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धीरे धीरे से मेरी ज़िन्दगी में आना
धीरे धीरे से दिल को चुराना
तुमसे प्यार हमें है कितना जान-ए-जाना
तुमसे मिलकर तुमको है बताना

जब से तुझे देखा, दिल को कही आराम नहीं
मेरे होठों पे एक तेरे सिवा कोई नाम नहीं

अपना भी हाल तुम्हारे जैसा है साजन
बस याद तुझे करते हैं और कोई काम नहीं

बन गया हूँ मैं, तेरा दीवाना
धीरे धीरे से दिल को चुराना

धीरे धीरे से मेरी ज़िन्दगी में आना
धीरे धीरे से दिल को चुराना

तूने भी अक्सर मुझको जगाया रातों में
और नींद चुरायी मीठी मीठी बातों में

तूने भी बेशक़ मुझको कितना तड़पाया
फिर भी तेरी हर एक अदा पे प्यार आया

आजा आजा अब कैसा शर्माना
धीरे धीरे से दिल को चुराना

धीरे धीरे से मेरी ज़िन्दगी में आना
धीरे धीरे से दिल को चुराना
तुमसे प्यार हमें है कितना जान-ए-जाना
तुमसे मिलकर तुमको है बताना
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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 never know she can feel for him.

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.

Noor's realization lingered like a soft melody in the air, sweet and all-consuming. Her heart pounded with a rhythm she couldn't control, its beats aligning with his, as though their souls were tethered together. She was pressed so close to him that the heat of his body seeped into hers, her breaths trembling as they mingled with his.

Every fiber of her being was alive, aware of the way his chest rose and fell, his heartbeat thudding against her own, and the faint scent of sandalwood that clung to him. Her tears shimmered on her lashes, but they didn't fall. It wasn't sadness. It was overwhelming-raw and tender-this ache of knowing she had fallen for him.

Sidharth's head dipped lower, his breath brushing against her neck, sending shivers coursing down her spine. His lips grazed the base of her neck, light as a whisper, and her body reacted without thought. His hold tightened, one hand firm on her waist, the other pressing her back closer, as though he sought to dissolve the space between them, to make her a part of himself.

Her pulse quickened, her breath hitching when his lips moved, pressing soft, deliberate kisses along her skin. They trailed from her neck to the curve of her shoulder, where her blouse teasingly rested.

His fingers, warm and calloused, moved upward, gently tugging the fabric down, baring her skin to the cool air. Noor clutched his shirt tighter, her fist trembling against his collar, her knees threatening to give way.

Her lips parted as she felt his teeth graze the peak of her shoulder-a unexpected yet possessive bite that made her gasp, her body alight with sensations she couldn't name but didn't want to escape.

Before Noor could gather her thoughts, her senses overwhelmed her as she felt Sidharth's lips return to the same spot he had bitten moments ago. This time, he nibbled at her skin, soft yet fervent, and a timid sound escaped her lips-fragile, unguarded. "Aarth," she whispered, the name slipping out in a trembling moan, her breath brushing against his ear.

The sound made him pause, his movements stilling for a second. But it wasn't hesitation that stopped him-it was the way her voice, the name, fragile yet filled with longing, ignited something primal within him.

He resumed his ministrations, his lips pressing firmer, hungrier, as they traveled back to her neck. When he reached the base of her neck, his teeth grazed her skin, and he bit down-not hard enough to hurt but enough to leave her gasping, her body arching into his touch.

His other hand moved upward, fingers trailing along her spine as they climbed from her waist to the hair cascading over her back. The shiver that coursed through Noor's body was unmistakable, and Sidharth reveled in the way her form trembled under his touch.

His hand reached the nape of her neck, his fingers threading through her hair as he gently but firmly gripped the back of her head. Tilting her head slightly to the side, he exposed more of her vulnerable neck and began planting kisses-aggressive and unrelenting, his lips leaving a burning trail that claimed every inch of her skin.

He kissed down her neck to the delicate line of her collarbone, lingering near the edge of her blouse. His lips barely grazed the top of her breast before pulling back, his actions deliberate, leaving her both craving and overwhelmed.

Noor's breaths came in shallow gasps, her body betraying her as pleasure and heat consumed her senses. She tightened her fists in his shirt, trying to ground herself, but the sensations were too much-his touch, his presence, the way he seemed to devour her like she was the only thing that existed in his world.

As if sensing her spiraling emotions, Sidharth's lips traveled upward, this time softening as he pressed a kiss to her cheek. Then, he moved to her jawline, nibbling the tender skin, sending jolts of electricity through her body. His kisses traveled to her chin, deliberate and unhurried, until he pressed a lingering kiss there.

Noor's breath hitched audibly, her chest rising and falling in sync with the storm raging within her, as every part of her burned with the realization of how utterly unhinged and consuming this moment had become.

As Sidharth's lips pressed a final kiss to Noor's chin, he pulled back slightly, his warmth momentarily leaving her skin. His gaze, however, remained fixed on her-her flushed cheeks, lips parted in silent gasps, and the way her hair fell in disarray.

