Aplogo ne target 1 din me hi complet
Kar diya. I was shocked but koi na.
Was happy too (hehe)

Now the next chapter after this target is completed.

Today's target -
‼️1.5k votes and 250 comments on this chapter.‼️

(Don't get confused please its 1500 votes. Not 1.05k. Okay?)

दिल से सुन पिया ये दिल की दास्तां,
जो लफ्जों में नहीं हो बयां।
हमसफ़र हमराज़ तू,
जिस्म मैं और सांस तू।
रहना मेरे पास तू यूं सदा।

नैनों ने बांधी कैसी डोर रे,
हाँ नैनों ने बांधी कैसी डोर रे।
हो, मुनसिफ ही मेरा मेरा चोर रे,
दिल पे चले ना कोई जोर रे।
हाँ दिल पे चले ना कोई जोर रे।
हो खिंचा चला जाए तेरी ओर रे।

As Sidharth ji held my hand, an unfamiliar warmth surged through me, sending a shiver down my spine. I had never experienced anything like this before. His touch was gentle yet firm, making my heart race in a way that both excited and terrified me.

"Ji...?" I murmured, glancing up at him, trying to read the emotions in his usually stoic eyes, but before I could fully grasp what was happening, he suddenly let go.

The instant his fingers slipped away, I felt a rush of coldness, as if the warmth had vanished into thin air. My cheeks flushed, and I blinked at him, feeling awkward and shy. I had never shared such a connection with any man before. It was a strange feeling, leaving me vulnerable and exposed. I had been raised to be cautious around men, but here I was, lost in this unexpected moment with my husband.

He looked at me, and for a brief second, I saw something flicker in his eyes-a mix of something else. But just as quickly, it was gone, replaced by the familiar seriousness that shrouded him.

"Wait till I get ready, then we will go downstairs together," he commanded, his voice low and firm. Yet there was an undertone, a softness that made it sound more like a plea wrapped in authority.

I nodded, my heart thumping loudly in my chest. His presence filled the room, an intoxicating blend of masculinity and mystery that left me breathless. As he turned to prepare himself, I took a moment to gather my thoughts. The reality of our newlywed status pressed down on me, and the butterflies in my stomach danced wildly.

Sitting on the edge of the bed, I watched the mirror that was standing in the corner of my room but was giving a clear view of him moves. He was tall and broad, the definition of strength. Even clad only in a towel, he exuded a powerful aura. My gaze traveled over him, taking in the way his muscles flexed beneath his skin as he reached for his clothes.

I couldn't help but feel a rush of embarrassment; I was watching him change without his knowledge. I looked away for a few seconds, only to look back again.

In that moment, I felt like a thief, stealing glances at something I had no right to. But I couldn't tear my eyes away. The way his muscles moved, the confidence in his posture-everything about him - was captivating. It was like I was seeing him for the first time, and the realization struck me hard. This man was my husband, and yet I still felt like I barely knew him.

As he rummaged through his things near the headrest of the bed, I caught sight of the tattoo on his back of the neck again. It was intricate and bold, a mark of his strength, and I couldn't help but admire it. A mix of pride and shyness washed over me as I thought about how he was mine, yet still so elusive.

When he turned to glance at me, I quickly looked away, my heart pounding as I felt a deep blush rise in my cheeks. It was embarrassing to feel this way, to be so affected by him. I was newly married, and yet every little interaction made me feel like I was experiencing everything for the first time.

"Chaliye," he said, his voice steady as he pulled on a shirt that hugged his body just right. I could barely muster the courage to respond, my mind racing with a swirl of emotions.

(Let's go)

"Okay," I managed to say, my voice barely above a whisper.

He opened the door & stood at the door & looked at me. His eyes are neutral, but like he was telling me something with his eyes.

I got up & moved ahead, leading the way for both of us.

As Sidharth ji stepped out of the room, his tall frame seemed to fill the doorway. He walked with a quiet confidence, each step purposeful and strong. There was a certain aura around him, an unspoken power that made the air feel thick. He silently followed me, my heart racing, unsure of what to expect.

