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है तेरी चाहत मेरी ज़रूरत
सूनी है तुझ बिन दुनिया मेरी
ना रह सकूँगा मैं दूर इनसे
है मेरी जन्नत गलियाँ तेरी

उम्मीद ये सीने में लेकर मैं हूँ जी रहा
कभी तू मिले कहे मुझसे कि मैं हूँ तेरा

तू ही मेरा मेरा मेरा

तू है किस्मत, तू ही है रहमत
तुझसे ही जुड़ी है मेरी हर खुशी
तू ही मोहब्बत, तू है राहत
लगती भली है तेरी सादगी
पाता हूँ खुद को तेरे बिना तन्हा
मुझे थाम ले, मुझे रोक ले
भटका हूँ मैं भटका

तू ही मेरा मेरा मेरा
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The morning sunlight filtered through the sheer curtains, warm and golden, painting gentle patterns on the walls. The world outside seemed hushed, as if nature itself held its breath to savor this moment. The rain from last night had left its mark-leaves glistening with tiny jewels of water, the faint scent of damp earth wafting in with the breeze.

But for me, the world was inside this room, framed by the four walls that held her presence.

I lay still on the bed, my head resting on my arm, my eyes fixed on the bathroom door. I'd done this countless times-pretending to bebasleep. But the truth was, I waited for her. It was as if the day itself wouldn't begin until she stepped out.

The door creaked open, and she emerged like a soft whisper of dawn. Her saree clung to her in a way that only accentuated the grace she carried effortlessly. She was adjusting the pallu over her shoulder, her fingers delicate but purposeful. Her wet hair, darker near the roots and fading into soft brown curls at the ends, fell loosely down her back. She rarely left it open, and I never understood why. Her hair was like the last light of sunset-warm, soft, and mesmerizing.

A single strand clung stubbornly to her cheek, kissed by a stray droplet of water. She tucked it behind her ear with a slight frown, oblivious to how even that small gesture held my attention. My eyes traced every movement-how her bangles jingled softly as her hand moved, how the damp hem of her saree brushed against her ankles as she walked.

She moved to the mirror, standing with the natural elegance that seemed effortless for her. Her fingers swept through her hair, gathering the wet strands and pushing them back. Tiny droplets scattered in the air, catching the light like they were made of gold. A few landed on my face, cool and fleeting, but they left a warmth I couldn't explain.

I closed my eyes for a second.

Her reflection in the mirror was enough to make me forget everything else. Her eyes, a deep shade of brown that seemed to hold the secrets of the world, glanced at herself briefly, as if even she was unsure of the beauty she possessed. She adjusted her bindi, the smallest, simplest act, yet it was enough to make my heart ache.

I'd never seen anyone like her, nor did I ever want to. There was something about my Noor-something in the way she existed, unaware of the effect she had on the world around her. On me. She wasn't just beautiful; she was alive. She was the storm after the calm, the first light after the rain, and the only thing I wanted to look at for the rest of my life.

She was my peace after my Strom.

I didn't know if this was love, or obsession, or something I didn't yet have a name for. All I knew was that I never wanted to stop feeling this way.

Her every breath, every step, every flicker of her eyes-it was mine to remember, mine to admire, even if she'd never know.

The droplet on my cheek lingered, cool against my skin, but it burned like her touch. I didn't move to wipe it away. It was hers-something of her left on me-and I wanted to feel it for as long as it lasted.

She stood by the dresser now, the faint rustle of her saree filling the silence. Her hands reached for the sindoor box her fingers careful as if cradling something precious. She opened it with a light click, dipping the tip of her finger into the vivid red powder. The moment she touched it to the parting in her hair, the transformation was undeniable-she became someone more. A woman bound, claimed, yet radiant in her own right.

(Vermillion box)

Her eyes flickered to the mangalsutra, lying on the wooden surface. My gaze followed hers as she picked it up, the delicate chain catching the morning light. She slipped it around her neck, her movements deliberate, and for a fleeting second, my chest tightened. That chain-a symbol of us, of this bond-rested against her skin, and I wondered if it felt as warm against her as it did in my thoughts.

(Nupital chain)

She reached for the small bottle of moisturizer next, pouring a bit into her palm and spreading it gently over her face and hands. Her movements were slow, unhurried, as if this ritual was a source of comfort, a moment of indulgence. I knew this about her-her love for these little details. The scent of her body lotion had lingered in the bathroom earlier, faint but unmistakable. It was her-soft, soothing, and undeniably alluring.

