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आकाश का सूनापन
मेरे तनहा मन में
पायल छनकाती
तुम आ जाओ जीवन में
सांसें देकर अपनी
संगीत अमर कर दो
संगीत अमर कर दो
मेरा गीत अमर कर दो।

जग ने छीना मुझसे
मुझे जो भी लगा प्यारा
जग ने छीना मुझसे
मुझे जो भी लगा प्यारा
सब जीता किए मुझसे
मैं हर दम ही हारा

तुम हार के दिल अपना
मेरी जीत अमर कर दो
तुम हार के दिल अपना
मेरी जीत अमर कर दो

होंठों से छू लो तुम
मेरा गीत अमर कर दो।
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"Noor Siddharth Singh Rajvardhan."

He tightened his grip on my shoulder slightly, pulling me closer just a little, then said, his words heavy with meaning,

"Yehi naam hai meri biwi ka."

The words felt heavier than they sounded. "Noor Siddharth Singh Rajvardhan." His voice echoed in my mind, sending a strange flutter to my chest. It wasn't the first time I'd heard my name tied to his, but hearing it from him-like this-felt different. His grip on my shoulder tightened slightly, grounding me, yet setting off an unfamiliar storm inside.

My heart skipped the way he said it-firm, certain. It made me feel... something I couldn't quite name. Butterflies. Warmth. A faint tremor in my fingers as I clutched the edge of my pallu. I looked at him, and for the first time, it felt like I truly belonged where I stood.

Sidharth ji's gaze shifted to me, just for a second. The weight of his eyes made my breath hitch. I looked up at him, and our eyes met-brief, but enough to make a shiver run through me. It felt as if that one moment spoke more than any word ever could. His eyes, intense and unwavering, made my skin erupt in goosebumps. I quickly looked down, breaking the contact, my heartbeat racing as if I'd been caught doing something I shouldn't.

Dadi, still leaning back on the sofa with a knowing smirk, said, "Bahurani se poocha maine. Unko bolne do."

(I asked my daughter-in-law. Let her speak.)

Before I could muster the courage to respond, Sidharth ji's hand dug slightly into my shoulder-not in a painful way, but enough to pull me closer, as if shielding me. His warmth seeped into my skin, his grip silently telling me, I'm here.

I glanced up at him again, my confusion and nervousness evident, but before I could find my voice, he spoke with an authority that silenced the room.

"Meri biwi bole ya main, baat barabar hai, Dadi."

(Whether my wife speaks or I do, it's the same, Dadi.)

The word biwi-his wife-sent a wave of emotions through me. My heart skipped, my cheeks warmed, and despite everything, a faint smile tugged at my lips. Butterflies danced wildly in my stomach. He wasn't just claiming me; he was standing for me. At that moment, I felt something deep, something undeniable, something I couldn't name but knew I could never ignore.

Dadi slowly stood up, her gaze still fixed on me. I couldn't look away; there was something about her presence that demanded attention. As she walked toward us, I noticed it-a small smile tugging at her lips. It wasn't there before, and somehow, it felt... reassuring.

Before I could process more, Sidharth ji leaned down suddenly, his hand leaving my shoulder. Following his lead, I quickly bent down, too, touching her feet again. This time, her hand rested gently on both our heads, warm and firm, as she blessed us.

"Khush raho. Tumhara joda hamesha salamat rahe."

(Stay happy. May your bond always remain strong.)

When Sidharth ji stood back up, his hand found mine instead of my shoulder. His grip wasn't too tight, but it sent warmth spreading through me, making my skin tingle. I kept my gaze down, suddenly hyper-aware of the room, of the eyes on us. A flower near my feet caught my attention, and I focused on it to calm my racing heart.

Dadi's voice broke through the moment.

"Bikul bete, Aapki biwi hai. Par aab meri bahurani kuch der ke liye de do. Jara inko haweli ghuma du. Aap apne dadaji ke sath baitho"

(Yes, son. She's your wife. But now give me my daughter In law for a few minutes. Let me give her a tour of this haveli. You sit with your grandfather.)

I didn't look up, but I felt Siddharth ji's eyes on me. The weight of his gaze made me lift my head for a fleeting moment, and there he was, nodding gently. It was as if he was silently saying, "I'm here."

His silent support made my chest feel warm again. I quickly looked down, feeling shy under his watchful eyes, but also comforted. For the first time, I felt truly... safe.

There was a pause. His hand lingered in mine for a moment longer, as if he hesitated to let go. Then, with reluctance, he released me. Dadi stepped closer, her hand reaching for mine.

