NEXT DAY

The early morning rays filtered through the curtains of the Shergill mansion, casting a soft glow across the room. Drishti stood in front of the large, ornate mirror in her room, trying to get ready for the Ganesh Chaturthi puja. Dressed in a vibrant yellow saree with a red border, she looked every bit the traditional bride, but there was one problem—her blouse’s buttons refused to cooperate.

"Ugh, of all days" Drishti muttered under her breath, her fingers fumbling with the tiny hooks at the back of her blouse. Despite her best efforts, the stubborn buttons remained unfastened, slipping out of her grip each time she tried to hook them. She felt a flush of frustration rise up in her cheeks. "Why does this always happen to me?" she whispered, biting her lower lip in annoyance.

Just then, she heard a rustle behind her, and before she could react, Rakshit stepped out from the closet area. He was shirtless, wearing only his tailored pants, and the sight made Drishti’s heart skip a beat. The lean muscles of his chest and arms flexed slightly as he moved, the morning light casting shadows that emphasized his toned physique. For a moment, she forgot to breathe, but then the reality of the situation struck her like a bolt.

Her eyes widened in shock, and she immediately turned her back to the mirror, pressing herself against the glass in a futile attempt to hide her unbuttoned blouse. "Mr. Shergill! Can’t you knock before entering?" she shouted, her voice laced with a mix of irritation and panic.

Rakshit stopped in his tracks, his lips curving into a knowing smirk as he took in the situation. He could see the flustered expression on her face, her wide eyes filled with a mixture of anger and embarrassment. His gaze dropped to her exposed back, where the buttons of her blouse remained stubbornly undone. His smirk deepened.

"Well, well" he drawled, his voice teasing and low as he slowly approached her. "Looks like someone’s having a bit of trouble, Mrs. Shergill. Need a hand?"

Drishti’s heart raced as he neared, her body instinctively tensing. "No, I don’t!" she snapped, her tone more defensive than she intended. "I can manage just fine on my own." But the quiver in her voice betrayed her uncertainty, and she knew he could sense it.

Rakshit ignored her protest, continuing to close the distance between them. He stopped just behind her, so close that she could feel the heat radiating from his body. His presence was overwhelming, his scent—a mix of sandalwood and fresh citrus—filling her senses. She pressed herself harder against the mirror, but there was nowhere to go.

His eyes met hers in the reflection, a playful glint in them as he leaned in, his breath warm against her ear. "Are you sure?" he murmured, his voice a seductive whisper that sent a shiver down her spine. "Because it seems to me like you could use some help."

Drishti’s heart pounded in her chest, her mind a chaotic mess. She wanted to push him away, to regain some semblance of control, but her body refused to cooperate. Instead, she stood frozen, her breaths coming in short, shallow bursts as his fingers gently touched the unbuttoned blouse.

"Mr. Shergill-" she tried to sound firm, but his name came out as a breathless plea. Her resolve was crumbling, and he knew it.

Rakshit didn’t wait for another word. With a slow, deliberate motion, he turned her around, positioning her back to him. The cold air brushed against her exposed skin, making her shiver involuntarily. She looked up into the mirror, meeting his gaze through the reflection. There was an intensity in his eyes that she couldn’t decipher—a mix of amusement, challenge, and something else that made her pulse quicken.

"Hold still" he instructed softly, his voice carrying a commanding yet gentle tone that sent another wave of shivers through her. Drishti didn’t move, her body tense as his fingers worked on the first button.

The moment his fingers brushed against her skin, she felt a jolt of electricity course through her. His touch was light, almost teasing, as he carefully hooked the button into place. Her breath hitched as his knuckles grazed her bare back, the simple act of fastening a button turning into something far more intimate.

Through the mirror, she watched him, her eyes flicking up to his face. Rakshit’s expression was focused, but there was a smug smile playing on his lips. His eyes met hers briefly, and the look he gave her was enough to make her knees weak.

One by one, he secured the buttons, each touch sending ripples of sensation through her. Drishti swallowed hard, trying to calm her racing heart, but it was impossible with him so close, his fingers dancing over her skin with practiced ease.

