The car stopped, and before I could even steady myself, Reyansh was already lifting me again in his arms. Bridal style, strong and unyielding. At the entrance, Maa stood waiting, her eyes glistening. She did my aarti, her hands trembling but her smile soft, as if thanking the heavens for bringing me back.

Inside, Papa's voice carried through the living room, calm but firm.
"Reyansh, Aroohi ko rest karna abhi necessary hai. Tum ise kamre mein le jao. Chachi said tumhara dinner bhi kamre mein bhijwa denge."

I wanted to protest, to say I was fine, but before I could, Ansh came forward. His eyes were determined, his jaw set. Without asking, he scooped me up again in bridal style. I knew I couldn't say anything to him.

We entered the room, and he gently placed me on the bed. His gaze softened, his voice low.
"Jaan, you should sleep a little."

I nodded, my body weak but my heart full. He slid beside me, pulling me into his chest, his arms wrapping around me like armor. His hand began patting my head, steady, soothing, protective.

In that moment, the world outside didn't matter. The accident, the panic, the hospital — all of it faded. All I could feel was the rhythm of his heartbeat against my ear, the warmth of his chest, and the silent promise that as long as he was here, I would never face the darkness alone.

When I woke up, the room was quiet. Reyansh wasn't there. My eyes fell on the nightstand — a folded note in his handwriting. "I'm in the study room."

I moved slowly, my body still weak, and stepped into the bathroom. The water from the shower hit me, warm at first, then heavy, almost suffocating. And that's when it happened — the past came rushing back.

The water poured over me, but instead of washing away the heaviness, it pulled me deeper into memories. My chest tightened, my breath broke, and before I knew it, I was sitting on the cold tiles, tears spilling faster than the shower itself.

I remembered the hospital, the way everyone's eyes had been on me when the panic attack struck. Their questions were coming — I knew it. Why does she fear fire? Why does she tremble like that? But I couldn't answer. Not now. Not yet.

Because my revenge was close. Too close. And if I revealed the truth now, everything would collapse.

I wiped my face, forced myself to stand, and reached for the phone. My fingers shook, but my voice was steady when the line connected.

"It happened again," I said quietly. "but In front of everyone. The panic attack. They'll start asking questions soon."

There was silence on the other end, then a calm reply: "What do you want us to do?"

I closed my eyes, the water still hitting my skin, my tears refusing to stop. "We move fast. No more waiting. I'll tell you everything about how it happened, but now... we can't waste time. My revenge won't wait."

I hung up, my heart pounding. The fear was still there, but beneath it burned something stronger — resolve.

I sat on the bed, my phone heavy in my hand. With trembling fingers, I unlocked the hidden folder. The screen lit up with the faces I could never forget — the ones tied to my fear, my past, my scars.

I stared at the pictures glowing on my phone screen, my jaw tightening. "No more waiting. Just a little longer. When they come, I will not leave them. I promise you — I will take revenge."

The words left me like fire, heavy and unshakable. My tears kept falling, but beneath them burned something stronger — resolve. The world thought I was fragile, broken. They didn't know the truth. I was preparing for the day when my past would meet my revenge.

I wiped my face, forcing the tears to vanish. My phone screen still glowed with those pictures, the silent witnesses of everything I carried inside. But I couldn't let anyone see. Not now. Not when revenge was so close.

I whispered to myself, "I have to act. I have to smile. I have to pretend my past doesn't scare me anymore. In front of them, I must look happy."

Just then, I felt it — footsteps approaching. My heart raced. Quickly, I closed the secret folder, locked the phone, and placed it on the nightstand as if nothing had happened.

The door opened. Reyansh stepped in, his presence filling the room. His eyes softened when they landed on me. Without a word, he leaned down and pressed a kiss to my forehead.

"How are you feeling?" he asked, his voice low, protective.

I forced a small smile, my voice steady. "Okay."

Inside, the storm raged. But outside, I had to be calm. Because no one could know yet. Not until the time was right.

I watched her sleep, her face finally peaceful after the storm. For a moment, I let myself breathe. I bent down, kissed her forehead softly, and left a note on the nightstand: "I'm in the study."

