Seven days. Seven days of stifled sobs that echoed through the opulent but suffocating mansion.
Seven days of barely touched meals, the food a tasteless reminder of a life devoid of Vansh. Ridhima, a shell of her former self, sat curled up on the plush bed, staring at the rain lashing against the window.
Every drop mirrored the tears she couldn't seem to stop.
Suddenly, a flicker of movement outside caught her blurry vision. A figure, silhouetted against the storm, was scaling the wall with an agility that made her heart skip a beat. As the figure reached the window ledge, the moonlight bathed it in a silvery glow. It was Vansh.
He tapped gently on the glass, a worried smile playing on his lips. Relief washed over Ridhima, a wave so powerful it threatened to drown her.
Ignoring the chill of the night air and the bewildered protests of her still sleep-addled mind, she scrambled towards the window.
Her hands fumbled with the latch, a lifetime passing in those fleeting moments. With a click, the window swung open, and Vansh, rain-soaked but undeterred, clambered inside.
For a moment, they simply stared at each other, the storm outside a muted roar compared to the hurricane raging within them.
Then, without a word, Vansh crossed the room and enveloped her in a tight embrace. The warmth of his body, the familiar scent of his cologne, shattered the dam holding back a torrent of emotions.
Ridhima clung to him, burying her face in his chest. Tears, hot and unrestrained, flowed freely, soaking his shirt. He held her tighter, whispering reassurances into her hair, his voice a balm to her soul.
They stayed like that for a long time, a silent symphony of love and despair playing out in the dimly lit room. The weight of the separation, the fear of the unknown, the fierce determination to fight for their future – all of it mingled in that embrace.
Finally, Ridhima pulled back, wiping away her tears with the back of her hand. Her voice, raspy from disuse, was barely a whisper.
"Vansh," she breathed, her eyes searching his. "What are you doing here?"
He tucked a stray strand of hair behind her ear, his touch sending shivers down her spine. "Couldn't bear to be away any longer," he said, his voice thick with emotion. "Angre told me everything. I had to come to you."
A watery smile graced her lips. "But… how? At this time?"
Vansh grinned, a hint of mischief sparkling in his eyes. "Let's just say your window has a new admirer, one who isn't afraid of a little rain."
Ridhima rolled her eyes, a small laugh escaping her lips. It was the first genuine laughter she'd had in days.
In that moment, in the midst of uncertainty and turmoil, Vansh's presence was a beacon of hope, a testament to a love that refused to be contained by distance or walls. They may not have had the answers, but with him by her side, Ridhima knew they could face anything.
As the rain continued to lash outside, Ridhima snuggled closer to Vansh, his warmth chasing away the chill. The future was still uncertain, but for now, they had this stolen moment, a stolen night, a reminder that their love, like the storm outside, was a force to be reckoned with.
The storm outside began to lose its fury, the wind's howl replaced by a gentle patter. Inside the room, a different kind of warmth bloomed. Vansh, still holding Ridhima close, gently cupped her face, his thumbs wiping away any lingering tears.
"Tell me everything," he whispered, his voice a soothing balm.
Ridhima, leaning into his touch, poured out the story of her struggles – the arguments with her father, the stifling atmosphere of the mansion, the fear of losing him.
As she spoke, the dam holding back a week's worth of worries finally broke. Vansh listened patiently, his only interruptions gentle squeezes of her hand or a brush of his thumb across her cheek.
When she finished, a heavy silence descended upon them. The weight of the situation hadn't vanished, but sharing it with him had made it a little lighter.
"Vansh," she said finally, a flicker of doubt creeping into her voice, "I don't know how to convince him. He's so set on this… arranged marriage business deal."
Vansh met her gaze, his usually playful eyes burning with a steely resolve.
"We'll find a way, Ridhima. Together. We'll show him that love and business can coexist, that you are an asset, not a liability."
A spark of hope ignited in Ridhima's eyes. Maybe, just maybe, with Vansh by her side, they could find a solution, a compromise that would appease her father and allow them to be together.
The tension eased slightly, replaced by a newfound determination.
But the emotional toll of the week was undeniable. Vansh, noticing the fatigue etched on Ridhima's face, took charge.
"You need rest," he said gently, guiding her towards the bed. "We'll talk strategy in the morning, after you've had some sleep."
He carefully tucked her under the covers, the familiar touch sending a jolt of comfort through her.
"Don't worry," he murmured, leaning down to press a soft kiss on her forehead. "I'm here now. We'll get through this, together."
His words held a promise, a vow that resonated deep within her. As Vansh settled beside her, his arm wrapped around her protectively, Ridhima closed her eyes.
The storm outside had subsided, replaced by a quiet calm. In the warmth of his embrace, fear gave way to a fragile hope, a belief that their love, like the sun after a storm, would eventually break through the clouds.
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