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‼️IMPORTANT‼️

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मेरी बातों में तेरा ज़िकर सदा
मेरी याद में तेरी फ़िकर सदा
मैं जो भी हूँ, तुम ही तो हो
मुझे तुम से मिली अपनी अदा

क्यूँकि तुम ही हो, अब तुम ही हो
ज़िंदगी अब तुम ही हो
ओ-ओ, चैन भी, मेरा दर्द भी
मेरी आशिक़ी अब तुम ही हो
_

___________________________________

The sound of milk simmering on the stove was steady, but my heart wasn't.

Veer bhaiya words played in my head again, softly, insistently: "Woh tulip garden bhai ne bhabhi ke liye lagaya tha."

(Bhai planted that tulip garden for bhahi.)

I blinked at the boiling milk, but it was as if I couldn't see it at all. My mind had drifted far away to those rows of tulips I had admired so many times. Their vibrant colors, their quiet beauty-they were like a secret the garden whispered to me every morning. I never thought they were his gift. I never thought he was behind them.

"Woh unhone mere liye kiya?"

(He did that for me?).

The question felt heavy and light all at once, like it didn't quite belong to me, but I couldn't ignore it. My cheeks burned, and my fingers gripped the counter for support.

Did he do that? My husband, Sidharth ji?

I shook my head slightly, trying to make sense of it. It didn't seem possible. Back then, we barely spoke. There were no soft glances, no kind words exchanged-just silence, awkward and distant. And yet, while I had thought we were nothing more than strangers bound by a marriage neither of us asked for, he... he stayed up late into the night.

He planted tulips. For me.

Kyu?

(Why?)

The question tugged at me like a thread I couldn't untangle. My heart was beating faster now, the heat from the stove mingling with a warmth spreading through my chest. I closed my eyes briefly, trying to push away the strange, fluttering feeling rising inside me.

What did it mean? Was it just... his way of being kind? Or did it mean more?

I bit my lip, the confusion swirling with something else I couldn't name. For a moment, I was back in the garden, the tulips swaying gently in the breeze. They looked so beautiful, so delicate, and now, knowing they were planted by his hands-by him-made them feel different. Special.

"Unhone mere liye itna socha? Itni mehnat ki?"

(He thought so much for me? Put in so much effort?)

The milk hissed as it bubbled over, snapping me back to the present. "Arrey!" I gasped, quickly turning off the stove and reaching for the glass to pour it. My hands felt clumsy, the questions in my mind making my fingers fumble. I poured the milk carefully, taking a deep breath to steady myself.

But my heart wasn't steady. It raced as if it had a mind of its own, as if it knew something I didn't yet.

I walked to the hall, the glass of milk trembling slightly in my hand. The moment I stepped in, I felt their eyes on me. My cheeks burned again, and I looked down, wishing I could disappear. They knew. Of course, they knew.

"Lijea, dadi."

(Here, dadi.) My voice was soft as I handed her the glass, and I didn't wait for her response. I turned quickly, ready to retreat, but I couldn't help myself. I glanced at him-at Sidharth ji.

He was sitting calmly, as if none of this mattered. But for a fleeting second, his eyes met mine, and my breath caught in my throat. It was so brief, yet something inside me shifted, like the world had tilted just slightly. I couldn't look away, even when he did.

As I stepped back into the kitchen, my thoughts felt tangled, my heart a chaotic mess of emotions I didn't understand. But one thought stood out, clear and unshakable:

"Unhone woh tulip garden mere liye banaya tha. Sirf mere liye."

(He planted that tulip garden for me. Only for me.)

A small, shy smile touched my lips before I could stop it. For the first time, I wondered if my heart was trying to tell me something I wasn't ready to admit.

My lips trembled as I bit them softly, trying to control the whirlwind of thoughts spinning in my mind. Just then, a soft knock on the kitchen door startled me. I turned to see one of the servants standing there, her hands folded respectfully.

"Baburani, dadiji aapko bula rahi hain."

(Mistress, grandmother is calling you.)

I nodded, trying to hide the nervousness creeping in.

"Theek hai, main aati hoon."

(Alright, I'll come.)

Taking a deep breath, I quickly adjusted my saree, making sure the pleats were in place before stepping out of the kitchen. My fingers lightly brushed the edge of my pallu as I draped it properly over my shoulder.

As I entered the hall, my steps faltered for a moment. Beside Dadi, on the large sofa, sat an elderly woman. Her presence was striking-she wore a deep maroon silk saree adorned with intricate zari work, heavy gold jewelry that shimmered even in the dim lighting, and a large round bindi that stood out prominently on her wrinkled yet regal forehead.

My brows knitted in confusion, but I didn't stop. The room felt quieter now, almost too quiet. It was just the three of us; everyone else had left.

Stopping a step away, I straightened my back and lowered my gaze slightly before speaking, "Ji, Dadi?"

(Yes, Dadi?)

Dadi's warm smile greeted me as she stood up, pride gleaming in her eyes. She walked over to my side, placing a hand on my shoulder, and declared in a tone brimming with affection, "Yehi hai mere Sidharth betwa ki patni, Noor."

(This is my Siddharth's wife, Noor.)

I felt a sharp wave of nervousness as the woman's gaze settled on me. Her eyes were kind but piercing, as though she could see right through me. Swallowing hard, I bent down to touch her feet.

