Aayat's POV

I lay back against the pillows, the morning sunlight spilling faintly across the hospital room. Mihir hovered over me, tray in hand, a mixture of determination and exasperation in his expression.

"Stop staring at the ceiling like you're solving the world's problems," he said, voice sharp but not unkind. "Eat. Now."

I gave him a faint smile, teasing, "I was just... thinking."

"You think too much," he said firmly, lowering himself onto the chair beside my bed. "Thinking burns energy, and you need all your energy to... survive me fussing over you."

I laughed softly. "I think I've survived worse than you, Mihir."

His eyes narrowed, and he leaned closer, a smirk tugging at his lips. "Oh? And what might that be?"

"Being treated like a patient by... anyone else," I murmured, half-serious, half-playful.

He chuckled, the sound low and warm, brushing a stray strand of hair from my face. "Not anyone else. Only me. And you know why?"

I raised an eyebrow, feigning curiosity. "Enlighten me."

"Because," he said, voice dropping conspiratorially, "I get to read your mind. And being with a witch teaches a man a few tricks."

My eyes widened. "You... what?"

He leaned back, smirking, clearly enjoying the moment. "I know what you're thinking. Every thought, every little worry, every plan you've got spinning in that clever little head of yours."

I gave him a slow, deliberate death stare. "You're insane."

He raised his hands, mock-defensive. "Aww, my sweet little witch, don't kill me. I have an entire state to run! Imagine how devastated the people would be if their CM just... died from a death stare."

I rolled my eyes, letting out a soft laugh, shaking my head. "Delusional. Absolutely delusional."

"And yet," he said, leaning closer, voice softening, "you're smiling. You're enjoying this a little. Admit it."

I caught myself. Somewhere, deep down, I did feel lighter. The panic, the accident, the lingering fear, it all softened slightly when he was like this, teasing, fussing, smirking, acting ridiculous just to see me smile.

I looked at him, really looked, and realized... he was doing all this for me. Not because he had to. Not because it was a contract. But for me. And it made something in my chest ache, warm, heavy, and impossible to ignore.

I tried to hide it, pretending to look annoyed. "Don't think your ridiculous antics are going to get you away from responsibility. I still need my tea."

He leaned in, brushing my hair from my face again, eyes soft but playful. "And you'll get it. But you'll get it while I feed it to you, whether you like it or not. Because I need to know you're safe. And that means proper food. No arguments."

I sighed, realizing I didn't even want to argue. "Fine... but only because I'm weak."

He grinned, victorious, and lifted the spoon to my lips. "You're weak. That's my Aayat."

And as I took the first bite, watching him smirk with that ridiculous mix of pride and affection, I knew... I didn't need to fight it. Somehow, in his care, in his chaos, I felt... home.

And for now, that was enough.

I nibbled at the toast Mihir had carefully buttered for me, eyes flicking toward him as he fussed over the tray. My mind, however, wasn't on breakfast. It wandered, restless, circling the thought I hadn't dared voice all morning.

"Mihir..." I began hesitantly, my voice small.

He looked up instantly, attentive, as if he could sense the storm brewing in my thoughts. "Yes?" His tone was calm, though there was a faint tightness in his shoulders I noticed but chose to ignore.

"After... after five months," I said slowly, choosing my words, "will you... miss me?"

He blinked, caught off guard. The question hung between us, heavy and fragile.

"What do you mean?" he asked, voice careful, hiding something I couldn't quite place.

I pushed further, refusing to soften my words. "I mean... the contract, Mihir. After five months... everything will be different, won't it? You'll stop pretending, I'll" I stopped myself, swallowing hard. "I just want to know... will you still... care?"

His expression shifted subtly, eyes flickering, jaw tightening. A shadow passed over his usual composed face, something raw, unguarded, but in the very next heartbeat, he masked it with a soft smile. "What do you mean... 'after five months'?" he asked, light, teasing, deflecting.

I narrowed my eyes at him, not fooled for a second. My pulse quickened. "This is not the answer, Mihir," I said firmly, setting down my half-eaten toast. "You changed the topic. I asked you a question. Honestly."

He looked at me, a flicker of something vulnerable in his eyes that he tried, desperately, to hide. Then, almost imperceptibly, he leaned back, pretending to examine the ceiling, smirk returning too quickly, too sharply. "Aayat... always so serious," he said lightly. "It's exhausting."

I crossed my arms, ignoring the smirk. "Mihir Raghuvanshi. I mean it. Don't dodge me."