She was a mess, yes, but to him, in this moment, she was a masterpiece, unrivaled by anyone, living or dead. His eyes darkened with every passing second, the intensity in his expression making her breath hitch.

He whispered, his voice low and hypnotized, as if lost in a trance,
"Aap bahut khubsurat hai Noor"

("You're breathtakingly beautiful, Noor.")

Before she could respond, his lips brushed against her cheek once more, leaving a chaste kiss that sent a wave of shivers through her. His beard pricked gently at her skin, and she felt her knees begin to give out beneath her. He noticed, tightening his grip on her waist to steady her, his dominance clear in the way he controlled every moment.

Pulling back, Sidharth pressed another kiss to her ear, his lips grazing the sensitive edge before biting gently on her earlobe. The sharp yet careful gesture drew a soft gasp from Noor, a timid, "Ahh" spilling from her lips. Her hands clutched tighter at his collar, her body trembling as she felt his hot breath against her ear.

"Bahut bahut jyada khubsurat" he whispered, his voice heavier now, almost unhinged with desire.

("You're too, too beautiful.")

His face dipped again, burying into the curve of her neck as his lips found the spot he had already marked. This time, his teeth grazed her skin harder, biting down just enough to make her gasp again. Noor's head tilted back, her breathing uneven as the sensations overwhelmed her. Her heart raced uncontrollably, and her entire body felt as though it was on fire.

Sidharth's hand, which had been firm on her waist, began to move upward, tracing the curve of her body with deliberate slowness. His thumb pressed against her side, the light pressure making her body shudder beneath his touch. His movements were deliberate and confident, as though he knew exactly what he was doing to her.

For Noor, it was too much. She couldn't handle the overwhelming sensations-the mix of pain, pleasure, and the sheer dominance in his actions. Her breaths came in short, erratic bursts, and her voice, shaky and barely audible, escaped in a soft whisper,

"bas....ruk jaiye"
("Just.....stop now.")

Hearing her plea, Sidharth froze, his lips still resting against her neck. His chest heaved against hers as he pulled back slightly, his eyes glazed yet still dark with desire. Even in his intoxicated state, her voice had the power to anchor him, and he looked at her with a mix of need and restraint, his grip on her loosening just a fraction, waiting for her next move.

Sidharth's fingers tightened their hold on her waist as he leaned back slightly, locking his gaze with hers. The faint tremor in her breath matched the fire in his chest. His voice, low and teasing, broke the silence.

"Abhi toh jee bhar ke mehsoos bhi nahi kiya aapko, aur aap rukne ko keh rahi hain?"

("I haven't even felt you fully yet, and you're asking me to stop?")

Hearing his words, Noor's eyes fluttered up to meet his, wide with shyness yet shining with a strange vulnerability. Her cheeks, already flushed, deepened into a shade of crimson that only made her look more radiant in his eyes.

Sidharth's intense gaze remained fixed on her, drinking in every inch of her expression-the parted lips, the way her lashes trembled, and the hesitation in her breath. For a second, his eyes dropped to her lips, lingering there before he looked back up.

Without saying another word, he slid his arms beneath her, lifting her in one swift motion. She gasped softly as he cradled her close, her heart thundering against his chest.

Noor shifted slightly in Siddharth's arms, her voice trembling as she said softly, "I can walk, Sidharth ji."

Sidharth didn't stop; his long strides were steady and deliberate as he approached the staircase. His gaze flickered down to her, his darkened eyes locking with hers for a fleeting moment, making her heart stutter. His voice was low, firm, and intoxicatingly intimate.

"I know, but I don't want you to."

Noor felt her breath hitch as his hold around her body tightened, drawing her closer into his chest. Her hands instinctively rounded his neck for support, her fingers brushing against the edges of his hair.

She dared to look up at him and found herself captivated. His jaw was clenched, the sharp edges of it casting shadows under the dim light. Her gaze wandered lower, tracing the vein that stood out on the side of his neck, pulsing with each step he took.

Just as she was lost in observing him, Sidharth came to an abrupt stop near the staircase. Noor blinked, confusion flashing across her face as she looked back up at him. The intensity in his expression remained unreadable, his dark eyes fixed ahead, his grip unwavering. The air around them felt heavier, intimate, as if the world

As Sidharth stopped abruptly near the stairs, Noor looked up at him, confused. Her soft gaze met his intense one for a fleeting moment before they both heard a voice.

"Are betwa, kya chal raha hai yahan?"

(Son what's happening here?)

Noor's eyes widened in horror. Her heart sank as her gaze shifted to see Indira Dadi standing a few steps away, her sharp eyes catching every detail of the moment. Noor could feel the blood draining from her face. She wriggled nervously in Siddharth's arms, her body stiffening.

"Sidharth ji, chhodiye," she whispered, her voice barely audible.

(Sidharth ji, leave me.)

Sidharth's hold remained firm for a moment, as if he was reluctant to let her go, but her persistent movements finally made him loosen his grip. Noor slipped to the ground, standing with her head bowed low, fingers nervously fidgeting. Her face turned a deep shade of red, the kind that screamed embarrassment.