"Chalo, bahurani," she said, her tone lighter now, almost kind.

(Come, daughter-in-law.)

I let her lead me, my mother-in-law following us. As we walked away, I could still feel his presence behind me, like a quiet strength I carried with me even as I left his side.
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The rain had stopped, leaving behind the fresh scent of wet earth. The afternoon sun was still high but already preparing to set, casting long shadows across the sprawling garden of the haveli. Dadi walked beside me, her steps steady and sure, as she pointed out various parts of the mansion, telling stories about its history. It was calm, peaceful even, until she suddenly turned toward me.

"Bilkul sahi kaha tumne, Aditi bahu," Dadi said, her voice filled with warmth. "Sidharth, betawa, sach mein badal rahe hain."

(You were absolutely right, Aditi. Siddharth, my son, is truly changing.)

Beside me, my mother-in-law, Aditi ji, smiled softly, pride evident in her expression. "Haan na, Maaji," she agreed, glancing at me with affection. "Mera Sidharth badal raha hai. Aur yeh sab meri bahu ka kamaal hai."
(Yes, Maaji. My Siddharth is changing. And it's all thanks to my daughter-in-law.)

The words hit me like a sudden gust of wind. I bit my lip, feeling my cheeks heat up. Butterflies fluttered in my stomach as their words echoed in my ears. I couldn't look up; my gaze remained fixed on the ground, my fingers clutching the edge of my dupatta. I could feel my heart skipping a beat at the mere mention of his name. Meri wajah se?

(Because of me?)

A soft but firm hand under my chin startled me. I blinked and looked up, finding Dadi's kind eyes gazing into mine.

"Jadugarni hai aapki bahu, Aditi," she said with a playful smirk.

(Your daughter-in-law is a magician, Aditi.)

Her words made my cheeks burn even more, and I could feel the heat spreading down my neck. I wanted to disappear, to hide from their amused glances, but I couldn't move.

"Bachpan se uski dactari ki padhayi tak dekha hai usko," Dadi continued, laughing heartily.

"Itna bawala kisi ke liye nahi hua mera pota."

(I've seen him since childhood through all his years of medical studies. He's never gone crazy like this for anyone before.)

My heart raced, pounding so hard it felt like it would burst. My cheeks burned even more, and my head dipped lower. I whispered the word to myself, as if testing it. "Bawala..."

(Crazy...)

A shy smile crept onto my face despite myself, and I clutched my pallu tighter, wishing I could vanish into the earth.
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The kitchen smelled of freshly brewed tea as I poured the steaming liquid into a pot. My hands worked mechanically, but my mind wandered elsewhere-to him. Sidharth ji hadn't eaten anything since morning. He didn't come for lunch and had it with Dadaji instead.

But what did he eat? Did he eat enough? Did he eat enough?

The worry bubbled within me, a feeling I couldn't quite shake off. My fingers trembled slightly as I reached for the cups, arranging them neatly on the tray.

Just then, Veer bhaiya walked into the kitchen, his usual warm smile lighting up his face.

"Bhabhi, aap yahan kya kar rahi hain?" he asked, stepping closer. (Sister-in-law, what are you doing here?)

I smiled and walked toward him, holding the tray. "Bhaiya, ek kaam karenge aap?" (Brother, will you do something for me?)

"Ji bhabhi, boliye," he replied instantly, his voice full of affection. (Yes, sister-in-law, tell me.)

"Yeh chai unko de aayein... ya bata dein ki woh kahan hain, hum khud de aati hai," I said, my voice soft but determined. (Please give this tea to him... or just tell me where he is, I'll take it myself.)

For a moment, Veer bhaiya paused, his expression shifting slightly. I looked at him, trying to decipher his thoughts, but his face remained unreadable. Finally, he spoke, his tone careful yet teasing.

"Bhabhi, mujhe lagta hai ki bhaiya abhi dadaji aur dadiji ke saath baat kar rahe hain," he explained.

"Dono ke kamre mein hain, aur mujhe nahi lagta ki abhi wahan jaana theek hoga. Koi kaam chal raha hoga, shaayad confidential baat ho."

(Sister-in-law, I think brother is currently talking to grandfather and grandmother. They're in their room, and I don't think it's a good idea to go there now. It might be something important, maybe confidential.)

His words made sense, and I nodded slowly, understanding the situation. "Theek hai, bhaiya. Aap de dijiye, par please unko zaroor de dena," I said earnestly, handing him the tray.

(Alright, brother. Please give it to him, but make sure he gets it.)

Veer bhaiya smiled and placed the cups onto a smaller tray for the household help. He called one of the staff and instructed him to take it to Dadaji and Dadiji's room where Sidharth Ji was.