The stairs creaked softly beneath our feet, and I noticed how his hand brushed against the railing, a subtle reminder of his strength. He moved with a grace that both fascinated and intimidated me. I felt small beside him, like a bird next to a lion.

When he glanced back at me, his expression remained unreadable, a steady gaze that hinted at something deeper but left me in the dark.

As we reached the dining room, the aroma of breakfast enveloped us-warm parathas, spicy aalo, and sweet chai filled the air. My family was already gathered around the table, and I could feel their eyes on us.

They greeted Sidharth ji with a mixture of respect and warmth, a dynamic that made me feel uneasy. My father, who was awake, now walked to him with a smile.

"Good morning, Sidharth beta," my father said, his voice full of admiration. It was clear he respected him deeply.

"Good morning, uncle," Siddharth replied, his tone calm and steady. He didn't smile much, but there was a familiarity in his voice that made it clear he was comfortable in this space.

I quietly walked to the kitchen to help my mother. As soon as she spotted me, she smiled and handed me a tray with two cups of tea.

"Ja, ja ke damad ji aur apne Papa ko de de," she said, her eyes twinkling.

(Go & give this to son in law & your father)

Hey bhagwan!

I thought, feeling my cheeks heat up. After my little act of shamelessness in their morning, I was way too nervous to face him now.

Taking a deep breath, I shuffled to the living room where my father and Sidharth ji sat on the sofa, facing each other. My father's eyes were shining with excitement, and I could feel his gaze boring into me as I approached.

I quickly placed the cups on the table between them and mumbled, "Tea." Without waiting for a reply, I turned and hurried back to the kitchen, my heart racing.

In the kitchen, my mother was busy flipping parathas on the stove, the warm, delicious smell filling the air. I took a moment to steady my breathing before picking up the plates.

"Ma, do you need any help?" I asked, trying to distract myself from the awkwardness.

"Bas thoda aur kaam hai, beta," she replied with a smile, her hands deftly working with the dough. I nodded and walked out to set the plates on the dining table, trying to ignore the flutter of nerves in my stomach.

(Just a little work is left)

As I arranged everything, I couldn't shake the feeling of Sidharth ji's eyes on me. What was I even doing?

I took another deep breath, reminding myself to focus on the task at hand. Just serve the food, Noor. That's all you need to do.

I finished setting the dining table, the delicious aroma of parathas filling the air. My heart was still racing from my earlier encounter with Sidharth ji, but I tried to shake off the nervousness. I took a deep breath and joined my family at the table.

My mother went to call everyone for breakfast, and I followed her, my heart racing a little. I took a seat next to him at the table, feeling the warmth radiate from his presence. As we began to eat, I couldn't help but notice the way he handled the food-his movements were confident and smooth, serving himself with an ease that highlighted his independence.

There was something about the way he carried himself that made my stomach flutter.

Just as I reached for a piece of paratha, my bua's voice cut through the air, sharp and commanding.

"Noor beta, serve your husband. It's your duty."

My hand froze mid-air, and I felt my cheeks flush as I lowered my eyes to the plate in front of me. The room seemed to shrink around me, and I could feel the weight of expectation pressing down. This was how things were supposed to be, right?

I was the wife; I was meant to take care of him.

As I hesitated, my heart pounding in my chest, I thought about getting up to follow my bua's command. But before I could move, Siddharth spoke, his voice low and steady.

"Sit. I can serve myself."

His words hung in the air, simple yet firm, and I felt a mix of relief and confusion. I glanced at him, surprised. His jaw was clenched, but He sounded like he wasn't angry or demanding; he just stated a fact. But his tone carried an undertone of harshness that made me feel seen, even if we weren't directly interacting.

After Sidharth ji's calm assertion that he could serve himself, the room felt thick with unspoken words. I looked down at my plate, my heart racing as I tried to process the moment. My mind was a flurry of thoughts-who was this man I had just married two days ago? His demeanor was so different from what I had expected.

