Drishti stood before the mirror, slowly running a comb through her hair, lost in thought. What had gotten into Advait? she wondered, sighing softly as she placed the comb down. He was acting so strangely yesterday, almost like he wasn’t himself. But this morning, he seemed a different person. Her thoughts lingered as she reached for the sindoor, carefully applying it at the parting of her hair—a routine that felt oddly comforting amidst her confusion.

Just then, Advait stepped out of the bathroom, his gaze settling on her with a warmth that softened his usually intense expression. A small smile spread across his face, and he began moving toward her with slow, deliberate steps, as though drawn to her.

Drishti, finishing with the sindoor, set the small box aside and turned around, only to find him standing much closer than she’d expected. Startled, she instinctively took a step back, her heart skipping a beat. His sudden nearness and the quiet intensity in his eyes held her in place, leaving her both flustered and curiously captivated.

“Aapne dara diya,” she murmured, her voice a little breathless as she turned to leave. But before she could take a step, he gently grasped her wrist, pulling her back toward him. The sudden warmth of his hand on hers made her pause, and she looked up, meeting his gaze.

Advait’s eyes held a softness that took her by surprise, his expression unguarded and sincere. Slowly, he lifted her hand, his movements careful, as if cherishing every second. His gaze didn’t leave hers as he brought her hand closer to his lips. The moment felt suspended in time, and Drishti’s heartbeat quickened.

With a tenderness she hadn’t expected, he pressed a gentle kiss to her wrist. The warmth of his touch sent a soft shiver through her, his quiet affection speaking volumes. In that small, simple gesture, as if his touch was a silent promise he hadn’t yet put into words.

Advait’s gaze lingered on her eyes, which now held a quiet question, a hint of hesitation that pulled at something deep within him. Memories of her tear-streaked face flashed in his mind—tears he had been the cause of. The regret weighed on him, and he felt a pang of guilt.

“I’m sorry,” he murmured softly, almost as if speaking to himself. “I shouldn’t have held your wrist like that… I shouldn’t have behaved this way.” His voice was low, filled with a vulnerability he rarely allowed himself to show.

Drishti’s eyes softened at his words, as if sensing the genuine remorse in his tone. For a moment, the tension between them gave way to a tender silence.

Drishti had so much she wanted to say—words held back by days of frustration, of feeling hurt by his behavior. Anger had simmered within her, a mix of resentment and pain that she’d kept buried. But now, as he whispered his apology, his voice softened by sincerity, something in her melted. In that single moment, all the things she’d wanted to confront him about seemed to fade, slipping away like sand between her fingers.

The anger dissolved, replaced by a quiet, unexpected warmth. She felt herself being drawn into his words, into the way he looked at her, as though he finally understood the weight of what he had put her through. She couldn’t stay upset, not with him standing there, his regret laid bare, allowing her to glimpse the man he was beneath his guarded exterior. And in that silence, all her hurt seemed to vanish, leaving only the gentle, unspoken bond between them.

Drishti smiled, a playful glint in her eyes. “Koi baat nahi. Maine toh waise bhi aapko daant lagwa di thi… tabhi khush ho gayi thi,” she teased, trying to lighten the moment.

But Advait saw past her smile, noticing how it didn’t quite reach her eyes. He knew he hadn’t yet given her the reassurance she deserved. Saying “I love you” was one thing, but truly understanding the depth of those words was something else entirely. He felt the weight of it, realizing he’d fallen short.

Without a word, he gently cupped her face in his hands, his thumbs tracing soft, comforting circles on her cheeks. In that moment, her vulnerability made her look so small, so precious, and he felt an overwhelming need to protect her from the hurt he’d caused. He leaned forward and pressed a tender kiss to her forehead, lingering for a heartbeat longer.

“Drishti,” he murmured softly, “mujhe pata hai, jo bhi maine kiya… sahi nahi tha. Mujhe nahi chahiye ki agle baar, agar gussa aaye bhi, main tumhe choon ya tumhare aas-paas bhi aaoon.” His words, though spoken to her, felt more like a promise he was making to himself—a vow to control his anger, to hold back before he let it hurt her again.

She looked up at him, her expression softening. Confused by her reaction, he watched as she took his hand and slid it gently down her face, letting it rest there. Then, she placed his other hand on her waist, a playful challenge in her eyes.

“What do you mean, aas paas bhi na aaoon? Hmm… ignoring people, that’s something you’re really good at, isn’t it?” she teased, sighing dramatically as she turned away. She went over to the bed, picking up the blanket to fold it, while he just stood there, momentarily dumbfounded.

“Drishti,” he called, following her. She didn’t respond, pretending to ignore him, so he sighed and added, “Come on, answer me, or else I’ll start saying things, and then you’ll call Ma and Chachi, and I’ll get a nice, long lecture.” He finished with a comically exasperated expression, making a face that earned a laugh from her.

Seeing her laugh, he couldn’t help but smile himself. Through her laughter, she said, “It was really fun watching you like that yesterday.”

He stepped closer, gently taking the blanket from her hands and setting it aside, then slid his arms around her waist. “You didn’t feel even a little sympathy for your poor husband?” he asked, his eyes glinting with mischief.

