Drishti emerged from the bathroom, dressed in a deep maroon saree that clung to her damp skin, her hair still wet and cascading down her back. She made her way to the vanity, her movements graceful and deliberate. Sitting down on the chair in front of the mirror, she began to style herself for the day, carefully combing through her hair, the strands slipping like silk through her fingers.

As she concentrated on her routine, she heard the soft rustle of movement behind her. Rakshit, now shirtless, approached with his usual confidence, his presence filling the room. His gaze lingered on her reflection, a teasing glint in his eyes that she could sense even without looking directly at him.

“Good morning again, Mrs. Shergill” he said, his voice low and playful, laced with a familiar mischief.

Drishti’s heart skipped a beat, but she kept her focus on the mirror, trying to ignore the flutter in her chest. She took a deep breath, her mind racing as she tried to suppress the embarrassment threatening to colour her cheeks.

She could still picture the way he had looked at her, amused yet tender, as she had demanded one silly thing after another in her intoxicated state. The memory of her asking for a kiss on the cheek made her stomach flip, and she could feel her pulse quickening just thinking about it.

“Good morning, Mr. Shergill” she replied, her tone attempting to be casual, though the slight tremor in her voice betrayed her.

Rakshit’s eyes wandered over her as he moved closer, noticing a detail that caught his attention. Her jhumki, delicate and gold, was slightly tangled in the fabric of her saree, the tiny bells catching the morning light. Without saying a word, he leaned in, his hands reaching for the earring.

Drishti stiffened as she felt his fingers brush against her skin, the unexpected touch sending a shiver down her spine. She watched in the mirror as he carefully untangled the jhumki from the saree, his focus entirely on the task. The moment was intimate, almost tender, and for a brief second, Drishti allowed herself to close her eyes, savouring the warmth of his proximity.

When she opened them again, her gaze immediately met his in the mirror. His eyes were dark, intense, and for a moment, everything else faded away. It was just the two of them, suspended in this shared moment. She could feel her pulse quicken, the air around them charged with an unspoken tension.

Her breath hitched as she finally found her voice. “Y-yeh kya tha!” she asked, her voice barely above a whisper, the question more an attempt to break the spell than anything else.

Rakshit, his fingers still lingering near her ear, smiled—a small, knowing curve of his lips. “Tum na... mujhe kisiki yaad dilati ho...” he replied, his tone softer now, tinged with a hint of nostalgia.

Drishti, still caught in the web of his gaze, tilted her head slightly, curiosity flaring within her. “Kiski?” she questioned, her voice holding a mix of intrigue and hesitation.

Rakshit seemed to pause, as if considering his words carefully. “Bachpan me jab mai gaon jata tha udhar mujhe koi dikhti thi, har waqt bas usi se baatein karta rehta tha, nadi kinare baith kar” he said, his eyes distant for a moment, lost in the memory.

Drishti smiled softly, imagining a young Rakshit by the riverside, his carefree laughter echoing in the open air. “Acha...” she murmured, her smile deepening as she envisioned the scene.

But then, his expression shifted, the teasing glint returning to his eyes. “Yahi kuch 70-80 saal ki hogi woh...” He added, his voice laced with playful mischief.

Drishti’s smile faltered, her brows knitting together in confusion before realization dawned. She turned to him, a mock frown on her face. “Mai aapko 70-80 saal ki lagti hoon?!” she exclaimed, her voice rising in faux outrage.

Rakshit chuckled, clearly enjoying her reaction. He reached for a towel draped over a nearby chair and shrugged casually. “Nahi, mai toh bas keh raha tha. Par jab tum khud keh rhi ho toh ab mai isme kya keh skta hu...” He said, his tone light and amused.

Drishti’s eyes widened, her mock outrage turning into a full-blown glare. "Oh, toh ab yeh baat hai?" she retorted, crossing her arms over her chest as she gazed at him through the mirror. "Aapko shayad yeh nahi pata, Mr. Shergill, ki kuch log toh 70-80 mein bhi bohot charming lagte hain" she added, a smirk tugging at the corners of her lips as she raised an eyebrow.

Rakshit couldn’t suppress the grin that spread across his face at her spirited comeback. He took his time, his eyes never leaving hers. "Haan, lekin tumhara charm toh kahi zyada powerful hai, Mrs. Shergill. Shayad isliye mujhe sambhalna padta hai. You know..." he said, his voice low, filled with that familiar playful edge.