I found myself smiling faintly, watching her relish these moments of getting ready. This was her joy, her little world, and I was a silent witness to it.

She reached for the kajal next, twisting the tube open with practiced ease. She leaned closer to the mirror, her fingers steady as she traced a thin, perfect line along her lower lash. Then came the lipstick-a soft shade that seemed to kiss her lips before I will.

(Khol)

And then she picked up the waist chain. My breath hitched, my focus narrowing as if the world had stilled. She lifted her pallu slightly, revealing the curve of her waist, bare and smooth, the faintest hint of softness tempting the eye. She fastened the chain with precision, her fingers brushing her skin as if unaware of the effect it might have.

The chain settled low, the tiny charms at the end swaying gently before resting against her. My throat tightened, and I sucked in a breath, sharp and unsteady. I felt my hand curl into a fist at my side, the memory of her waist under my palm a moment ago still fresh. The thought hit me hard-of feeling that cold metal against her warm skin, of tracing the line where the two met.

She adjusted the chain slightly, letting it sit just right, and turned back to the mirror. My gaze remained fixed, following every movement, every detail, like a man possessed. The chain's soft jingle was like a melody I wanted to memorize.

And when she finally turned away, the chain resting snugly on her waist, it felt like she had taken a part of me with her. My chest ached with the desire to reach out, to touch, to feel that warmth again. But I stayed rooted, my thoughts louder than ever.

She had no idea what she was doing to me-how her every gesture, every small act, was enough to unravel me.

The moment my Noor turned around, I shut my eyes, feigning sleep as quickly as my instincts allowed. My heart raced in anticipation, and my breaths slowed, deliberately even, as if trying to convince the silence that I truly was asleep.

The soft sound of her payal filled the room, a delicate chime that made me ache for more. It wasn't just a sound-it was her presence, weaving its way through my senses, unshakable and mesmerizing.

(Anklet)

Is she picking out my clothes? The thought struck me like lightning, sending a wild thrum through my chest. She used to do it-quietly, thoughtfully, as if it were her little way of taking care of me. I waited, every second stretched impossibly thin, my body frozen with the hope that she might return to that gesture.

And then, I felt it. Her presence near me. Too near. My breath caught as her shadow hovered over me, closer than it had been in days, maybe weeks.

Her hand grazed my hair-soft, tentative, like she was treading on sacred ground. The warmth of her touch seeped into my scalp, and I struggled not to shudder under her fingers. I felt her breath next, gentle against my skin, carrying the faint scent of sandalwood and jasmine that had become hers over time.

She leaned in closer. My heart pounded so loudly that I thought it would give me away. And then, her whisper came, soft and fleeting, brushing against my ear like a stolen secret.

"Good morning, Sidharth ji."

Her voice was honeyed, sweet yet elusive, disappearing as quickly as it had come. Before I could register the full weight of her words, she was gone, darting out of the room like a sparrow escaping the dawn.

I opened my eyes slowly, savoring the faint echo of her presence. The room felt emptier without her, yet it was full of her lingering essence. A smile spread across my lips-a genuine, unguarded one that I hadn't felt in what seemed like ages. I took a deep breath, the faint scent she left behind, filling my lungs and settling deep in my chest.

This morning, I thought, is a good one.

For a moment, I stayed there, basking in the afterglow of her fleeting closeness. But soon, I pushed myself up from the bed. The day awaited.

Dropping to the floor, I braced my hands on the ground and began a set of push-ups. The rhythm of movement steadied me, burning away the remnants of my restless thoughts. My muscles tensed and flexed with each descent, and I caught a glance of myself in the mirror. Strong, composed, disciplined-yet one glance from her had me undone.

Shaking off the thought, I rose and headed to the bathroom. The warm water cascaded over me as I showered, washing away the night but leaving her memory intact. My fingers brushed through my hair, and I caught the reflection of my body in the fogged mirror-broad shoulders, taut muscles, strength etched into every line. A fleeting smirk played on my lips.

I stepped out of the washroom, the towel slung low on my waist, and dropped off water trailing down my chest. The air in the room felt cooler against my damp skin, but there was a warmth inside me I couldn't shake, a warmth that carried a hint of longing-aching, unrelenting longing. My eyes instinctively moved to the small table near the wardrobe.

It was empty.

Noor hadn't laid out my clothes.

A flicker of frustration burned in my chest, but it wasn't directed at her. No, it was at myself. I clenched my jaw, the weight of her absence in this small, seemingly insignificant detail pressing down on me harder than I cared to admit. She used to do this for me, day after day, with a quiet devotion that I had taken for granted.