The woman smiled warmly and placed her hand gently on my head, her blessing soft yet powerful. "Doodho nahao aur pooton phalo."

(May you always prosper and be blessed with children.)

Heat crept up my neck, spreading across my cheeks. I stood up slowly, my heart racing, unsure how to respond.

"Baith ja, beta."

(Sit down, child.)

Dadi gestured toward the sofa beside the elderly woman. I hesitated for a moment but obeyed, settling myself carefully on the edge.

Dadi, meanwhile, returned to her seat beside the woman, her tone light and familiar as she spoke,

"Yeh hai meri behen Babu, Indira. Sidharth ki dadi-massi."

(This is my sister, Indira. Siddharth's grandaunt.)

I offered a shy smile, unsure how else to react. My fingers fidgeted nervously with the edge of my saree.

Indira dadi-massi studied me intently before speaking, her voice filled with warmth. "apne naam ki tarah hi, Noor ki khoobsurat hai aapki bahu, Jiji."

(Like her name, she's truly radiant, sister.)

Her words sent another wave of warmth rushing to my cheeks, and I quickly lowered my gaze, focusing on my hands in my lap.

Dadi chuckled, the sound teasing and full of mischief.

"Tabahi to mere pote ko bawala bana rakha hai re, Indira. Lattu ho rakha hai."

(She's turned my grandson into a madman, Indira. He's utterly smitten.)

My eyes widened at the statement, and a soft gasp escaped before I could stop it. My cheeks burned brighter, and I could feel the heat rising all the way to my ears. I didn't dare look up.

The two women burst into laughter, their voices filling the quiet hall. I sat there, overwhelmed, wishing the floor would open up and swallow me whole.

Just then, another servant walked in, bowing slightly before addressing Dadi.

"Dadi ji, chhoti bahurani ko Sidharth baba bula rahe hain."

(Grandmother, Siddharth is calling for the younger mistress.)

My breath caught at the mention of his name. I closed my eyes briefly, biting my lips as if that would help calm my racing heart.

Why was he calling me? And why now?
Dadi looked at Indira Dadi with a twinkle in her eyes and said,

"Dekha? Kaha tha na?"
(See? Didn't I tell you?)

Her laughter echoed again, rich and full of amusement. Indira Dadi chuckled softly, her smile warm yet teasing. She turned her gaze toward me, and I felt the weight of her eyes, which only made me look down again, my hands clutching the edge of my saree. My heart was thumping so loud that I was sure they could hear it.

Why did Siddharth Ji have to call me now? Of all times?

Indira Dadi suddenly shifted, her voice carrying a playful tone.

"Ja, jake keh de, bahu ne kaha hai, wo abhi nahi aayegi."

(Go and tell him the daughter-in-law said she won't come now.)

My eyes widened in horror. What? I could never say something like that!

The servant moved , and I could help but chant in my head, Nahi, nahi! Mat kehna yeh baat! Please, mat kehna!

(No, no! Don't say that! Please, don't say that!)

Dadi and Indira Dadi burst into laughter at my frantic response, their mirth filling the room. Indira Dadi leaned back in her seat, her posture relaxed, clearly teasing me. I bit my lip, my cheeks flushing crimson as I tried to focus on the embroidery of my saree instead of their amused faces.

"Kahi bhaagta na chala hai," Dadi teased, her tone light. "Sidharth isko khojte hue"

(He'll come running in serch of her)

Their laughter grew, but my embarrassment only deepened. My heart thudded loudly in my chest, the air suddenly feeling heavier. Proving Dadi's words, a few moments later, I felt his presence before I even saw him.

I was still sitting on the edge of the sofa, fidgeting with my saree, when I caught a glimpse of movement from the corner of my eye. Turning my head slightly, I saw him descending the staircase, his long strides confident and commanding.

He was wearing a simple white shirt, the top two buttons undone, the hem untucked, paired with dark trousers. His hair looked slightly disheveled, as if he'd been running his fingers through it in frustration. His lips were pulled into a frown, and his sharp eyes scanned the room quickly.

My breath hitched & and my eyes widened. He looked... intense. Handsome, yes, but the kind of handsome that made your heart race and your thoughts scatter.

He stopped his gaze and never landed on Dadi and Indira Dadi, seated comfortably, but his eyes shifted to me. I stiffened, my hands clutching my saree tighter. His frown deepened as his dark eyes locked onto mine.

"Maine aapko bulaya tha, Noor."
(I called for you, Noor.)

His tone was low and calm almost complaining, yet there was an underlying authority that made me feel smaller, shyer.

Before I could say anything, Dadi, who had been watching with amused eyes, chimed in teasingly,

"Humne rok liya tha pota ji"

(And we stopped her, son))

The laughter resumed, but I barely registered it. My cheeks were burning, and I couldn't bring myself to meet Sidharth ji's gaze anymore. I kept my eyes lowered, my heart hammering in my chest. His commanding presence was too overwhelming.

What would he say next?

Sidharth ji turned his gaze toward the two women, his expression calm yet unreadable. He walked closer to them, his voice steady as he said,

"Aap kab aayi, Dadi?."
(When did you come, dadi?".)

