Siddharth POV
The city looked different from here.
From the top floor of the building, the world felt distant-small lights flickering below like stars fallen to the ground. Glass walls stretched from one end to the other, large windows framing the city in quiet arrogance. Cars moved like restless veins, people like dots with destinations and worries I no longer tried to count.
This office had everything-power, prestige, silence.
Too much silence.
I loosened my tie as I walked in, the echo of my footsteps fading into the vastness of the room. Meetings drained me more than work ever did. Conversations, negotiations, expectations-they all blurred into one exhausting noise.
I dropped into my chair and leaned back, closing my eyes.
Just for a moment.
The hum of the air conditioner filled the space.
My shoulders relaxed slowly, the weight of the day pressing down only now that I had allowed myself to feel it.
My phone vibrated.
Once.
Then again.
I opened my eyes and glanced at the screen.
Maa.
Come home early today.
A simple message.
But it carried warmth I hadn't realized I craved.
I replied with a short Okay and was about to place the phone aside when another notification appeared.
This time-from Ankita.
A picture.
I opened it.
It was from her birthday night.
The family stood together, smiles frozen in that imperfect way photographs always capture.
Maa and Papa in the center. Ankita glowing. Arjun grinning too widely. And then-
My fingers paused.
I zoomed in.
Roohi.
She stood slightly to the side, hands folded in front of her, eyes soft, smile hesitant but genuine.
There was innocence in that smile.
A kind of happiness that looked unfamiliar on her-as if she wasn't used to feeling it.
I didn't realize I was smiling until my cheek muscles tightened.
That face.
That smile.
It stayed with me longer than it should have.
I remembered the first time I saw her properly-not as a responsibility, not as a situation-but as a person.
A trembling girl standing beside me.
Quiet.
Scared.
Trying very hard not to break.
That day... I didn't regret marrying her.
Not for a second.
When no one stood by her.
When the people who were supposed to protect her turned away.
I saw the pain in her eyes when her own family didn't believe her.
I knew that pain. The kind that settles deep, not loud enough to scream but sharp enough to wound forever.
When my family didn't accept her at first... she didn't fight.
She fell at my feet.
As if it was her fault.
As if she deserved punishment for existing.
That moment burned into me.
It wasn't her mistake.
It never was.
And yet, she carried the weight of it silently.
Somehow... she still accepted us.
Accepted my family.
Accepted the house, the people, the expectations-without complaint.
Arjun and Ankita made sure she didn't feel alone.
They filled the gaps she never asked to be filled. Maa...
Maa surprised me the most.
The day Roohi got burned.
I had never seen Maa like that before.
Gentle.
Careful.
Protective.
She stayed near Roohi, checking her wounds, scolding the maid, bringing medicine herself.
I stood there, watching silently, something unfamiliar settling in my chest.
That day... I realized something had shifted.
Later, during Ankita's birthday, I noticed Roohi again.
The way her eyes softened while looking at my family together.
The way sadness flickered in them-brief, controlled-but unmistakable.
She missed something.
Someone.
Then Maa fed her cake.
Just like that.
With affection.
With warmth.
And Roohi...
Her eyes lit up.
Not dramatically.
Not loudly.
Just quietly... like a child finally allowed to belong.
That moment gave me relief I didn't know I was holding onto.
Because I wanted her happiness to be real.
Not forced.
Not temporary.
And then there were moments I didn't allow myself to think about.
The kitchen.
The cake.
Her standing too close.
Flour on my cheek.
Her fingers brushing my skin.
Our breaths mixing.
I lost control.
I almost kissed her.
If Arjun hadn't stirred in his sleep...
If the world hadn't intruded...
I don't know what I would've done.
And later... that scream.
That innocent scream when she thought a rat had appeared.
She ran straight into me.
Hugged me.
Tight.
Unthinking.
Pure fear and trust.
I laughed that night.
I rarely do.
I leaned back in my chair, exhaling slowly.
Why did I feel this way?
I didn't understand when it started.
I only knew that when she was around, I wasn't careful enough.
When she sleeps, I can't stop looking at her.
When she hears my car, her excitement gives her away.
When she smiles at me, something inside loosens.
The night I fell sick...
I remember fragments.
Her voice.
Her touch.
The cool cloth on my skin.
The way she fed me, ignoring my protests.
The way her hands trembled when my fever didn't reduce.