For a long moment, he didn't answer. Just stared at me, eyes darkening slightly, unreadable. Then, finally, he leaned closer, lowering his voice to a near whisper, carefully controlled:

"Five months... or five years, or fifty... being with you," he said, a pause as if weighing the words, "doesn't change... anything. I'll still care. I'll still be... here."

I blinked, surprised at the honesty laced beneath his teasing. My chest tightened. Somewhere in that pause, in the quick catch of his breath before he returned to his usual smirk, I knew he hadn't just said it for comfort.

He was hiding the rest, the part of him that feared the ticking clock, the contract, the inevitable "end." But the weight of his gaze, the way his hand lingered near mine... told me everything I needed to know.

And somewhere deep inside, I realized: even if the contract ends, even if the world insists on its rules, Mihir, this man who had chased me halfway across the world, who fussed over me endlessly, who made me laugh even when I was terrified, he wouldn't just let go.

I let out a small breath, unsure if it was relief or the sudden rush of emotion I couldn't name. I reached out, brushing a strand of hair from his face. "Good," I whispered, softer than I intended. "Because I... I need to know."

He leaned closer, smirking again, but his eyes betrayed him, warm, fierce, and wholly devoted. "I know, my sweet little witch," he said, teasing, but his voice carried a promise. "And don't worry... I've got plenty of time to make you see just how much I'll miss you."

And I knew, fully, that even if the five months came, even if the contract ended... somehow, he wouldn't ever stop caring.

I opened my mouth to say something else, maybe something too raw, too revealing, but Mihir stood abruptly, like he'd suddenly remembered something critical.

He clapped his hands together once.

"Now," he said briskly, tone shifting, "important question."

I blinked. "What?"

He pointed a finger at me with great seriousness.

"Has the kitchen burnt down in my absence yet?"

My jaw dropped. "Mihir!"

He made an exaggerated face of horror. "Don't tell me it has! The fire brigade... the trauma... the headlines: Chief Minister's wife attempts breakfast, city survives by miracle."

I smacked his arm, not hard, but enough to make him flinch dramatically.

"Ow! Violence! Nurse, she's attacking a public servant!"

"You deserve it," I muttered, but I was smiling. "I'm not that bad at cooking."

He tilted his head, narrowing his eyes, thoughtful.

"I agree. Of course you're a really good cook..."

I arched an eyebrow, waiting.

"...who only burns the kitchen sometimes."

I threw the nearest pillow at him. He caught it easily, smirking like he had expected it.

"See?" he said, hugging the pillow to his chest with ridiculous pride. "Coordination. Reflexes. I've been trained for this marriage."

"You're insufferable."

"And yet..." he drawled, dropping into the chair again, "...you haven't asked for anyone else."

Before I could think of a sharp comeback, the door swung open.

"AAYAT!"

Ryan strode in, arms full of flowers and snacks.

My whole face lifted. "Ryan!"

"Thought you might be bored," he grinned, setting everything on the table.

Mihir rose just enough to nod.

"Hello, Ryan."

"Wow," Ryan said dramatically. "Actual manners. Someone's improving."

I snorted. Mihir didn't reply, just leaned against the windowsill, arms crossed, expression unreadable but observant.

Ryan sat beside me, chattering easily, work stories, hospital gossip, the disaster that was the cafeteria samosas. I laughed, genuinely, the sound light.

Every time I glanced at Mihir, he was just... watching.

Not smiling. Not interrupting.

Just there.

"Anyway," Ryan said, mid-story, "I told her"

"You talk a lot," Mihir remarked casually, gaze still fixed outside.

Ryan blinked. "I'm entertaining her."

"She was already entertained," Mihir said dryly. "Then you came."

I covered my mouth to hide my laugh.

Ryan rolled his eyes. "Amazing husband material."

"Obviously," Mihir replied without hesitation.

Ryan looked at me. "Does he realize modesty is a thing?"

"No," I said.

"Never learned it," Mihir added, deadpan.

Ryan snorted. "And here I thought politics made people humble."

Mihir gave him a look that could set fire to trees.

I enjoyed every second.

There was no jealousy, no insecurity, just Mihir's silent, amused ownership of the room.

He didn't touch me, didn't say anything tender, never admitted a single feeling.

But his presence was loud.

Finally, Ryan stood. "Okay, I'll leave you two weirdos. Call me if you need anything."

I nodded. "I will."

He leaned down, and whispered, "Ignore him. He's dramatic."