Turning back to me with a teasing glint in his eyes, he grinned.

"Aapke inko chai chali gyi, bhabhi."

("Your brother-in-law has had the tea, sister-in-law.")

Before I could respond, he walked away with a chuckle, leaving me standing there, my cheeks flushed, and my heart racing. The warmth on my face refused to fade, and I bit my lip, trying to contain the shy smile that crept onto my lips. I looked down at the remaining tea, the butterflies in my stomach dancing more wildly than ever.
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The dining hall was filled with the clinking of utensils and quiet chatter, but my attention was elsewhere. The space beside me remained empty, and with every passing minute, my restlessness grew. Sidharth ji hadn't joined us for dinner yet.

Just then, a servant approached the table, his hesitant steps drawing everyone's attention.

"Sidharth Baba ne kaha unko bhook nahi hai," he announced before retreating.

(Siddharth sir said he's not hungry.)

A hushed silence followed, and I noticed how everyone's eyes instinctively turned toward Dadiji, their faces etched with worry.

But I couldn't focus on them. A frown settled on my brows as I thought of him-he hadn't eaten lunch properly either. What was he doing? Why wasn't he taking care of himself?

The knot of worry tightened in my chest, and I couldn't sit still any longer. Turning to Dadiji, I said softly yet firmly,

"Hum inko dekh ke aate hain."

(I'll go check on him.)

Dadiji glanced at me briefly, her expression unreadable before giving a slight nod. I didn't wait for further permission and quickly left the table, my heart pounding with concern.

The quiet corridors of the haveli felt endless as I made my way to our new room. The worry gnawed at me-what if he was unwell? Was he upset about something?

As I reached the door, I hesitated for a moment, my hand hovering over the handle. Gathering my courage, I pushed it open, stepping inside to find him.

I stepped inside, the dim light casting long shadows across the room. The air felt heavy, as though it carried the weight of something unspoken. My gaze immediately found him by the window, his back to me. He stood rigid, his hands buried deep in his pockets, staring out into the night as though it held answers to questions I couldn't fathom.

For a moment, I couldn't move. The confidence that had driven me here dissolved, replaced by an unsettling nervousness that gripped me like a cold wind. My hands twisted together, trembling slightly.

"Aap dinner nahi karenge?" I managed to say, my voice louder than I intended, but it still sounded so small in the vast silence of the room.

(Won't you have dinner?)

He turned slowly, as though pulled from a world far away. His blue eyes met mine, and I froze. They were red, rimmed with a rawness I couldn't place. Pain. That's what it was-an ache so deep it seemed to bleed from his very being.

His face was calm, serious as always, but there was a fragility in it now, like he was holding together pieces that were about to break. I stood there, rooted in place, unable to look away.

His silence weighed heavy, his gaze unreadable yet screaming of something buried, something he wasn't ready to let go of. And in that moment, I felt the sharp sting of restlessness. I couldn't understand the storm behind his eyes, but it was enough to make my heart twist painfully in my chest.

I didn't know what to say or do, so I just stood there, watching him, waiting for him to speak, to share something, anything. But the silence remained, and all I could hear was the faint echo of my heartbeat, the only sound in a room drowning in the weight of his unspoken agony.

I hesitated for a moment before stepping closer to him. My chest tightened at the sight. I swallowed hard, my voice trembling as I asked, "Kya hua aapko?"

(What happened to you?)

He didn't respond immediately, his silence wrapping around the room like a heavy fog. I stood there, waiting, unsure of how to reach him. Then, as if my voice had nudged him back to the present, he slowly turned his face, but his eyes stayed distant, looking anywhere but at me. He walked past me without meeting my gaze, his movements slow, deliberate.

He sat on the bed, the weight of his exhaustion sinking in with each movement. He pressed his fingers into his temples harder as he let out a quiet sigh, like it was all he could manage. he looked like a man carrying the weight of a world I couldn't see.

I could see the tension in his posture, the way his body refused to relax, and it made my heart ache.

Then, in a hoarse voice, he spoke, "Sir dard. Shayad bheeg jane se."

(Headache. Maybe from getting wet in the rain.)

His voice cracked, barely above a whisper, and it was clear that every word was an effort. My chest tightened even more, but I stayed silent, waiting for him to say more.

He looked away, his expression unreadable as he continued,

"Aap dinner kar lijiye. Mera mann nahi hai."

(You should eat dinner. I don't feel like it.)

His words sank into me, and suddenly, my own hunger seemed like a distant memory. The worry inside me overshadowed everything else.