She stayed.
The entire night.
Didn't sleep.
Didn't complain.
She cared for me like I was a child.
Like I mattered beyond responsibility.
I woke up to sunlight and found myself resting in her lap.
She was sitting.
Uncomfortable.
Exhausted.
Still holding the cloth.
I was stunned.
No one had ever done that for me.
Something I don't want to lose.
I stood up slowly, walking toward the glass window.
The city stretched endlessly below me, but my thoughts were nowhere near it.
I always wanted to be beside her.
Protect her.
Make sure she never feels alone again.
And the truth I hadn't allowed myself to speak finally settled clearly in my chest.
I don't just care for Roohi.
I need her.
And for the first time in a long time...
That realization didn't scare me.
---
Roohi POV
The Fast That Taught Me Belonging
The mansion had never felt this alive before.
From the moment I opened my eyes, the house was already awake-voices echoing through corridors, footsteps rushing past my door, bangles clinking, utensils clattering somewhere far below.
There was an excitement in the air, thick and warm, like the first breath of a festival morning.
Karwa Chauth.
My first.
I sat up slowly on the bed, placing my feet on the cold marble floor, letting the reality of the day settle into me.
Today wasn't just another ritual-filled day in this grand house. Today, I was fasting-for my husband.
For Siddharth.
The thought itself made my heart flutter in a strange, unfamiliar way.
Outside my room, Rekha maa's voice rang through the hallway.
"Why is everyone moving like turtles today? This house doesn't prepare itself!"
Her tone was sharp, commanding, but I smiled softly to myself. I had already learned-behind that strict voice lived the softest heart.
She scolded because she cared.
She rushed because she wanted everything perfect.
I quickly freshened up and stepped out, immediately greeted by the controlled chaos of the mansion.
Servants hurried with trays of fruits and flowers.
Someone carried strings of lights toward the terrace.
Ankita ran past me, her dupatta half-pinned, calling out instructions. Arjun stood near the living room, pretending to supervise while actually just eating sweets meant for later.
"Maa!" Ankita protested from the stairs. "We're doing it!"
"You're doing drama, not work," maa replied sharply, though the corner of her mouth twitched with amusement.
I moved quietly toward the dining area, where my Karwa thali was kept waiting for me.
This plate... this pot... they meant something today.
I sat down cross-legged on the floor, spreading newspapers beneath, and picked up the small earthen karwa.
My fingers trembled slightly as I dipped the brush into red paint.
I took my time, painting slow floral patterns, tiny vines curling around the pot.
Every stroke felt ceremonial.
I decorated the thali with care-placing rice neatly in one corner, roli in another, sweets arranged just right.
I added pearls around the edges, gluing them carefully, wiping away excess glue with the edge of my dupatta.
My hands smelled faintly of paint and flowers.
As I worked, my stomach tightened.
Hunger.
A dull ache spread through my body, making my head feel slightly light.
I hadn't eaten since morning.
Siddharth had told me not to keep the fast.
"You don't need to," he had said calmly. "Your health matters more."
But how could I not?
This day was special.
Every married woman fasted for her husband's long life.
It wasn't about tradition alone-it was about belonging.
About being part of something shared.
This was my first Karwa Chauth.
And I wanted it to be for him.
By afternoon, the mansion had transformed.
Marigold flowers decorated the entrance.
The terrace shimmered with fairy lights waiting to be lit.
Soft devotional songs played in the background.
Women moved around dressed in bright colors, laughter filling the halls.
As evening approached, it was time to get ready.
I stood in front of the mirror, the red saree laid out on the bed.
The red saree Siddharth had bought.
I picked it up carefully, my fingers brushing against the fabric.
It was soft, rich, elegant-far more beautiful than anything I had ever owned.
As I draped it around myself, my hands worked slowly, nervous but careful.
The pleats fell neatly.
The pallu flowed smoothly over my shoulder.
I tied my hair into a low bun, fingers slightly clumsy, then carefully placed jasmine flowers around it.
The fragrance wrapped around me instantly-sweet, calming, familiar.
I stared at my reflection.
I had never done makeup before.
So I didn't.
I applied moisturizer, sunscreen-things I knew.
Then I picked up the kajal, hesitating for a second before lining my eyes. The change surprised me.
My eyes looked deeper, more expressive.
A small bindi.