I had brushed it off, even avoided the clothes she'd picked for me, stubbornly choosing my own just to make some point that didn't matter anymore. And now? Now, I wanted her presence in every small thing. In my clothes. In my mornings. In my life.

The irony wasn't lost on me.

I sighed, running a hand through my damp hair as frustration simmered beneath the surface. My chest felt tight as the regret sank deeper. She'd stopped because of me, and now all I wanted was for her to resume it. I wanted her to take over everything, to embed herself in the corners of my existence where even I couldn't reach.

Walking toward the door, I pulled it open and glanced into the hallway. A servant was cleaning the floor, his back to me.

"Noor ji ko bulao," I said, my voice low but commanding.

(Call Noor here.)

The servant stiffened before nodding quickly and scurrying off. I lingered at the doorway for a moment, leaning against the frame, my hand pressed against my neck. A dull ache spread from my heart to my entire being, refusing to subside.

Stepping back into the room, I caught sight of the table again, still bare, as though mocking me. A deep sigh escaped my lips as I turned toward the mirror. My reflection stared back at me-a man who had once been indifferent, even cold, now standing bare, stripped of everything but the weight of his emotions.

Yesterday flashed through my mind like an unstoppable tide. The stable. The rain. Her trust.

I had taken her to the stable, the place I used to visit before she came into my life. I wanted her to see it, not because it was mine or I just wanted to spend time with her but because I wanted her in every part of my world-past, present, and future. I'd shown her the lake where I used to find solace. It was where I went when the world grew too loud and my soul too quiet. And yet, even as I stood there, staring at the water's stillness, I realized it no longer brought me peace.

She was my solace now. My Noor.

When she sat behind me on the horse, her arms gripping me tightly, I could feel her heartbeat in sync with mine. Her trust in me, despite my fear of horses, was staggering. It warmed something inside me, something I hadn't known needed healing.

Her body had been so close to mine, pressed against me in a way that felt too perfect, too natural. I had wanted to turn and pull her into my arms to tell her how much she'd come to mean to me. But I hadn't. Instead, I'd focused on her presence, letting it anchor me.

And then, when the rain came, she hadn't hesitated to take control. She pulled me inside with that quiet authority of hers, her grip on me claiming me in ways I couldn't resist. It wasn't just care-it was possession. She cared for me as though I was hers to protect, hers to scold, hers to love.

"Oh my Cherry," I murmured, my lips curving into a faint, bitter smile.

She had no idea how much power she held over me and how her absence in the smallest details of my life felt unbearable.

I ran a hand through my hair again, the damp strands falling back into place as the ache in my chest deepened. I wanted her in everything-not just my mornings or my clothes but my thoughts, my memories, my dreams. I wanted her to be the thread that stitched me together, the essence of every breath I took.

With one last glance at the mirror, I turned away. She would come soon, and when she did, I'd ensure she knew-knew just how much of me belonged to her.
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The soft knock on the door pulled my attention. A faint shuffle followed, and then Noor stepped inside. My eyes caught hers before she could lower them. Her brown orbs widened, just a fraction, but I caught it. She was trying to keep her composure, but her every movement betrayed her.

Her perfume reached me before anything else-sandalwood and Jasmine, a scent I'd long since associated with her, one that lingered in my mind even when she wasn't near. It was intoxicating. She carried it like a secret, and I was obsessed with uncovering every layer of her.

As she walked in, I noticed everything. Her anklets made a faint, melodic chime with each step, a sound that had grown as familiar as my own heartbeat. My gaze traveled lower, catching the delicate waist chain she wore-golden, glinting softly against the light as it moved with her steps. The way it sat just above her hips, complementing her sari, held my attention longer than I intended.

Her hair, pinned back neatly, betrayed her too. A single tendril had escaped, curling against her cheek, softening her expression even further. She had batted it back, no doubt in a rush, and yet it persisted, framing her face in a way that made her look impossibly beautiful.

The moment her eyes dropped to the floor, I knew. I saw it in the way her breath hitched, in the way her lashes fluttered against her flushed cheeks. She was reacting to me-not my presence alone, but to the fact that I was standing there, bare, with nothing but a towel loosely tied around my waist.

Did it make me pause? Did it make me reach for a shirt to cover myself? No.

I didn't want to. I reveled in the way her innocence painted her cheeks a deeper red, the way her hands trembled ever so slightly as she clasped them in front of her. I loved the reactions she gave me-the purity in her nervous glances, the unspoken vulnerability she carried. It was a kind of power over her, but it wasn't cruel. It wasn't about dominance. It was about her-about the way she made me feel something so raw, so real.