Indira Dadi's laughter broke the silence. "Maine kaha tha, bachhe pyare honge... to tum log abhi se mehnat par lag gaye ho, wah!"

( I told you, the kids will be cute... and here you two have already started working on it, wow!)

Noor froze. Her breath hitched, and for a moment, she thought she might faint. Her face burned with embarrassment, and the rest of her courage evaporated in an instant.

"N-nahi... aisa kuch nahi!" she stammered, shaking her head vigorously.

(N-no... it's nothing like that!)

Before anyone could respond, Noor turned on her heel and ran. Her pallu fluttered behind her as she bolted toward her room. Closing the door with a thud, she leaned against it, covering her face with her hands.

"Hey bhagwan, hey bhagwan kya hua ye?" she muttered, pacing in small circles. "Itni beizzati! Hey bhagwan!"

(Oh God, oh God, what just happened? So much embarrassment! Oh God)

Her cheeks were still aflame as she threw herself onto the bed, hiding her face in a pillow for a moment. But her spiraling thoughts were interrupted by a knock at the door.

Noor shot up, heart racing again.

"Sidharth ji honge... Sidharth ji hi honge," she whispered to herself, glancing at the door. Panic flooded her system. Without thinking, she grabbed the kurti hanging on the chair near the bathroom and darted inside, locking the door behind her.

(It must be Siddharth ji)

Leaning against the bathroom wall, she let out a breath she hadn't realized she was holding. "Itni sharmindagi... ab kya karoon?"

(So much embarrassment... What do I do now?)

Noor stood frozen, her thoughts spiraling as the events from moments ago replayed in her mind. Her face was still flushed with embarrassment when a sudden knock on the bathroom door jolted her back to reality. Startled, she blinked rapidly, her heart skipping a beat.

"Ye ander kaise aagye?" she whispered to herself, taking a step back from the door, her fingers nervously biting at her nails. Another knock echoed through the space, firm yet patient.

(How did he come inside)

This time, Sidharth's deep voice followed, calm yet commanding,

"Have you changed, Noor?"

Noor's breath hitched as she closed her eyes, trying to gather her scattered thoughts. She pressed a hand against her chest, feeling her racing heart, and then exhaled deeply.

"N-Nahi," she called out softly, her voice barely steady. With a quick glance at her reflection in the mirror, she tried to compose herself, though her cheeks still carried the stubborn blush from earlier.
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I looked at myself in the mirror, my hands clutching the sink as I took in my state. My sindoor was smudged, a faint streak where it shouldn't be. My cheeks-oh, my cheeks were red and still burning. I reached up, brushing my fingers over them as if that would cool the warmth. My saree wasn't even properly in place anymore, a loose pleat here, a fold there. And then my eyes landed on my neck.

I froze.

The red patches stood out against my skin, and my heart skipped a beat. My breath felt uneven as I touched my neck, a soft gasp escaping my lips.

"Hum kal Dadi ko kaise face karungi?" I mumbled under my breath, the words almost trembling.
(How will I face Dadi tomorrow?)

I closed my eyes, biting my lip as the embarrassment hit me all over again. "Theek hai... woh bhool jayengi... haan, bhool jayengi." I nodded quickly, trying to convince myself.

(It's okay... she will forget... yes, she will forget.)

But then, a horrible thought struck me, and my eyes shot open. "Lekin agar woh nahi bhoolin toh?" My voice came out almost in a whisper, shaky and filled with dread.

(But what if she doesn't forget?)

I stared at the mirror again, my reflection not helping at all. My cheeks were even redder now, and I couldn't decide if I wanted to laugh or cry. "Hume rona aa raha hai," I muttered, pressing my hands to my face.

(I feel like crying.)

I shook my head, taking a deep breath. "Nahi, nahi... it's not a big deal. Hota hai. Sab ke saath hota hai." I told myself, though my heart didn't seem to agree.

(No, no... it's not a big deal. It happens. It happens to everyone.)

And then I remembered-he was waiting for me. My head whipped towards the door as the realization sank in, and my heartbeat quickened. Quickly, I grabbed the kurta I had placed on the chair and changed.

Before leaving the bathroom, I caught sight of myself again in the mirror. My eyes lingered on my neck once more, and my face heated up all over again. "Sidharth ji se kaise aankhein milayge?" I whispered to myself, my hands clenching the edge of the sink again.

(How will I face Siddharth ji?)

The memory of the terrace came flooding back-the way he looked at me, the way I felt. My lips trembled as I realized it, the truth sinking in. My heart raced, and I covered my face with my hands, whispering so softly it was almost like a secret to myself.

"I love you Aarth"

The intensity of his nearness made me forget how to breathe for a moment. My gaze remained fixed on my feet, unwilling to rise, knowing the sight of him might undo the fragile calm I was holding onto. My fingers fidgeted at my sides, a slight tremor betraying the storm of emotions within me. His presence was magnetic, drawing me closer even though I dared not move.