Sindoor along my hairline.
Lip balm.
That was all.
And yet...
I looked like a married woman.
My heart skipped.
Just then, the sound of a car echoed outside.
My breath hitched.
A wide smile spread across my face before I could stop it.
He's here.
I moved quickly toward the stairs-then stopped.
Papa's voice filled the hall.
"Oh, you look beautiful, beta."
It wasn't Siddharth.
Disappointment pricked me softly, though I hid it well.
Everyone gathered around me.
Ankita clapped her hands. "Wow, bhabhi!"
Arjun stared dramatically. "Is this Roohi or some movie heroine?"
I tried not to blush.
I failed.
They laughed louder.
"Stop teasing her," maa scolded, though her eyes sparkled.
Then she added, smiling, "But yes... she is my son's heroine."
"Maa" i Blushed hard
Laughter filled the room again.
Overwhelmed, I escaped toward the pooja room, helping dadi arrange the lamps, grounding myself in the familiar rhythm of work.
Night fell.
The terrace glowed with lights. Women gathered, singing softly, passing the sieve, sharing stories.
Maa had already broken her fast-Papa had practically forced her to eat.
But Siddharth still hadn't come.
My head felt heavy.
The world swayed slightly when I stood, so I sat quietly on a chair, hands folded in my lap.
Arjun paced nearby, calling Siddharth again and again.
"Phone is off," he muttered.
My heart tightened.
Just then, footsteps approached.
Siddharth walked in calmly.
Dadi turned sharply. "Why are you late today also?"
He replied gently, "Car repairs, dadi."
She looked at me then, concern softening her voice.
"But Roohi has been waiting... look how pale she is."
I lowered my gaze, heart racing.
He looked at me.
And in that moment, hunger, dizziness, waiting-everything faded.
The terrace suddenly felt smaller.
Brighter.
Every light glowed sharper, every sound louder, as if the night itself had paused to watch us.
Siddharth stood there, just a few steps away from me, his calm presence cutting through the chaos that had been building inside my head for hours.
My body felt weak.
The hunger had turned into dizziness long ago, but I hadn't said anything.
I didn't want to worry anyone.
This fast meant too much to me.
Dadi's words echoed again, louder this time.
"Look at her, Siddharth. She has been waiting since evening. She looks so pale."
I felt his gaze on me.
Strong.
Unavoidable.
Concern replaced the faint smile he had been wearing when he entered.
His eyes narrowed slightly, scanning my face, my posture, the way my hands trembled as I tried to stand straight.
"Why didn't you eat?" he asked quietly, but his voice wasn't calm anymore.
I swallowed. "It's... Karwa Chauth."
"I told you not to keep the fast," he said, stepping closer.
I looked down. "It's my first one."
That was all I said.
But it was enough.
Something shifted in his expression-frustration melting into helpless worry.
He didn't argue further.
Instead, he reached out instinctively, his hand hovering near my arm as if ready to catch me if I fell.
And honestly... I might have.
"The moon!" someone exclaimed.
My heart jumped.
The moon had risen.
Soft.
Round.
Glowing through a thin veil of clouds.
Dadi quickly placed the sieve in my hands.
Maa adjusted my dupatta, murmuring blessings under her breath. Ankita squeezed my shoulder gently.
Everything felt unreal.
My hands shook as I lifted the sieve, peering through its delicate mesh.
The moon shimmered on the other side, almost dreamlike.
I brought the sieve down slowly.
And then... I looked at him.
Through the same sieve.
Siddharth.
Standing right in front of me.
The world blurred.
There was only him.
His face wasn't unreadable tonight. Worry was written clearly in his eyes.
His jaw was tight, his brows drawn together.
Our eyes locked.
Something passed between us-unspoken, heavy, intimate.
I lowered the sieve.
The ritual complete.
My legs suddenly gave way.
The dizziness hit hard.
Strong.
My vision dimmed at the edges, the lights smearing into long streaks.
"Roohi-!"
I didn't fall.
Strong arms caught me instantly.
Siddharth.
He pulled me against him, one arm securely around my waist, the other gripping my shoulder. I felt his heart racing through his chest, fast and uneven.
"What were you thinking?" he demanded, fear sharp in his voice now. "You're shaking."
"I'm fine," I whispered, though I wasn't.
He ignored my words completely.
"Water. Now," he said sharply.