I took a step closer, my hands trembling slightly, and without thinking, I left the room.

Downstairs, I found my mother-in-law in the kitchen, her hands busy with dinner preparations. I quickly said,

"Ma, Sidharth ji has a headache. Maybe from wetting under the rain. Can I have some mustard oil?"

She paused, her gaze softening as she looked at me. There was something comforting in the way she understood, her smile faint but warm. She then reached for a bowl and poured a little mustard oil into it.

"Yeh lo, beta. Aur suno, uska dhyan rakhna," she said gently, handing the bowl to me.

(Here, Noor. And listen, take care of him.)

Her words lingered in my mind as I nodded, murmuring a quick thank-you. I turned to leave, determination settling within me.

Noor stepped back into the room, the soft glow of the lamp flickering on the table beside the bed, casting long shadows across the space. The room felt darker now, the quiet more pronounced, as if the night itself had wrapped around them.

She paused for a moment at the door, her eyes landing on Sidharth. He wasn't lying down the usual way. He was resting in a position that seemed almost... careless, his legs still dangling off the edge, and his upper body lazily draped across the bed. His eyes were squint shut, almost as if he was trying to shut out the world.

She stood there for a second, her heart tightening, unsure of whether to disturb him. Then, she quietly stepped into the room and gently closed the door behind her. As she did, she noticed his head shift, his eyes finally meeting hers.

"Aap gayi nahi?" His hoarse voice reached Noor's ears. She stood they're frowning.

(You didn't want?)

Before she could think, she spoke up like it's the most common thing.

"Aapko aise chor ke hum kaise ja sakte hai"

(How can I go leaving you like this?)

Hearing her, for a moment, the world seemed to stop.

His gaze held something-a flash of emotion that Noor couldn't quite read-and before she could blink, he laid his head back on the bed, as if the words were too much for him.

Noor's steps grew more confident as she walked toward the foot of the bed, where his head rested. Her fingers nervously twisted the end of her saree's pallu, and her heart raced with each step. The confidence she had felt earlier seemed to fade, replaced by a nervous excitement.

As she sat down on the bed, she kept her back slightly against the headboard, her legs dangling down beside him. She took a deep breath, trying to steady herself. With trembling fingers, she scooped a bit of mustard oil into her hand. Her heart pounded louder as she hesitated for a moment. Her fingers twitched nervously, unsure of where to start.

Finally, with a soft breath, she touched his hair. The warmth of his scalp met her fingers, and the sensation sent a jolt through her. She could feel the heat of his body so close to hers, and it made her shy away just a little, her cheeks flushing. But she quickly regained herself and began massaging his scalp with slow, gentle movements.

She could feel his hair between her fingers, the slight tension in his body, and the softness of his skin. With each stroke, the chemistry between them seemed to intensify. The room was quiet, save for the faint sound of her breathing, as her nervousness mixed with something deeper, something unspoken. She didn't say anything, just focused on the task in front of her, but there was a warmth in her chest, an unexplainable connection.

His body, still so close to hers, seemed to melt under her touch, his breath evening out. Noor felt the shyness rise in her once more, but now, she didn't pull away. Instead, she continued, her hands moving with care, as if this small act could say everything her words couldn't.

In that moment, everything felt intimate. The soft glow of the lamp, the quiet between them, and the simple act of caring. It was everything Noor had hoped for, yet never expected. And with each soft touch, the distance between them seemed to shrink.

Noor continued massaging his scalp, her movements slow and unsure, her fingers grazing through his hair. The quiet between them stretched, but suddenly, she felt a shift. Sidharth's eyes opened, just a crack, and he looked up at her. Noor's hand faltered mid-motion, her heart racing. She wasn't sure what he was thinking.

Was he angry? Annoyed by her touch?

His face remained unreadable, those emotions still hidden behind the cool mask he wore.

For a moment, there was nothing but the sound of her breath and his soft exhale. Then, without a word, Sidharth's large hand moved to her thigh. It was a slow, deliberate touch, but it made her skin tingle. She barely had time to react before he shifted, pulling her dangling leg onto the bed. His hand gripped her leg with surprising force, she can feel his fingers over her saree, his fingers warm and sure. Noor's breath hitched, and a shiver ran down her spine as he adjusted himself, again on the bed like he didn't do anything.

With a calm, almost effortless motion, Siddharth slid his head onto her lap. Noor froze. She didn't know what to do. Her entire body went still, unsure, and yet, there was something about him-something commanding and intense-that made her feel like she couldn't move.

