Anjali  P.O.V

The sharp call of "Anju maa!" snapped me out of the tangled maze of my thoughts, pulling me back into the present with a jolt. I turned around hastily, my eyes landing on a small figure standing a few steps away. 

A little boy—no older than nine—looked at me with bright, familiar eyes before breaking into a run. 

"Anju maa, I missed you..." Sahil's voice trembled with emotion as he threw his arms around me, clinging tightly as if afraid I might disappear. My heart softened instantly. Sahil—my little boy, though not by blood—an orphan from Little Miracle, was never quite like the others. His endless tantrums, his stubborn affection, all of it made me smile in ways I couldn't explain. But seeing him here, in a hospital, stirred a quiet unease within me.

I bent down and lifted him into my arms, holding him close as I scanned his face for any sign of pain. "Sahil, are you okay? Did you get hurt?" I asked, my voice laced with concern. 

Before he could answer, another voice cut through the moment, familiar and impossible to ignore. 

Rishika Sen. I didn't even need to look to know it was her—but when I did, there she was, standing with that effortless grace that always made her seem like she had stepped straight out of a fairytale. With her striking grey eyes and an aura that could easily rival a Disney princess, Rishika was a walking contradiction. She loved cooking, danced like she owned the world, adored animals, and carried herself with a quiet humility—until someone dared to cross her.

Sometimes, I couldn't help but think that if she ever had a family, she would have been the pampered younger sibling—the kind who smiles sweetly but gets exactly what she wants. Because beneath all that charm was a streak of something far more intense. Possessiveness. 

The kind that reminded me uncomfortably of Devansh. After watching Harry Potter, she had decided—quite seriously—that she would marry someone with blue eyes. And not just dream about it—no, Rishika had taken it upon herself to stalk such a person... and, absurdly enough, even kidnapped him. To this day, I have no idea who filled her head with such nonsense, but when I questioned her, she simply shrugged it off, claiming it was all "normal." For her, love blurred into obsession, and obsession justified anything. If she wanted something, she would have it—by hook or by crook.

And honestly, when I call her leechad, I mean every bit of it. She reminds me far too much of my husband—who once nearly fired every househelp in the house just because I sneezed from a bit of dust. 

Rishika, my leechad friend, is someone I can never fully understand. The person she loves the most is "Gandhi ji," which really means money. She loves money more than anything in the world. People know her as the best hacker, someone powerful and mysterious. But even when the world knows her name, they don't truly know who she is. She has created so many identities for herself that no one can see her real face. The only thing she is clear about is her hatred for family. She believes her family abandoned her when she was a child, and since then, she has never trusted the idea of family.

"Aee meri bandi par line maarta hai? Neeche utar tu pehle!" she suddenly shouted at Sahil, her voice loud in the hospital corridor. I rolled my eyes at her behavior. 

"Usse kyun daant rahi hai? Aur hum teri bandi kab se ho gaye? Shaadi-shuda hai hum," I said with a small smile. 

She immediately made a cute face and said, "Tune mera proposal abhi tak accept nahi kiya."

 I laughed softly and replied, "My husband is very possessive... if you want me, then fight him and win." I knew that was almost impossible.

She then looked at me playfully and said, "Tujhe pata hai main kya soch rahi hoon?"

 I raised my eyebrow and asked, "Kya soch rahi hai, mohatarma?"

 She shrugged and said, "Kaash tera koi neeli aankhon waala bhai hota... toh main ussi se shaadi kar leti."

Her words suddenly hit me deeply.

The smile on my face slowly faded. Even though I try to move on, moments like this remind me how much my life has changed. My life is now full of responsibilities and secrets I never thought I would have. Everything feels complicated. But in all this, my mind always goes back to one thing—my family.

And then there is that song.

The song that gives me peace when nothing else does. I don't know why, but I feel like the person who sings it is somehow connected to me. I have never met her, never even seen her, but still, I feel a strong wish in my heart.

I just want to see her once in my life.

"Kahan kho gayi?" Ika asked, gently taking Sahil from my arms. Her voice pulled me back from my thoughts. 

She then looked at him and said, "Chota packet, tu jaa apne doston ke paas." Sahil nodded and ran off happily, leaving the two of us alone. 

Ika turned back to me, her expression suddenly serious. "I got to know more about the Ahlawats," she said, and we both walked towards the sitting area nearby.