His tone was respectful, his demeanor composed, and before I could process his words, he bent down to touch Indira Dadi's feet. She blessed him warmly, her hand lingering on his head for a moment.

I couldn't help but feel a rush of shyness at the way he carried himself, a mix of poise and authority that was both intimidating and oddly endearing. I lowered my eyes, trying to calm the sudden fluttering in my chest.

"Yeh kya kar rahe hain aaj?" I thought, my cheeks heating up as he straightened and stood there momentarily.

(What is he doing today?)

Before I could wish for him to leave, to my dismay-and perhaps a tiny bit of delight-Sidharth ji moved to sit down, taking the spot right beside me. My spine straightened immediately, and I felt my heart begin to race.

The weight of his proximity was too much. I couldn't bring myself to look at him, yet I was hyper-aware of his presence, his calm breathing, and the faint scent of his cologne. My cheeks were on fire now, and I silently prayed for him to leave.

Both Dadis exchanged a look-a knowing glance that I couldn't decipher. It made me feel even more nervous. I looked down at my hands, wishing I could vanish.

Indira Dadi spoke then, her voice playful. "Jhodi toh kaafi acchi hai dono ki."

(The pair looks wonderful together.)

I felt my heart skip a beat at her words, my cheeks somehow burning even more. I kept my gaze fixed on my lap, pretending I hadn't heard it, though every part of me was reacting.

Sidharth ji, however, didn't move. He remained still, his presence firm and unwavering beside me.

Before I could muster the courage to glance at him, Dadi added with a teasing lilt,

"Aur bache bhi toh kaafi khubsurat honge inke."
(And their children will also be very beautiful.)

My eyes widened in shock at the comment, and I froze in place. Children? What was happening right now? My heart stopped for a moment, then thundered painfully loud in my chest.

Sidharth ji didn't react either, sitting as composed as ever. I dared not look up at him, terrified of what expression he might be wearing.

Indira Dadi nodded in agreement, her voice warm as she said, "Haan, bade pyare honge inke bache."

(Yes, their children will be very cute.)

I couldn't breathe. My hands were trembling slightly in my lap, and my ears felt like they were on fire. Why were they talking about children?

I sat there, frozen, as the two women laughed softly, their words leaving me both flustered and...strangely happy.

Sidharth ji's voice broke through the teasing laughter, calm yet commanding, as he said, "Dadi, mujhe kuch zaroori kaam hai. Main inhein le jaaun?"

(Dadi, I have a important work. Can I take her with me?)

I didn't dare look up, but I felt my heart race at his words.

Indira Dadi replied, her tone playful, "Toh tu jaana, bahut zaroori hai kya? Humein Noor se bahut si baatein karni hain."

(Then go, is it that important? We have so much to talk about with Noor.)

I could hear the amusement in her voice, and though I couldn't see Sidharth ji's face, I could sense his quiet persistence.

He repeated, this time firmer, "Dadi, mujhe Noor se kaam hai."

(Dadi, I really need to speak with Noor.)

Before I could process what was happening, I felt his hand gently but firmly wrap around mine. He stood up, and I sat frozen, my hand limp in his grip. My heart threatened to burst out of my chest.

"Dadi," he said, his tone unwavering, "Hum jaye??"

(Dadi, can we go?)

Indira Dadi chuckled softly,

"Toh jaana, humein Noor se baatein karni hain."

(Go on, we want to talk with Noor.)

I instinctively tried to pull my hand back, embarrassed by the situation and unwilling to create a scene. But Sidharth ji's grip tightened, making me freeze. His hold wasn't harsh, but it was firm enough to convey that he wasn't letting go.

I heard him say,

"Theek hai, main wait kar leta hoon."

(Fine, I'll wait.)

To my shock, he sat back down beside me, still holding my hand as though it was the most natural thing in the world. My cheeks burned, and my entire focus was now on the hand he was holding, warm, and unwavering.

Indira Dadi shook her head with a smile, her voice tinged with amusement, "Toh tu kyun wait kar raha hai? Humne toh kaha na tu ja, ye aati hai."
(Why are you waiting then? We said you can go, she's coming.)

But Sidharth ji didn't waver. "Main wait kar raha hoon, Dadi. Main inko leke hi jaaunga."

(I'll wait, Dadi. I'll take her with me.)

I felt his grip tighten slightly as he spoke, sending a jolt through me. My breath hitched, and I couldn't bring myself to look at him. Instead, I kept my eyes fixed on my lap, trying to steady my thoughts.

From the corner of my eye, I saw Indira Dadi shaking her head, her expression amused. Sidharth ji sat beside me, his face calm and devoid of any expression, yet his presence felt overwhelmingly dominant.

"Tum dono kuldevi ke mandir gaye ki nahi?" Indira Dadi asked suddenly. "Pooja kara?"

(Did you both go to the family goddess temple? Did you perform the rituals?)

Her question made me frown. Kuldevi? I felt too nervous to answer, and my eyes darted toward Sidharth Ji for a fleeting moment. He was sitting proudly, his posture steady, his expression unchanged. His grip on my hand remained firm, grounding me in the chaos of the moment.

I lowered my gaze again, my heart racing as I tried to make sense of everything happening around me.

Before anyone could answer Dadi's question about the temple, her sharp voice echoed through the room,

"Kahan gaya hai Indira? Kab se keh rahi hoon, jaane ko. Jata hi nahi hai yeh!"