What I saw on our wedding night.

I had grown up in a village where traditions were as deeply rooted as the trees that lined the fields. Women were taught to serve their husbands, to show their devotion through every meal prepared and every need anticipated. But here, in this new life with Sidharth ji, everything felt different. He was an enigma to me, a man of few words whose presence commanded respect without even trying.

My cheeks still burned from embarrassment, and I could feel the heat rising in me as I stole a glance at him. Sidharth ji sat across the table, his jawline sharp, and his eyes focused on his plate. He had always carried an air of mystery, and now, with each passing moment, I found myself drawn to him despite my nervousness.

What was he thinking?

What did he want from me?

Even though he rarely spoke, when he did, his words resonated with a strength that both intimidated and fascinated me. He was a man of few words, but when he did spoke, it felt significant.

His respect for my background and my efforts to adjust to this new life made me feel valued, even if I still felt lost in the vastness of our relationship.

As I sat there, I couldn't shake off the feeling that there was more to him than met the eye. What I have observed while leaving with him till now is that He had a way of observing the world around him, almost as if he was assessing everything without letting anyone know what he felt.

I was curious about the thoughts behind those dark, blue, intense eyes that seemed to hold so many secrets.

Just then, I saw a familiar figure stop at the doorway, and my heart skipped a beat. It was Aditya bhai.

His gaze fell on me and Sidharth ji, sitting together. For a moment, his face held a mix of emotions-anger, hurt, and something else I couldn't place. Before I could even rise to greet him, he turned abruptly and stormed down the hall to his room.

I swallowed, feeling a pang in my chest. He was still angry with me. The last time I saw him, at my bidaai, he'd said words that had cut deep words that made me question if he even thought of me as his sister anymore. I didn't wait for any more words and quickly excused myself. Maa saw that too & I know his actions count as a disrespect to my husband but I could help but rush to him.

"I... I'll just go check on him."

Without another word, I hurried down the hall. My footsteps echoed softly as I approached Aditya bhai's room. The door was partially open, and I saw him pacing inside, his jaw set, eyes blazing with that familiar anger.

I stepped in quietly, my voice soft.

"Bhai?"

He stopped in his tracks, turning to look at me with a hard expression. "So, you decided to come?" His voice was sharp, every word laced with disappointment.

My heart ached at his tone. "Bhai... why did you say those things during my bidaai? Am I not your sister?"

He let out a harsh laugh, shaking his head.

"Baat ko samajhti kyun nahi ho, Noor? I didn't want you to marry him! And still... you went ahead and did it. Just because Baba wanted it." His words hit me like a slap, each one a reminder of the anger he'd carried since the wedding.

(Why don't you understand, Noor?)

I felt my eyes sting, but I refused to let my voice waver.

"Bhai, papa is... he doesn't have much time left. All he wanted was to see me married, settled. He believes Sidharth Ji is the right man for me, and I trust Papa's words."

Aditya bhai looked away, his hands clenched.

"Aur tumhe apne bhai pe bharosa nahi tha? I wanted the best for you, too, Noor. But this..." He gestured around, frustration evident.

(And you didn't trust your brother?)

"This wasn't it. Sidharth isn't for you."

I took a step closer, speaking softly but firmly.

"I know you wanted the best for me, Bhai. But sometimes, we have to make decisions not just for ourselves but for the people we love." I swallowed, hoping he could understand.

"Papa's health... it's getting worse, and I couldn't bear to see him unhappy in his last days. Humne hamesha unki khushi ko apna farz samjha hai na?"

(We have always considered his happiness our duty, haven't we?)

He exhaled slowly, his anger softening into something more vulnerable.

"Noor... main tujhe iss rishte mein bandhte hue nahi dekh sakta, wo bhi ye jante hue ki you'll end up getting hurts. I was angry because I thought you didn't think it through."

(I couldn't watch you tie yourself to this marriage knowing very well you'll get hurt.)

I managed a faint smile.

"Bhai, I did think it through. I may be young, but I know my responsibilities. Sidharth ji may be distant, but he respects our marriage. I think... I think with time, things will fall into place."