When he finished with the last button, he didn’t step back. Instead, he leaned in, his lips dangerously close to her ear. "Problem solved, Mrs. Shergill," he whispered, his voice dripping with satisfaction.

Drishti’s breath caught in her throat, and she managed to stammer out, "Th-thank you!" Her voice was barely above a whisper, her nerves getting the better of her. Without another word, she spun away from him, her cheeks burning with a deep blush.

She barely spared him a glance as she hurried out of the room, her feet practically flying across the floor. The entire encounter had left her flustered, her mind reeling from the unexpected intimacy of the moment. She could still feel the lingering warmth of his touch on her back, the echo of his words in her ears.

Rakshit watched her go, a victorious smile tugging at the corners of his lips. He could tell she was rattled, and that knowledge brought him a sense of satisfaction. There was something incredibly enticing about seeing Drishti—the ever-composed, sharp-tongued woman—so shaken and disoriented. It was a rare sight, and he savored it.

As the door closed behind her, he chuckled softly to himself, the sound low and filled with amusement. "Running away, Mrs. Shergill?" he murmured to the empty room. "Interesting."

With that, he turned back to the closet, a self-satisfied smirk still on his face as he reached for his kurta. The day was just beginning, and he had a feeling it was going to be an eventful one.

━━༻❁༺━━

The Shergill mansion buzzed with activity, The air was thick with the sweet scent of marigold garlands, mingling with the aroma of incense and steaming modaks, Ganesh’s favorite sweet. The mansion, always grand, now looked even more splendid, with intricately designed rangolis adorning the floors and twinkling fairy lights casting a warm, festive glow.

Drishti moved through the bustling halls, overseeing the final preparations. The saree, though modest, hugged her figure in just the right way, the red border contrasting beautifully with her radiant complexion. Her long hair was tied into a loose braid, adorned with fresh jasmine flowers that swayed gently as she walked.

As she bent down to adjust a garland near the entrance, she felt a pair of eyes on her. She turned, catching Rakshit’s reflection in the mirror. He stood across the hall, watching her with an unreadable expression. Dressed in a cream-colored kurta with gold embroidery, paired with a matching pajama, he looked every bit the regal, commanding presence he always was. But there was something softer in his gaze as it lingered on her a moment too long.

Drishti raised an eyebrow, pretending not to notice. "Enjoying the view, Mr. Shergill?" she called out without looking back, her voice laced with mockery.

Rakshit’s lips curled into a smirk as he sauntered over. "Just making sure everything is up to my standards, Mrs. Shergill. You know how particular I am."

She turned to face him, folding her arms. "Particular or just nitpicky?"

He chuckled, his eyes gleaming with amusement. "Depends on who you ask. But I have to admit, you’ve done a decent job with the decorations."

"Decent?" Drishti echoed, feigning offense. "You mean all this effort is just ‘decent’?"

Rakshit leaned in slightly, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. "Well, you could have added a little more flair to it. But then again, I suppose that’s too much to expect from you."

Drishti’s eyes narrowed, but before she could retort, Divya and Akshit entered the hall, both of them dressed to impress.

Divya wore a bright pink lehenga with delicate gold embroidery, her hair left loose in soft waves that framed her face. Akshit, in a deep blue sherwani with intricate silver patterns, looked equally striking. They exchanged playful glances as they walked over, clearly enjoying each other’s company.

Divya caught the tail end of Drishti and Rakshit’s exchange and grinned. "What are you two bickering about now?"

"Just Mr. Rakshit Shergill being his usual picky self," Drishti replied, rolling her eyes.

Rakshit shrugged nonchalantly. "I have high standards. Can you blame me?"

Akshit chuckled, giving his brother a knowing look. "You mean you have impossible standards."

Divya laughed, turning to Drishti. "I think you’ve done a wonderful job, Drishti. Don’t let him get to you."

"Oh, I don’t" Drishti replied with a sly smile. "I’m used to his impossible standards by now."