And then, I felt it-the soft brush of warmth as his body leaned ever so slightly closer, his nearness pulling me into a whirlpool of feelings I had no control over. My heart raced, and I clenched my hands tighter, trying to steady the trembling. The silence between us was heavy, charged with an intensity that seemed to speak volumes, even without words.

I felt the warmth of his breath against my skin, his voice low and teasing as he whispered,

"Kya kar rahi thi aap ander, I was waiting for you"

(What were you doing inside)

His words sent a shiver down my spine, and I felt a wave of heat rush to my cheeks. My breath hitched, and I couldn't bring myself to meet his eyes. For a moment, I froze, unable to comprehend how just his words could make my heart race so wildly.

Before I could gather my thoughts, his arms slid around me, and with one swift motion, he picked me up. "Ah!" I gasped, clutching at his bicep in sheer panic, my fingers trembling as I tried to steady myself. My wide eyes darted up to his face, but his expression was calm, as though this was the most natural thing in the world.

Sidharth ji moved with quiet confidence, his steps steady as he approached the bed. Gently, he eased me down, his touch light but firm, as though he were handling something precious. The mattress dipped slightly beneath his weight, and my heart skipped a beat as he settled beside me.

I lay there, tense yet unable to look away. My body felt both weightless and heavy under his gaze. He rounded his side, positioning himself beside me, and his hand-slow, deliberate-found its way to my waist. It was a simple touch, but it ignited a spark I hadn't felt before. His fingers moved lightly, tracing the curve of my bare waist, feeling the soft skin beneath the fabric of my kurti. It wasn't an invasive touch-it was gentle, almost searching, as if he wanted to know every inch of me. I drew in a shaky breath, my pulse quickening.

My heart was pounding so loudly in my chest that I wondered if he could hear it too. I lay there, stunned, unable to move, my fingers twisting into the fabric of my kurti as I tried to calm the storm inside me.

He shifted slightly, moving closer to me. His presence felt suffocatingly close, yet I longed for more, even as my heart pounded harder against my ribs. I could feel the subtle shift in his movements-his hand began to drift upward, fingers moving slowly along my waist, no longer just resting, but exploring.

A soft gasp escaped my lips, involuntary and delicate, as though my body could no longer resist the pull. His touch, his warmth, felt like something I had long yearned for-something I didn't know I had been missing until now.

My breath caught, and I closed my eyes briefly, letting myself absorb the overwhelming feeling building inside me. But before I could fully surrender to it, I felt him-his face, half on my neck, half resting against the curve of my breast. His breath, warm and steady, ghosted over my skin, sending shivers down my spine.

I could feel his chin pressing softly against the rise of my chest, and I instinctively tilted my head slightly, allowing him closer. His scent filled my senses, intoxicating and familiar, making my head spin. And then, without thinking, I felt it-his lips, soft and tender, brushing against the swell of my breast.

A shiver ran through me, sharper this time, and I couldn't hold back the quiet gasp that escaped. My body froze, every nerve alive beneath his touch, the heat blooming from where he kissed me. My fingers trembled, gripping the sheets beneath me as though they could ground me.

But instead of pulling away, I found myself melting-my body loosening, my heart softening. A strange and unfamiliar feeling blossomed within me-a mixture of vulnerability, longing, and the undeniable awareness of falling in love.

Sidharth Ji's warmth pressed into me, grounding me in a way I had never felt before. His presence was overwhelming-steady, reassuring-and for a moment, I couldn't help but look down at him. My lashes fluttered as I stole a glance at his face, his features calm yet so striking in the dim glow of the room.

There was something so peaceful about the way he looked, almost boyish in his quiet demeanor. Not boyish, I corrected myself-manly, yet soft, as if every bit of the hardness he showed to the world melted away in this moment, in my arms. My lips curved into the faintest smile, unbidden and warm. The realization crept up on me slowly, like a gentle tide, filling my chest.

I loved him.

The thought settled over me like a secret I hadn't meant to uncover, but now that it was here, I could feel it in every corner of my being. Overwhelming, yet comforting, it wrapped itself around me like the softest of silks. My fingers, tentative at first, lifted and brushed against his shoulder before they found their way around his neck. I circled my arms around him, shy but sure, pulling him just a little closer.

And then, I felt it.

His breath, warm and rhythmic against my neck, faltered. For a second, it stopped altogether, and then came back in a soft rush, warmer, deeper, as though my touch had startled him. His hand, which had been resting lightly on my waist, tightened slightly, his grip firm yet careful, pulling me closer as though he feared I might disappear.

My breath hitched as I felt the pull of his touch, and before I could think too much, he moved. He leaned back, just enough to meet my gaze, his eyes searching mine with a raw, desperate kind of honesty.

"Don't overthink cherry. I'll handle everything," he murmured softly, his voice low but full of conviction, the words settling like a promise in my heart.

His eyes-they were pleading, but not weak. They were strong, filled with an emotion that made my heart ache. I know he was saying this about dadi watching us but I didn't know what to say, didn't trust my voice to work, so I only blinked at him, nodding slightly, letting him see my answer in my eyes.