(Where has Indira gone? I've been saying this for so long, to go! But he just doesn't go!)

I kept my head low, but I could feel her gaze flicker across the room, her sharp tone softening into a frown as she asked,

"Kyun nahi jaa rahe ho Kuldevi Ajeeb baat hai!"
(Why aren't you going to the Kuldevi temple? It's strange!)

She didn't know we had plans to visit. Her voice carried a mix of confusion and curiosity, and it was clear she wasn't going to drop the matter anytime soon.

"Kare Siddharth, kyun nahi jaa rahe ho?"
(Tell me, Siddharth, why aren't you going?)

Sidharth Ji, who was still sitting relaxed on the sofa beside me, didn't even shift his posture. His voice came out steady and calm, as if her words didn't ruffle him in the slightest.

"Dadi, aapko pata hai, main sabko nahi maanta."

(Dadi, you know I don't believe in all this.)

Her mouth fell open for a second before she scoffed, half-laughing.

"Kahe nahi maanta? Bahu pyari nahi hai? Isi janam bhar chahiye kya? Jaa na, jaa pooja kara. Sato janam ke liye maang le bahu ko."

(Why don't you believe? Don't you love your wife? I am planning to keep her only for this lifetime? Go, perform the rituals, and ask for her for seven lifetimes!)

The room filled with soft laughter at her teasing words, but Sidharth ji didn't laugh. His posture remained the same-steady, serious. I could feel his grip on my hand tighten, just slightly, and it was enough to make me freeze.

His sudden shift in demeanor-subtle but undeniable-made my heart clench. Without even thinking, I dug my fingers into his palm, tightening my hold as if trying to anchor him.

For a brief moment, he turned to look at me, his gaze lingering on my face. I didn't look back at him; instead, I kept my eyes down, shy and unsure. But with deliberate care, I brushed my thumb softly over the back of his hand. It was a small gesture, but it spoke volumes.

He got the message.

His grip loosened, and his posture relaxed slightly. His voice was calm but firm as he finally said, "Sochunga, Dadi."

(I'll think about it, Dadi.)

Indira Dadi wasn't satisfied, though. She clicked her tongue and said with mock annoyance, "Sochunga kyun? Kal hi nikal ja!"

(Why think about it? Leave tomorrow itself!)

This time, Sidharth ji gave a small nod, his face still serious, and said nothing more. I could feel the tension slowly ease from his frame, but his presence beside me still felt overpowering.

I glanced down at our joined hands, still shyly tracing my thumb along his palm, knowing full well how much power this small act carried. Trust, reassurance, and something deeper-something neither of us would say out loud.
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It was late, almost 10 p.m., when Sidharth ji and I finally entered the room. His hand still held mine firmly, the warmth of his palm grounding me. I followed his lead, our steps slow and quiet. The room was dimly lit, and the soft hum of the night outside filled the silence between us.

He walked straight to the sofa and stopped, turning to look at me. His gaze was steady, as if silently instructing me. I understood immediately and sat down without a word, my pallu shifting slightly over my lap as I settled in.

Sidharth ji didn't sit. Instead, he pulled out his phone from his pocket and forwarded it to me, holding it out.

"Aapke papa ne call kiya tha, aap unka call pick nahi kar rahi hai, Call kar lijea," he said simply.

(Your father called; you're not answering his call. Please call him back.)

I blinked, taking a moment to process his words. Oh, I thought, realization dawning. It had been so long since I'd called home, especially after we arrived in the village. I hadn't spoken to anyone since then.

"Oh," I said softly, my voice barely above a whisper. I reached out and took his phone, feeling its cool weight in my hands. The screen was dark. I tapped on it, but it was locked.

"Woh..." I murmured, unsure how to continue. I hesitated for a second before naturally holding the phone out toward him, waiting for him to unlock it. It was something anyone would do, right? People didn't usually like others entering their personal space, especially their phones.

But instead of taking it from me, Sidharth ji, who had walked toward the window, turned around to look at me. His sharp gaze caught mine, and his brows furrowed slightly. For a moment, I froze, my heart skipping a beat.

Then, in his usual calm but firm tone, he said, "Password 4789."

He didn't move closer, didn't even take the phone from my hand. He just turned back toward the window as if it was nothing. But it wasn't nothing. Not to me.

I stared at him, stunned. My fingers tightened around the phone, and I looked down at it, feeling a strange mix of surprise and... something else I couldn't name. A phone was such a personal thing, wasn't it? Yet, he had just given me his password without hesitation, without any concern. It felt like trust.

For a second, my chest felt tight. I didn't know what to do with this new feeling.

Slowly, I lowered my gaze to the phone, my hands trembling just slightly as I entered the numbers-4789. The screen was unlocked with a soft click, and I found myself staring at his wallpaper.

A bird, soaring high in a clear blue sky, its wings stretched wide against the clouds.

Something about it made me pause. It felt... trying to be free but so Confident. Almost like him. My lips parted as I stared at the screen, my thumb hovering uncertainly over it.

Behind me, I could hear his quiet movements near the window. But I didn't dare look up. Not yet. My heart felt loud in my ears, and the warmth from my cheeks spread to my neck.