Mihir didn't move, didn't speak.

Just watched.

When the door closed, I turned to him, smirking.

"You were very quiet."

"I was thinking," he said.

"About?"

He shrugged one shoulder. "Whether your friend knows how to cook. Maybe I should hire him. Someone needs to make sure I don't starve."

I laughed, shaking my head. "You don't even admit you like my cooking."

He looked at me then,fully, eyes steady, unreadable, a hint of something fierce hidden deep.

"I don't need to admit anything," he said softly.

"And why is that?"

"Because you know," he replied, voice light, a smirk tugging at his lips. "And that's enough."

He pushed off the windowsill, brushing my hair back from my forehead, fingers lingering for a second too long.

"Sleep, Aayat," he murmured. "Before you start thinking too much again."

I wanted to ask more, about five months, about us, about everything.

But he stepped back, hands in pockets, sealing every vulnerable thing neatly behind that impossible smile.

He didn't say he liked me.

He didn't say he cared.

He didn't have to.

Because I felt it.

In the way he stayed.

In the way he watched.

In the way he didn't admit a single thing.

The morning sun streamed through the hospital windows, brighter than it had been during these past nine days. Nine days. Nine days of food he insisted on feeding me, nine days of endless teasing, and nine days of Mihir standing silently nearby whenever I tried to slip out of his constant attention.

Today, however, the air was different. Tomorrow we were leaving. Going back to India. Back to reality.

I sat on the edge of the hospital bed, nervously adjusting the folds of my clothes, as Mihir paced around the room like a caged tiger.

"You look... ridiculously normal for someone who has been confined for over a week," he remarked, tilting his head, "almost disappointing."

I frowned, adjusting my bag strap. "Almost disappointing?"

He smirked, leaning casually against the wall. "Yes. I was expecting more dramatic weakness, maybe some frazzled hair, tragic eyes, the whole hospital-movie cliché. But no... you're just... alive. Functional. Annoying."

I rolled my eyes, slipping into my shoes. "Glad I could meet your expectations."

He stopped pacing and raised an eyebrow. "Don't get smart with me, Aayat. Remember who's responsible for this entire chaos."

"Responsible?" I echoed. "You mean the state of my patience after your constant nagging?"

"Exactly." He grinned, smirking at his own logic. "I am a master of responsibility. And apparently... also of keeping a certain witch alive."

I suppressed a laugh, shaking my head. "You're insufferable."

"Insufferable and irreplaceable," he corrected, giving me a wink that made my stomach twist in ways I couldn't name.

The nurse appeared, wheeling in my discharge papers. Mihir leaned over her shoulder, scanning the documents like a hawk.

"All seems in order," she said, smiling. "You're ready to go."

Mihir folded the papers neatly and handed them to me with exaggerated care. "Congratulations, Aayat. You survived. Barely."

I snatched the papers, mock glare in place. "Barely? That's your assessment?"

He shrugged, amusement dancing in his eyes. "I'm honest."

I stood, taking a deep breath, glancing at the room that had become a strange little world of its own over the last nine days. So many small, ridiculous moments etched into it. Mihir's voice, his smirk, the way he hovered, the way he teased... all of it.

"You'll miss it, won't you?" I said quietly, almost to myself.

He tilted his head, pretending to think, a sly smirk tugging at his lips. "Miss what? The hospital food? The endless poking and prodding? Or... me?"

I caught him off guard. "Or you," I said softly, letting my words hang.

He blinked, just slightly, but immediately masked it with his usual grin. "Obviously, none of the above. I'm an indispensable part of your recovery, nothing more."

"Uh-huh," I said, not believing a word, but secretly enjoying the way he avoided the question.

"Let's move," he said suddenly, gesturing toward the door like the perfectly disciplined CM he always was. "India awaits. The people will expect us punctual, and I don't want them gossiping about my witch dilly-dallying on the way to the airport."

I followed, laughing softly, enjoying the little dance of words we always did. No confessions. No admissions. Just Mihir, teasing, smirking, infuriatingly evasive, and me, quietly soaking it all in.

And somehow, despite the chaos, despite the contract, despite the games, I realized I wasn't ready to let these nine days, or him, go.

I was halfway down the hospital corridor, tugging at my bag strap, when a familiar voice called out.

"Aayat! Wait!"

I turned to see Ryan jogging toward me, breathless and waving frantically.

"Ryan!" I greeted, smiling despite myself. "What are you doing here?"