There was silence for a moment, as he studied my face, reading every emotion. Finally, he sighed, his voice softening.

"You've grown up, Noor. Maybe more than I realized." Then, almost to himself, he muttered,

"Itna jaldi toh mujhe apni behen ko Vida nahi krna tha."

(I didn't want to lose my sister this soon.)

My heart softened, and before I knew it, I stepped forward and wrapped my arms around him. He tensed for a moment, but then he hugged me back tightly, like he was afraid to let go.

"Acha hai toh ab Sidharth se dosti karni padegi mujhe, hm?" he teased, his tone playful.

(So now I'll have to befriend Siddharth, huh?)

I couldn't help but laugh, a mix of relief and warmth filling my heart.

"Yes, Bhai. He may not say much, but he's good. And he'll respect our family."

He ruffled my hair, his usual sternness melting.

"Toh kya hua agar tu meri choti behen hai, kabhi kabhi samajh se badi bhi baatein kar leti hai."

(So what if you're my little sister, sometimes you understand things better than even I do.)

I pulled away, smiling up at him. "Because you taught me well, Bhai."

As he looked at me, I could see the love, the protectiveness in his eyes.

"Kuch bhi ho, Noor, agar kabhi kuch zaroorat ho toh yaad rakhna, tera bhai hamesha tere saath hai"

(No matter what, Noor, if you ever need anything, remember, your brother will always be by your side.)

I nodded, feeling the strength of his words settle in my heart. I knew my brother would always protect me, no matter where life took us.

I stepped outside with Aditya bhai by my side, carrying the last few things from my room. As we walked toward Sidharth ji's car, I saw him already there, carefully loading the bags into the trunk. He worked silently, his face neutral, focused on the task.

There was something about his quiet strength that made his presence fill the whole area, even though he hadn't said a word.

My brother and I approached the car, and my heart started to feel heavier with each step. Behind us, the whole family came out, one by one. Maa's eyes were red, and Bua-ji held onto her arm tightly. My younger cousins, looked sad but excited at the same time, probably not understanding why the day felt so serious.

Aditya bhai stopped beside me, looking down at me with a soft smile. Then, right in front of everyone, he placed his hands on my shoulders and kissed my forehead. His eyes held the same tears I'd been trying to hide all morning.

"Take care, Noor," he whispered, his voice trembling. I felt the tears pricking my own eyes. He then looked toward Sidharth ji and like they were communicating through eyes.

Maa came forward, holding my hand tight.

"Apna dhyaan rakhna, beta."

(Take care of yourself, dear.)

Her voice broke a little, and I could feel her pain, the struggle of letting me go. She pressed my hand to her cheek, not ready to let go just yet.

Then Bua-ji gave me a tight hug, whispering blessings and squeezing my shoulders. My two cousins came up, wiping a tear away quickly before anyone could see, while other clung to my side for a moment.

My sister-in-law, Bhabi, was standing nearby, her eyes filled with warmth and care. She placed a hand on my head, smiling gently, silently giving me strength.

My father, though frail, stood back a bit, watching with a smile that was small but proud. It was for him I'd made this decision, for his happiness and peace.

Just as I was about to sit in the car, Aditya bhai called out,

"Ruko!"

(Wait!)

He quickly went back inside, leaving everyone waiting for a moment. I could hear some whispers and giggles behind me from cousin who were probably planning to tease me about something.

A moment later, bhai returned, holding something close to his chest. I looked closely and felt a laugh bubble up through my tears. He was holding my favorite cherry-shaped pillow.

"Tujhe bina iske neend nahi aati, yaad hai na?" he said with a soft smile, handing it to me.

(You can't sleep without this, remember?)

I held it close, smiling and hugging the pillow tight. I could almost feel his warmth and protection through it.

"Thank you, bhai," I whispered, feeling a strange mix of happiness and sadness. I wanted to cry, laugh, and hug everyone all over again, but I knew it was time to leave.