She hesitated for a moment, her lips parting, and then came the softest "Ji..." from her lips, a single syllable that carried so much weight, so much vulnerability.

(Yes)

I smirked, stepping closer, my voice low, teasing, deliberate. "Kya mere kapde nikal lengi ki aap?"

(Will you take my clothes out?)

But just as she was turning back, my voice stopped her in her tracks. "Please."

Her eyes darted up to mine, wide with surprise, and then quickly dropped again, her cheeks turning crimson. She didn't answer immediately, as though trying to find the courage to speak, and then finally, a soft, stammered, "Ji...ji."

(Yes, yes)

The word lingered in the air between us, heavy with meaning. It wasn't just a word; it was a confession. The taste of it on my tongue was foreign, alien. I didn't say "please." I didn't have to. My world revolved around power, authority, and control.

But not with her. With her, I couldn't command. With her, I couldn't take. With her, I could only ask. Only request.

Because she wasn't someone beneath me. She wasn't someone walking behind me, following my lead. She was something else entirely. Noor stood in a place no one else did-above me.

Straightening, I watched her turn toward the almirah in the room. Her anklets chimed softly with each step, her movements delicate, careful. She hesitated again, standing before the wooden structure, before opening it. Her fingers moved slowly, as if she was deliberately avoiding any unnecessary noise before she reached inside and pulled out a shirt-a light blue one.

The color caught my eye instantly, and I couldn't stop the smile that spread across my face. It was uncannily similar to the sari she was wearing, as though some unseen thread of fate had tied our choices together. Coincidence? Perhaps. But it felt deliberate in a way I couldn't explain.

She turned, her fingers clutching the shirt tighter, and nodded quickly before trying to hurry out of the room. Her cheeks were flushed deeper now, and her gaze didn't meet mine again. But I didn't need her to look at me to know-she was as affected as I was.

She was leaving. I couldn't let her.

Her back was to me, her steps hesitant but determined as she reached for the door. My body moved on instinct. Before I could think twice, my hand shot out, wrapping around her wrist. Warm. Soft. Fragile.

Her wrist felt impossibly small in my hand, and yet, it fit perfectly. For days now, I couldn't get enough of holding her hand. It wasn't just the feeling-it was what it symbolized. Her hand in mine felt like a claim, a silent promise that she was mine. Every time I held her hand, it was as if the universe whispered back, "She belongs to you."

She stopped at my touch, her body stiffening. I felt the tremor in her hand, the slight shiver she couldn't hide. Her breaths were louder now, uneven and quick, and I couldn't help but notice the way her chest rose and fell with each one. I didn't let go. I couldn't.

Instead, I stepped closer, the distance between us shrinking until I was just behind her. She didn't move, and I could feel the tension rolling off her in waves, the heat radiating from her body. My free hand reached up, brushing against her back. Slowly, deliberately, I swept her hair to the side. The strands slipped through my fingers like silk, exposing the soft curve of her neck and the delicate line of her back.

Oh! She's so beautiful.

Her skin shivered under my touch. I bent down, leaning close enough to feel the warmth of her body against mine, close enough that my lips barely brushed her ear. I could hear her sharp intake of breath, the way it hitched, as if she was holding herself together by a thread. "Kal se," I whispered, my voice low, deliberate,

"Mere kapde sirf aap nikaalengi, Noor. Hmm?"

(From tomorrow, you will only take my clothes out. Hmm?)

Her breath hitched again, and I could feel her pulse racing beneath my hand. I tightened my grip on her wrist, my lips still hovering near her ear. "Please,".

I leaned closer, taking in the scent of her-the sandalwood and jasmine that seemed to linger in the air, pulling me deeper into her spell. I took a deep breath, savoring it, letting it sink into my lungs, into my veins.

Then, slowly, I let her wrist go. She didn't wait. The moment I released her, she bolted, her feet light but hurried as she disappeared through the door. I stood there, rooted to the spot, my chest heaving as I replayed the moment in my mind.

My hand still tingled where I had held her, and my lips burned with the memory of her nearness.

And I couldn't help but smile at my wife actions.
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I sat on the bench, the warmth of the midday sun slipping gently through the canopy of trees above. In front of me, my Noor was there-her eyes on the rose plants, listening as Aakriti, Veer, and Adarsh showed her around. The garden, vast and vibrant, was familiar, yet different. The same way the one back at home had been, but this... this felt more alive.

