raced, and her trembling hands instinctively moved to comfort him. One hand found its way to his back, gently rubbing as if she could ease the tension inside him.

The other hand moved to the back of his head, her fingers running through his hair, feeling him in a way she hadn't before. It was a simple act, but to Noor, it was the most intimate thing she had ever done. In that moment, she felt a deep connection to him-a connection that wasn't just physical but deeply human, a raw, vulnerable intimacy that made her heart ache.

Sidharth didn't say anything more. Instead, they just stayed there, wrapped in each other's arms. Noor felt his apology in every breath, in the way his body softened around her. She could feel his warmth, his need for comfort, and as she heard his apology, a wave of relief washed over her. She pulled him closer, her arms wrapping around him tightly, holding him as if she never wanted to let go.

Sidharth, for the first time in what felt like forever, let go of his tension. His eyes, which had been red with anger and frustration, now looked relaxed, the storm within him finally calming. For a moment, they just held each other, the world outside forgotten, the rain no longer mattering. Noor felt the warmth of his body, the relief that came with finally being able to hold him, to care for him in this raw, unspoken way.

When Siddharth lifted his face again, his words came out desperate, as if he couldn't hold them in anymore.

"Thak gya hu, mujhe sukoon chahiye, Noor..." His voice was thick with need, and he wasn't trying to hide how desperate he felt. Noor could feel the weight of his words, the rawness in them. Without saying anything more, he buried his face back into her neck, his breath hot against her skin

(I'm tired now. I need peace Noor.)

Noor, feeling the intensity of the moment, whispered softly in his ear,

"I am here, Sidharth ji... I am here for you." She could feel his body tremble slightly at her words.

For a brief moment, Sidharth pulled back. His eyes locked with hers, deep and searching, as if trying to read her soul. Noor's heart raced, her body tensed, and she couldn't look away.

But as she looked into his eyes, she noticed something shift. The innocence, the pain-everything seemed to fade. In its place was something darker, something intense. The air between them had changed. What had started as raw emotion was now turning into something more. Something intimate.

Sidharth's hand, which had been resting on her waist, stayed there. Slowly, he leaned in, his forehead gently resting against hers. Noor's heart was beating faster than ever before, and she could feel the warmth of his body close to hers. She had never been this close to him. Never.

She found it difficult to keep eye contact, the intensity of his gaze making her nervous. But Sidharth didn't look away. He kept looking deeper into her eyes, as if trying to find something hidden there.

Then, with one hand, he gently cupped her cheek, his thumb tracing over her skin, sending shivers down her spine. His voice was soft but heavy with emotion when he whispered,

"Aap hi to mera sukoon hai... cherry." The words hung in the air, full of meaning, full of a deep longing that Noor could feel in her very core.

(You are my peace...cherry)

Sidharth slowly slid his face toward her ear, his breath warm against her skin. His voice was hushed but filled with an undeniable intensity as he whispered, "Do you trust me, Cherry?" The words made Noor feel a tingling sensation run down her neck. Her cheeks flushed red, just like cherries, and a sudden knot formed in her stomach.

Her heart raced, and her hands, which had been resting in his hair, now found their way to the back of his shirt. One hand traced the firm muscles of his biceps, feeling the strength beneath his clothes.

Noor took a shaky breath, her emotions tangled with confusion, desire, and a growing need. She wasn't sure, but she knew one thing-she needed to trust him and she already trust him. Her heart skipped a beat, her body trembling. Hesitantly, she whispered, "ji...." Her voice barely a sound, but it was enough.

The moment she said it, Sidharth pressed a soft, lingering kiss on her ear. It was the first time he had kissed her like this, and Noor's body responded instantly. Her hand tightened into a fist around his collar and biceps, her eyes shutting tight, as if trying to hold onto the rush of emotions surging through her. The air around them was thick with heat, their closeness electric.

Noor could feel Sidharth's hand move to the back of her blouse, his fingers finding the knot, gently tugging at it. She bit her lower lip, trying to stop herself from reacting too much, but the desire was growing inside her unknowingly. She wasn't uncomfortable, no. It was different-she was craving more, feeling wanted in a way she'd never felt before. His touch made her feel alive, alive in a way that made her heart race and her body ache for more.

Sidharth leaned down, pressing a kiss just behind her ear, sending another wave of shivers through her body. He moved his lips lower, kissing her shoulder softly before he whispered,

"I need this cherry... please." His voice was low, filled with need. He moved back up to her ear again, his lips brushing against her skin as he whispered,

"Can I?"

Noor's eyes clenched shut, her breath caught in her throat, and she nodded without saying a word. She was too overwhelmed to speak, but she couldn't deny the heat building between them. Sidharth, sensing her surrender, pulled the knot of her blouse open, making it fall loose. The world around them seemed to fade away, leaving only the burning need they shared in that moment.

Sidharth pulled them together with an urgent force, his chest pressing against hers. He held the falling fabric of her blouse in place, his hands gripping her tightly. Noor's breath caught in her throat, her heart racing. She clutched her eyes shut, feeling the heat of his body against hers.

Sidharth's face lowered, the roughness of his breath mingling with the softness of his lips. He kissed the spot where her shoulder met her neck, and the moment was raw-full of hunger and something darker. His kiss was soft at first, then it became more demanding, his lips brushing her skin with a possessive heat. He kissed her again, and then again, like he couldn't stop himself, as if he needed more.

His hand slid across her bare back, his fingers tracing the lines of her spine, feeling the warmth of her skin. His touch was insistent, almost desperate. Noor's breath deepened, her chest rising and falling in quick succession. She exhaled shakily, trying to steady herself under the weight of his touch.

Siddlharth buried his face into the crook of her neck, his stubble scraping against her skin, sending a sharp thrill through her. The sensation was raw, the sweet ache of his touch making her pulse quicken. He kissed her neck, his lips pressing against her with more intensity. She felt the roughness of his mouth against her, a raw desperation in every kiss he gave her. His hands moved lower, tracing the edge of her blouse, his fingers dancing along the curves of her back, brushing the exposed skin just above her waist.

Noor's breath hitched, and she clenched her eyes even tighter, fighting the wave of sensations coursing through her. Sidharth's touch was searing, and she could feel the power he had over her, the way he held her like she was the only thing that mattered to him. His lips traveled lower, sucking at her skin, nipping at her neck with a primal hunger that made her gasp.

She felt his hand slide to the back of her neck, his fingers slipping through her hair, pulling her closer, if that was even possible. He kissed the tender spot beneath her ear, his lips teasing, then moving upward, kissing the skin just below her ear. The way he kissed her was frantic, like he couldn't get enough of her, his desire for her rising with every touch. She felt every inch of him, every breath he took, and it made her heart race faster.

Sidharth groaned into her skin, his chest pressing harder against hers. He was consumed by her, by the way her body responded to his touch, the way her breath hitched every time his lips grazed her skin. His hands moved with purpose, each movement a claim, each touch marking her as his.

His lips slid up her neck, tracing the delicate curve of her ear. His breath was hot against her skin, and then he whispered, his voice thick with desire, "Aap meri hai, Cherry." His words were a dark promise, a claim, and the intensity of them made Noor's heart leap.

He was not just loving her now-he was owning her. He was obsessed, his need for her consuming every inch of him. The moment had shifted, from tenderness to hunger, and now it was something more intense, more raw, as if he couldn't control himself. Noor could feel it-his possessiveness, his craving for her, his complete obsession.

And in that moment, she couldn't pull away either. She was tangled in him, lost in his touch, in the overwhelming need they shared, in the way he kissed her like she was the air he breathed.

________________________________________
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