Rakshit shot her a look, one eyebrow raised. "Is that so? I think you secretly enjoy trying to meet them."

Drishti smirked, her eyes sparkling with mischief. "Or maybe I enjoy proving you wrong."

Before Rakshit could respond, Mahima’s voice echoed from the doorway, calling everyone to gather outside for the arrival of the Ganesh idol.

━━༻❁༺━━

The Shergill family assembled in the front courtyard, anticipation buzzing in the air as the sound of dhol and tasha grew louder. The procession was nearing, and the energy was contagious.

Mahima, resplendent in a green and gold saree, took charge, directing the final preparations as the idol arrived. Beautifully adorned with flowers and jewelry, the Ganesh idol was carried into the courtyard amidst claps and cheers from the family. The festive atmosphere was infectious, with everyone singing along to traditional songs.

Rakshit and Drishti stood side by side, their hands folded in prayer as the idol was placed on the altar. The moment was serene, but Rakshit couldn’t resist leaning in slightly and whispering, "I bet you didn’t get much sleep last night with all this planning."

Drishti kept her eyes closed, a small smile playing on her lips. "I’m more than capable of handling a little preparation, Mr. Shergill. Unlike some people who get cranky when they don’t get their eight hours."

Rakshit chuckled softly. "But I doubt you’re as unaffected as you pretend to be."

Drishti opened her eyes and glanced at him sideways. "You’d be surprised."

Akshit, overhearing their whispered exchange, nudged Divya and smirked. "Looks like the banter is never-ending with these two."

Divya smiled, watching the two of them. "It’s what keeps things interesting."

The family continued the rituals, their voices harmonizing as they sang the Ganesh aarti. Despite their constant teasing, there was an unspoken bond that was slowly starting to form between Drishti and Rakshit, even if neither of them was ready to admit it.

━━༻❁༺━━

The priest began the Ganesh Sthapana, the ritual to install the idol in its place for the festival’s duration. The family gathered in the puja room, where the idol sat on a beautifully decorated platform, surrounded by offerings of sweets, fruits, and flowers.

Drishti found herself standing beside Rakshit again, the proximity both comforting and unsettling. As the priest chanted the mantras, she closed her eyes, trying to focus on the prayers. But Rakshit’s presence was distracting—she could feel the warmth radiating from him, could sense his gaze on her from time to time.

"Having trouble focusing, Mrs. Shergill?" Rakshit murmured under his breath, just loud enough for her to hear.

Drishti barely suppressed a smile, keeping her eyes closed. "Not at all. But you seem a little too interested in what I’m doing."

"Just making sure you’re not slacking off" he replied smoothly.

She finally opened her eyes and glanced at him. "Well, maybe you should focus on your own prayers instead of worrying about me."

He chuckled, turning his attention back to the priest. "Fair enough."

Despite the light teasing, there was a sense of peace that settled over them as they participated in the rituals. For a brief moment, it felt like the world outside didn’t exist—no investigations, no secrets, just the warmth of family and tradition.

━━༻❁༺━━

After the puja, the family gathered in the dining hall to offer bhog (offering) to Ganpati Bappa. The modaks, surrounded by a variety of traditional sweets and savories, were placed before the idol.

As the prasad was distributed, Rakshit handed a plate to Drishti, their fingers brushing lightly. "Careful, Mrs. Shergill. You don’t want to drop it" he said, his tone teasing.

Drishti took the plate, her eyes narrowing playfully. "I think I can manage, but thanks for your concern."

"Just looking out for you" he replied with a smirk.

Nearby, Akshit handed a plate to Divya, who raised an eyebrow at him. "Are you going to tease me too, or do I get a break?"

Akshit grinned. "I think you can handle yourself just fine. But if you need help, you know where to find me."

Divya laughed, taking the prasad from him. "I’ll keep that in mind."

━━༻❁༺━━

As the day transitioned into evening, the Shergill family continued to celebrate with traditional music, games, and a lavish feast. The atmosphere was filled with laughter and joy, and for a while, Drishti allowed herself to relax and enjoy the festivities.