He laid there, his head resting on her lap, his eyes closed again, but his posture was all confidence. His body was strong and defined, every movement of his full of purpose. The way he settled there, as if the space between them didn't matter, made Noor's heart race even faster.

Still frozen, she looked down at him, her thoughts a jumble. Before she could even process what had happened, Sidharth took her hand gently, the one that had been resting beside him. He brought it to his head, pressing it softly against his hair again. The heat from his skin seeped into her fingertips, and she could feel the faint thrum of his pulse beneath her touch.

Noor's entire body felt like it was on fire, every nerve alert, as if this single touch had set something in motion. Sidharth's dominance, his quiet intensity, was like an unspoken command, and Noor couldn't help but follow.

She continued massaging his head, her breath shallow, her thoughts tangled with the emotions swirling around her. The chemistry between them was undeniable, thickening the air between them with every passing second. Sidharth's eyes remained closed, his expression unreadable, but his actions spoke volumes.

Noor's hand continued moving gently through his soft hair, the sensation of each strand slipping through her fingers, sending a rush of warmth through her chest. Her breath caught when she noticed the position she was in. Her gaze dropped involuntarily, and in that fleeting moment, her heart skipped.

Sidharth's face was inches away, his nose nearly brushing against her chest, the closeness making the air around them feel thick with tension. She wasn't sure whether to be more embarrassed or mesmerized, but she couldn't stop herself from continuing to massage his head.

The intimacy of the moment was undeniable, and Noor felt the intensity rising. She had never been so close to him before, not in this way, and every touch felt electric. Her fingers moved in slow, deliberate circles on his scalp, feeling the soft strands of his hair as they slid through her hands. She had always wanted to touch his hair, but now, with the closeness, it felt like her fingers were dancing with his essence, drawing them both into a private world of their own.

As she continued, she noticed his face slowly relaxing under her touch. His furrowed brows softened, and his lips, which had been set in a tight line, eased into a more neutral expression. The tension in his body seemed to melt away, and Noor couldn't help but feel a sense of relief. He was letting go, even if just for a moment, and she, too, felt a bit of that weight lift from her.

For a brief second, she looked away, her eyes drifting to the window. The quiet of the room, broken only by the sound of her soft motions and Sidharth's calm breathing, made the moment feel like it was suspended in time. She had never been this close to him, not physically, and certainly not emotionally. But before she could fully lose herself in the stillness, his voice broke through the silence.

"Noor," he said, his voice low and thick, drawing her attention instantly.

She looked down at him, finding his dark, intense eyes staring up at her, locked onto hers. His gaze was no longer clouded with the redness it had before. Now, they were deep, dark pools of mystery and desire. Noor's heartbeat quickened as she felt his eyes sweep over her, feeling like they were seeing right through her.

"Aap comfortable hai?" His words were slow and deliberate, the way he said her name, making it sound almost like a question meant for only her. There was something irresistibly sexy about the way he spoke, the deep rumble in his voice making it seem like he was asking something more than just her physical comfort.

(Are you comfortable?)

Noor blinked, taken aback for a moment. She wasn't sure what he meant. Was he asking about the way his head rested on her lap? Was he talking about their closeness? Unsure, she stumbled over her words.

"Ji...ji, I am... comfortable," she managed, feeling a warmth spread through her body, her face flushed.

Sidharth gave a low, almost approving hum, his eyes never leaving hers. The sound was enough to make her stomach flip. And then, before Noor could process the intensity of his gaze, he shifted suddenly, his body moving in a swift motion. Her breath caught in her throat as he lifted his hand and, without warning, gently pulled the edge of her saree that draped over her stomach.

Noor froze, not fully understanding what was happening, but before she could react, Sidharth had lifted the fabric and tucked his face into the soft curve of her stomach, nuzzling against her skin.

He hid his face in her soft stomach, his warm breath brushing against her, making her pulse race. His actions were tender, but they carried an underlying intensity that made Noor's heart thud loudly in her chest.

He then placed the saree over his head, like a shield, hiding his face in her lap, taking in her warmth as if she were his safe place. Noor stayed completely still, unsure of how to react, her body frozen in place. Her heart raced at the sudden shift in their connection, the chemistry between them exploding to the surface. The moment felt charged with something undeniable, something raw and real.

Sidharth's actions had left her breathless, and though she was still in shock, there was a softness in his movements that told her he was seeking comfort, a need for connection that was deeper than words. She couldn't deny the magnetic pull she felt between them, nor could she escape the warmth, flooding her body at the sheer intimacy of it all.

For the first time, Noor realized that the line between comfort and desire was thinner than she had ever imagined. And as Sidharth rested there, his head nestled in her lap, her mind spun with thoughts of him, of this moment, of what might come next.