"Ab kiske baare mein pata chala hai tujhe?" I asked, my eyes fixed on her, curious to hear what she had found this time. 

She leaned slightly closer and said, "The fierce queen of Hawk kingdom—Shreya Singh Ahlawat." Her voice carried a mix of shock and admiration. "She was not like a normal human. No one can even imagine doing the things she used to do. It's hard to believe someone like her could really exist. I mean, what kind of person throws someone into the ocean just because they smiled at her friend?" she said, clearly surprised.

And after doing that, she had calmly said, "Inki aankhon mein sharam aur paani ki kami ho gayi thi... neeche jaake poora kar lenge."

But as I listened to her, my mind went somewhere else. I remembered Soumya—that day—when she threw those boys into Ganga ji just because they teased me. 

 I couldn't help but think how similar they sounded. No wonder people compared Soumya to Shreya Singh Ahlawat. Both of them gave the most absurd explanations for their actions, yet somehow, it made sense in their own strange way.

"Rishika, are you having a crush on Shreya Singh Ahlawat?" I interrupted her, breaking her flow. She immediately looked at me and said without hesitation, "Crush? I love her. 

Calling her just a woman is an understatement. She is like an angelic devil in human form." I stayed quiet, listening to the strange fondness in her voice as she spoke about her.

Then she suddenly asked, "Do you know about Jenny Grey?" 

I nodded and replied, "Yes, the eldest daughter of Vandhana Singh Ahlawat." 

Ika's eyes lit up as she continued, "The princess and heir of Blackthrone. She was trained by Shreya Singh Ahlawat. It is said that Devansh, Shivansh, Reyan, and Jenny were among her best disciples," she whispered, as if repeating something important she had heard before.

After a pause, she looked at me and said thoughtfully, "Sometimes I wonder what will happen if all four of them fight each other... especially Devansh and Jenny." Her words hung in the air, heavy and uncertain, leaving me lost in thoughts I wasn't ready to face.

"Why do you think they will fight with each other? What could be the reason behind it?" I asked, looking at her with doubt. I knew Devansh—at least enough to believe that he would never start a fight unless someone forced him into it.

Ika leaned back slightly, thinking for a moment before answering, "They can fight for the eldest daughter of Shreya Singh Ahlawat. I have only heard about her... people say she is the epitome of beauty. And Devansh Singh Oberoi was very fond of her." The moment she said that, I felt my cheeks turn warm, a soft blush spreading across my face without my control.

"But last time you told me that Jenny was the one who protected Devansh during a fight," I reminded her, trying to hide my reaction. Ika nodded calmly. "Yes, she loves Devansh like her own brother, just like Reyan. But when it comes to her sisters, she spares no one," she replied seriously.

A quiet uneasiness settled inside me. "I just wish they never come face to face," I said softly, more to myself than to her. Ika gave a faint smile, but there was something knowing in her eyes. "But why would fate listen to you? Fate always has its own plans... plans far beyond what we can imagine," she said.

Trying to change the topic, I looked at her and asked with curiosity, "When did you come back to Little Miracle from Blackthrone?" 

She sighed, her expression turning slightly annoyed. "Actually, I had a fight with my boss," she said. But before I could respond, she continued, mumbling a string of insults under her breath, "Ek number ka satarmukh newla... Dettol se marne wala bacteria... Colin se clean wala geetano..."

"Bas!" I stopped her midway, shaking my head. Sometimes she reminded me so much of Soumya that I couldn't help but feel a little sorry for the people who had to deal with them daily—especially their partners.

She looked at me again, her mood already lighter, and asked casually, "How is your husband, by the way?" Her question lingered in the air, simple yet carrying a weight I couldn't ignore.

The moment she asked about my husband, the image of Devansh appeared in my mind. Along with it came the memory of my own behavior—how careless and inconsiderate I had been towards him. In the beginning of our marriage, my words and actions had hurt him more than I ever admitted. For weeks, our conversations were limited to just a few words, and even those were mostly from his side. I had built walls around myself, acting cold and distant, while he remained the same—warm, patient, and full of light. My sunshine husband... and me, too stubborn to accept it.