He stopped in front of me, hands on his knees as he tried to catch his breath. "I... I heard you're leaving tomorrow. You can't!" His eyes widened, earnest. "You can't just leave like this. It's... it's not fair!"

I blinked, a small laugh escaping me. "Not fair? Ryan... we've been in the hospital for nine days. Mihir insists on bringing me back to India tomorrow. It's happening."

Ryan's face fell. "But... but you can't leave yet! You're... you're" He waved vaguely, frustrated. "You're not ready! We all... I... I just..."

"Ryan," I said, amused at his flustered state, "I appreciate it, really. But I need to go back tomorrow. Mihir has... responsibilities." I glanced at Mihir, who had been silently trailing behind us, hands in his pockets, a smirk tugging at his lips.

"Oh, responsibilities, huh?" Ryan turned to Mihir, almost pleading. "But she's.."

Before he could finish, Mihir stepped closer, his expression suddenly serious, almost comically authoritative. He leaned in, poking Ryan lightly on the nose.

"Ryan," he said, low and mock-threatening, "she's going back tomorrow. Not today. And frankly, your protests are... adorable, but utterly useless."

Ryan froze, blinking at Mihir's intense gaze. "Uh... I"

I couldn't help but laugh softly, glancing between them. "Mihir, you're ridiculous."

He smirked, ignoring my comment. "Ridiculous, yes. But effective. Now, let's keep this orderly. We leave tomorrow. End of discussion."

Ryan threw his hands up in mock surrender. "Fine! Tomorrow it is... but I swear, Aayat, I'm coming back to check on you!"

I chuckled, shaking my head. "I'll be fine, Ryan. Trust me."

Mihir, sensing the playful tension, leaned toward me and whispered, just loud enough for Ryan to hear, "See? I protect my witch. No negotiations."

I felt warmth rise to my cheeks, part amusement, part something else I wasn't ready to name. Mihir's smirk, Ryan's flustered protests, and the absurdity of the moment made it all... feel like home.

And for now, that was enough.

The hum of the hotel air conditioner filled the room as we finally settled in after the large room. The city lights outside cast faint patterns across the floor, and I could feel the weight of the past nine days slowly lifting.

Mihir flopped onto the chair by the window, tossing his bag aside with careless precision, while I perched on the edge of the bed, still absorbing the day's chaos.

"You're awfully quiet," he said, eyes scanning me with that unreadable expression he always wore, the one that made me both anxious and curious all at once.

"I'm... thinking," I admitted softly, "about everything... about leaving tomorrow, about..." My voice trailed, but he didn't interrupt.

Instead, Mihir leaned back in his chair, legs stretched out, and tilted his head slightly, just observing.

And then, without warning, our eyes met.

I froze. Not literally, but inside, every thought slowed, every heartbeat caught. His gaze held mine, not teasing, not evasive, just... Mihir, fully present.

Time seemed to stretch. Three minutes. Ten seconds.

I counted, silently, each moment that passed, because in the past two and a half months, this was the first time we had truly looked at each other like this. No walls, no contract, no teasing. Just... us.

A warmth spread through my chest that I couldn't name. Happiness, relief, something tender and fragile. It felt monumental, like we were acknowledging something without saying a word, like we were finally seeing each other.

Mihir's usual smirk softened, just slightly, and my heart did an odd little flutter that I tried to ignore but failed miserably.

"I..." I started, unsure what I wanted to say, because words seemed inadequate.

"Don't," he interrupted softly, but not harshly. "Don't overthink it. Just... look."

And so I did.

Minutes felt like hours. Silence wasn't uncomfortable, it was comforting, grounding. In that stillness, I realized how much I had longed for this: a moment where it was just him and me, unguarded, no contracts, no obligations, just... presence.

When he finally blinked and looked away, the spell broke, and I exhaled softly, almost laughing at myself for holding my breath the whole time.

Our first actual eye contact in this marriage oh my gwaadddd!!!

"You're ridiculous," I whispered, shaking my head with a soft smile.

"I prefer... effective," he murmured, smirking again, though the softness lingered in his eyes.

And I couldn't stop smiling. For the first time in months, I felt... truly happy.

The silence lingered a little longer, comfortable now, as if the world outside had paused for us. I shifted slightly on the bed, hugging my knees.

"Mihir," I began softly, "have you... ever thought about what happens after all this?"

He glanced at me, leaning his elbow on the armrest, chin in hand, the ever-present smirk playing at his lips. "After all this?"