I watched her-how she moved, how she listened. She was fully engaged, yet she didn't pull away. It was as if she belonged here, but at the same time, she stood apart. She had this way of watching that pulled me in-calm, composed, yet somehow distant. My gaze lingered on her for a moment too long before something stirred in my mind-tulips.

Her tulips

Without thinking, I reached into my pocket and pulled out my phone. My fingers moved easily, steady, confident-not hurried, not forced. I knew exactly what I was doing. I called the gardener, the same one who had tended to the garden at home. His voice answered, familiar, respectful.

"Sidharth Babu," he greeted, his tone full of reverence.

My eyes drifted toward Noor, who was laughing at something Aakriti had said. I shifted slightly, my tone casual but deliberate.

"How is everything there?" I asked, my voice steady.

The gardener answered, cheerful but respectful. "Sahab, everything is fine."

I nodded subtly, then added, "How is the tulip garden?"

The old man responded without hesitation. "Sir, everything is fine. You don't worry."

But I couldn't ignore it. My eyes shifted again, this time watching Noor, her smile bright and carefree. My gaze softened slightly before returning to the call.

"Remember, not even a single plany should dry," I said, my tone firm but calm.

The gardener reassured me quickly. "Sir, you don't worry. If even a single tree dries, I will put a new one there. Don't worry."

I paused, taking a steady breath. Then I spoke again, more commanding this time. I frown. Why will this old man plant my Noor's favorite plant?

"No, you will not plant any tree. I will see. You just take care of them."

The old man sighed gently but didn't argue. "ji Sahab"

(Yes, sir)

I ended the call, slipping my phone back into my pocket, my eyes never leaving Noor's figure. A small smile cone to my lips after the small conversation.
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The garden was lively, the cool breeze brushing against their faces as laughter filled the air. Noor stood a little away, surrounded by Aakriti and Veer, their conversation lighthearted, the perfect antidote to the weight of the day.

"Bhabhi, tell me honestly," Akriti teased, a playful glint in her eye. "Did you really think that shirt yesterday suited Adarsh?"

Veer joined in, shaking his head dramatically. "Aakriti, let her breathe. Poor thing is still recovering from Adarsh's fashion disasters!"

Noor let out a soft giggle, her cheeks turning the faintest shade of pink. She covered her mouth slightly, the sound bubbling from her lips despite her usual restraint.

Their laughter lingered in the air as Sidharth approached them. One hand slipped into his pocket, the other swaying naturally by his side. His calm presence seemed to weave itself into the moment, commanding attention without a word. He stopped beside Noor, his dark eyes scanning the scene briefly before settling on her.

"What's happening here?" His voice was deep, composed, carrying a weight that instantly quieted Noor.

She straightened up immediately, her laughter fading into silence as though he had caught her in the middle of a secret. Sidharth's gaze lingered on her for a moment, unreadable yet steady.

Aakriti and Veer exchanged a knowing glance, subtle smirks curling their lips. "Nothing, Bhai," Aakriti chimed in, mischief dancing in her tone. "We were just telling bhabhi a joke.!"

Sidharth raised a brow slightly, a flicker of something crossing his face-amusement, perhaps-but he said nothing. Instead, he gave a small nod, letting the moment slide as though he had already decided it wasn't worth pursuing.

"Come," Akriti said, gesturing ahead. "Let's show bhabhi the gulmohar tree. It's blooming beautifully this season."

They began to walk further into the garden, Noor trailing just slightly behind the others. Her eyes lit up as they reached the gulmohar tree, its bright red-orange flowers glowing under the sun. A few petals drifted down lazily, swaying in the air before settling on the ground. Noor's gaze softened, her heart tugged by the simple beauty.

"Do you remember bhai," Akriti began, leaning closer to Veer with a nostalgic smile, "how you climb this tree just to prove you could get the highest flower for Ma?"

Veer laughed, running a hand through his hair. "And then I fell flat on my back! I think Ma laughed harder than she worried about me."

Their laughter grew louder, drawing a small, shy smile from Noor. As she tilted her head to watch another petal float down, she suddenly felt it-a hand slipping into hers, fingers intertwining with an effortless possessiveness.

Her breath hitched.

Noor's breath caught when Sidharth's hand tightened slightly around hers. There was a warmth in the gesture, quiet yet firm, that made her cheeks turn pink. She hesitated, stealing a glance at him.

He wasn't looking at her. His eyes were on Aakriti and Veer, who were laughing and chatting ahead. Yet, there was something about his expression-a calmness - as though he was silently ensuring everything stayed perfect.