Drishti felt a warmth rise to her cheeks, the memories from last night flashing infront of her eyes, but she wasn’t about to let him win that easily. "Toh mtlb aap isliye jhoothi stories banate hai?" she shot back, her tone challenging, yet playful.

Rakshit laughed, a deep, genuine sound that made her heart skip a beat. "Kya karein, jab saamne wali itni demanding ho, toh kahaniyan banani padti hain. You know... sweets..." He replied, his eyes twinkling with amusement.

Drishti shook her head, trying to suppress her own smile, but failing miserably. "Achha?" she quipped, standing up and turning to face him, her playful glare intensifying.

For a moment, they just stood there, the lightness between them replaced by something deeper, more meaningful. Drishti felt her breath catch as she met his gaze, the teasing words she had ready suddenly forgotten.

But just as quickly, Rakshit’s usual smirk returned, breaking the moment. "Aur waise bhi, tumhari demand puri karte karte toh mujhe lagta hai mai hi 70-80 saal ka hojaunga." He added with a wink, stepping back slightly.

Drishti rolled her eyes, the spell broken, but the lingering warmth in her chest remained. "Hogya?" she said with a huff, turning away to hide her smile. "Next time, thoda original try karna! Maybe it'll be actually funny." she called over her shoulder, already halfway out of the room.

Rakshit’s laughter followed her, filling the room with a lightness that seemed to chase away any lingering tension.

"Challenge accepted, Mrs. Shergill!" he called after her, the playful banter between them far from over.

OUTSIDE THE ROOM, HALLWAY

Oitside the room, Drishti stood still. She let out a breath she hadn’t realized she was holding. Her hand unconsciously went to the jhumki he had adjusted, her fingers lightly brushing against the cool metal. She couldn't help but smile to herself, the remnants of their banter still playing in her mind.

Shurgging it off and gathering her thoughts, she made her way downstairs, where the day was just beginning for the rest of the household. She needed to focus; there was a lot to be done.

━━༻❁༺━━

KITCHEN

As she entered the kitchen, the aroma of freshly brewed tea greeted her. She set about preparing breakfast, her movements efficient and precise, but her mind was still replaying the moments from earlier. The kitchen was quiet, save for the soft clinking of dishes, until Rakshit’s voice suddenly broke the silence.

“Good morning, again.” He said, appearing at the entrance with a playful smirk. He had changed into a crisp white shirt, giving him a casual yet undeniably attractive appearance. His white shirt casually unbuttoned at the top, revealing just enough to make Drishti’s heart skip a beat. She tried to focus on the task at hand, stirring a pot on the stove, but the awareness of him was overwhelming. Every movement he made, every sound, seemed magnified in the quiet kitchen.

Drishti looked up, slightly startled but quickly composing herself. “Good morning, Mr. Shergill. All ready for the day?”

“Always” he replied, leaning against the doorframe with his arms crossed. His eyes followed her as she moved around the kitchen, clearly enjoying the sight. “But it seems like someone’s nervous today. Any particular reason?”

Drishti felt her pulse quicken but tried to remain calm. “Nervous? About what?” she asked, her tone trying to sound nonchalant, though she knew exactly what he was getting at.

“Oh, nothing” Rakshit said with a casual shrug, pushing off from the doorframe and walking closer to her. “Just that little Holi deal we made. I believe you promised to give me whatever I ask for, remember?”

Her hands paused mid-motion, her heart suddenly pounding louder in her chest. The Holi deal. She had almost forgotten about it amidst all the chaos, but now the memory rushed back, making her stomach twist in knots. What could he possibly want? Her mind raced with possibilities, each one more nerve-wracking than the last.

“I—uh, I remember” Drishti replied, trying to sound composed, but the slight tremor in her voice betrayed her anxiety. She focused on chopping vegetables, hoping he wouldn’t notice her shaking hands.

He moved closer, his steps deliberate, until he was standing right behind her. The confined space of the kitchen suddenly felt even smaller. “I wonder what I should ask for...” he mused aloud, his voice low and teasing.

Drishti froze for a moment, her mind going blank as she heard the playful tone in his voice. Before she could fully process his words, she felt the warmth of his breath against her ear. He was close—too close—and it made her pulse quicken. She quickly turned around, only to find herself trapped between him and the counter, her back pressing against the cool marble surface.