"Yes," I said, heart racing, "after the hospital, after the flights, after... all of this chaos we've been in together. What happens when we go back?"

He didn't answer immediately. Instead, his gaze drifted toward the window, watching the city lights shimmer. "We go back. Life continues. Work continues. And you..." His eyes flicked back to mine, and for a fleeting moment, that soft warmth returned, "you recover, hopefully without me hovering like a shadow all the time."

I smiled, teasing, "Hopefully?"

"Hopefully," he echoed, with a shrug that didn't quite hide the faint tug in his chest.

I wanted to push further, but my words caught in my throat. Instead, I just watched him, memorizing the way his jaw tightened slightly when he was caught in thought, the way his eyes softened when he looked at me.

He leaned back in his chair, fingers drumming lightly on the armrest. "You know... you've changed things, Aayat," he said quietly, almost as if he weren't sure he should admit it.

I tilted my head. "Changed things?"

"Yeah," he murmured. "The way... I notice things. The way... I... think differently." He stopped himself, a slight smirk returning, masking the momentary vulnerability. "You make life... complicated, in a good way. Exhausting, yes, but... better."

My chest tightened, a warmth spreading that I couldn't hide. "Better, huh?" I whispered, letting the words linger.

"Mm," he said, eyes meeting mine again, just for a brief heartbeat, before he looked away. "Don't read too much into it. I'm not... sentimental."

I laughed softly, knowing him too well to be fooled. "Right. Not sentimental at all."

"Exactly," he said, voice firm, but I could see the tiny shadow of hesitation. "I'm still me. Still the guy who... teases you around, and" He caught himself, smirk fading for a fraction of a second. "...still wants to make sure you don't starve."

I shook my head, smiling, feeling a strange flutter in my stomach. "You're impossible," I whispered.

"Yeah," he said, finally allowing a genuine smirk to cross his face. "And yet... somehow, you seem to like it."

I glanced away, cheeks warming. "I might."

"Hmm," he hummed, looking at me in a way that said far more than his words ever could. "Careful, little witch. Keep talking like that, and I might start... worrying about you, even when I'm supposed to be busy running a state."

I laughed softly, heart swelling at the rare, subtle honesty in his teasing. For all his walls, all his smirks, all the contracts and games, I knew, deep down, he cared more than he'd ever admit. And for now, that was enough.

Mihir froze mid-motion, the spoon halfway to his lips. His eyes, sharp and unreadable, met mine, and for a heartbeat, the world seemed to shrink to just the two of us.

"Stop looking at me like this, Mihir Raghuvanshi," I said, trying to keep my voice light, teasing, but my pulse betrayed me. "Or you might fall in love with me."

His lips twitched, the faintest smirk forming, but there was a flash of something... something softer, quieter, that he didn't let linger. He leaned back just slightly, feigning nonchalance.

"Fall in love, huh?" he murmured, voice low, teasing but dangerous in its calm. "You're delusional, Aayat. Don't flatter yourself."

I rolled my eyes, though my heart thumped harder than I cared to admit. "Delusional? Oh please, Mihir. Don't act like you're not thinking it."

He tilted his head, eyes glinting, but his smirk widened with mischief. "Thinking it... or saying it? Big difference, little witch."

I laughed softly, leaning back against the pillows, letting the moment stretch. For once, he didn't dodge the stare immediately. Our eyes locked, three minutes, ten seconds of quiet, unspoken acknowledgment, and somewhere deep in me, a rush of happiness bloomed.

Finally, he looked away, pretending to examine the ceiling, his smirk returning, sharper, controlled. "You really enjoy torturing me, don't you?"

"Only a little," I whispered, a sly grin tugging at my lips. "Maybe just enough to make you wonder what's happening to you."

He huffed, though there was no anger, only amusement, and maybe, just maybe, a tiny flicker of something he wouldn't name. "Impressive... witch," he muttered, shaking his head.

And for the first time in these two and a half months, our eyes had met, held, and lingered. I felt... unreasonably, impossibly happy.

Mihir finally tore his gaze away from me, but the smirk on his lips lingered, just a little too knowing. He leaned back in his chair, pretending to scrutinize the ceiling as if some invisible mark had caught his attention.

"Three minutes and ten seconds," I whispered, a teasing lilt in my voice, "that's how long you stared. You know, for science."

He didn't flinch, didn't break the act. "Science, huh? I'm impressed you kept track. Most people can't even count past ten without losing focus."

"Unlike you," I said, matching his tone, "who seems to have mastered the art of staring at me endlessly without blinking."