He smiled then, a small, soft smile that held none of the teasing or mischief he sometimes showed me. It was tender, so tender it made my heart swell until I thought I couldn't hold all the emotions inside me.

Hmm, oh how much I love his smile.

Sidharth Ji shifted again, leaning forward to press his face into the crook of my neck, half resting on my chest, his breath fanning warmly against my skin. My eyes fluttered shut at the sensation, my hands loosening their hold on him slightly before pulling him just a fraction closer, as if my body had decided for me.

I stared ahead at the window, the faint sound of wind and the rustling of night creeping in despite the glass keeping us enclosed. My thoughts swirled, not of the world outside, but of him-his touch, his warmth, his presence.

I smiled, suddenly remembering how I had run from dadi earlier, my face burning at the memory. It had seemed so embarrassing then, but now, as I lay here, it felt silly-almost funny. A small, breathy laugh escaped me, and I buried my face in Sidharth Ji's shoulder, hoping he wouldn't hear.

He stirred slightly, pulling me closer still, and I couldn't help but let my fingers tighten around him in return. The overwhelming wave of love and comfort settled over me like a soft blanket.

I closed my eyes then, letting the weight of the moment pull me into its embrace. The last thing I felt was the steady rhythm of his breath against my neck and the warmth of his hand on my waist, anchoring me to him. And for the first time, I welcomed sleep with a smile, feeling more at home than I ever had before.
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The morning light streamed through the half-closed curtains, soft and golden, casting a halo around her. I lay motionless on the bed, my eyes half-lidded, pretending to sleep but unable to look away from her. Noor stood in front of the mirror, her delicate hands fixing the pins on her sari with practiced ease. Every small movement of hers-every tilt of her head, every furrow of her brows-was a sight I had memorized, yet it never failed to hold me captive.

She wore yellow today, and for reasons I couldn't explain, she seemed to glow even more. The fabric hugged her curves just enough to drive me to madness, yet she remained blissfully unaware of the effect she had on me. My gaze trailed to her neck as she reached for the lotion, her slender fingers smoothing the cream over her skin. Her hair, loose and wild, slid from one shoulder to the other, exposing faint red patches on her neck.

I swallowed hard. Last night. The memory hit me like a storm. She had been so close, her warmth, her softness-God, I'd almost lost myself. Those marks were mine. A quiet, unspoken claim on her. My chest tightened, my heart hammering against my ribs.

She didn't know, couldn't possibly know, how much she undid me, how every breath she took had me teetering on the edge of control.

I should look away. I should let her finish without feeling this pull, this ache that consumed me. But I couldn't. She was mine, whether she knew it or not. And as I lay there, silent, watching, I realized I didn't want to fight it anymore. I didn't want to resist this madness she brought out in me.

The faint clink of her bangles broke the silence of the room, and I found myself holding my breath, unwilling to miss even the softest sound of her movements. She picked up a set of golden bangles from the dressing table, sliding them onto her wrists one by one. The delicate sound they made-a mix of metal and music-wrapped around me like a spell. I loved the way they announced her presence, loved the way they made my cherry seem softer, more alive.

My gaze lingered as she reached for the sindoor. My throat tightened as she ran the small stick along her parting, a stroke of red against her smooth skin. It wasn't just a ritual to me; it was a reminder. A silent declaration that she was mine, that I belonged to her. The thought of it sent an inexplicable warmth rushing through me, a feeling so consuming, so right, that it almost hurt.

Then my eyes fell on the waist chain. The delicate silver ornament hung lazily on her waist, moving slightly with her every breath, every step. My jaw clenched involuntarily. It lay there, so casually, so carelessly, grazing her skin where I couldn't. A part of me wanted to laugh at the absurdity of feeling this way, but the other part? Oh, how I envied it. If only I could trade places with that piece of metal, I thought bitterly. To stay that close to her, to touch her, to never leave her side. The thought was maddening.

I heard the soft jingle of her anklets as she moved across the room. Her every movement had a rhythm, a melody that only I seemed to hear. As she turned toward the wardrobe, I shut my eyes, feigning sleep.

Her anklets stopped jingling for a moment, and I opened my eyes just slightly, unable to resist. She was pulling out a shirt for me, her fingers brushing over the fabric like she was choosing something precious. A smile tugged at the corner of my lips, though I kept my face neutral. She thought of me, remembered what i aaked her to do. This morning couldn't possibly get any better.

But then my gaze drifted lower, to her bare waist. The way the soft curve of her back met the faint indent of her waist was enough to send my thoughts spiraling. My mouth went dry, my mind wandering into places I knew I shouldn't go, but couldn't resist. She was beautiful, every inch of her, and my thoughts betrayed just how crazy she made me.

As she turned back toward the mirror, the anklets jingled once more, and I shut my eyes again, letting the sound of her movements fill the room. Her perfume was next, light and sweet, wrapping itself around me like an invisible caress.

Jasmine & Sandalwood.

And then, her presence grew closer. I could feel it before I even heard her. The air around me shifted, warmer, softer, as though it carried her essence. Her scent was intoxicating, her proximity overwhelming.