But no matter how hard I tried to stay unaffected, his grey eyes were always my weakness. Whenever he looked at me with that softness, that quiet intensity, I forgot everything else. It felt like the whole world disappeared in that one moment, leaving just the two of us behind.

"Pagal ho gayi hai kya? Shaadi ke baad baar baar kahan kho jaa rahi hai?" Ika's voice pulled me back as she waved her hand in front of my face.

 I blinked quickly, trying to hide my thoughts. "Nahi, nahi... woh bhi theek hai. Hum chalte hain, hamari surgery hai," I said hurriedly and walked towards the operation theatre. I knew I couldn't stay there any longer—not when even hearing his name made me blush like this.

Six hours later, I finally stepped out of the OT. My body felt completely drained, every muscle aching from the long surgery. But this kind of exhaustion was normal. As a doctor, I had accepted it as part of my life. Every day was a battle—fighting to save someone's breath, standing strong in the most frightening moments, giving everything until there was nothing left.

I made my way to the resting area, my steps slow and heavy. The silence there felt comforting after the chaos inside. I sat down, closing my eyes for just a moment... but I didn't even realize when that moment turned into sleep. The exhaustion had finally taken over me completely.

Author P.O.V

"Anny! Anny! Open your eyes, Anny!"

A distant voice called out to her. Slowly, she opened her eyes, her hazel-brown gaze meeting his grey ones. For a moment, everything felt still, as if time itself had paused around them.

"Aap ki nazron ne samjha, pyaar ke kaabil mujhe..." the words lingered softly in the air, unspoken yet deeply felt.

"Ek din aapki yeh sone ki aadat meri jaan le legi," he said, his voice carrying a strange mix of worry and relief. His fingers slipped into her cold hands, and without hesitation, he pulled her closer into his arms. She melted into his embrace as he placed a soft kiss on her neck, holding her as if he never wanted to let go.

"Koi baat hai, Ansh?" she asked softly, cupping his face, her eyes searching his.

"Bina bole har kuch kaise samajh jaati hain aap..." he whispered, gently tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear, his touch lingering.

"Aapko samajhti hoon, my dearest soon-to-be husband... ab batayiye, kya hua?" she said with a faint smile, though her words left him momentarily stunned.

"Ji, humein manzoor hai... aapka yeh faisla,"

"I need to leave for the last phase of my training today," he said abruptly.

Her smile faded instantly. The light in her eyes dimmed, replaced by something fragile. He could see the hurt, clear and unhidden.

"Kitne dino ke liye?" she asked, scrunching her nose slightly, as if hoping the answer wouldn't be too long.

"Din nahi, ek hafta," he replied quietly.

Her eyes widened in shock. "Ansh... ek hafta? Aapko mazaak lag raha hai kya? Humein laga saal ki pehli baarish aap hamaare saath dekhenge..." she said, her voice soft but filled with disappointment.

He stood there, helpless in front of her, knowing there was nothing he could say that would make this easier.

"Ji, humein manzoor hai... aapka yeh faisla."

"It's okay... but what will you gain after completing this training?" she asked softly, her curiosity clear in her eyes.

He looked at her for a moment, searching for the right words. She was too pure, too gentle for the dark world he belonged to, and explaining it to her never felt easy. Still, he finally spoke, "After this training... I will lead the most powerful syndicates in the world."

"Ohh... that means you will be the lord of all those syndicates," she said, her eyes lighting up with innocent excitement.

A faint smile appeared on his lips. "Yes... and you will be my lady, Anny," he whispered, gently lifting her chin so she would look at him. Her hazel-brown eyes met his grey ones, and for a moment, nothing else mattered.

"Aap bhi na, Ansh..." she said shyly, pushing him lightly before hiding herself against his chest. He wrapped his arms around her, holding her close, as if trying to memorize this moment.

The room she stayed in reflected her completely. Every corner, every detail was designed according to her likes—soft colors, calm surroundings, and a warmth that made it feel like her own little world. It was peaceful, just like her.

After a while, Ansh took out a dress and handed it to her. "This is for you... I want to spend our last night together," he said quietly.

They both tried to make the most of the time they had, filling the silence with laughter and small, meaningful moments.

"Okay, main change karke aati hoon," she said with a smile, taking the dress from him.

"Yahin kar lo... utarne ka department toh mera hi hai," he replied teasingly.