The number was saved under "Uncle," which brought a slight crease to my brows. A soft sigh escaped me as I selected it, pressing the call button. The phone rang twice before it connected.

"Namaste, Papa," I said, my voice barely above a whisper, tinged with warmth and hesitance.

As I spoke, I couldn't help but let my eyes wander to the tall figure near the window. Sidharth ji stood silently, his back straight, hands resting in his pockets. It was as though he was giving me space to speak with my parents, keeping himself occupied with the view outside. Yet, I could feel his presence in the room, grounding me without being intrusive.

A faint smile tugged at the corners of my lips. There was something comforting in this-his respect for my privacy, and yet the quiet openness he showed by sharing his phone. It was a strange, beautiful contrast, and it settled warmly in my chest.

After finishing the call, I hesitated, biting my lower lip as a small realization dawned on me. I didn't have his number saved. For a moment, my thumb hovered over the keypad before I finally dialed my own number and gave it a quick missed call. Cutting the line, I stared at the screen for a second, as if trying to steady my thoughts.

With a faint flush creeping up my neck, I stood and walked toward the window where he stood. My heart was picking up pace again, the way it often did around him. My pallu was still in my hand, an anchor of sorts as I approached him.

Stopping just beside him, I turned slightly to face him while he remained focused on the quiet world outside. My fingers tightened around the pallu as I finally spoke, my voice soft but clear.

"Sdharth ji," I said, holding out the phone toward him. "Ho gaya. Aur... Humne aapka number bhi miss call kar diya apne number pe. Mere paas tha hi nahi."

(It's done. And... I gave a missed call to my number from yours. I didn't have it saved.)

He turned his gaze to me, his dark eyes calm yet observant. There was something about that look that made me falter slightly, a sudden awareness of everything around me-the stillness of the night, the soft hum of crickets, the serenity that lingered between us.

Then, a small smile played on his lips, making my heart skip a beat. It was subtle but warm, and he gave a brief nod as he reached out to take the phone from my hand.

AUTHOR'S POV -

Noor turned to leave, her thoughts swirling with an odd mix of emotions, but she barely managed a step when a warm hand encircled her wrist, stopping her in her tracks. Her breath hitched. The touch was firm, yet there was a gentleness in it that made her pulse quicken. Slowly, she turned her head, her eyes meeting Siddharth's as he faced her.

His gaze was unlike anything she had seen before-intense, heavy, and brimming with an emotion she couldn't name. It held her captive, stirring something deep within her. The space between them seemed to shrink, even though neither moved.

"Kuch dikhna tha aapko," he said, his voice low and steady, carrying a weight that made her heart stumble.

(I want to show you something)

Noor didn't respond. She didn't need to. The way he spoke, the way he looked at her, demanded no answer, no questions. And before she could gather her thoughts, Sidharth turned, his grip on her hand firm yet careful, and began leading her toward the door.

She followed, her steps matching his, her fingers still laced in his. Her heart pounded in her chest, and she wasn't sure if it was from the unexpected turn of events or the sheer presence of him so close, so commanding. As they reached the door, Sidharth paused for a moment, his free hand grabbing a shawl draped over the sofa nearby.

Noor noticed, her brows furrowing slightly, but she said nothing. He didn't explain, and somehow, she didn't need him to. There was a quiet understanding in his actions that left her curious yet comforted.

The house had fallen silent now, the echo of their footsteps barely disturbing the stillness. Everyone had retired to their rooms, leaving the corridors dim and serene. Sidharth led her through the quiet house, his steps confident, purposeful.

Noor, trailing just behind, couldn't help but let her eyes drift to his back-the broad shoulders, the way his figure moved with a quiet grace that spoke of his control.

Her hand tingled where it rested in his, the warmth of his palm seeping into her skin, spreading through her like a gentle flame. She wasn't used to this-this closeness, this pull between them that seemed to grow with every second.

When they finally stepped out into the open air, Noor's breath caught in her throat. The terrace stretched out before her, bathed in the silver glow of the full moon. The night was quiet, the soft rustle of leaves and the distant hum of crickets blending with the stillness. The moon hung bright and round in the sky, casting a luminous sheen over everything, making the moment feel almost ethereal.

Sidharth turned to her then, his face bathed in the moonlight, his eyes darker, deeper than the night itself. He still hadn't let go of her hand. Noor felt her breath falter, her chest rising and falling faster than she wanted.

She glanced down at their joined hands and back up at him, her throat dry, her cheeks warm. Something about the way he looked at her now-the way the moonlight played with the sharp planes of his face, the way his silence spoke volumes-made her heart feel too big for her chest.

Sidharth's hold on Noor's hand remained steady as he guided her toward the terrace railing. The sound of their footsteps against the stone floor echoed softly in the quiet night. Noor's eyes stayed fixed on him, drawn to the way his shoulders shifted, the subtle confidence in his every step. She wasn't even paying attention to where he was leading her. Her gaze locked on him as though the world around them ceased to exist.

When they reached the edge, Sidharth stopped and turned slightly, bringing Noor to stand right by the railing. The faint glimmer of the moonlight reflected in his eyes as he looked at her, his expression unreadable but intense enough to make her pulse race. Her breath hitched as their gazes locked, and for a moment, she forgot how to move, how to breathe.