Noor's heart raced as Sidharth shifted again, this time moving more comfortably on her lap. His nose and lips grazed her bare stomach, sending a wave of heat through her entire body. She could feel the soft press of his skin, and with each gentle movement, her chest tightened, her heart skipping a beat. Every little touch made her feel butterflies in her stomach-like he had the power to make her entire world slow down with just his presence.

His arm, strong yet gentle, wrapped around her waist, drawing her closer. She gasped softly as his touch sent warmth spiraling through her. She could feel the firmness of his muscles beneath the cloth of his shirt, his strength hidden in his subtle, controlled movements. It was as though he were pulling her into his space, a quiet, magnetic force that made her want to stay there, to never leave.

The heat of his body, pressed so closely against hers, stirred something deep inside her. Sidharth's lips brushed against her stomach again, and this time, Noor's breath caught in her throat. Her body responded instinctively-her pulse quickening, her skin tingling from the heat that seemed to emanate from him. Every movement felt slow and deliberate, like he was savoring the moment, taking his time with her, making her feel every inch of his touch.

He shifted again, his lips pressing against her skin with a tenderness that sent waves of warmth through her. Noor could feel the intensity of the moment, how his presence was overwhelming her, but in the best way possible. His actions were so deliberate, yet so natural, as if he had always known how to make her feel this way. The way his face nuzzled deeper into her stomach, as if he couldn't get close enough, made her heart race with something more-something she couldn't quite name.

She couldn't deny it anymore. Sidharth was incredibly attractive, his actions both commanding and gentle, each moment leaving her breathless. His touch, the way his fingers moved ever so slowly around her waist, felt like a soft promise-a promise of something more, something deeper. His hand, strong and yet tender, felt like it belonged there, making her feel safe, wanted, and desired all at once. She could feel his breath against her skin, each exhale a soft whisper of something that felt like it was both an invitation and a declaration.

Noor's cheeks flushed with warmth, and she stopped the butterflies -a nervous, excited reaction to how close they had become. The shyness in her was raw and real, and yet, she couldn't pull away. Not now. Not when every part of her seemed to crave more. She was no longer just sitting there; she was lost in the closeness of him, caught in the intensity of his gaze and the heat of his touch.

Then, his voice, deep and low, broke through her thoughts, as if he were pulling her from a trance. "Noor," he whispered, his words almost like a plea, "please continue."

The way he said her name, like it was
the most precious thing to him, made
her heart thud in her chest. It wasn't
just a request-it was a gentle
command wrapped in softness. Noor
blinked, her hand trembling as she
reached up to touch his hair, the
softness of it beneath her fingertips
making her feel even more connected
to him. She had always wanted to touch
his hair, to run her fingers through the
strands,- they always looked so beautiful & silky to her, but this was different. This
wasn't just curiosity-it was something
deeper, something she couldn't deny
anymore.

She pushed the pallu away from his
face a little, her fingers grazing his skin as she continued to massage his hair. The tenderness of her touch made him sigh softly, his body relaxing further into her lap.

His arms tightened slightly around
her waist, pulling her even closer, and
for a moment, Noor forgot to breathe.
His closeness, his strength, and the
way he seemed so entirely comfortable
in this shared space made her feel
vulnerable in the best way. Every small
movement felt intimate, like they were
sharing a secret, and she was the only
one allowed to be a part of it.

Noor felt the heat of his body seep into hers, the warmth from his skin against her stomach, making her feel alive in ways she never expected. Sidharth wasn't just a man who was close to her-he was a presence, a force that was so incredibly magnetic, so undeniable in his pull. She could feel every part of him, from the strength of his body to the softness of his touch.

It was as if his actions were meant to make her feel every inch of him, to slowly draw her in until she couldn't imagine being anywhere else.

And Noor couldn't help but respond to him. She felt her body relax into his, her hands continuing their soft massage of his hair, the slow burn of intimacy building between them.

Every little detail-his lips on her skin, his hands around her waist, the way he nuzzled into her stomach-made this moment feel like a dream, a beautiful, slow-burning dream she never wanted to wake up from.
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Noor stirred awake, her eyes fluttering open as she felt someone shaking her shoulder gently and calling her name. Blinking a few times, she found Sidharth leaning toward her, his hand resting lightly on her shoulder. For a moment, she felt disoriented, her mind still foggy with sleep. Where am I? she thought, her gaze darting around the unfamiliar room.