She laughed, shaking her head. "Aapse kiss se zyada kuch nahi hoga," she said playfully and quickly ran towards the bathroom before he could catch her.

He stood there, watching her go, a soft smile on his face, knowing that even in such simple moments, she had become his entire world.

The car came to a halt at a breathtaking open spot, the kind that made the world feel still for a moment. The view stretched endlessly, calm and beautiful, taking Anny's breath away. Inside the car, both Anny and Ansh sat quietly, their faces softened by the peaceful atmosphere around them.

Anny fumbled with her seatbelt, her excitement clearly visible in the way her hands moved quickly. Before she could unbuckle it properly, Ansh gave in to the moment. With a swift motion, he removed his own seatbelt and pulled her gently but suddenly towards him.

His lips met hers in a deep, unexpected kiss.

Anny froze for a second, completely taken by surprise. Her breath hitched, and her eyes widened before slowly closing. She looked confused yet drawn in, unsure how to react to his sudden intensity. Ansh could see it—the way his unpredictability both overwhelmed and pulled her closer at the same time.

When they finally pulled apart, her breathing was uneven, her heart clearly racing.

"What the hell, honey? We are still in the car," she said, her voice carrying a mix of irritation and something softer she couldn't quite hide.

Ansh only smiled, a playful, mischievous glint in his eyes.

Before she could say anything more, he leaned in again, capturing her lips once more and gently pushing her back. Her hand accidentally pressed against the steering wheel, and suddenly the loud honk of the horn filled the air—breaking the moment in the most unexpected way.

Anny tried to pull away, squirming slightly, but he wasn't ready to let her go so easily. His kisses grew more intense, more demanding, making it harder for her to think straight. Finally, in a desperate attempt to stop him, she bit his lip. He pulled back, a faint smile on his face, completely unfazed by the sting.

"You are turning into quite the wild one, jaana," he chuckled softly, his thumb brushing over her lips. The warmth of his touch made her cheeks flush instantly. Embarrassed, she quickly opened the door and rushed out of the car, her face glowing red.

He followed her, his voice teasing yet confident. "Run all you want... in the end, you'll come back to me."

She glanced back at him, a playful challenge in her eyes. "Bahut boring ho chuke hain yeh sab... kuch naya sochiye," she said, laughing lightly as she kept moving.

"Ohh... so you want some new positions, jaana?" he replied with a grin, chasing after her.

"Behaya hain aap," she shot back, still running.

"Only for you," he answered, his smile widening.

She looked breathtaking in her black gown, the fabric flowing softly with the evening breeze. The cool air brushed against her skin, and the soft sand beneath her feet made the moment feel almost dreamlike. Everything around her felt calm, magical.

Suddenly, she felt a cold touch on her back, making her pause. Before she could react, a familiar warmth followed. His presence. His breath brushed lightly against her neck, sending a shiver down her spine.

Then she felt his lips gently touch the sensitive spot near her neck.

"Jaana..." he whispered, his voice low and soft.

Her eyes slowly closed, and she whispered back, "Jaan..."

He gently turned her towards him, bringing her face close to his. Their eyes met—her sparkling hazel locked with his deep grey.

"Where are we?" she asked softly, her voice filled with curiosity and excitement.

His hands moved to her neck, holding her gently as he pulled her a little closer.

"Duniya ki nigahon se bahut door," he whispered, his warm breath brushing against her skin, making the moment feel even more intimate.

Before she could fully understand what was happening, he lifted her effortlessly into his arms. A soft gasp escaped her lips as her hands instinctively wrapped around his shoulders, holding onto him. Her heartbeat raced, a mix of emotions filling her all at once—love, fear, and something unspoken.

"Aap wapas toh aayenge na... Ansh?" she whispered, her voice trembling slightly, searching his face for reassurance.

He looked at her gently, his expression softening in a way only she could bring out. "Jab bhi apni aankhein khologi... mujhe apne paas paaogi, Anny," he said quietly, placing a tender kiss on her forehead.

"Ansh..." she murmured, her voice barely audible, filled with emotions she couldn't put into words.

"Anny ka Ansh," he whispered back, his voice warm and full of promise. He leaned closer, resting his forehead against hers, holding her as if time itself had slowed down just for them.