Rakshit leaned in just a little more, his eyes locking onto hers. “Any suggestions?” he asked, his tone carrying a hint of mischief.

Drishti’s breath hitched as she looked up at him. His face was inches from hers, and the open collar of his shirt made it impossible for her to ignore the subtle strength beneath. She felt a blush creeping up her neck, her usual confidence faltering under his intense gaze.

She tried to think of a response, something to break the tension, but all she could focus on was the way his eyes seemed to be searching hers, as if waiting for her to slip up, to give away something she wasn’t ready to admit.

“I... I don’t know” she finally managed, her voice a little breathless. Her hand gripped the edge of the counter behind her, as if needing something solid to hold on to.

Rakshit’s lips curled into a half-smile, clearly enjoying the effect he was having on her. He raised a hand slowly, brushing a stray strand of damp hair away from her face. The touch was gentle, but it sent a shiver down her spine. “No?” he murmured, his fingers lingering near her temple before retreating. “I’m sure I can come up with something... interesting.”

Drishti swallowed, her heart thudding in her chest. The playful banter had taken on a different tone, one that made her feel both nervous and strangely drawn to him. She tried to look away, but his proximity made it impossible.

“Mr. Shergill....” she began, but her voice trailed off, not sure what she was even going to say. The teasing had turned into something more, something she wasn’t prepared to face in that moment.

Rakshit chuckled softly, clearly pleased with himself. “Relax, Mrs. Shergill” he said, taking a step back, though his eyes never left hers. “I’m just reminding you about our Holi deal.”

Her mind flashed back to their conversation, the promise she had made. “Whatever you want” she had said. Now, standing so close to him, she realized how risky those words had been.

“Well” she replied, trying to steady her voice as she straightened up, “Just don’t get any crazy ideas.”

His smile widened, but he finally gave her some space, allowing her to breathe again. “Too late” he said, his tone light yet full of meaning.

Drishti turned back to the stove, hoping the heat from it would disguise the warmth spreading across her cheeks. She could still feel his presence behind her, the air between them charged with unspoken tension.

As she tried to refocus on her cooking, she couldn’t help but wonder what exactly he was planning to ask for—and why the thought of it both thrilled and unnerved her.

━━༻❁༺━━

Drishti entered the dining room with a tray of breakfast dishes, her mind still reeling from the charged encounter in the kitchen. She tried to push the thoughts away, focusing on the task of serving breakfast to the family. Akshit and Divya were already at the table, laughing and scrolling through reels on their phones, completely oblivious to her internal turmoil.

She placed the dishes on the table, carefully setting everything in its place. As she turned to grab the next item, she noticed Rakshit entering the room. He had changed into a crisp white shirt, the top buttons still undone, giving him a casually elegant look. His gaze met hers, a faint smirk playing on his lips as he approached the table.

Divya looked up and grinned. "Finally, someone who can save us from Akshit's terrible jokes!"

Rakshit chuckled as he sat down, his eyes still on Drishti as she served him. "I don't know, Divya. I think Akshit’s jokes might be the highlight of my morning."

Akshit snorted, playfully throwing a piece of toast at Rakshit. "Watch it, bhai. My jokes are pure gold."

Drishti managed a small smile as she finished serving, but she couldn’t shake the feeling of Rakshit's eyes on her. She felt the heat of his gaze even as she busied herself with pouring tea.

"Mrs. Shergill" Rakshit said casually, picking up his cup. "You didn’t forget about our deal, did you?"

Her hand faltered slightly, nearly spilling the tea. She quickly regained her composure, but her heart was racing. "How could I forget?" she replied, trying to keep her tone light.

Divya looked between them, curiosity piqued. "deal? What’s that about?"

Rakshit’s smile widened as he took a sip of tea, his eyes never leaving Drishti. "Oh, it’s just something fun we agreed on. Isn’t that right, Mrs. Shergill?"

She shot him a quick glare, trying to keep the situation under control. "It’s nothing, Divya. Just a little bet."

Akshit laughed. "A bet with bhai? Drishti bhabhi, I hope you know what you’ve gotten yourself into."

Drishti forced a smile and turned to place the teapot back on the tray. "I’m sure it’s nothing I can’t handle."

Rakshit leaned back in his chair, clearly enjoying her discomfort. "We’ll see about that" he said smoothly.