Her fingers twitched slightly in his hold, and his thumb brushed over her knuckles, a gesture so simple yet so intense. Noor's heart raced faster, her cheeks deepening in color. She quickly looked away, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear as a shy smile crept onto her lips.

She felt silly for being so affected. He stood there so casually, his presence grounding her in ways she couldn't explain.

The group started moving ahead, and Noor followed quietly. Her eyes wandered, eventually landing on a cherry plant nearby. Her heart skipped a beat.

Bright red cherries hung low on the branches, looking plump and ready to eat. Memories of her childhood surfaced-how her father would bring cherries home sometimes, a rare treat in their village. She had loved them but never had enough. That craving, that longing, still lingered somewhere in her heart.

She was staring at the cherries without realizing it when a deep voice whispered near her ear, sending a shiver down her spine.

"Do you want some??"

Noor froze, her breath hitching as she turned sharply. Sidharth stood right there, his face calm, but his eyes teased.

"Na... nahi," she stammered, shaking her head quickly. She didn't want to seem desperate, even though her heart betrayed her with its wild rhythm. She looked away, her cheeks warm with embarrassment.

(No)

Aakriti and Veer had wandered a bit ahead, lost in their conversation. Noor stood there awkwardly, feeling Sidharth's gaze on her.

Then, she heard it-a soft chuckle. Her eyes darted back to him. Before she could say anything, he stepped closer to the tree and reached up effortlessly. His long fingers plucked a few ripe cherries, and he turned, holding them out to her.

"Lijea," she heard him.

(Take them)

Noor blinked, stunned. Her cheeks turned a deeper red as she hesitated before taking the cherries from him. Their fingers brushed for a moment, and the sensation sent a rush of warmth through her.

"Thank you," she murmured, her voice barely audible.

With the cherries nestled in her palm, Noor felt an unexplainable happiness bloom inside her-a small, simple joy that warmed her heart. The memory of her father came rushing back how he would bring home a handful of cherries after a long day and place just two in her tiny hands. She'd hold them like treasure, savoring their sweetness as though it was a rare luxury.

Her lips curved into a soft smile at the thought, her gaze dropping to the cherries in her hand. For a fleeting moment, she was that little girl again, cherished and content.

But then, she glanced up-and her breath hitched.

Sidharth was still standing beside her, his towering figure calm and steady. His eyes were downcast, focused on her as though she was the only thing worth seeing in the world. Noor's heart skipped a beat, her pulse betraying her silence. She quickly looked away, unsure what to do with the way her chest felt so light, yet so heavy at the same time.

Out of nervousness-or maybe instinct-she popped a cherry into her mouth, biting into its flesh gently. The taste burst on her tongue-sweet and tangy, perfectly ripe. It was everything she had hoped for, a little piece of perfection wrapped in red.

She stole a glance at Sidharth, noticing how his gaze had shifted to the tree, his head tilted slightly as though he was lost in thought.

Her thoughts raced. He plucked them for me, didn't he?

The realization sent a warm blush to her cheeks. But soon, doubt crept in. What if he thinks I'm selfish for not offering him any? What will he think of me? Stupid, Noor. Just stupid.

Determined to make amends, she cupped her hands, holding out the cherries toward him. Her eyes lifted slowly, meeting his. "Aap bhi lo... please," she said softly, her voice barely above a whisper.

(Please take some too.)

Sidharth's eyes lowered to her hands, then back to her face. For a moment, he said nothing, simply looking at her. Noor felt her breath hitch again under his unwavering gaze.

There was something about the way she stood there-so small, so shy, her cheeks flushed and her hands trembling slightly as she offered the cherries. It was innocence in its purest form, and yet, to Sidharth, it was intoxicating.

Her vulnerability pulled at something deep inside him. A part of him he didn't know existed. He didn't want to take his eyes off her, didn't want to let the moment pass. She had no idea how effortlessly she could hold him captive, how completely she had consumed him without even trying.

Just as Sidharth's hand moved slightly toward hers, Aakriti's voice broke through the moment, light and teasing.

"Bhabhi, bhaiya ko cherries nahi pasand"

(Sister-in-law, brother doesn't eat cherries.)

Noor froze, her hands still outstretched. She turned her head quickly toward Aakriti, her eyes wide with a mixture of confusion and embarrassment.

Sidharth, however, didn't look away from Noor. His lips curved into the faintest smile, one that didn't quite reach his eyes but held a depth of meaning she couldn't yet comprehend.

Noor's face turned a deeper shade of red as her hands trembled slightly, still holding the cherries. She couldn't bring herself to respond, her heart beating wildly in her chest.