Anjali was restless in the hospital's rest room , her body trapped in the grip of a nightmare. Sweat drenched her skin, damp strands of hair clinging to her flushed face as she twisted and turned, lost somewhere far beyond the room. 

"Jaana..." he called softly at first, but she didn't respond—only murmured broken, incomprehensible phrases, her voice trembling with fear. Panic tightened in his chest. He reached out, gently shaking her shoulder. 

"Ray ji... open your eyes," he urged, his voice laced with urgency. But she only writhed more, her breaths uneven, as if fighting something unseen.

He cupped her face carefully, brushing away the wet locks stuck to her cheeks, trying to ground her, to pull her back. 

"Wake up, jaana," he insisted, his grip firmer now as her trembling intensified. He was no stranger to nightmares himself—he knew too well the suffocating helplessness they carried—but seeing her like this stirred a deeper fear within him. 

She kept repeating fragments, her voice breaking as though chasing a thought she couldn't complete. "Ann... ann—an—Ansh..." she gasped, struggling for breath. Her fingers clutched his hand tightly, nails digging into his skin. He hissed softly at the sting, faint scratches forming, but he paid it no mind—her pain overshadowed everything.

"Anny!" he finally shouted, his voice cutting through the air with a force that seemed to shatter the nightmare itself. She jolted awake, her eyes flying open, wide and glistening with tears. Relief flooded through him instantly. 

Her hazel-brown eyes locked onto his grey ones, confusion and fear melting into recognition. And then, without hesitation, she threw her arms around him, clinging to him as though he were the only thing anchoring her to reality.

"Don't leave..." she whispered, her voice trembling, fragile as if it might shatter with the next breath.

"Never," he replied without hesitation, his tone steady and certain as his fingers gently threaded through her hair, trying to soothe the storm within her.

She squeezed her eyes shut, as though holding back something too painful to face. Hot tears slipped down her cheeks, one after another, carrying the weight of a helplessness she could no longer contain. Devansh watched her, his chest tightening. He had rushed to Patna, abandoning a deal worth billions without a second thought—because nothing, absolutely nothing, mattered more than her. "10 billion ki deal meri jaana ke saamne koi maayne nahi rakhti," he had said, and he meant every word of it.

"Shh... jaana, it was just a dream," he murmured, his hand never leaving her hair. But she still trembled, her breaths uneven, as though the nightmare hadn't fully released her yet. Seeing her like this stirred something deep within him, something old and aching. Slowly, he closed his eyes, a memory surfacing—his mother's voice, soft and warm, echoing from a time when life wasn't so cruel.

In a low, gentle tone, he began to recite, almost like a lullaby carried by instinct:

Aa leke chalun tujhko, ek aise desh mein,
Milti hai jahan khushiyaan, pariyon ke bhes mein...

His voice was steady, yet laced with emotion he tried hard to contain.

Ho chaand chahe aadha, ho phir bhi roshni,
Umeed jo na toote, har baat hai bani...

He swallowed hard, eyes still closed, refusing to let the tears fall as he continued softly, letting the rhythm wrap around her like a shield.

Raaton ke sur se nikle, subah ki raagini,
Lori tujhe sunaun, bachpan ki ek main...

He kept murmuring the melody, over and over, until he felt her grip on him loosen, her breathing gradually evening out. Only then did he open his eyes, looking at her as if afraid she might disappear if he blinked.

"Are you okay now?" he asked quietly.

It had been too much—for both of them. Two souls who had lost their parents too young, who had seen the harshest faces of the world before they ever understood kindness. Pain recognized pain, and perhaps that was why they held onto each other so fiercely.

"Hm... aap yahan Patna kyun aaye..." she asked softly, finally calmer, though traces of vulnerability still lingered in her voice.

"Aapse door raha nahi jaata... lene aaya hoon aapko," he answered simply.

She froze for a moment, surprise flickering across her face. After everything that had happened, she had expected anger, distance—something cold. But there was none of that in his eyes. Only warmth, only quiet determination.

"Chale, Ray ji," he said gently, pulling her out of her thoughts.

"Do minute... aap aaye toh hamari dost Ika se mil lijiye... ham nahi kehte the, uski aankhein bilkul aapki jaisi hain..." she said, almost instinctively, moving toward the door. But the moment she stepped into the corridor, reality settled in. It was late. The hallway was empty, silent, stretching endlessly under dim lights.