The rest of breakfast passed with light conversation, but Drishti couldn’t fully relax. Every time she met Rakshit’s gaze, she was reminded of their earlier moments in the kitchen, and it made her pulse quicken all over again.

CAR

As they headed to the office together, the tension from the morning lingered in the air between them. Rakshit drove, one hand on the wheel while the other rested casually on the gear shift. Drishti sat beside him, trying to focus on her phone but finding it difficult with the memory of their morning interactions replaying in her mind.

Rakshit glanced over at her, the corner of his mouth lifting in that familiar smirk. "You’ve been awfully quiet. Still thinking about the Holi deal?"

Drishti’s eyes snapped up to meet his. "No," she said a bit too quickly. "I’m just... going over my schedule for the day."

Rakshit’s smirk deepened. "Uh-huh. Sure you are."

Drishti shifted in her seat, suddenly feeling too warm. The close confines of the car didn’t help. She could still feel the way his breath had brushed against her ear, the warmth of his body so close to hers. It was all too distracting.

"Maybe I should drive myself next time" she muttered, trying to regain some control.

"But then how would I get to remind you about our deal?" Rakshit countered, his tone teasing but with an underlying seriousness that made her heart skip a beat.

Drishti rolled her eyes, trying to play it cool. "I’m sure you’ll find another way. You always do."

Rakshit chuckled, clearly amused by her attempt to brush him off. "You know, Mrs. Shergill, the more you try to avoid it, the more curious I get. Maybe I should ask for something really interesting."

Her pulse quickened again, and she looked out the window, trying to hide the blush creeping up her neck. "Whatever it is, just remember—you agreed to keep it within reason."

Rakshit hummed thoughtfully, his gaze focused on the road ahead. "Reasonable can be quite subjective, don’t you think?"

Drishti didn’t respond, suddenly feeling the weight of her promise more than ever. The rest of the ride was filled with a charged silence, one that left her feeling both flustered and excited, as if waiting for something inevitable to happen.

━━༻❁༺━━

NIGHT, 10 PM, OFFICE

The office was eerily quiet as Drishti sat alone, her thoughts consumed by the memories of Tejashri's suspicious laptop. She had spent hours working on her own tasks, but her mind kept drifting back to that laptop, to the files she knew held secrets. Now, with Rakshit gone to the mansion for a meeting with Mr. Agarwal, she found herself with the time and solitude she needed.

Taking a deep breath, she opened her laptop and connected to Tejashri's system. As she began hacking into it, she faced challenge after challenge—layers of security protocols, multiple passwords, and security apps that kept pushing her back. It struck her as odd. Why would someone like Tejashri, who wasn’t involved in any business or professional work, need such high-level security? The more she thought about it, the more suspicious it became.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, she breached the system. Drishti scanned through the documents, images, files, and audios but found nothing out of the ordinary. That was until she stumbled upon a zipped file with a knife emoji as its name. Her heart skipped a beat. The emoji was ominous, and it made her even more anxious.

With trembling fingers, she unzipped the file. A folder full of old videos appeared on her screen. Curiosity and dread waged a war within her as she scrolled through the clips. One video caught her attention, and as she clicked on it, her entire world shattered.

The video showed her mother being stabbed to death by a figure whose face was covered by a hood. The person was dressed in all black, making it impossible to identify them. Drishti watched in horror as the clip continued, showing her little sister and father being burned alive in their home. Tears streamed down her face as memories of that tragic night came flooding back—the helplessness, the fear, the pain of losing her family.

She was the only one who had escaped, running towards the train station as her mother tried to fight off the assailant. Drishti had been just a child, only nine years old, watching everything unfold in front of her eyes as she boarded the train, crying out for her mother. But it was too late. Her mother had been caught, stabbed repeatedly before she could join Drishti on the train. The train pulled away, leaving her mother behind to die.

The memory was too much to bear. Drishti closed her laptop with trembling hands, her body shaking from the sobs that threatened to consume her. She needed to get out of the office, needed to escape the suffocating weight of the past that had come crashing down on her. Grabbing her things, she left the office and drove home, her vision blurred by tears.

━━༻❁༺━━

SHERGILL MANSION

When Drishti finally arrived at the mansion, it was eerily quiet, a stark contrast to the storm raging inside her. She felt numb, her movements mechanical as she walked inside, heading straight to her room. She needed to be alone, to process what she had just seen. But the moment she opened the door to her room, she saw Rakshit sitting on the bed. He was dressed casually in white pants and a blue shirt with white stripes, the top buttons undone and sleeves rolled up. He looked up from his phone as she entered.