He didn't say a word. He didn't need to. With a slight tilt of his head, he gestured for her to look ahead. It was a silent command, and Noor found herself obeying without hesitation, her head turning to take in the view in front of her.

And what a sight it was. The Haveli stood tall, overlooking the vast expanse of the village. The lush greenery spread out like a canvas, painted silver by the light of the full moon. The moon itself hung low in the sky, impossibly large and bright, casting a divine glow over the landscape. Noor's lips parted as she exhaled softly, her eyes wide with wonder. She was mesmerized, lost in the beauty of it all.

But then she felt it-a warmth against her back. Her breath caught as Sidd
harth's arms came around her. He didn't simply drape the shawl over her shoulders. No, his movements were slow, deliberate, and intimate. As the soft fabric which was over her shoulder covered her too, his hands followed, pulling it snugly around her before his arms circled her waist completely, drawing her back against him.

The weight of his presence against her was unmistakable, his chest pressed firmly into her back as the shawl wrapped around them both like a cocoon. She could feel the heat radiating from his body, mingling with the softness of the shawl, and it sent a shiver racing down her spine.

It wasn't just a gesture of warmth-it was something deeper, something that spoke of possession, protection, and a quiet, unspoken longing. His breath fanned against her ear as he lingered there, his arms holding her close, shielding her not just from the cold but from everything beyond this moment.

Noor's face burned, her skin turning crimson under the moon's glow. She didn't dare turn around, her gaze fixed on the landscape ahead even as her heart thundered in her chest. She felt him, every inch of his presence pressed into her, grounding her, consuming her.

And yet, there was something gentle in it all-a quiet intimacy that wrapped around her as surely as the shawl did. Her lips trembled, her hands clutching the edge of the railing as she fought to steady her breath. The night was cold, but the heat radiating from him made her feel as though she were standing in the heart of a flame.

The shawl lay snug around them, but the warmth emanating from Sidharth's body was enough to make Noor forget the cold night. His arms remained wrapped around her, his palms resting against the soft curve of her stomach. The contact was firm yet achingly gentle, sending waves of heat coursing through her.

Noor's breathing grew shallow, her chest rising and falling with unsteady rhythm as she tried to make sense of her own reaction. Her hands clutched the railing, trembling under the weight of the moment. She felt so small, so vulnerable, yet utterly consumed by the presence of the man standing behind her.

Sidharth didn't move for a moment, as though savoring the stillness, the intimacy of their proximity. Then, with a deliberate slowness that left her breathless, one of his hands slid away from her stomach. She felt the slight shift, and before she could process it, his fingers brushed against her shoulder, his touch featherlight but deliberate.

Her breath hitched as his hand moved upward, gently pushing her hair aside. The silky strands spilled over one shoulder, exposing the delicate curve of her neck and the softness of her other shoulder to the cool air. She froze as his actions unfolded, her body reacting before her mind could catch up.

And then she felt it-a press of warmth against her bare shoulder. A kiss. Soft. Intentional. The sensation sent a shiver down her spine, her heart racing as though it would leap from her chest. The brush of his lips lingered, igniting a fire that burned her from the inside out.

Before she could gather her thoughts, his chin rested against her shoulder, his presence overwhelming and all-encompassing. His lips, still so close, grazed the shell of her ear, and his breath fanned against her skin. Her knees felt weak, her one hand clutching the railing as though it were the only thing keeping her upright.

In a voice so low it was almost a whisper, Sidharth spoke.

"Thand lag jaygi aapko"

(You'll catch cold)

His tone was heavy, carrying the weight of unspoken emotions, of unbridled intensity that left Noor spellbound.

Her body reacted instinctively, a storm of emotions swirling within her-her heart hammering, her cheeks flaming red, and a tremor running through her limbs. But Sidharth wasn't done.

His hand, the one that had stayed on her stomach, moved slightly, pulling her closer, pressing her further into his embrace. His body molded against hers, his touch firm yet tender.

Noor couldn't think. Her mind was a haze, consumed by the way he held her, the way he kissed her ear next, sending a jolt of electricity through her. Her skin burned where his lips touched, a heat so intense it left her dizzy.

Her hand, trembling but compelled, moved from the railing. Slowly, hesitantly, she placed it over his hand, the only barrier between them her saree's pallu, draped across her body. She could feel his strength through the thin fabric, the contrast between his warmth and her nervous, trembling fingers.

And then, in a moment of raw vulnerability, she dug her nails into his palm, a reaction that surprised even herself. It wasn't resistance-it was something deeper, something primal, born of the way his touch unraveled her completely.

Sidharth stilled for a brief moment before pressing another kiss, this time just behind her ear. The intimate gesture sent a fresh wave of heat coursing through her, and Noor felt her body betray her once more. Her breath came out shaky, and her knees threatened to give out entirely.

She froze, her body overwhelmed, her mind spinning with emotions she couldn't name. She was caught in the storm that was Sidharth-in his touch, his presence, his unwavering intensity. And in that moment, Noor knew she was utterly lost.

Noor's body trembled, overwhelmed by the storm Sidharth had stirred within her. Her heart pounded in her chest, her breath uneven as she stood frozen in his embrace. But when his lips brushed just below her ear, trailing a warm path to the tender curve of her neck, it became too much. A soft gasp escaped her lips, and her hands gripped the railing tighter, her entire being consumed by sensations she couldn't name.