And then, so quietly that it felt like a secret meant only for me, I heard her whisper,

"Good morning, Aarth."

The soft click of the door told me she had stepped out of the room. I opened my eyes, the emptiness she left behind hitting me instantly.

My mind clung to the last thing she'd said, "Aarth." The nickname my wife gave me.

The word echoed, carving itself into me like it had a heartbeat of its own. It wasn't just a name, not anymore. Not when it came from her.

Hearing the world call me Sidharth never did this-never sent this warmth rushing through me, never left me breathless. But Aarth? That was hers. It belonged to her lips, her voice, her alone.

A small, unsteady smile tugged at the corners of my mouth, but I shook my head, trying to dismiss the rush it gave me. Yet somewhere deep inside, I knew the truth-being called Siddharth didn't give me peace. But hearing Aarth from her, it wasn't just peace; it was everything.

Her voice had marked me in ways I couldn't explain, and the absence of her presence now only made it worse.

The faint trace of her perfume lingered in the room, and I found myself breathing it in, like it was the only piece of her left. My jaw clenched, a sharp ache building in my chest. She was only steps away, and yet it felt like miles. How was it possible to miss someone this much when they'd just left the room? My hand brushed over the bed where she had stood, as if the air might still hold some part of her.

She was chaos, and I was willingly drowning in it.
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I started driving, my fingers tightening on the steering wheel as the familiar path began to wind its way through the road. The air was cooler, the landscape stretching out before me-a steady drive toward my Kuldevi Mandir, hidden deep in the mountains. It was a five-hour journey from the my village, and as we left the house behind, the tension from back there started to fade... just a little.

Beside me, Noor sat quietly, staring out the window, her eyes fixed on the view ahead. Her fingers toyed with the edge of her saree pallu, smoothing it over her lap in that small, absent gesture she often did when lost in thought.

Being here, away from everything-far from the memories that lingered-felt better. Anywhere was better as long as I had my Noor with me. The hills, the quiet, the distance-it gave me time to spend with her, to talk, to just... be. It was a winning situation, and I accepted it without a second thought.

I kept my gaze on the road, but a glance to my side caught Noor out of the corner of my eye. She sat there quietly, looking out of the window, her fingers smoothing over the edge of her saree pallu. A small, subtle movement-one she probably didn't even notice-but it pulled my attention. I could feel my eyes following her, stealing a glance, studying her with a quiet intensity I couldn't hide.

There was something about the way she sat so composed, so quietly distant-her calmness, yet the slight softness in her features. It was maddening, how easy it was to lose myself in her-every little action, every small movement. I allowed myself a brief smile, amused by her. How she carried herself, how even something so small as adjusting her pallu could catch my attention-each detail, each small act made her irresistible. It was almost like I couldn't look away.

I let the smile linger for a moment before focusing back on the road, but the image of her stayed with me. It was... impossible not to notice her. Impossible to resist the pull she had on me.

The minutes passed, the landscape changing slightly as we hit the highway. The quiet inside the car stretched between us. I could feel the urge building-an urge to hear her voice, to break the silence and hear her speak. To look at me. To smile. I wanted more than just stolen glances.

I shifted in my seat slightly, letting out a soft sigh as I glanced her way again. Her profile was peaceful-her face turned slightly to the window, her eyes focused ahead. Her fingers continued to fiddle with the pallu, gently tugging it between her fingers-each movement small, yet somehow... captivating.

I couldn't resist any longer.

"Noor," I said, my voice steady, though inside, I was already eager to hear her answer. "I shortlisted a few colleges for you. When we go back, you can choose which one you want to apply to."

Her eyes shifted from the window to me, those wide doe-like eyes meeting mine briefly. She blinked, surprised at the sudden mention. "Ji," she replied softly, her voice quiet but composed. "Theek hai."

(Yes; okay)

I let out a small exhale, the sound slipping from my lips before I could stop it. She never gave too much away-always calm, always controlled. It frustrated me in ways I couldn't explain, but it also made me want to peel back those layers, to know more.

Why she doesn't talk with me?

I glanced at her again, my gaze lingering slightly longer this time. She shifted slightly in her seat, her hands moving-tugging at the pallu once more, but now her fingers grazed the edge of her sleeve. My eyes followed every movement, every subtle twitch-so small, yet enough to draw my attention like a magnet.

"Aur aage ka kya plan hai aapka?" I asked, my tone soft but firm, like I was simply making conversation-though my mind burned with a different intention. "Kis field mein jaana chahti hai aap?"

(What's your plan for future?; In which field do you want to go)

Noor turned slightly, looking at me now-her expression quiet, contemplative. A small, thoughtful smile curved her lips, and it hit me harder than I expected. My breath caught for a moment, the sight of it making my heart skip. Her eyes-those deep, brown eyes-softened as they met mine.

"I want to go into teaching," she said softly, her voice smooth, yet carrying a certain warmth that made my chest tighten.

I leaned back slightly, taking it in-her words, her expression, the small, subtle way she smiled. Her words wrapped around me, settling deep inside, pulling me in. I couldn't get enough of it.