Sidharth, who was still looking at he, simply took one cherry from her hand, his fingers brushing against hers deliberately-just enough to make her breath hitch again.

Sidharth's fingers reached out slowly, brushing lightly against Noor's palm as he picked a single cherry. Noor's breath hitched, her gaze involuntarily following the cherry as it left her hand. Sidharth didn't look away from her, his dark, intent eyes holding hers as if daring her to break the moment.

The cherry hovered between them for a second before his gaze flicked to it, only for a fleeting moment. Then, just as smoothly, he brought the cherry toward her lips. Noor froze.

"Eat," he said, his voice low, deep, and steady.

She blinked, her heart racing so wildly that it felt like her chest might explode. Her lips parted hesitantly, and she leaned forward just enough to take a small bite from the cherry. The sweet, tangy juice spilled on her tongue, but she could hardly focus on its taste.

Her attention was caught in the way Sidharth's fingers lingered for a moment, holding the remaining half of the cherry. She dared to look up, only to find his gaze locked onto hers again. Her stomach flipped at the intensity, raw and undeniable, in his dark eyes.

And then, without breaking eye contact, he brought the rest of the cherry to his mouth, eating it slowly, deliberately, as if savoring the same sweetness she had just tasted. Noor's breath faltered, her pulse a wild drumbeat in her ears.

"Nahi..." Siddharth said, his voice softer now but carrying a weight that made her shiver.

(No...)

She swallowed hard, her throat suddenly dry, and her cheeks felt like they were on fire.

"Mujhe toh bahot pasand hai," he added, his tone dropping further, almost intimate.

(I like it a lot.)

He paused, letting the words hang in the air, heavy and charged. Noor felt like the world had stopped around them, leaving only the two of them in this stolen moment.

And then, he finished, his lips curving ever so slightly, "Cherry."

The word rolled off his tongue with such ease, yet it carried an intensity that sent a shiver down her spine.

Noor's eyes went wide, her heart skipping more beats than she could count. She couldn't bring herself to meet his gaze any longer, her lashes lowering as she stared at the ground. Her cheeks burned fiercely, her breaths coming quicker as she tried to make sense of the sudden warmth pooling in her chest.

Her thoughts spiraled. Did he just-

But she couldn't think further. The way he stood there, so composed, so effortlessly confident, while she felt like she might collapse under the weight of his words, made her want to run and stay at the same time.
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The early evening air carried the scent of fresh grass, and the golden light bathed the garden in warmth. The group sat on a long bench, laughter spilling into the open space as their conversation meandered from one topic to another. Noor sat beside Sidharth, her smile soft and genuine, her attention drifting between the jokes being cracked and Sidharth, who was scrolling something on his phone, utterly focused.

Adarsh leaned back, stretching his arms lazily. "Yaar, aab koi achhi romance wali movie aati hi nahi. Sab kuch kitna chappri ho gaya hai." (Man, there's no good romance movie these days. Everything is so cheesy.)

Veer smirked, his expression lighting up with amusement. A memory danced in his mind, and his eyes flicked toward Siddharth and Noor. Noor's soft laugh reached him, and Siddharth remained as he was, scrolling without a care.

Adarsh clicked his tongue. "Aree, agar romance dekhna hai, toh ghar pe dekh lo. Kya zabardast movie chal rahi hai wahan!"

(If you want to see real romance, watch it at home. What a blockbuster movie's playing there!)

His tone was teasing and lighthearted, but it hit its target perfectly. Veer's smirk widened as he caught Sidharth's slight pause.

Siddharth froze for a brief moment but then slowly looked up, his dark eyes meeting Veer's. Veer, unfazed by the warning glare, leaned back into the bench with an air of victory.

Adarsh, oblivious to the silent battle, leaned forward, curiosity piqued. "Kaunsi movie chal rahi hai ghar pe, bhai? Bata toh sahi!"

(Which movie is playing at home, bro? Tell us already!)

Veer couldn't suppress a chuckle now. Ignoring the daggers Sidharth's eyes were throwing at him, he leaned forward conspiratorially. "Arey bhai," he began, his tone loaded with mischief, "raat ke teen baje tak apni biwi ke favorite phool lagaye ja rahe hain garden mein. Isse achhi romance wali movie kya hogi?"

(Bro, till 3 in the night, someone's been planting his wife's favorite flowers in the garden. Can there be a better romantic movie than this?)

Noor's brow furrowed slightly, the words flying over her head as she tried to decipher what was being implied. Aakriti, too, looked confused, glancing from one person to the other.