The study was dark, quiet, but my mind wasn't. I sat on the chair, my palms rubbing against my face, trying to erase the sight that kept replaying. Her screams. Her tears. The way she cried for someone, repeating that she couldn't live without him. And then... collapsing in my arms, whispering "save him."

That moment had carved itself into me. I had never felt this before — helplessness. My jaan, my Aroohi, was crying, bleeding inside, and I couldn't do anything. That truth was tearing me apart.

But one thing I knew: I will not let anything happen to her. Not now, not ever. I will make her feel cherished, loved, protected. I will give her the peace she deserves. And when she is comfortable, when she feels safe enough, she will tell me her past.

I want her trust. And I will earn it. No matter what happens, no matter how long it takes — I will fight the world if I have to. Because she is mine, and I will never let her break alone again.

After some time in the study, I felt the pull back to her. My steps carried me towards our room, the weight in my chest refusing to ease until I saw her again.

When I opened the door, the sight stopped me. My jaan was sitting on the bed, her hair damp, her clothes changed — she had taken a bath. The simple image of her, fragile yet trying to be strong, made something inside me soften.

I walked to her, leaned down, and pressed a kiss to her forehead. That touch was my silent promise — I would never let her break alone again.

"How are you feeling?" I asked, my voice low, careful, protective.

She looked at me, her eyes steady, and said softly, "Okay."

That single word, that faint smile, eased the storm inside my chest. For the first time since the accident, I felt a flicker of peace. She was here, she was fighting, and I would make sure she never had to fight alone.

I couldn't hold back anymore. I lowered myself to my knees in front of her, my hands reaching for hers. Her skin was soft, fragile, but it carried the weight of storms I couldn't yet see. I lifted her hand gently, pressing a kiss to her knuckles — a vow sealed in silence.

"Jaan," I whispered, my voice raw, "you don't have to worry. No one will ask you anything. When you feel comfortable, you can tell me. I will wait."

Her eyes flickered, uncertain, searching mine. "What if... I take a long time to open up?" she asked, her voice trembling, as if afraid of the answer.

I tightened my grip, my gaze unyielding. "Then I will wait till eternity. I don't care how long it takes. I just want you beside me."

The words hung heavy in the air, but they weren't just words — they were my truth. I would fight the world, burn it down if I had to, but I would never rush her, never break her trust.

Because my jaan wasn't just my love. She is my life. And I would wait forever if that's what it took.

A knock came at the door, breaking the silence. I stood, opened it, and found the staff waiting with trays of food. I took it from them, gave a short nod, and carried it inside.

Placing the food carefully on the table, my eyes went straight back to her. My jaan was sitting quietly, fragile yet strong, and I couldn't resist. Without a word, I stepped forward, bent down, and lifted her into my arms — bridal style, the way I always wanted her close.

She gasped softly, but I didn't let her speak. I carried her to the sofa, lowering her gently, making sure she was comfortable. My chest eased only when I saw her settled, safe, and within reach.

Because for me, even the smallest act — carrying her, feeding her, holding her — was not duty. It was love. And I would never let her forget that she was cherished.

I placed the food on the table and sat beside her. Without a word, I began feeding her, each bite a silent prayer that she would regain her strength. To my surprise, she lifted a piece and fed me back. A smile tugged at my lips — her effort, her tenderness, it meant more than words. I ate from her hand, cherishing the moment.

After a while, she whispered, "My stomach is full."

I frowned gently, my voice soft but firm. "Jaan, tumne bahut kam khaya hai... thoda sa aur kha lo, mere liye, please."

Her eyes met mine, and under my insistence, she began eating again. Two rotis — enough to ease my worry for now. I handed her water, watching her sip slowly, then lifted her once more in my arms, bridal style, carrying her back to the bed.

"Wait for me," I said, brushing her hair back. "I'm coming after changing."

I moved to the closet, slipped into my sweatpants, and returned to her side. Sliding into bed, I pulled her completely onto myself, her body resting against mine. One hand held her waist firmly, never letting her slip away, while the other gently patted her head.

Her breathing softened, her warmth sinking into me. In that moment, nothing else mattered. My world began and ended with her — my jaan, safe in my arms.