His eyes flicked toward me, just the slightest twitch, like a storm threatening to break, and then he laughed softly, low and amused. "Endlessly, huh? I'm honored. Truly."

I grinned, leaning forward. "You should be. It's a very exclusive club. Only the people who torture me daily get membership."

He leaned in just a fraction, just enough that the air between us felt electric. "Torture, you say... sounds like you enjoy it too."

I let out a small laugh, hiding the flutter in my chest. "Maybe... a little. But only because I know someone's secretly worried about me."

Mihir's smirk softened ever so slightly. He didn't say a word, didn't admit anything. But the way he brushed a stray strand of hair from my face, lingering a moment longer than necessary, spoke volumes. Words weren't needed.

And for the first time in all these months, the playful tension between us felt... lighter. He didn't have to admit love. He didn't have to. That small, careful attention, that lingering gaze, was enough for now.

I leaned back, pretending to focus on the tea in front of me, but inside... I was floating. Two and a half months of unspoken words, stolen looks, and finally, finally, this tiny crack in his perfect, controlled mask.

"You know, Mihir," I murmured softly, "you're not very good at hiding things."

He tilted his head, smirk returning, sharper this time, teasing, deflecting. "And you, little witch, are far too observant. Careful... you might start reading too much into my genius."

I laughed quietly, letting the warmth of the moment settle around us. Genius or not, I knew one thing, Mihir Raghuvanshi, stoic, infuriating, impossible Mihir, was mine to puzzle over. And for now, that was perfect.

I leaned back against the headboard, swirling the tea in my cup with deliberate slowness, watching Mihir across from me. His eyes kept darting toward me, and I couldn't resist.

"You know," I began, voice dripping with faux seriousness, "after five months, we'll be divorced."

His eyebrows shot up, a flash of alarm, or was it amusement?crossing his face. "Divorced? Excuse me?"

I smiled sweetly, letting my words hang in the air. "Yes. Divorced. And after that... I'll probably marry someone else. A nice, boring man. He'll be perfect, and we'll have two kids... twins, of course lily and leechies. You wouldn't want me to settle for less."

Mihir's jaw tightened. The smirk he always carried faltered for a fraction of a second before he recovered, masking whatever was brewing behind those dark eyes. "Two kids, huh?" he said slowly, voice low, dangerous, teasing. "And what exactly are their names? I hope you don't plan on naming them after state capitals just to annoy me."

I giggled, enjoying every second of his flustered expression. "No... probably not. But I'll tell you one thing, they'll be adorable. And every time they smile, you'll know... you missed out."

His eyes narrowed, and I caught the tiniest twitch of a frown. He leaned forward slightly, smirk playing on his lips, but there was fire behind it now. "Missed out, huh? You think I'll just sit quietly while you paint me as the villain in your imaginary future?"

I tilted my head innocently. "Oh, I'm just being honest. You never tell me how you feel, Mihir Raghuvanshi. So I guess I have to imagine the worst... and have a little fun while I do it."

He groaned, half in frustration, half in amusement, running a hand through his hair. "You are impossible, you know that?"

"And yet," I said softly, leaning closer, "you can't stop looking at me."

He froze, blinking at me, caught in the trap he refused to admit was real. Then, after a beat, his smirk returned, though it was sharper, more teasing. "Careful, little witch... keep talking like that, and I might start believing you're trying to make me jealous. Dangerous game, you know."

I laughed quietly, heart pounding at the mix of tension and warmth radiating from him. "Oh, I know. But someone has to keep things interesting around here."

And for the first time, I saw the flicker, just a flicker, of vulnerability behind Mihir's perfectly controlled facade. He wouldn't admit anything... not now. But the heat in his eyes betrayed him, and I savored it, knowing exactly how much control I had over him in this playful little war.

Mihir leaned back slightly, crossing his arms, as if to reclaim his composure. But the heat in his eyes gave him away. "You know," he said slowly, deliberately, "you're really pushing your luck, Aayat."

I tilted my head, pretending to ponder, letting a sly smile play at my lips. "Am I? Or am I just telling the truth?"

His smirk twitched, and I caught a flicker of exasperation. "Truth, huh? Dangerous thing. Especially when it comes from a witch who thinks she can toy with my emotions."

I laughed, leaning closer to mock a whisper. "Oh, I'm not toying. I'm... forecasting. You know, preparing you for the heartbreak after five months."