The next moment, her shyness overtook her, her instinct to escape overpowering the pull of his touch. She tried to step away, her movements hurried and shaky. Sidharth's hold on her stomach loosened just slightly, enough for her to wriggle free. She turned, her steps faltering as she attempted to flee. But she didn't get far.

Before she could move beyond his reach, she felt his hand catch her wrist. The contact was firm, unyielding, yet careful not to hurt her. Her breathing hitched, her chest heaving as she stood still, knowing there was no escape from him.

She dared not turn to look at him, but she could feel the intensity of his gaze burning into her, his presence as inescapable as her own heartbeat.

"Noor," he murmured, his voice deep and laced with quiet authority. With a single, powerful tug, he pulled her back. Her back collided with his chest once more, the impact stealing the breath from her lungs.

A small gasp left her lips, a name she only whispers in her dreams "Aarth.."

Before she can think anything she felt his hand slide beneath the pallu of her saree, the thin fabric barely a barrier as his palm settled against her waist before moving to her stomach.

Her pulse quickened as his large fingers splayed across her skin, his touch igniting a fire that spread through her veins. One finger-his thumb-brushed the edge of her navel, sending a jolt of electricity through her. Her breath came in shallow gasps, and she clenched her fists at her sides, struggling to keep herself grounded.

Sidharth's lips hovered near her ear, the heat of his breath making her shiver. "You aren't going anywhere," he whispered, his voice a low growl that sent shivers racing down her spine.

She tried to steady herself, but her body betrayed her. Every inch of her was attuned to his touch, his words, his presence. He took a step forward, guiding her back with him, and then another step, his movements deliberate, controlled. She felt cornered, enveloped by him, and yet, she didn't want to escape.

Her eyes fluttered closed, her lashes damp with the weight of emotions she couldn't contain. Sidharth's hand on her stomach pressed gently, his thumb brushing her navel once more, eliciting another shiver from her.

"Open your eyes, Cherry," he whispered, his voice soft yet commanding.

Noor's lips parted, a shaky breath escaping as she hesitated. Her heart raced, her cheeks burned, and her hands trembled. Slowly, hesitantly, she opened her eyes.

Noor's lashes fluttered open, her breath still shaky from the storm inside her. As her vision focused, she saw it-a huge, regal flower pot in front of them, the kind of grandeur that seemed to belong to another era. The pot was wide and deep, its surface carved with intricate floral patterns, and in it grew three or four pink lotuses, their petals delicate and vibrant, glowing under the moonlight.

The water within the pot was so clear that it reflected everything above it with pristine clarity. Noor could see the serene image of the moon, nestled in the dark night sky, and beneath it, their own reflections-hers and Sidharth's, standing together, his tall frame envelopfrom behind. The sight was mesmerizing, almost otherworldly, as if time had paused for just the two of them.

Her gaze lingered on their reflection, and she felt a chill rush down her spine, not from the cold but from the weight of his presence. His left hand was still firmly on her stomach, holding her close, while the other moved with purpose. From behind her, Sidharth's hand reached across to the other side, his fingers brushing against her shoulder as he gently gathered her hair, pushing it to one side. The sudden exposure of her neck and shoulder made her shudder, her skin tingling where his fingers had barely grazed.

She felt the warmth of his chin settle on her now-bare shoulder, and the world around her seemed to blur. His nose grazed the back of her ear, lingering there as he took in her scent. The gentle act was laced with a rawness that made her knees feel weak. Noor's grip on the railing faltered for a moment, but her other hand instinctively clung tighter to his, the barrier of her saree pallu still separating them.

Her heart was pounding so hard she could hear it in her ears. Sidharth's breath was warm against her skin, and her entire body seemed to betray her shyness, responding to him with an intensity she wasn't prepared for. She couldn't move, couldn't think-she was utterly captive to his touch, his proximity, his dominance.

As his nose nuzzled behind her ear, she felt him take a slow, deliberate whiff of her perfume, and her nails dug into his palm in response. The action was involuntary, a mix of nervous energy and the overwhelming sensations coursing through her. Her entire being was a battlefield of shyness, submission, and something unspoken that left her breathless.

Sidharth finally pulled back, but only slightly, his face still close to hers. Noor, trembling, dared to glance at his reflection in the water. His dark eyes bore into her through the rippling surface, the intensity in them making her feel as though he could see right into her soul.

His gaze was unrelenting, darkened by emotions she couldn't quite decipher-desire, possession, and something deeper, more intense. His lips didn't curve into a smile; instead, his expression was serious, almost predatory.

Noor hesitated, unsure, her cheeks burning as she finally turned her face just enough to look at him directly. Her shy, hesitant movement brought their noses mere inches apart, their breaths mingling in the cool night air. Noor's gaze dropped, unable to hold his piercing eyes for long, but even in her shyness, she couldn't look away entirely.

Sidharth's face shifted slightly, pulling back just enough to meet her hesitant gaze. Their eyes locked, and in that moment, it was as if the world around them ceased to exist. The pot, the moonlight, the gentle rippling water-they all faded into the background. All that remained was the unspoken intensity between them, the raw connection that left Noor trembling and Sidharth silent but consuming.