However, as the night grew darker and the family began to retire to their rooms, Drishti’s mind returned to the investigation. She knew she couldn’t let the day end without following up on the clues she had been piecing together.

Once everyone was asleep, Drishti quietly made her way through the darkened halls of the Shergill mansion. Her heart pounded in her chest as she approached Tejashri’s room. The door creaked softly as she pushed it open, and she paused, holding her breath. The room was bathed in the soft glow of a night lamp, casting shadows on the walls.

Tejashri lay asleep on her bed, her breathing deep and even. Drishti hesitated for a moment, her gaze flickering to the peaceful expression on Tejashri’s face. But she couldn’t let sympathy weaken her resolve. Drishti had to find out the truth.

She slipped into the room silently, moving towards the large wooden cupboard that stood against the wall. The cupboard doors groaned as she opened them, but Drishti moved quickly, sifting through the neatly arranged clothes and belongings. She searched for anything that might be out of place—a hidden compartment, a locked box—but found nothing at first glance.

Then, her fingers brushed against something at the back of the cupboard. Drishti carefully pushed the clothes aside, revealing a small stack of old documents tied together with a faded red ribbon. Her heart raced as she pulled the bundle out and quietly closed the cupboard door.

With one last glance at Tejashri to ensure she was still asleep, Drishti quickly exited the room and made her way to her own bedroom. The moment she was behind the closed door, she exhaled deeply, her hands trembling slightly from the adrenaline.

She sat on the bed, the bundle of documents on her lap. With shaking hands, she untied the ribbon and began to sift through the papers. The documents were old, some yellowed with age, and many were legal papers and property deeds that appeared to belong to the Shergill family.

But then, her eyes fell on a letter—one that was different from the rest. It was handwritten, the ink slightly smudged with age. As Drishti read the contents, her blood ran cold. The letter was addressed to Tejashri and mentioned a planned attack, referencing the fire that had claimed the lives of Drishti’s father and sister.

The realization hit her like a ton of bricks—Tejashri had been involved in her family’s death. Tears welled up in Drishti’s eyes, but she quickly blinked them away. There was no time for tears, no time for sorrow. She needed to gather all the evidence she could and figure out how to confront Tejashri without putting herself in danger.

With a newfound determination, Drishti carefully tucked the documents back into the bundle, tying the ribbon once more. She would hide them in a safe place until she was ready to reveal the truth. As she prepared to face whatever lay ahead, Drishti knew that the path to justice would be fraught with danger, but she was ready to walk it—no matter the cost.

━━༻❁༺━━

HER ROOM

Drishti sat on the bed, her mind swirling with the new clues she had uncovered. The old documents in her hands felt heavier than their actual weight, filled with dark secrets that had the potential to shatter everything she knew. She carefully tucked them away as the door to the bedroom creaked open. Rakshit walked in, his expression weary, the stress of the day evident in the way he moved.

He had changed out of his traditional attire, now dressed in a simple t-shirt and trousers, the casualness of his outfit a stark contrast to the tension in the room. His eyes met Drishti's briefly before he walked over and sat down on the edge of the bed with a sigh, rubbing the back of his neck.

Drishti took a deep breath, steeling herself for what she was about to do. She turned to face him, her back against the headboard. The words she had been holding back for so long were finally ready to spill out.

“I need to talk to you about something,” she said quietly, her voice barely above a whisper.

Rakshit’s tired eyes flickered with curiosity and something else—perhaps apprehension. “What is it?” he asked, though there was a note of wariness in his tone.

Drishti hesitated, gathering her courage. “Well... that day when I accused you of being a kill—"

He cut her off sharply, his voice suddenly cold. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

“Please, listen to me—” Drishti tried again, but before she could finish, Rakshit moved towards her with deliberate speed. In a swift motion, he pinned her to the headboard, his hands on either side of her, his face inches from hers. His eyes, usually so composed, were filled with a mix of anger and hurt that took her breath away.

“What should I listen to?” he demanded, his voice low and dangerous. “The way you accused me? The way you made me feel like a disgusting person? You labeled me as a killer, taunted me, and pushed me away for God knows what. What should I actually listen to, Mrs. Shergill?”