The morning light slipped through the curtains, soft and golden, but it wasn't the sun that caught my breath — it was her. My wife. My jaan.

She lay beside me, her hair scattered across the pillow, her nose scrunching slightly in sleep. That innocent gesture made her look even more beautiful, fragile yet mine. My eyes traced her cheeks, flushed with the warmth of dreams, and then her lips... soft, tempting, almost inviting me closer.

A storm rose inside me. I wanted to feel them against mine, her softness meeting my hardness, to steal her breath and make her forget everything except me. In that moment, nothing else mattered — not the past, not the questions, not the shadows. Only her.

I leaned closer, my heart pounding, my hand tightening around her waist. She was my peace, my fire, my everything. And as I watched her sleep, I knew — I would spend eternity making her forget the pain, and remember only the love we shared.

Her eyes fluttered open slowly, lashes brushing against her cheeks. When her gaze met mine, she found my face already close to hers. The blush crept across her skin, painting her cheeks in a way that made my chest tighten.

A strand of hair had fallen across her face. I reached out, gently tucking it behind her ear, wanting to see her fully, wanting to memorize her softness.

"Ansh... I have to go," she whispered, her voice hesitant, almost pleading.

But the thought of her leaving my arms, even for a moment, was unbearable. My hand tightened around her waist, holding her firmly against me.

Her eyes searched mine, pleading silently, let me go. But I couldn't. Not now. Not when the morning had given me this — her warmth, her blush, her closeness.

Inside me, the storm of desire and protectiveness clashed. I wanted her safe, I wanted her near, and I couldn't let her slip away. Not yet. Not ever.

She started pushing at my hand, her voice soft but urgent.
"Ahh... let me go, Ansh. Let go. Everyone will be awake, I want to go downstairs."

I tightened my hold, my lips curving into a teasing smile. "First kiss me... then I'll let you go."

Her face turned completely red, her blush spreading like fire. She hesitated, then whispered, "Okay... but first close your eyes."

I obeyed, closing my eyes, waiting for the touch of her lips. But instead, I heard the quick shuffle of her steps. When I opened my eyes, she had already run, the bathroom door shut tight behind her.

I sighed, half amused, half frustrated. "Jaan... aise nahi kar sakte," I called out, my voice carrying both playfulness and longing.

From inside, her reply came, muffled but clear. "Ansh... I didn't brush yet."

I leaned back, shaking my head with a smile. Even in her escape, even in her blush, she was mine — and I knew, sooner or later, she wouldn't be able to run from me.

I closed the bathroom door quickly, my heart racing. My back pressed against it as I tried to catch my breath. My cheeks were burning, and I couldn't stop the smile tugging at my lips.

"Ansh... I didn't brush yet," I called out, trying to sound serious, but my voice betrayed me with its softness.

Inside, I touched my lips with trembling fingers, the memory of his closeness still fresh. The way his face hovered near mine, the way his eyes demanded a promise — it made my heart flutter in ways I couldn't control.

I looked at my reflection in the mirror, my blush refusing to fade. Why does his touch make me forget everything? I thought. For a moment, even my past, my secrets, my revenge — all of it slipped away. All that remained was him.

But I couldn't let him see that. Not yet. So I splashed water on my face, straightened myself, and whispered, "Stay strong, Aroohi. Don't let him know."

Still, deep inside, I knew — no matter how much I tried to hide, his love was breaking through my walls.

I walked downstairs slowly, the warmth of the morning still lingering on my skin. As soon as I entered, Maa, Papa, Dadu, Dadi, Chacha, and Chachi all turned toward me. Their eyes were filled with concern, but their smiles tried to hide it.

"How are you feeling now, beta?" Maa asked softly.

I nodded, forcing a gentle smile. "Yes... I am good now."

Their relief was visible, and one by one they came closer, blessing me, touching my head, making me feel wrapped in their love.

Then Karan and Riya entered, their faces bright but worried. They rushed to me, hugging me tightly. "How are you, Aroohi?" Riya whispered.

"I'm good," I replied, smiling at them both. Their embrace eased something inside me.