"Phir kabhi mil lenge... abhi chalein," he said, his voice calm but firm.

"Sorry... hum nahi chal sakte. Humein kuch din aur yahan rukna padega," she said softly, her voice laced with apology as her eyes searched his face for understanding.

"Hmm."
It was a small response, but the weight behind it was anything but light. A flicker of anger, of hurt, passed through Devansh's eyes, though he masked it quickly behind a composed, almost cold demeanor.

"Devansh... aap kuch kehna chahte hain?" she asked hesitantly, sensing the unspoken words lingering between them.

"I am leaving for a business trip tomorrow," he said plainly.

The words hit her like a sudden jolt. There had been a time when she couldn't bear his presence, when distance felt necessary—but now, the mere thought of him leaving made something inside her tighten painfully.

"Don't worry, I will be back soon. Trust me... if it wasn't important, I would never leave you," he added, his voice softer now, guilt quietly seeping through despite his effort to stay composed.

She looked at him for a moment, then tried to lighten the heaviness that had settled between them. "Don't stress yourself... Gandhi Maidan chalenge humare saath?"

"Aapke saath toh hum jahannum tak bhi chal lein," he replied, pulling her gently toward himself, his words carrying a warmth that contradicted the distance he had just created.

"Behaya hain aap," she muttered, playfully hitting his chest.

"Sirf aur sirf aapka hoon," he said, leaning down to place a soft kiss on her forehead.

Soon, they found themselves at Gandhi Maidan. The vast ground lay quiet under the midnight sky, wrapped in a stillness that felt almost sacred. The city's noise had faded, leaving behind only the whisper of the night.

Anjali slipped her hand into his, and together they sat down on the cool grass. Moonlight poured over her, soft and silvery, illuminating her face in a way that made Devansh pause for a second longer than usual, as if memorizing her in that moment.

He reached into his pocket and pulled out a handful of chocolates. The instant she saw them, her face lit up, a genuine, unguarded smile breaking through.

"Aap abhi bhi bacchi hain," he teased, gently pinching her nose.

"Aur aap buddhe hain... tharki buddhe," she shot back, already unwrapping a KitKat and taking a bite, her eyes sparkling with mischief.

"Truth ya dare khelenge humare saath?" she said, a playful glint in her eyes as she looked at him.

Devansh smirked slightly, leaning closer until his face brushed against the crook of her neck. "Aapko nahi lagta... aapko mere saath koi aur game khelna chahiye?" he murmured, his voice low and teasing, his breath warm against her skin.

"Kaunsa game?" she asked, her curiosity evident, though her heartbeat had already begun to quicken.

"Cricket team banane ka game..." he whispered shamelessly, placing a soft kiss on the small mole on her neck—the one that always seemed to draw him in. "Aapko nahi lagta humein kam se kam 11 bacche hone chahiye?"

"Hatiye! Humein baat nahi karni aapse," she said, pushing him away, though the faint blush on her cheeks betrayed her.

"Maaf kare..." he said dramatically, straightening up before pulling her gently back toward him again. "Yeh Devansh Singh Oberoi aaj raat aapse baatein karne ki ijaazat chahta hai... ijaazat hai, jaana?"

She tried to hold onto her annoyance, but it slipped away too easily. "Okay, fine... tell me, what do you like the most in me?" she asked, her gaze steady on his.

"Your eyes," he replied instantly, without even a second's pause.

"Why?" she pressed, tilting her head slightly.

"Kyuki mohabbat ki shuruaat aankhon se hoti hai..." he said softly, leaning closer, his lips hovering just inches away from hers, close enough for her to feel the warmth of his breath.

She didn't look away. "Yakeen maaniye... mohabbat ki har kist bhi aankhon ko hi chukani padti hai," she replied, her voice just as quiet, her hazel eyes locked into his grey ones.

For a moment, neither of them moved. The silence between them wasn't empty—it was charged, filled with everything they weren't saying.

She broke it first. "Okay, next question... what do you love to eat the most?" she asked, though she could feel his gaze lingering on her longer than usual.

"Your lips," he whispered huskily, his eyes dropping to them as he slightly bit his own.

A deep blush spread across her cheeks, and her heart began to race uncontrollably. Instinctively, she leaned back, creating a small distance between them. Devansh shut his eyes tightly for a brief second, as if steadying himself—he had seen the same flicker of desire in her eyes, but he refused to let himself lose control.