As her vision cleared, she focused on Sidharth's face. His expression was calm, but his posture had shifted as he straightened up. His hands slid into his pockets as he stood tall, watching her. Noor blinked up at him, her heart skipping a beat at his towering presence. She glanced down and realized she had fallen asleep on the bed while massaging his head. Heat crept up her cheeks as she quickly adjusted her saree, embarrassed by the realization.

Before she could say anything, Sidd
harth's voice, low and soft, broke the silence.

"Aapne dinner nahi kiya."

("You haven't had dinner.")

Noor looked up at him, her eyes locking with his for a brief moment. His tone wasn't demanding-it was almost caring, which made her chest tighten. Without thinking, she blurted out,

"Aapne bhi nahi kiya."

("You haven't either.")

The words hung in the air, and for a second, Sidharth froze. His lips curved into a faint smile, and Noor's heart stuttered at the sight. That smile-it was rare, subtle, and yet it had the power to leave her completely breathless.

"Hmm," he responded simply, his voice vibrating softly, before he turned away to leave.

But Noor, remembering his earlier headache, instinctively reached out and grabbed his wrist.

"Woh... aapka sir dard... aaram hai?" she asked hesitantly, her voice barely above a whisper.

("Your headache... is it better?")

Sidharth paused mid-step and looked down at her. His gaze shifted to where her hand was holding his wrist, then back to her face. Noor quickly let go, flustered by her boldness. Her fingers trembled as she pulled her hand back, her cheeks growing hotter with each passing second.

Sidharth didn't say anything at first, his dark eyes studying her intently. Then he gave a small nod, his gaze never leaving hers. "Better," he murmured, his voice deep, sending a shiver down her spine.

As she adjusted the blankets draped over her legs, Noor noticed Sidharth holding out his hand toward her. She hesitated, her eyes flicking between his outstretched hand and his face. There was a faint warmth in his expression, one that made her stomach flutter uncontrollably.

A soft smile curved her lips as she placed her hand in his. His grip was firm yet gentle, his touch igniting a strange, tingling sensation that spread through her arm. Sidharth helped her up from the bed, and Noor instinctively reached to fix her saree, smoothing the fabric at her waist while still holding his hand.

Without letting go, Sidharth led her to the center of the room. His presence was commanding, yet there was a quiet tenderness in the way he guided her. Standing in front of her, he said softly,

"Aap fresh ho jayiye. Maine house help ko dinner ke liye bol diya hai."

("Freshen up. I've asked the house help for dinner.")

Noor nodded, her heart thudding loudly in her chest. His voice was so composed, so firm, yet it carried a care that made her cheeks flush. She walked to the washroom, her steps quick and light, and closed the door behind her.

Inside, as she splashed cold water on her face, she couldn't help but smile. Sidharth had noticed she hadn't eaten. He cared enough to ensure she didn't go hungry-even though he hadn't eaten himself. Her heart warmed at the thought, and she bit her lip, trying to suppress the giddy feeling bubbling inside her.

When she stepped out of the washroom, she noticed a tray of food neatly placed on the small table in the room. Siddharth was sitting on one of the two chairs, his elbows resting on the armrests, his gaze lifting to meet hers as she entered.

The quiet intensity in his eyes made her pause. He stood up slowly, his movements deliberate as he walked toward her. Noor felt rooted to the spot, her breath hitching as he closed the distance between them.

When he stopped in front of her, he gently took her wrist in his hand. The warmth of his touch sent a spark coursing through her. Without a word, he led her to the table, his grip steady but unyielding.

Siddharth pulled out the chair and gestured for her to sit. Noor lowered herself into the seat, her fingers brushing against his for a fleeting moment as she adjusted her saree. Her heart raced wildly as he stood beside her for a moment, his presence overwhelming.

"Main lekar aata hoon."
("I'll bring it.")

Noor looked up at him, her eyes wide and questioning. But before she could say anything, Sidharth turned toward the tray, leaving her to wonder how this night had taken such a surprising, heart-fluttering turn.

Sidharth silently reached for the tray, his movements precise as he turned Noor's plate upright. He didn't bother with his own plate, leaving it facedown, and picked up a bowl to serve her. Noor's gaze flicked to him, her heart tightening as she noticed his actions. She bit her lip, hesitant yet resolute, and reached out.

Without meeting his eyes, she gently took the bowl from his hands. Her fingers brushed against his, the brief contact making her heart race. She didn't dare look up-if she did, she knew her courage would falter. Instead, she focused on the task, her fingers trembling slightly as she set the bowl down and turned his plate upright.

Sidharth's sharp gaze fell on her, and his voice broke the silence. It was calm but carried a weight that made her pause.
"Mujhe bhook nahi hai. Aap kha lijiye."