Adarsh laughed, clueless as always. "Kaun phool laga raha hai? Kis liye? Seedha bol na, bhai!"

(Who's planting flowers? For whom? Say it directly, bro!)

Veer's smirk deepened as his eyes fell on Sidharth again. This time, Sidharth didn't bother with a glare. He had already put in his wireless earbuds and was fully engrossed in his phone, his face impassive, giving away nothing.

Veer leaned back with mock innocence and delivered the final blow, loud enough for all to hear.

"Arrey bhai, bhai toh raat ke teen baje tak jagte rahe, aur poora tulip ka garden bhabhi ke liye lagaya. Is se achi romance movie tujhe kahin mil sakte hai kya?"

(Hey brother, brother stayed awake till three in the night and planted a whole tulip garden for his sister-in-law. Can you find a better romance movie than this?)

As the words hit the air, Sidharth's face betrayed nothing, but his ears turned slightly red, followed by his neck heating up. He sat there silently, unaffected on the surface, but inside, a wave of warmth spread. He couldn't shake the sudden rush of heat.

Noor, sitting beside him, felt her heart skip a beat at the implication. Her eyes widened slightly, and she couldn't help but be surprised by what she had just heard. Her gaze lingered on Sidharth, a soft blush forming on her cheeks as she processed what was happening.

The group began laughing-Adarsh, Aakriti, and Veer. Adarsh grinned, turning to Veer, playfully shaking his head in disbelief.

"Bhai, ab tak ek single phool bhi toh kabhi gift nahi diya, aur yaha tulip ka poora garden lagaya bhabhi ke liye?"

(Brother, till now you've never gifted even a single flower, and here you've planted an entire tulip garden for your sister-in-law?)

Before anyone could speak again, Aakriti's loud voice broke the moment. "Kya? Bhai ne yeh sab kiya?" Her eyes widened in disbelief, glaring at Sidharth, as if questioning a betrayal.

(What? Bhai did all this?)

Sidharth gave no reaction to her outburst, completely absorbed in his phone.

Veer chuckled, shaking his head. "Bhai se pooch lo, main jhoot bol raha hoon toh."

("Ask your brother, if I'm lying.)

Everyone's eyes turned toward Sidharth, waiting for an answer. But Sidharth, ever the composed man, remained silent. No words escaped him-just a quiet, calm exterior, while his ears and neck stayed warm.

Noor, however, couldn't look away. Her eyes were fixed on Sidharth, watching how his neck and ears turned subtly red. She noticed it before he could move. And in that moment, she was surprised. The gesture, the thoughtfulness-it spoke louder than any words.

"Kyu bhai?" Veer's said with an innocence never seen before.

(So bhai?)

The room, momentarily caught in silence, now turned toward Sidharth again. But this time, Noor's gaze lingered on him. Her shy surprise deepened into something more-her mind spinning, trying to grasp what she had just seen.

As the laughter buzzed around them, Noor couldn't tear her eyes away. She saw, for a brief second, the subtle change in Sidharth-his neck heating, his ears turning slightly pink. And before she could notice more, he suddenly stood up, walking away from the group, leaving her sitting there acting like he got a call.

Noor sat there, blushing, her mind swirling with different thoughts.

Her eyes remained fixed on Sidharth, still processing what she had just heard. His words, his actions-they lingered in her mind, too vivid to ignore. A warmth spread through her chest as she realized, slowly but surely, that he had planted all those flowers himself, every single one, in the garden for her. Her heart skipped a beat, unsure of how to process it.

Why did he do something so thoughtful, so unexpected? Her mind swirled with questions, but all she could feel was this strange mix of confusion and something deeper-something she couldn't quite name.

A sense of being special, but she couldn't voice it, couldn't explain it to herself. There was a warmth creeping through her body, subtle but undeniable, as if this moment was stirring something she hadn't felt before. It wasn't just kindness; it was something more-something that felt like it was inching closer to something she couldn't quite grasp yet.

Her eyes stayed locked on Sidharth, watching him as he moved, but even when he turned away for just a brief second to glance back at her, she didn't look away. She couldn't. Her heart thudded in a strange rhythm, as if it were waiting for something. And that glance-just enough to catch her gaze-lingered, leaving her wondering what it meant.

Her breath hitched slightly, and she realized something was shifting in her, something she hadn't felt before. Her body seemed to hum with a quiet warmth, and it wasn't fleeting; it lingered long after he turned his gaze back, leaving her to sit there, lost in her own thoughts, unable to look away.
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