Drishti met his gaze, her heart aching at the pain she saw in his eyes. “I had my reasons... please, just listen to me” she pleaded, her voice cracking.

Rakshit’s expression hardened. He pulled back, standing up abruptly. “I’ve heard enough, Drishti” he said, his voice filled with finality as he turned to leave.

But Drishti wasn’t ready to let him go. She quickly reached out and grabbed his hand, holding on tight. “Wait” she said firmly, pulling him back towards the bed. “You need to see this.”

“What are you doing—” Rakshit began, but she interrupted him by getting up and walking towards the drawer where she had hidden the evidence she’d gathered. She pulled out the files, the journal, the photo of the knife she had discovered in his secret safe, and the locket she had found. She laid them out on the bed in front of him.

Rakshit’s eyes narrowed as he looked at the items. “How did you get all this?” he asked, his voice tight with tension.

Drishti sat back down, her hands trembling slightly as she began to explain. “I thought you were the one who killed my mother and family. When I found these things... I was sure of it. But then, as I started to examine them closely, I noticed something strange. Some of the notes attached to the files looked fresh, like someone had added them later to make it look like you were guilty. Someone did this deliberately to frame you.”

Rakshit stared at her in silence, his anger slowly giving way to confusion. “Why would someone do that? Why would anyone go to such lengths to make you think I was the killer?”

Drishti’s eyes filled with unshed tears as she lowered her gaze. “Because they wanted to destroy me... by making me destroy you” she whispered. She took a deep breath, knowing that the time had come to reveal her past, the nightmare that had haunted her for so long. Rakshit needed to understand why she had been so desperate, why she had jumped to conclusions that had nearly torn them apart.

“What happened to you, Mrs. Shergill?” Rakshit asked softly, sitting down beside her again, his anger now replaced with concern.

She looked at him, her voice trembling as she began to recount the story that had been buried in her heart for years. “I was only nine years old when it happened” she started, her voice thick with emotion. “It was my younger sister’s birthday... Srishti... We had such a lovely day, filled with laughter and joy. We went to bed that night, exhausted but happy.”

Drishti paused, closing her eyes as the memories came flooding back. “It was around 3 AM when a loud banging on the door woke us up. My father... he knew something was wrong. He told us to run, told us he would follow shortly. My mother and I ran towards the back door, but... but Srishti and my father didn’t make it out.”

Her voice cracked, and she swallowed hard before continuing. “People had surrounded the house. They set it on fire... and... and they burned them alive. I could hear their screams, their desperate cries for help... but there was nothing we could do. My mother... she held me back, stopped me from running to them.”

Rakshit’s face had gone pale, his eyes wide with shock. But he remained silent, allowing Drishti to continue, knowing that she needed to get this out.

“We ran towards the train station,” Drishti continued, her voice growing softer as she relived the horror. “My mother pushed me onto a train and told me to go far away from them. She was about to get on the train too, but... someone pulled her back. A person in all black, with their face hidden under a hood. I couldn’t see who it was... but they... they didn’t show her any mercy.”

Tears were streaming down her face now, but she pressed on. “She tried to fight them off, tried to get back to the train... but they were too strong. They... they stabbed her... over and over again. And I... I just stood there, watching, helpless. My mother told me not to get off the train, told me to run far away...”

She choked on her words, her body trembling as she remembered the last moments of her mother’s life. “The train started to move, and the person—whoever they were—tried to come after me. But my mother... even in her last moments, she held onto their leg, stopping them from reaching me. They... they kicked her, but she wouldn’t let go. And then... then they slit her throat.”

Rakshit’s breath caught in his throat, his heart breaking for the little girl who had witnessed such horror. He reached out, taking Drishti’s trembling hand in his, offering her silent comfort.

“The train sped away,” Drishti whispered, her voice barely audible now. “I watched as that person chased after it, but they couldn’t reach me. I watched my mother die, Mr. Shergill. I watched her die... and I couldn’t do anything to save her.”