("I'm not hungry. You eat.")

Noor's hands stilled for a moment, her heartbeat thudding loudly in her ears. A lump rose in her throat, but she pushed it down. She knew she needed to act, to show him the care she'd been holding inside, even if it made her nervous. Drawing in a quiet breath, she gripped the bowl more securely and began serving food onto his plate.

Her hands moved deliberately, and her eyes focused on the bowl as if it were the only thing in the room. She didn't look at him-not once. If she did, she was sure she'd crumble under the intensity of his gaze. Her fingers trembled slightly, but she carried on, serving his plate first and then her own.

The silence in the room was deafening. The only sound was the soft clink of the spoon against the bowl. Her mind buzzed with a thousand thoughts, but somewhere beneath the nervousness, there was a faint flicker of hope. It was fragile yet steady, born from the small moments they'd shared in the past few days-moments that had shown her glimpses of something deeper.

As she placed the bowl back on the tray, her fingers brushing against her saree, she tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear, her cheeks warming at her own boldness Her heart was racing, each beat loud and uneven, but she didn't stop.

Sidharth's silence lingered, and for a moment, she feared he might walk away. But then, she heard it-the faint scrape of metal against porcelain. Her gaze shot up, and her breath hitched. He had picked up his spoon.

He wasn't arguing, wasn't refusing. Instead, he was eating, his movements quiet and composed. It wasn't a grand gesture, but to Noor, it felt monumental. He had surrendered-not with words, but with action.

A small smile played on her lips, soft and tentative. Her heart swelled with something unspoken, a quiet affirmation.

She lowered her gaze again, focusing on her plate as she picked up her own spoon. Her fingers still trembled slightly, but there was a new steadiness in her chest. She wasn't alone in this effort.

Across the table, Sidharth glanced at her briefly, his dark eyes unreadable. But there was a calmness in his demeanor, a quiet acceptance that matched her own.

The night stretched on in silence, but it wasn't empty. It was filled with quiet actions, shared spaces, and unspoken words that seemed to bridge the distance between them.

And as Noor took her first bite, she felt the flicker of hope grow a little stronger, a little brighter, filling the quiet room with its warmth.

Sidharth's gaze shifted to Noor's plate, and his brows furrowed. She was eating from the small portion she always served herself, and it annoyed him. Every time, it was the same-barely enough to satisfy him.

His jaw tightened as he thought about how she needed to eat more. She was beautiful, undoubtedly, with the most perfect curves he could ever imagine, but still, she was too delicate in his eyes. She needed to gain more strength, to have more meat on her bones.

The thought came unbidden. Next time, I'll serve her plate myself. I'll fill it to my satisfaction, and she'll eat it all. She has to.

He looked back at his own plate, a small smile tugging at his lips, which he didn't even try hiding. His heart felt warm in a way he hadn't expected. The way she had quietly served his plate, without minding his protests, without fearing his reaction-it didn't make him angry. It didn't bother him. Instead, it stirred something deeper.

It made him feel special. Loved. Different.

The way she claimed her right over him-so silently - so firmly-it caught him off guard. It wasn't defiance; it was something softer, something that seeped into his chest and made him pause. She hadn't waited for his permission. She hadn't cared what he wanted. She'd simply acted on what she thought was right for her husband, for him.

He wasn't used to that.

He wasn't in the mood to eat. Not in this room. Not on this place, This place-its walls, its air-it suffocated him. The memories tied to it made him nauseous, making his stomach churn. This house never brought him peace, only reminders of things he'd rather forget.

But tonight, something was different. When Noor had served his plate, something shifted. He didn't surrender because he wanted to eat or because he felt compelled. No, he surrendered because of her.

Because she claimed her right as his wife, and he wasn't someone who could deny her that.

No matter how big my luxury is or how small her wish is, it will always be my wife, her wishes & her comfort over me. Always.

The thought settled deep in his chest, unwavering.

He looked at her again, his dark eyes tracing her face. She wasn't looking at him-her focus was on her plate, but he could see the faint tremble in her fingers as she held the spoon. Her lips were pressed together, a mix of nervousness and quiet determination.

His gaze darkened, his emotions surging. His heart beat faster as he watched her, feeling the quiet power she held over him. She didn't even realize it, but she had him completely.

Something raw and possessive flickered in his expression, but he kept it controlled, letting it simmer beneath the surface. He wouldn't say it out loud, not yet. But it was there, in the way his eyes lingered on her, in the way his chest tightened.

She was his.

And she didn't even need to try.
________________________________________

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