He leaned forward abruptly, close enough that I could feel the warmth radiating from him. "Forecasting, huh? And what if I decide to rewrite your forecast?"

I raised an eyebrow, heart skipping a beat. "Rewrite it? How?"

Mihir's grin grew wider, darker, teasingly confident. "By making sure those imaginary kids never exist... and that someone else never gets to steal your attention."

I blinked, caught between shock and giddy delight. "Mihir!" I exclaimed, half-laughing, half-protesting. "You can't say things like that!"

He leaned even closer, voice dropping into a dangerous whisper. "Why not? You're the one who started this game, little witch."

I felt my cheeks heat up, heart racing, and I couldn't help but laugh nervously. "You're impossible. Do you even realize how impossible you are?"

He smirked, eyes glinting with mischief. "I prefer... unforgettable," he said softly. "And just so you know... I've been keeping track of all your little forecasts. Every one of them."

I swallowed hard, pretending to sip my tea, but my hands were shaking slightly. "Oh really? And what have you... decided about them?"

He leaned back, looking casual again, but the intensity in his gaze lingered. "Decided? Hmm... let's just say, I have a few counter-plans. And you, little witch, are at the very center of all of them."

I laughed, but it was a breathless, fluttering sound, my chest tight with anticipation and excitement. For the first time in these past two and a half months, I felt a strange, dizzying mix of joy and nervousness, because Mihir Raghuvanshi, stoic, teasing, impossible Mihir, had finally let a crack show... and I could see it, just for me.

I tilted my head, a mischievous glint in my eyes as I leaned back on the hotel room couch, watching Mihir carefully. "You know... I'll come visit you someday with my kids and husband."

Mihir's brows shot up, the smirk already fading into genuine curiosity. "Visit me? Why on earth would you do that?"

I grinned, tapping my fingers on the armrest. "Well... I'd want to introduce my kids to the old man I once stayed with," I said, letting the words roll off my tongue slowly, watching his reaction.

He froze mid-breath, eyes narrowing slightly. "Old man?" he repeated, a mock-offended edge creeping into his voice. "I'm not old!"

I laughed, loud and teasing, enjoying how flustered he was. "Oh, come on, Mihir! You'll be old enough by then. Wrinkles, grey hair... you'll need a young lady to remind you of your glory days."

His jaw tightened, but the smirk returned, sharper this time. "Glory days, huh? Careful, Aayat. You're dangerously close to testing my patience... and my sense of humor."

I leaned closer, voice dropping to a whisper, playful yet teasing. "I don't think you'll mind too much, old man."

Mihir's eyes flicked to mine, and I could see the mix of amusement, mock-annoyance, and something else, something unspoken, flash across his face. "Old man," he muttered again, shaking his head. "You're unbelievable."

I laughed, thoroughly enjoying the moment, the rare sight of him so utterly... human, off-guard, reacting only to me. Deep down, I knew he wouldn't admit it, wouldn't show it, but I could see it, the little cracks in his armor when it came to me.

And I decided, right then, I would tease him forever.

Mihir sat up abruptly, eyes narrowing, a smirk tugging at his lips. "Oh, you think you can just get away with that, Aayat?" he said, voice low and teasing.

I raised an eyebrow. "Get away with what?"

He leaned closer, pretending to be serious. "If you can name your kids Lily and Leechies, then I" He paused for dramatic effect, eyes glittering with mischief, "will name mine... Mustard and Pickle."

I blinked, trying not to laugh but failing miserably. "Mihir Raghuvanshi! That is cruel! Why would you do that?"

"Why?" he echoed, tilting his head, playful yet deadly serious. "Because if you're going to traumatize the world with weird names, I have to one-up you. It's only fair."

I threw a cushion at him, giggling. "You're impossible. Absolutely impossible."

He caught it effortlessly, smirking like a cat who just won a game. "And yet," he said softly, leaning closer, "you love it."

I scoffed, trying to hide my blush, but the warmth in my chest betrayed me. "Maybe I do," I admitted quietly, eyes flicking away.

Mihir's grin widened, victorious. "Exactly. So remember, Aayu... if you name your kids weird things, you can't complain when I do the same. That's the rule of Raghuvanshis."

I laughed again, shaking my head. "Fine... but I'm still naming mine Lily and Leechies. Deal with it."

He leaned back, pretending to sulk but his eyes were all teasing fire. "Deal. But one day, Aayat... one day, you're going to regret this."

"Maybe," I said, smirking, "or maybe you'll just keep being ridiculous and I'll keep enjoying it."