The room was filled with a heavy silence, broken only by the sound of Drishti’s quiet sobs. Rakshit felt a deep sense of guilt for all the pain she had been carrying alone. He had seen her strength, her resolve, but now he understood the darkness that lay beneath it all.

“Drishti...” he began, his voice choked with emotion. “I’m so sorry. I can’t even begin to imagine—”

“No,” Drishti interrupted, wiping her tears. “I don’t want your pity, Mr. Shergill. I just want you to understand... why I did what I did. I was scared, confused... I didn’t know who to trust. And when I found those things, I just... I snapped.”

Rakshit pulled her into his arms, holding her close as she cried into his chest. “I understand” he murmured, pressing a gentle kiss to her hair. “I understand now.”

They stayed like that for a long moment, the weight of their shared pain binding them together in a way that nothing else could. Drishti had bared her soul, and in doing so, she had finally begun to heal.

“I promise you, Mrs. Shergill” Rakshit whispered, his voice filled with determination. “We will find out who did this to your family. And we will make them pay.”

Drishti nodded against his chest, feeling a small spark of hope in the midst of her sorrow. With Rakshit by her side, she knew that she wouldn’t have to face the darkness alone anymore. Together, they would seek justice for her family.

Rakshit was shook to the core. His anger softened slightly, replaced by a mix of regret and guilt for how he had treated her during those moments of misunderstanding.

Drishti, trying to hold back her tears, asked softly, "Do you trust me?"

Rakshit looked at her, his emotions in turmoil. He nodded slowly, his voice hoarse, "Yes, I do."

With a deep breath, Drishti walked over to her desk, picking up her laptop. She returned to Rakshit and sat beside him on the bed. "There's something I need to show you" she said, opening the laptop and typing quickly.

The screen displayed a folder she had labeled "Tejashri's Secrets." She opened a video file, and they both watched in silence as the footage played. It revealed the footage of that tragic night--- the night when Drishti lost her everything. It was blurred, yet good enough to figure out what was happening.

As the video ended, Rakshit was visibly shaken. "This... this can't be true. Tejashri Chachi wouldn’t do something like this."

Drishti shook her head, "I didn’t want to believe it either, but there’s more." She then pulled out the files she had taken from Tejashri’s cupboard. She handed Rakshit a letter, its contents incriminating, suggesting a deep involvement in something sinister.

Rakshit’s face hardened as he read the letter. "This doesn't make sense" he muttered, but there was a flicker of doubt in his eyes.

Drishti spoke up, her voice determined, "I’m starting to think she’s involved in all of this, Mr. Shergill. There are too many coincidences, too many signs pointing towards her."

Rakshit looked at Drishti, the struggle evident on his face. Finally, he sighed, "We need to find out the truth together."

Drishti nodded, feeling a sense of relief that they were finally on the same page. "But there’s something else I need to understand," she said, picking up the journal she had found in Rakshit’s office. "You mentioned transactions, money transfers... What were you investigating?"

Rakshit leaned back, his expression darkening as he recalled his past. "When I was 13, my father suddenly went missing" he began, his voice filled with a mixture of bitterness and sadness. "My mother told me he had an affair and left us for another woman. She even showed me a letter he supposedly wrote, saying he was done with us."

Drishti listened intently, her heart aching for him. She had never seen this side of Rakshit before—the vulnerable boy who had been abandoned.

"But I never believed it" Rakshit continued. "I was too young to understand everything, but I knew something was off. After I turned 20, I secretly hired detectives to look into his disappearance. For four years, they found nothing. No trace, no leads... Eventually, I had to give up, but it never sat right with me."

Drishti reached out and touched his hand gently, encouraging him to continue.

Suddenly, something clicked in Rakshit’s mind. "Wait... Drishti, do you have a picture of your mother?"

Drishti nodded, quickly finding an old photo on her phone and showing it to him. Rakshit’s face went pale as he stared at the image.

"I’ve seen her before" he said, almost in a whisper. "Two days before my father disappeared... I saw him with your mother."