Her simplicity, her quiet strength-it drew me in more than I wanted to admit.

My lips curved slightly into a small, knowing smile. "Teaching," I repeated, letting the word hang in the air.

The air between us shifted once again-soft, yet charged with something I couldn't ignore.

Teaching.

The word lingered in the air, carried by Sidharth ji's deep, steady voice. My heart skipped a beat hearing it from him. I wasn't sure why-it was just a word, but coming from him, it felt heavier, more meaningful. I glanced at him, my fingers nervously playing with the edge of my saree pallu. His eyes were on the road, but I could feel his presence, his question waiting for an answer.

"Teaching," he said again, this time slower, like he was tasting the word. "Why teaching?"

My cheeks warmed under his question, and I hesitated, my thoughts running in all directions. I looked down at my hands, my heart thudding softly against my chest. Why teaching? The answer was simple, yet it felt so big, so close to my heart that I didn't know where to begin.

I took a breath, smiling softly to myself as the memories surfaced. "It's because..." I began, my voice quiet, shy. I peeked at him from under my lashes, nervous but hopeful he wouldn't think it silly. "It gives me peace."

I looked back out of the window, the trees blurring as we drove. "When I was little," I continued, my voice gaining a bit more courage, "I used to teach the younger children in my village. Just small things-how to read, how to write their names. They would look up at me, their eyes wide with wonder. It... it felt like I was doing something good, something that mattered."

The corner of my lips lifted as the memory filled me with warmth. "Teaching isn't just about books or lessons. It's about sharing what you know, giving a part of yourself to someone else, and watching them grow. That feeling..." I paused, trying to find the words. "It feels like I'm doing something for the world, even if it's just a small thing. It feels... right."

I turned to him then, my gaze hesitant but honest. "That's why I love it. It's not just a job or a dream-it's a part of me."

Sidharth ji glanced at me, his eyes searching mine. There was something in his gaze I couldn't quite name-intense, thoughtful, like he was trying to understand every word I had said. "You really love teaching," he said, his voice low, steady.

I nodded, a small, shy smile tugging at my lips. "Haan. Bahut zyada."

(Yes, I do. Very much.)

His gaze lingered on me for a moment longer before he turned back to the road. My heart was still fluttering, my fingers still fidgeting with my saree, but in that moment, I felt lighter, like sharing this piece of myself with him had eased something inside me.

The road ahead stretched endlessly, winding like a quiet promise through the hills. I sat still, my hands resting awkwardly on my lap, trying to steady the rhythm of my heart. Siddharth ji was driving, his eyes focused ahead, but I felt his presence like a weight against my chest-steady, strong, and inescapable.

The hum of the engine filled the silence between us, but it wasn't uncomfortable. At least, not until I felt it-a warm hand gently covering mine. My breath hitched as his fingers slowly, deliberately, intertwined with mine. His touch was firm but careful, and my cheeks burned so fiercely I was sure he could feel the heat radiating from me.

I stole a glance at him, shyly, through the corner of my eye. He wasn't looking at me, but his grip on my hand was possessive, almost claiming. His other hand was on the wheel, steering with a calm confidence, as though holding my hand was the most natural thing in the world.

"Aur kya pasand hai aapko, Noor?" His voice broke the stillness, low and steady, but it sent a shiver down my spine. (What else do you like, Noor?)

I blinked, my gaze darting to his face and then back to our joined hands. His fingers were long, strong, completely covering mine, and now resting lightly on the gear. My heart skipped painfully as I tried to gather my thoughts, to give him an answer that wouldn't make me sound foolish.

I smiled softly, almost without realizing it, and lowered my eyes to our hands. "Gardening," I said quietly, my voice barely above a whisper. "Gardening bohot pasand hai hume."

(I love gardening.)

His lips curved into a small smile, and he nodded, his eyes never leaving the road. "Aapke flowers ke liye pyaar dekh ke, ye toh samajh aa hi gaya."

(Your love for flowers made that quite obvious.)

My heart leapt at his words, and I looked away quickly, hoping he wouldn't see the way my cheeks had turned an even deeper shade of red. The way he said it, as though he had been paying attention to me all along, made me feel something I couldn't quite name.

"Aur?" he asked again, his voice gentle but insistent, like he wanted to know every corner of my heart.
(And?)

I bit my lip, hesitant, and looked down again at our hands, still joined as if they belonged together. His grip tightened slightly, as though sensing my hesitation, and it gave me just enough courage to speak again.

"Mujhe chudiya bohot pasand hai," I murmured, my voice softer this time.
(I really love bangles.)

His gaze flickered toward me briefly before settling back on the road, but not before I saw the way his lips curved into a faint smile. He looked down at our joined hands for a moment and then back at me, the warmth in his eyes enough to make my pulse quicken.

"Chudiya," he repeated, his voice rich with amusement and something deeper. He didn't say anything else, but his smile lingered, and I could feel the weight of his attention on me, making the small space between us feel impossibly intimate.