Their eyes locked, and in that charged moment, it felt as though time had stilled. Noor's breathing was shallow, her chest rising and falling against his. The world around them-the moonlit garden - the gentle rustling of the wind-faded into nothingness. All she could see was him. Sidharth's eyes, dark and unyielding, held hers captive, pulling her deeper into a whirlpool of emotions she couldn't escape.

But then, amidst the intensity, a memory surfaced in her mind. The tulips. The morning conversation when Veer had told her, almost casually, how her husband had planted 500 tulips himself in the garden, working through the quiet hours of the night. The image of his hands-those same hands now holding her-digging into the soil, nurturing life - flashed before her like she was present there.. Her heart swelled, and from somewhere within her, a newfound courage arose.

Still staring into his eyes, Noor's lips parted, and in a voice barely above a whisper, she said, "Sidharth ji..."

The soft sound of her voice, laden with something unspoken, made him pause. His hand, which had been tugging her hair back from her face, stilled. His gaze softened, but only slightly, and he responded with a low, deliberate "Hmm," his eyes never leaving hers.

Their bodies were now impossibly close, the faint barrier of air between them vanishing as their chests brushed. Noor shifted, her movements slow, hesitant, until she turned fully toward him. Her soft curves pressed against him, her trembling form betraying her, but she didn't step back. Her brown eyes, wide with emotion, searched his face for something, though she wasn't sure what.

Sidharth's gaze darkened further, his jaw tightening as he felt her melt into him. She looked up at him, her voice trembling but resolute. "Kyu?" she whispered.

(Why?)

The question lingered between them like an unanswered prayer. She didn't elaborate, but Sidharth didn't need her to. He knew exactly what she was asking. The tulips. The unspoken gesture that had stayed with her etched in her heart like a secret she had guarded. He had known this question would come one day, but he still wasn't prepared for it.

He exhaled, his hand moving to her face. His large, calloused palm cupped her cheek, covering it entirely, his thumb brushing over her soft skin. His fingers slid slightly, curling under her jaw, his touch strong yet tender, intimidating yet comforting. Noor felt her pulse race as his hand shifted, his fingers grazing the back of her neck and covering the curve of her ear.

With a gentle tug, he pulled her face closer, their breaths mingling. The warmth of his proximity and the weight of his gaze made her knees weak, but she stood firm, entranced by him. His voice, low and rough, broke the silence, sending shivers down her spine.

"Aapki aankhein bahut khubsurat hain," he began, his words slow and deliberate.

(Your eyes are very beautiful.)

"I wanted to see them shine," he continued, his voice thick with honesty, each word a confession that pierced her. "Aapke chehre ki ek muskaan ki wajah banna chahta tha."

(I wanted to be the reason behind a smile on your face.)

His thumb traced her cheekbone as he whispered the final words, "Bas issliye."

(That's all)

Noor's lips parted in shock, her heart thudding against her ribcage as his words sank in. He hadn't done it for glory or recognition-he had done it for her. For a smile.

Her heart skip a beat. Just for a smile.?

For a fleeting moment of happiness that she hadn't even realized, he had noticed she needed.

His voice dropped lower, almost poetic, as he added, "Aapke chehre par aayi ek muskaan jo mere wajah se thi usko mehsoos karna chahta tha"

(I wanted to feel that one smile on your face, which came because of me)

The rawness in his tone, the sheer vulnerability of his words, left Noor breathless. She stared at him, her eyes wide with emotion, unable to process the storm raging within her. Sidharth, towering over her, didn't need her response. He didn't need words. Her trembling lips, her flushed cheeks, her teary eyes-everything she couldn't say was written there for him to see.

And in that moment, as the moonlight bathed them in its soft glow, their reflections shimmering in the water below, Noor realized she wasn't just falling for him-she was already his, entirely and irrevocably.

Under the moonglow, with the soft hum of night wrapping around them, Noor suddenly realized she wasn't just falling for the man in front of her-she had already fallen. The quiet strength in his touch, the way he saw past her walls, the small, tender moments that built between them-every gesture, every word, had chipped away at the armor she didn't even know she was wearing. Slowly, gently, she came to understand that it wasn't just duty or habit that tied her to him-it was love. The man who had always been there, quietly watching, planting seeds in the garden of her heart.

And as she stood there, his reflection mirrored in the clear water. The weight of it all hit her at once-the realization that her heart had already found its place beside his. In a rush of unspoken emotion, she closed the distance, her arms wrapping tightly around him. Her face tucked into his neck, she clung to him, seeking solace, seeking comfort, and surrendering to what she had finally allowed herself to feel-the love she had tried so long to deny.

In that moment, the world outside faded away, leaving only the warmth of his embrace, the quiet truth that she had already fallen-for her husband.

She has fallen for her Aarth.

In the silence, your glance lingers,
A flame dancing beneath your eyes,
Whispers of what cannot be spoken,
Yet everything burns between us.

Your touch, soft as dawn,
Yet fierce like the ocean's pull,
Entwines me in a world I cannot escape
A love unspoken, yet always felt.

Every word unsaid echoes
Like the beating of my heart-
Soft yet steady,
Yearning, yet unyielding.

In your presence, I am found,
Lost in the depths of something
Too profound to name-
A passion pure yet relentless,
A love that consumes and nourishes.

_______________________________________

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