“Mrs. Shergill, you’re back” he said, noticing her pale face and distant look. “Is everything okay?”

Drishti didn’t answer. She couldn’t. She simply walked past him, heading straight for the bathroom. She needed to escape, to hide from the unbearable pain that had seized her heart. She locked the door behind her and turned on the shower, letting the cold water pour down on her. Her body shook as the tears she had been holding back finally broke free. She sank to the floor, her head buried in her hands, sobbing uncontrollably.

Outside, Rakshit’s concern grew as he called out to her. “Mrs. Shergill? Mrs. Shergill, are you okay?”

When he received no response, his anxiety heightened. He banged on the bathroom door, his voice laced with worry. “Mrs. Shergill, respond back! What’s going on? Open the door!”

There was still no answer, and Rakshit’s patience snapped. Without a thought, he forced the door open.

The bathroom door opened, his breath caught in his throat. The sight before him was unlike anything he'd ever seen—a woman, who until now had been a fortress of strength and sarcasm, was crumpled under the harsh spray of the shower. Her sobs, silent and choked, seemed to echo in the small space, amplifying his own sense of helplessness.

Drishti, the woman who had never shown him anything but defiance, was now a picture of fragility. Her hands were buried in her soaked hair, and her shoulders shook with each suppressed sob. Rakshit’s heart twisted painfully, an unfamiliar sensation of deep concern and protectiveness surging within him.

He had never seen her like this—so vulnerable, so utterly shattered. It terrified him in ways he couldn’t fully understand, because this wasn’t the Drishti he knew, the one who could meet his coldness with equal fire. This was a woman in pain, a pain so raw and overwhelming that it made his own chest ache.

For a moment, he was frozen, unsure of what to do or say. All his usual confidence and detachment vanished, leaving only the instinct to reach out and hold her. Seeing her like this made something inside him crack, as if her tears were dissolving the walls he’d so carefully built around his own heart.

In that moment, he realized just how deeply her pain affected him. It wasn’t just concern; it was fear. Fear that she was slipping into a darkness he couldn’t pull her out of, fear that this wound—whatever it was—might be too deep for even her to bear. He felt a desperate need to protect her, to shelter her from whatever had caused this breakdown, even if it meant tearing apart his own defenses.

“Mrs. Shergill!” he exclaimed, rushing to her side. He quickly bent down, the water soaking his clothes as he reached out to her. “What happened? Why are you crying?”

Drishti looked up at him, her eyes red and swollen from crying. She tried to speak, but the words wouldn’t come out. “N-nahi... main nahi...”

“Kya nahi? Ro kyun rahi ho?” Rakshit asked, his voice soft and comforting as he pulled her into his arms. The moment she felt his warmth, she broke down completely, burying her face in his chest as she clutched at his shirt, her tears soaking through the fabric.

As he knelt beside her and took her in his arms, letting the water soak through his clothes, Rakshit knew that his feelings for Drishti were far more complicated than he’d ever admitted to himself. This wasn’t just about duty or the roles they played; it was something more profound, something that shook him to his core. Seeing her like this—broken and lost—made him realize just how much he needed her to be okay.

“Mrs. Shergill, you’re soaked” Rakshit said gently, his voice filled with concern. “Get up, or else you’ll get sick.”

He reached up and kissed her forehead, a gesture so tender that it made her heart ache even more. With one swift motion, he turned off the shower and carefully lifted her to her feet. He guided her out of the shower and made her sit on the wide space near the wash basin.

Rakshit grabbed a towel and began drying her off, his movements gentle and patient. He asked her again, “What happened, Mrs. Shergill? What has upset you so much?”

But Drishti shook her head, still crying. “Mr. Shergill, Please... don’t ask me now. I don’t want to talk about it.”

Rakshit nodded, respecting her wishes. “Okay, okay. I won’t ask. Just don’t cry, please.”

He cupped her cheeks, lifting her face so that their eyes met. “You’re strong, Mrs. Shergill. Whatever it is, you’ll get through it. Whatever you’re doing, it’s great, and I’m proud of you. I know MY Mrs. Shergill won’t do anything wrong. I have faith in you. So stop crying, okay? Everything’s going to be okay. I’m here, alright? I’m with you.”