Drishti’s eyes widened in shock. "When exactly was this?" she asked, her voice trembling.

Rakshit provided the date, and Drishti gasped, her hand flying to her mouth. "That’s three days before my family was attacked... It’s all connected."

The realization hit them both like a ton of bricks. Everything—Rakshit’s father’s disappearance, Drishti’s family’s murder—it was all part of a larger, more sinister plot.

They looked at each other, the gravity of the situation weighing heavily on their shoulders. For the first time, they were united not just by their marriage, but by a shared purpose.

"We need to find out who did this" Rakshit said, his voice firm.

"Together" Drishti added, her eyes blazing with determination.

They both nodded, silently vowing to uncover the truth and bring justice to their families. Whatever it took, they would face it together.

━━༻❁༺━━

AFTER A WHILE

After the heavy conversation, the room was filled with an awkward, tense silence. The earlier storm had finally arrived, and rain began to patter against the windows, its rhythmic sound the only thing breaking the quiet between them.

Drishti felt exhausted—not just physically, but emotionally as well. The weight of everything that had been said hung heavily in the air. She glanced at Rakshit, who was still standing by the window, his posture tense and his eyes lost in thought.

“Mr. Shergill” she said softly, trying to break through the thick tension. “It’s late... we should try to get some rest.”

Rakshit’s eyes flickered towards her, his expression unreadable. He didn’t respond immediately, but after a few moments, he nodded slightly, as if coming to some internal decision. He turned away from the window and began to walk towards the bed.

Drishti hesitated, feeling the awkwardness of the situation. Sleeping next to Rakshit had become second nature to her, yet tonight felt different. The vulnerability they had both shown, the raw emotions, had changed something between them. Still, there was no escaping the fact that they shared this room, this bed.

She moved to her side of the bed and quietly slipped under the covers, feeling the coolness of the sheets against her skin. She watched as Rakshit did the same, the bed dipping slightly under his weight as he settled in beside her.

For a long moment, neither of them moved. Drishti lay on her back, staring up at the ceiling, her mind still swirling with everything that had been said. The room felt strangely small, the silence between them both comforting and suffocating.

Finally, unable to take it anymore, Drishti turned onto her side, her back facing Rakshit. She closed her eyes, trying to will herself to sleep, but the tension in her body made it impossible to relax.

Rakshit remained still, though his mind was anything but quiet. He stared up at the ceiling, every word of their conversation replaying in his mind. He was aware of Drishti’s presence beside him, the slight distance between their bodies feeling like a chasm. He wanted to reach out, to hold her, to somehow make things right, but he couldn’t bring himself to do it.

Minutes passed in silence, the only sound the soft patter of rain against the window. Eventually, Rakshit shifted slightly, turning onto his side to face Drishti’s back. He could see the tension in her shoulders, the way she was holding herself so still. It tore at him, knowing that he was the cause of her distress.

Without thinking, he reached out, his hand hovering over her shoulder for a moment before he gently rested it there. Drishti stiffened at the contact, her breath catching in her throat. For a moment, neither of them moved, the air thick with unspoken words.

Then, slowly, Drishti relaxed under his touch. She didn’t turn around, didn’t say anything, but the slight easing of her posture was enough for Rakshit. He gently pulled her closer, his arm sliding around her waist as he brought her back against his chest.

Drishti’s breath hitched again, but she didn’t resist. Instead, she allowed herself to melt into his embrace, the warmth of his body seeping into her and easing some of the tension she had been holding onto.

“Goodnight, Mrs. Shergill” Rakshit murmured, his voice low and rough with emotion.

“Goodnight, Mr. Shergill” she whispered back, her voice barely audible.

They both closed their eyes, the steady rhythm of the rain lulling them into a tentative peace. Despite everything that had been said, despite the unresolved issues between them, they found a small comfort in each other’s presence. It wasn’t a resolution, but it was a start—a fragile truce in the midst of the storm.

And as the night wore on, the exhaustion finally took over, pulling them both into a restless, but much-needed sleep, still holding onto each other, as if afraid to let go.

They're in this together.