As I finally got into the car, Sidharth ji took his place in the driver's seat. His face was unreadable, calm, and serious, like he always was. He didn't say anything to me or to anyone else. He just glanced at me once and then turned his gaze back to the road. But his silence, that quiet strength, made me feel both safe and nervous at the same time.

As we started driving, I could still see my family waving from the rearview mirror, their faces growing smaller and smaller until they finally disappeared. My heart ached with every mile we drove away.

Inside the car, everything felt so silent. I kept glancing at him, feeling my cheeks flush every time I saw his focused expression.

We sat in silence until my mind drifted back to that morning, just a few hours before, when I'd caught a glimpse of him changing. He'd removed his shirt, and I'd noticed a tattoo on his back, half-hidden, but bold and dark against his skin. I didn't know why, but that sight had left my heart racing.

I tried to shake the thought away, leaning back into the seat. But my gaze kept wandering to his shoulder, hoping to catch another glimpse of that tattoo beneath the fabric. I felt a warm blush creeping up my cheeks, and I looked outside the window & pressed my hand to my cheeks, embarrassed at my own thoughts.

Gadhi! Ky ho gya h tujhe Noorie?!!

I scolded myself quietly.

(Dufferr!! What happened with you?!!)

But no matter how hard I tried, I couldn't calm my heart. Every little movement he made, every time his hand shifted on the steering wheel, made my pulse jump.

Sidharth ji didn't say a word, and maybe that was what made it even harder to breathe. His presence was enough to make me feel nervous and shy, like a girl from some old village tale, with her heart fluttering for the first time. Every part of me felt aware of him, of his steady breathing, his strong hands, his serious gaze fixed on the road.

I couldn't help but steal a few glances, admiring his calm, his strength. And with every stolen look, I felt myself blushing more, my heart beating louder. I was sure he could hear it too, but he kept his face straight, his expression unreadable.

It was like he was in a world of his own, far from all my silly, shy thoughts.

As we drove away from home, leaving my family and my childhood behind, I could still feel Aditya bhai's words weighing on me.

I didn't want you to marry Sidharth.

His voice, sharp and hurt, echoed in my mind. He didn't understand why I went through with it, why I agreed to a marriage I barely knew anything about. But how could I explain it to him? How could I make him understand that this was more than just my choice-it was for my father, for his last wish?

Papa's illness had stolen so much from him, from all of us. His silent plea for me to trust him to marry Sidharth was something I couldn't refuse. I knew his heart; I knew he wouldn't have chosen anyone unworthy.

And so, even as I felt uncertain, I was determined to honor his wish. This marriage was my promise to papa, and I would hold it close, protect it, just as I'd done with all he'd taught me.

Mujhe isko nibhana hai.

(I must make this work)

But I couldn't deny that I was left wondering about Sidharth Ji's intentions. Since we married, he hadn't said much to me-just the necessary words, a few nods here and there, he never let any emotions show. I didn't know what to make of it.

There was kindness in his silence, in his small gestures, but also a distance, a seriousness I couldn't read.

As I glanced at him now, his steady hands on the steering wheel, his face as neutral as always, I wondered if he saw this marriage the same way I did.

Did he see it as a responsibility, just as I did? Or was it something else entirely?

A part of me was scared of the answer, but another part-a hopeful part-wanted to believe that there was more to this, that he respected me and this bond enough to try.

I was sure of one thing: even if he didn't understand me now, I would do everything in my power to honor this marriage, to make it work. This was for my father, for the trust he had in me, and for my promise to fulfill his last wish.

I looked out the window, trying to calm my racing thoughts. Everything felt so new, so uncertain. And yet, I couldn't help but feel a glimmer of determination.

If Sidharth Ji respected me, even in silence, then maybe there was a chance for us to find some common ground. Maybe, beneath that serious, unreadable face, there was a heart as uncertain and cautious as mine.

As we drove on, I took a deep breath, letting the cool air fill my lungs. I would be patient, I would be brave, and I would find a way through this, for Papa's sake. This was a new journey, and even if Sidharth Ji remained silent, I would hold onto my resolve. I looked at him one last time, whispering softly to myself,

"Kitne serious hain ye."