His words were like a balm to her soul, soothing the pain that had been tearing her apart. She finally began to calm down, her sobs quieting as she leaned into his embrace, finding comfort in his steady presence.

Rakshit went to the closet and returned with a soft, comfortable dress. He handed it to her, his voice gentle as he said, “Go change, Mrs. Shergill. I’ll wait outside.”

Drishti took the dress from him, her hands still trembling slightly. She watched as he left the bathroom, closing the door behind him to give her privacy. She quickly changed out of her wet clothes, the warmth of the dry fabric helping to ground her as she tried to pull herself together.

In the meantime, Rakshit changed into his black trousers and white tshirt.

When she emerged from the bathroom, Rakshit was waiting, just as he had promised. He made her sit on the bed, his eyes full of concern. “Did you eat yet, Mrs. Shergill?”

Drishti shook her head. “I’m not hungry.”

Rakshit frowned, clearly not satisfied with her answer. He got up and left the room, returning a few minutes later with a plate full of food. He sat down in front of her, holding out a spoon. “You need strength, you know. So eat.”

Drishti hesitated, pushing the plate away slightly. “I really don’t feel like eating.”

Rakshit wasn’t having it. He picked up a spoonful of food and brought it to her lips. “You have to eat, Mrs. Shergill. For me.”

She looked into his eyes, seeing the genuine care and concern there. With a sigh, she opened her mouth and let him feed her. As she ate, she noticed he hadn’t touched the food himself. “Did you eat?” she asked softly.

Rakshit shook his head. “No, I was waiting for you.”

Touched by his thoughtfulness, Drishti took the spoon from his hand and began feeding him from the same plate. They ate in silence, a quiet understanding passing between them. The food was simple, but it tasted like comfort, like the support she desperately needed.

When they finished eating, Rakshit cleaned up and returned to her side.
He gently helped her sit down, his movements filled with concern. Her eyes were red and swollen, her face pale and drained of its usual fire.

Without saying a word, he grabbed a pillow and adjusted it behind her, then sat down beside her, his gaze never leaving her. Drishti looked fragile, as if one wrong word could shatter her all over again.

She turned towards him, her eyes searching his for something—comfort, assurance, maybe just a moment of peace. He didn’t know exactly what she was looking for, but he knew he wanted to give it to her. Rakshit wrapped his arm around her, pulling her close, letting her rest her head on his chest. The steady beat of his heart was a quiet reminder that he was there, with her, for her.

As Drishti nestled into him, he could feel the tension in her body slowly begin to ease. She was still trembling slightly, her breath uneven, but the warmth of his embrace seemed to calm her.

"Mr. Shergill... you'll never leave me, right?" She asked, her voice slightly drained yet it held a hint of hope.

Rakshit tightened his hold, his hand gently running through her damp hair, an attempt to soothe her frazzled nerves as he replied, "Never, Mrs. Shergill. I'm always here, always."

Minutes passed in silence, the only sound in the room was their breathing gradually syncing. Drishti’s grip on his shirt loosened, her body finally giving in to the overwhelming fatigue. Rakshit felt her breathing slow down, becoming deeper and more regular, a sign that she was finally drifting into sleep.

But Rakshit couldn’t close his eyes just yet. He watched her, his own mind racing with thoughts and feelings he wasn’t accustomed to. There was a fierce protectiveness that surged within him, a need to shield her from whatever had caused her so much pain. The woman in his arms wasn’t just his wife by name; she was someone who had, unknowingly, carved a place in his heart.

He suddenly gritted his teeth, the anger finally taking over him as her shattered state played infront of his eyes back to back.

"Whoever tried to bring harm to my wife, Drishti Rakshit Shergill, prepare yourself. I'll ensure you suffer a fate worse than death." He spoke, his words cold and emotionless.

He gazed at her and felt a strange sense of peace as she slept in his arms, as if holding her like this made the world outside their room less chaotic, less threatening. Rakshit knew that whatever storm they were facing, they would have to face it together.

As the night deepened, Rakshit finally allowed himself to close his eyes, his cheek resting lightly against the top of Drishti’s head. Her presence, her warmth, gave him a sense of solace he hadn’t realized he needed. And as sleep began to pull him under, the last thought that crossed his mind was that, for the first time in a long while, he wasn’t alone.

Tonight, they had each other, and that was enough.