I flopped back onto the bed, still laughing. "Lily and Leechies... can you believe it?" I teased, eyes sparkling.

Mihir, sitting on the edge of the bed, smirked slightly, his gaze flicking to the side. Then, almost too quietly for him to notice, he murmured:

"Our kids..."

I froze. Did he really just say that? My heart skipped a beat, and a warm, fluttering feeling spread through me.

I blinked at him, trying to process it. His eyes were on me, calm, unreadable, but the softness in his voice lingered in the room.

I didn't say anything. I just felt my cheeks heat up, a shy smile tugging at my lips, my fingers fidgeting with the edge of the blanket.

"Our kids... Lily and Leechies," he repeated, softly, as if testing the words.

I stayed silent, letting the words sink in. My chest felt lighter, my heart a little faster. Somehow... hearing him say that, murmured, unintended, made everything feel a little more real.

And I just... blushed, letting the moment hang between us, unspoken, yet completely understood.

I was just about to tease him again when Mihir suddenly leaned back in his chair, eyes narrowing thoughtfully.

"You know," he said casually, as if dropping the most normal comment in the world, "I think I could survive a week without sleep... if I had to. Strategically, of course."

I blinked at him. "Excuse me?"

He shrugged, smirking faintly. "I read somewhere that humans can function on almost zero sleep if they plan their naps. I could test it... just for science."

I gawked at him, utterly shocked. "Mihir Raghuvanshi... are you seriously saying you'd experiment on yourself like some kind of lab rat?"

He tilted his head, looking entirely serious, like he wasn't joking at all. "Why not? I have responsibilities. I can't always afford eight hours of sleep. And the results could be... enlightening."

I opened my mouth, closed it, then stared at him. "You... you're insane," I finally said, a mix of disbelief and exasperation coloring my voice.

"Insane?" he repeated, mock-offended. "No, Aayat. I'm... pioneering."

I just sat there, blinking, my brain trying to process that my calm, composed, teasing Mihir was now apparently planning sleep-deprivation experiments on himself.

I sat there, frozen, my fork halfway to my mouth. "Mihir... you... you can't just decide to torture yourself for 'science'! That's... that's madness!"

He leaned forward, elbows on his knees, eyes glinting with mock solemnity. "Madness is a matter of perspective, Aayu. I call it... efficiency optimization."

I pinched the bridge of my nose, trying to stop my brain from short-circuiting. "Efficiency? Mihir, normal people sleep. Eight hours! You can't just, just skip it like it's... it's a cup of tea!"

He tilted his head, considering me like I'd just spoken nonsense. "A cup of tea... hmm... not a bad analogy. But you're missing the point. I could rotate my nap schedule, optimize REM cycles... scientifically."

I threw my hands in the air, utterly flustered. "Optimize REM cycles?! Are you actually serious right now, or is this some weird way to scare me?"

He smirked faintly, like I'd just asked the silliest question in the world. "I assure you, Aayu, it's entirely serious. Someone has to test the limits of human endurance. And if it's me... so be it."

I gawked at him, blinking rapidly. "You... Mihir Raghuvanshi... you're insane! Absolutely, 100% certified, dangerously insane!"

He leaned back, satisfied, as if he'd just delivered a Nobel-worthy lecture. "Insane? Perhaps. But pioneering, definitely."

I groaned, burying my face in my hands. "I can't... I just... how is it that living with you is somehow a combination of chaos, science experiments, and absolute terror?!"

He laughed softly, the sound teasing but calm, like he knew exactly how much he'd unsettled me. "Welcome to life with Mihir Raghuvanshi, Aayat. No refunds, no exchanges."

I peeked through my fingers at him, equal parts exasperated and impressed. "I... I need therapy after this conversation."

"Therapy," he mused aloud, "or just... careful observation. You decide."

And as I glared at him, utterly bewildered, I realized... somehow, no matter how bizarre, chaotic, or completely mad he was, living with Mihir would never, ever be boring.

I took a deep breath, my chest tightening as I tried to steady my racing thoughts. Every instinct in me screamed to stay silent, after all, he had been told they were gone. Yet, the memory of the girl I had followed at the airport, the way she moved, the familiar tilt of her head, kept pressing in my mind.

I swallowed, my hands clenching slightly in my lap. "Mihir..." I began, voice hesitant, trembling even as I tried to stay composed. "Do you... miss Naina?"

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AND YES TELL ME HOW WAS THE CHAPTER??????

To be continued

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