But then Vikram walked in. His steps were heavy, his eyes avoiding mine. My heart clenched. I moved toward him, gently touching his arm. "What happened?" I asked.

Suddenly, he pulled me into a hug, his grip desperate. I froze for a moment, then felt the wetness on my shoulder. Tears. He was crying.

I rubbed his back softly, whispering, "Why are you crying, Ram?"

His voice broke as he said, "I was afraid... afraid to see you like this."

I pulled back slightly, cupping his face, forcing him to look at me. "Now look at me. I am good. Nothing happened to me. See? I am standing here, smiling. I am good now."

He wiped his tears, his lips trembling into a faint smile. And in that moment, surrounded by family, I realized — my pain wasn't mine alone. It had scarred them too.

then Papa's words echoed in my ears: "Beta, tum hospital kab se join kar rahi ho?"
I smiled softly, answering, "Kal se hi, Papa." He nodded with pride, and the conversation flowed around me. Time slipped away in laughter and warmth, until I finally excused myself to go upstairs.

In my room, I began taking out my accessories for tomorrow, carefully arranging them. My thoughts were scattered between duty and the shadows of my past, when suddenly I felt arms wrap around me from behind.

Reyansh. His embrace was firm, protective, and then his lips pressed a gentle kiss on my shoulder. My heart skipped.

"Get ready," he whispered against my ear, "we will go out at 7."

I turned around, my eyes searching his face. "Where?" I asked, curiosity flickering.

He smiled, that teasing smile that always unsettled me. "Surprise," he said simply. Then, softer, "But wear something in which you are comfortable, okay?"

I nodded, my blush betraying me. His eyes lingered, as if he wanted to say more, but instead he just held me tighter. And in that moment, I realized — no matter how much I tried to hide, he was determined to fill my life with moments that made me forget the pain.

I nodded, my heart racing. I chose my outfit — the light green shirt left open over my white crop top, denim shorts, sneakers, and my little shoulder bag. As I looked at myself in the mirror, I felt a mix of nerves and excitement.

Because tonight wasn't just about going out. It was about him — the way he wanted me to feel cherished, comfortable, and loved. And though I didn't know where he was taking me, I knew one thing: with Reyansh, every moment was becoming a memory I couldn't forget.

When the clock neared seven, I stood waiting, anticipation burning quietly inside me. Then she stepped out, dressed in that light green shirt over her white crop top, denim shorts, sneakers, and her little shoulder bag. My breath caught. She looked effortlessly beautiful, comfortable yet radiant — exactly how I wanted her to feel.

I moved closer, sliding my arms around her waist from behind, pressing a kiss to her shoulder. "Perfect," I murmured, my lips brushing her skin.

She turned, her eyes questioning. "Where are we going?"

I smiled, keeping the mystery alive. "Surprise," I said softly. "But I promise... it's something that will make you forget everything else for a while. Just wear your comfort, bring your smile, and trust me."

Her blush deepened, and she nodded. That single gesture was enough. Tonight wasn't about grand gestures or crowded places — it was about us. About giving her a memory where she could breathe freely, laugh without fear, and feel cherished beyond words.

As I held her hand, leading her out, I thought to myself: This evening, I'll make sure she knows she's not just my wife... she's my world.

I walked her to the car, opening the door like it was second nature. She sat down gracefully, her smile lighting up the evening. I closed the door gently, then slipped into the driver's seat beside her.

As the engine hummed to life, I couldn't help but glance at her. The happiness on her face was all I wanted — it was the only destination that mattered. My hand reached for hers, holding it firmly, while the other stayed on the steering wheel.

She looked at me, her eyes sparkling, and I felt the world shrink to just us. The road stretched ahead, but my focus was on her — the way her fingers curled into mine, the way her smile made me forget every shadow.

Driving with her hand in mine, I thought: This is what I want forever. Her laughter, her comfort, her presence beside me. No matter where we're going, as long as she's here, I've already arrived.

I stopped the car, stepped out, and walked around to her side. Opening the door, I held my hand out for her. As she stepped out, her eyes widened, sparkling with surprise.

"Really... we are here?" she asked, her voice filled with disbelief and excitement.