"But... you've never tasted my lips... then how do you know the taste?" she asked, her voice softer now, almost challenging.

His eyes opened slowly, a teasing smile forming as he looked at her again. "Aap mujhe invite kar rahi hain... taste karne ke liye?" he asked, his tone gentle yet filled with mischief, the question lingering between them .

"Hatiye... bahut dilfaroshi karte hain aap," she muttered, her cheeks flushed deep crimson as she struggled to steady herself, her eyes avoiding his teasing gaze.

Devansh let out a quiet chuckle, shaking his head slightly. "Kya bolti ho, jaana... pehle Bhojpuri bolke torture karti thi, ab Urdu bolke," he murmured under his breath, though there was a softness in his tone that betrayed how much he enjoyed this version of her.

For a moment, his expression shifted. He found himself watching her more intently, memories flickering through his mind—their wedding night, the days when she barely spoke to him, when silence stretched endlessly between them. Back then, he had doubted everything... whether she would ever accept him, whether he would ever mean anything to her beyond a forced relationship. And now, here she was, sitting beside him under the quiet night sky, teasing him, arguing with him—it felt unreal, like a dream he had once been too afraid to even wish for.

"Aapko pata hai... humein Somi ki bahut yaad aati hai," she suddenly said, breaking the moment as she deliberately changed the topic.

"Kaali naag—" he started instinctively, but stopped midway as soon as he caught the sharp glare she shot at him.

"Yeh kya! Aap hmari dost ko kaali naagin bolte hain?" she blurted out, her voice rising with indignation.

"Woh ugalti hai zehar... poore din logon ko dasne ke liye ghoomti rehti hai," he retorted without thinking, the memory of her friend's harsh words toward him still fresh in his mind.

"Chupppp!"
Her voice rang out sharply, cutting through the calm of the night.

"Aap aise kaise bol sakte hain hamari dost ke baare mein?" she said, clearly offended, her brows furrowed in anger.

"Why are you getting offended?" he shot back, his tone edged now, though still controlled. "Your friend barely recognizes me as your husband. What's wrong with what I said? The day she accepts me as your husband, I'll stop calling her that." His words were smooth, deliberate—as always, he knew exactly how to place them.

"Chhodiye... aap bahut deeth hain," she muttered, turning her face away from him, though the flicker of emotion in her eyes revealed that his words had affected her more than she wanted to admit.

"Aur aap, jaana..." he murmured softly, gently turning her face toward himself so she could no longer hide behind her stubborn silence. His touch was firm yet careful, as if he feared she might slip away if he held too loosely.

"Chalte hain, jaana..." he said after a pause, his voice calmer now.

"Kahan?" she asked, her brows knitting slightly in confusion as she looked at him.

"Mere sasural... aur aapke mayke," he replied, a faint smile playing on his lips as he leaned forward to press a tender kiss against her forehead.

"Par koi nahi hai wahan... maa, baba dono Hawk Kingdom gaye hain," she said, her tone softening as she met his gaze.

"Somi ne bulaya tha, isiliye gaye hain," she added quietly.

He tilted his head slightly, a teasing glint returning to his eyes. "Are you saying this so that I can use this opportunity...?" he whispered, leaning closer toward her neck again, his voice dropping just enough to make her heart skip.

"Devansh... aap itni besharmi seekhe kahan se?" she asked, half-annoyed, half-flustered, trying to maintain a seriousness that kept slipping away.

"My teacher is right in front of my eyes," he replied smoothly.

She blinked at him, momentarily confused, trying to process his words while he simply watched her, amused by her reaction.

"Ab chalein... warna aapko thand lag jayegi," he said gently, and before she could respond, he lifted her into his arms.

This time, she didn't protest. No pushing him away, no half-hearted resistance. Instead, she relaxed into his hold, resting quietly against him, her head near his chest. The steady rhythm of his heartbeat filled the silence between them, grounding her in a way words never could.

She didn't want him to go—not now, not when everything finally felt right. But somewhere deep inside, she understood too... that some distances weren't about leaving, but about returning stronger. And so, for now, she simply stayed there, in his arms, holding onto the moment a little longer.

--Phir milte hai agle chapter mein--