The silence between us stretched just long enough for me to hear the pounding of my heart, loud and insistent in my ears. I hadn't even realized I was smiling until I heard myself saying softly, "Every Sunday, Papa used to bring bangles for me. Har baar alag rang ke hotey the."
(Every time, they were of a different color.)

My fingers instinctively tightened around his as the memories bubbled up, uninvited yet vivid.

"Aur... I have a lot of bangles too. You know..." The words spilled out before I could stop them, a rush of thoughts I hadn't intended to share. I wasn't even sure he wanted to know, but there I was, babbling like a child, too caught up in my own head to notice.

And then it hit me-the weight of my own voice. I froze mid-sentence, realizing how much I'd just said. My cheeks flared, hotter than before, as I clamped my lips shut and looked down at our hands, my free hand fidgeting with the edge of my dupatta.

I heard him hum, low and soft, the sound rich with curiosity. "Hmm? Boliye."
(Hmm? Speak.)

I shook my head quickly, biting my lip to stop myself from speaking further, my cheeks now crimson. "Kuch nahi," I murmured shyly, my voice barely audible.
(Nothing.)

I didn't dare look at him, but I felt his gaze lingering on me, as if he could see right through the nervous shield I'd tried to put up. And then, as if to tease the words out of me, he asked again, his voice quieter but no less commanding, "Aur kya kya pasand hai aapko, Noor?"
(What else do you like, Noor?)

Something shifted inside me. The question was gentle, almost tender, and despite myself, I felt a little more at ease. My lips parted slightly, and before I could overthink it, I said,

"Mehndi... Mehndi lagana bahut pasand hai."
(I really love applying henna.)

His hand on mine tightened, and I felt the faintest tremor of nervousness, or was it excitement, travel up my arm. "Toh lagayi kyun nahi?" he asked, his voice steady, a subtle amusement woven into his words.
(Then why haven't you applied it?)

I faltered, my breath catching in my throat. He was talking so much

"W-Wo... time nahi mila," I stuttered, my heartbeat erratic under the weight of his attention.
(I-I didn't get the time.)

I could feel his gaze on me, burning with a quiet intensity, but I kept mine lowered, fixed on our intertwined hands. The rise and fall of my chest betrayed the storm of emotions swirling within me-nervousness, warmth, and my love.

And then, with a motion so deliberate, he lifted our joined hands. My heart stilled as he raised them slightly, just enough for me to notice the way his fingers remained firmly entwined with mine. Gently, he moved our hands to rest against my thigh. My breath hitched.

"Mujhe bhi aapke haathon mein mehndi bohot achi lagti hai," he said, his voice low and sure, a faint smile playing on his lips.

(Even I like hennal on your hands too.)

The weight of his words settled in the air, and I felt my heartbeat racing once again, this time accompanied by a warmth that spread through my entire being.

My heart skipped a beat as his words echoed in my ears. He loves henna on my hands. The thought made a shy smile spread across my lips, and I mentally promised myself-once we reached the Kuldevi Mandir, I would apply it. If it pleased him, how could I not? The very idea made my cheeks burn, and before I could stop myself, I bit my lower lip, stealing a quick glance at him.

He was driving, his face calm yet so commanding, and for a fleeting moment, I wondered how someone could seem so effortlessly composed. Gathering every ounce of courage in my chest, I softly asked,

"A-Aur aapko kya kya pasand hai?"
(A-And what do you like?)

The words left my lips hesitantly, trembling with curiosity. I wanted to know more about him-everything, in fact. My voice was barely above a whisper, but in the quiet car, it felt like the loudest sound. My heart thudded as I glanced at him, hoping he would answer.

But instead of speaking, he slowed the car and pulled it to a gentle stop by the roadside. My breath hitched as I watched him undo his seatbelt and turn toward me fully. His blue eyes met mine, and I froze, unsure of what to expect.

"Wo sab kuch jo aapko pasand hai."

(Everything you like.)

His words struck me like the softest thunder, leaving me stunned and vulnerable. My heart didn't just skip-it tumbled and raced, unsure how to keep up with the storm of emotions swelling inside me. My cheeks burned redder than ever, and I found myself unable to hold back the small smile tugging at my lips.

I looked up at him, forcing myself to meet his gaze for the very first time. His eyes-so blue, so deep-seemed to pull me in, darker now, as if holding secrets I wasn't ready to uncover. My voice trembled again, but this time it wasn't hesitation; it was something else, something deeper. "Kyun?"

(Why?)

The question came unbidden, born from the storm of feelings within me. My heart pounded furiously, almost drowning out my own thoughts. And yet, I couldn't look away.

He held my gaze, his own expression unreadable, and for a moment, I thought he would answer. His lips parted as if he were about to speak, his eyes still locked onto mine with an intensity that left me breathless. But then, just as suddenly, he looked away.

A small, almost defeated smile graced his lips, one that felt like surrender. "Chai piyegi aap?"

(Will you have some tea?)

The shift was so unexpected, so simple, yet it felt like the air itself had changed. My heart still raced, my cheeks still burned, and as I watched him turn back toward the wheel, all I could think was how deeply I had fallen for him.

_______________________________________

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