Maa rushed forward with the glass, but Siddharth took it from her himself.
His hands weren't steady anymore.
He held the glass to my lips.
"Drink," he said, softer now, but firm.
I obeyed.
The water felt like life returning to my body.
I coughed slightly, and his grip tightened instinctively, his thumb rubbing slow circles against my arm.
When he was satisfied I wasn't going to collapse again, he took the sweet from the thali.
He hesitated for just a second.
Then he fed me.
His fingers brushed my lips accidentally.
My breath hitched.
Everyone watched, smiling, murmuring blessings-but in that moment, I felt like it was only us.
His eyes never left my face.
"Slowly," he said quietly, watching me chew, as if afraid I'd disappear if he looked away.
The fast was broken.
But something else had begun.
I leaned slightly into him without realizing it, my strength not fully back yet. He didn't move away. Instead, he adjusted his hold, making sure I was supported.
"You should have told me you weren't feeling well," he said under his breath.
"I didn't want to spoil it," I replied honestly.
His jaw clenched.
"You spoiling something is the last thing you could do."
I looked up at him then.
Really looked.
The cold CEO everyone talked about wasn't standing in front of me tonight.
This man-this husband-was scared.
For me.
Our eyes met again.
The noise around us faded.
I could feel his breath, warm and uneven.
His hand was still at my waist, firm, protective.
"You scared me," he whispered.
I smiled weakly. "I'm sorry."
His thumb brushed away the corner of moisture near my eye.
"Don't do that again," he said quietly. "I won't be calm next time."
I nodded.
Still dizzy.
Still overwhelmed.
Still safe.
He stayed beside me the entire time after that, refusing to let go, even when everyone resumed talking and laughing.
And as the moon shone brightly above us, I realized-
This fast wasn't just about tradition.
It was about love finding its voice in silence.
Before I could even understand what was happening, Siddharth moved.
One moment, I was standing there-weak, dizzy, still recovering from the fast-and the next, his arms were around me. Not hesitantly.
Not carefully testing my weight.
Confidently.
He bent slightly and lifted me, as if I weighed nothing at all.
A soft gasp escaped my lips.
"S-Siddharth..." I whispered, instinctively gripping his shoulder.
"I'm fine now," I tried to say, embarrassed as my feet left the ground. "I can walk."
"No," he replied simply.
There was no room for argument in his voice.
He held me securely-one arm under my knees, the other supporting my back.
His grip was firm, protective, warm. I could feel the steady rise and fall of his chest, his heartbeat calm now, as if carrying me grounded him.
"Please put me down," I murmured, attempting to straighten myself. "Everyone is watching."
I tried to move, to slide out of his hold.
His arm tightened instantly.
"Don't," he said quietly. "You're not steady yet."
I froze.
Because it wasn't anger in his voice.
It was concern.
The terrace erupted behind us.
"Ohooo!" Arjun's voice rang out dramatically. "Bhabhi, this is unfair! No warning before romance!"
Ankita laughed. "Siddharth bhai, careful-she'll float away if you hold her like that!"
My face burned.
I buried it against Siddharth's chest instinctively, my ears heating with embarrassment.
"Put me down," I whispered again, weaker this time.
He ignored me.
He ignored them.
He didn't even turn.
I could feel his jaw tighten slightly, his steps steady as he started walking toward the stairs.
"Stop teasing," Maa said, though her voice held amusement.
Papa chuckled softly.
Dadi shook her head fondly. "Let him be. Today he's a proper husband."
I peeked up at Siddharth, heart racing.
He didn't look at anyone.
Not Arjun.
Not Ankita.
Not the elders smiling knowingly.
His entire focus was on getting me downstairs safely.
The teasing faded behind us, replaced by the quiet rhythm of his footsteps. My hand curled into his shirt unconsciously, seeking balance... comfort.
He didn't stop.
He didn't slow.
He just carried me-past the stairs, past the lights, past the laughter-as if the world around us didn't exist.
And for that moment...
It really didn't.
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❤️🔥 Next Chapter - Spoiler
"All this time..." Sidharth laughed bitterly.
"Was everything a lie, Roohi?"
She shook her head, crying.
"Say something," he whispered.
Then, colder than ever-
"I trusted you.
You destroyed it."
______________________________________
✨Hey readers!
Hope you liked this chapter.
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