Feigning a sad face, she seemed like she might say yes, but then grinned, cupping his cheek with her fingers. “Sympathy? For you? After you shouted at your sweet wife?” she teased. “And that’s not all—I was really hurt when you ignored me this morning. You even ignored my coffee…” Her voice trailed off, the last part slipping out before she realized.

He caught on immediately, understanding what had been bothering her since yesterday. She pulled her hand away from his cheek quickly, realizing she’d let her feelings slip. But he held her gaze, a warm smile crossing his face. “And if you’d told me all this yesterday, hmm, what would have happened, Mrs. Rathore? Besides, I wasn’t even yelling, and you certainly don’t need to cry because of me.”

She met his gaze, feeling her frustration melt away as he gently held her closer, their playful banter turning into something unspoken—a sense of closeness that needed no words.

He roamed his hand over her waist, his voice low and teasing. “So, my dear wife, how many times do I need to tell you? You need to learn to claim your rights.”

She pouted, her lips pursed in a hint of protest. “But you were ignoring me, and I didn’t like it at all. I...I was mad at you. And you even yelled at me,” she said, sounding like she was making a list of grievances.

“So, all you had to do was tell me you were mad,” he replied, chuckling. “Instead, you went all silent, sitting there with your mouth shut, refusing to answer any of my questions.”

“But I was angry then,” she replied in a small voice.

He gently held her chin, tilting her face to meet his gaze. “So, when you’re angry, you won’t even talk to me?”

She gave a small, guilty nod, her eyes darting away shyly.

He raised an eyebrow, amusement dancing in his eyes. “Oh, really?”

She wriggled in his arms, trying to break free, and he loosened his hold, letting her slip out. She took a step back, looking at him with a mischievous glint in her eyes.

“Go on now,” she teased, folding her arms, “aren’t you getting late for the gym?”

He took a step closer, his gaze softening. “For my wife, I’d even stop breathing if I had to—so what’s a gym?”

She rolled her eyes, muttering, “Then maybe try not yelling at your wife; that’d be more than enough.”

He smirked, giving a small bow. “As you say.” And with that, he turned to leave.

A shy smile crept onto her face as she watched him go. Glancing down, she whispered to herself, “As you say, huh? All talk, that’s what you are.”

………………………………………………………………..

"Good morning, Chachi," Drishti greeted Riddhima as she entered the kitchen.

Riddhima smiled warmly, “Good morning, dear.”

“Why do you wake up so early? You don’t have college today, so you could sleep in a bit,” Riddhima said, sipping her tea.

Drishti smiled back, “Because I remember what Dadi said, and I don’t want Ma to have to listen to complaints because of me.”

Riddhima chuckled, “Bhabhi made the right choice in picking you. I wish I could find someone just as sensible for Ruhaan… But he never listens to me anyway,” she added, her tone turning slightly bitter.

“Ruhaan…” Drishti murmured, thinking aloud. “I’ve only heard about him. Why doesn’t he come home?”

Riddhima leaned against the counter, sighing. “He’s always been interested in things that are far from the norms of this household. First, his father sent him away for studies, then he’d spend most of his time with Advait. Later, he moved to Lucknow to handle business with Advait, and now… he barely wants to come home at all. He’s so distant from us, Drishti—almost like he’s in another world.”

Drishti nodded, her expression soft with understanding. "It’s okay, Chachi. Whatever happens, it’ll be for the best."

Riddhima sighed, glancing away with a hint of worry. "I just hope Ruhaan doesn’t make any wrong decisions," she murmured, her voice tinged with concern.

Drishti placed a reassuring hand on her shoulder. “He’ll find his way, Chachi. Sometimes people need to go through their own struggles to understand what’s truly important.”

Riddhima gave a small, grateful smile, but a shadow of doubt still lingered in her eyes. "I hope you’re right, Drishti. I really do."

………………

Advait adjusted his tie one last time and stepped out of the changing room, looking every bit the composed professional. Just then, Drishti entered, carrying a cup of coffee. She set it on the table with a smile. “Your coffee is here. Make sure to drink it before you leave… or else things won’t go well.”

He raised an eyebrow, amused, and moved toward her. “Is that a threat?”

“Take it however you like,” she replied with a playful smile. “But if you walk out without drinking this coffee or eating something, you’ll soon see what your sweet wife is capable of.”

He chuckled, sitting down and reaching for the coffee. “Alright, alright, I get it. Why are you trying to scare me, wifey?”

“I’m not scaring you,” she said, crossing her arms. “I just know how your demeanor changes the moment you step outside this room.”

He couldn’t help but laugh, taking a sip. “Fair enough.”

He took her hand in his, his thumb gently rubbing circles over her skin. Drishti’s gaze drifted between their intertwined hands and his face, watching him as he quietly sipped his coffee, seemingly absorbed in the moment. His touch was soft, almost absent-minded, yet it held a warmth that made her heart flutter.

He seemed unaware of how much this small gesture meant to her, his focus still on his coffee, while her eyes stayed fixed on him, savoring the rare closeness.