I smiled, watching her expression carefully. "I know you love this... that's why we've come here. It's a pottery date. I wanted you to be comfortable, to enjoy, to feel free."

Her lips parted in awe, her blush deepening as she looked around. The soft glow of the studio lights, the earthy scent of clay, the quiet hum of creativity — it was all for her.

I reached for her hand again, squeezing it gently. "Tonight isn't about anything else, jaan. It's about you, me, and making something together... something that will last."

Her smile grew, and in that moment, I knew I had chosen right. Because seeing her happy, seeing her forget the weight of everything else — that was the only surprise I ever wanted to give.

Inside, as the wheel spun, our hands met over the clay. Her fingers trembled at first, hesitant, but I guided them gently, steadying the shape. The clay was soft, fragile — just like the walls she kept around her heart. And with every touch, every laugh when the clay wobbled, I felt those walls slowly melting.

I wasn't looking at the vessel we were shaping. My eyes were on her — the way her smile lit up, the way her blush deepened when my hand lingered over hers. For me, this wasn't just pottery. It was us. Shaping something together, something lasting, something that carried both our imprints.

And in that moment, I knew — this date wasn't about clay. It was about showing her that with me, she could be herself, comfortable, loved, and never alone.

I was standing behind her, guiding her hands on the spinning clay. Our fingers brushed, our palms pressed together, shaping something fragile yet alive. The wheel hummed softly, but all I could hear was the rhythm of her breath.

Her skin shivered under my touch — goosebumps rising as if her body betrayed the emotions she tried to hide. I leaned closer, watching her face. The blush spread across her cheeks, painting her in a shade more beautiful than any clay vessel we could ever create.

I tightened my hold just slightly, steadying her hands. "See... it's not so hard," I whispered, my voice low, meant only for her.

She didn't answer, but her eyes flickered, her lips parted as if words had failed her. And in that silence, I realized — it wasn't the pottery that made this moment perfect. It was her, trembling in my arms, blushing under my gaze, letting me see the side of her she never showed anyone else.

For me, that was the real masterpiece.

We finished shaping the clay, and when the cups were finally ready, she held them up with both hands, her eyes sparkling. "Ansh... I really love them. Look, they are so cute," she said, her voice full of childlike joy.

But while she admired the cups, I was admiring her. My jaan. How effortlessly she looked cute, how naturally she carried herself without even trying.

Before I met her, most girls tried to grab my attention — loud laughs, forced charm, endless attempts. But I was never in them. No, never. I am not a manwhore who goes and fucks anyone. That was never me. I don't play with hearts, I don't chase meaningless desires.

And then she came into my life. My Aroohi. Not even once did she try to grab my attention. She never forced herself into my world. Yet I still got lost in her. Her silence, her innocence, her strength — they pulled me in deeper than anything else ever could.

It was destiny. She was meant for me. And as I watched her blush over those little clay cups, I knew — no matter how simple the moment, no matter how small the gesture, she was my forever.

After dinner, we drove back to the haveli. The house was quiet, everyone already asleep. My bacha went into the bathroom for her shower, while I slipped into another one. When I came out, she was sitting on the bed, her phone glowing in her hands.

"Jaan, so jao," I said softly, walking closer. "Kal tumhe hospital bhi jaana hai."

She looked up, her eyes playful yet tired. "Haan, pata hai. Tabhi to alarm laga rahi hu. Itne dino se der tak so rahi thi... kya pata kal uth paun ya nahi. Please tum mujhe bhi utha dena."

I smiled, nodding. "Ok. You sleep. I have some work."

She tilted her head, her gaze lingering on me. "Jaldi so jana," she whispered.

I nodded again, watching her curl into the blanket. She closed her eyes, drifting into sleep, while I moved to the sofa with my laptop. For an hour, I worked silently, the glow of the screen keeping me company.

But eventually, I couldn't resist. I shut everything down and walked back to her. She was asleep, her breathing soft, her face peaceful. Carefully, I slid onto the bed, moving her closer until her head rested against my chest.

Only then did I close my eyes. Because the truth is simple — I can only sleep when she is in my arms. She is my peace, my calm, my everything.

stay tuned for next chapter

bye 

lots of love from your

author ikku