(He's so serious.)

But perhaps that seriousness was his way of respecting this bond?

The car rolled to a stop in front of his grand, imposing house, and my hands grew clammy as I took in the sight of the place I'd now call home. I was about to open the door when his deep, calm voice stilled me.

"Rukiye."

(Wait)

I froze, my hand dropping to my lap, and turned to find him leaning toward me. His face was expressionless, almost unreadable, but the sheer closeness sent a rush of warmth through me.

His deep blue eyes, intense and unwavering, locked onto mine, making me feel as though he could see right through me, catching every thought and flutter of my heart. My breath caught as I found myself unable to look away, the tension thickening in the small space between us.

Without a word, his gaze drifted down, and slowly, he reached over to lift the edge of my pallu that had slipped. His hand brushed so close, I could feel the warmth of his fingers as he carefully placed it back over my lap, as though it belonged there.

My mind flashed back to yesterday, when I'd nearly tripped on it, and he had, without saying a word, walked behind me all the way to the car, holding my pallu to keep me from stumbling.

And now, with just a simple gesture, he was doing it again-without a single word, just this steady, silent care that was somehow even more overwhelming. His face was calm, and his gaze, deep as an ocean, held something unreadable that both thrilled and unnerved me.

"Sambhal ke."

(Be careful).

His voice, low and commanding, sent a shiver through me. The way he said it, steady and firm. I felt the blood rush to my cheeks, and before I could stop myself, a shy smile tugged at my lips.

I mumbled a soft, "Ji,"

(Yes)

As he finally leaned back, his face as composed as ever, as if he hadn't just sent my heart racing with a single glance and a word. Gathering myself, I turned and stepped out, clutching my pallu to my chest. I could still feel the warmth of his touch, the memory of his steady gaze, as I walked toward the door. Each step felt heavy with his presence behind me, and I couldn't resist the urge to glance back over my shoulder.

The window was rolled down & he was still there, watching me with that same intense gaze, his jaw set and face neutral, yet something about his stare made me feel seen, as though he could feel every beat of my heart.

My steps slowed, unsure if I was ready to enter this new world alone. Just knowing he was watching over me was enough to give me courage, yet it left me wondering why he stayed silent-why he did these things without ever expressing them in words.

I took a few more steps, reaching the door, when I heard him calling my name in his deep voice-

"Noor."

I turned, heart pounding, to see him stepping out of the car, his tall frame radiating that same strength and silent authority. My breath hitched as he strode toward me, holding something in his hand.

It was my cherry-shaped pillow, the one I must have left behind in my nervousness. He handed it to me without a word, his eyes flickering down just long enough to make me feel as if he understood far more than I'd ever said.

The warmth returned to my cheeks, and I felt embarrassed, hugging the pillow tightly. It was such a small thing, but the way he returned it, calmly, as if it mattered, made my heart skip.

His face held no hint of a smile, yet there was something about his presence that made me feel something.

I tried to stammer out a -

"Thank you," but it came out too soft, too shy, and his gaze flicked to my face with a look that made my pulse race. Without another word, he turned and walked back to the car, his stride powerful and sure, as though he was certain of his place in every step he took. I clutched the pillow, watching him get back in the car, where he stayed, waiting, his gaze never leaving me until I was fully inside.

As I entered the house, I heard an excited shout,

"Bhabhi aa gayi!" (Sister-in-law has arrived!)

My brother-in-law' Adarsh's cheerful call brought me back to the moment, grounding me in this new home. I tried to shake off the rush of emotions, but even as I greeted everyone, my mind lingered on his steady, unreadable gaze, and that single word he'd spoken-Sambhal ke.

In those simple, unspoken gestures, he was saying things he'd never say aloud, and I could feel my heart flutter at the quiet power he held over me without even trying.

His silence spoke louder than any words, leaving me to wonder what lay beneath that calm, serious exterior.
____________________________________

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