Mihir's POV

She turned toward the door like it was the most normal thing in the world.

Like she hadn't just walked back into my life after...

No.

Don't go there.

"I'll just..." she started.

I didn't even let her finish.

I caught her hand.

She stopped.

Slowly turned back, confusion written all over her face.

"Mihir... what are you doing?"

Good question.

I had no idea.

I just knew I wasn't letting her walk away like that.

Not again.

"I missed you."

The words slipped out.

Too fast.

Too honest.

I blinked.

Well done.

Brilliant start.

She just stared at me.

Of course she did.

So naturally, instead of shutting up...

I kept going.

"I missed you so much, my witch."

Silence.

Absolute silence.

Her face didn't change.

Not even a little.

Yeah.

I should stop.

Right now.

Immediately.

"I missed the burnt food," I added anyway.

Idiot.

"The kitchen looking like a disaster zone."

Still going.

"Your non-funny jokes...seriously, they're terrible."

Why am I like this?

"And you still laugh at them like you just invented humor..."

Stop talking.

I exhaled sharply, dragging a hand through my hair.

Too late.

Way too late.

"I missed..." my voice dropped slightly, quieter now, "all of it."

Her.

Everything that came with her.

Even the chaos.

Especially the chaos.

She was still looking at me.

Like she didn't know whether to be confused... or concerned.

Fair.

Very fair.

We're in a contract marriage.

I'm not supposed to sound like this.

I know that.

I just...

I looked away for a second, then back at her.

"Don't leave again."

That came out different.

Lower.

Real.

No jokes this time.

Silence stretched.

Too long.

Too loud.

So obviously...

I ruined it again.

"Because I'm not dealing with that kitchen alone," I muttered.

There.

Safe ground.

Sarcasm.

Deflection.

I crossed my arms, leaning back slightly like I hadn't just said everything I wasn't supposed to.

"Naina will cry," I added. "Advit will cry."

A small pause.

Then, quieter...

"And I'll be annoyed."

Liar.

I looked at her again.

Still there.

Still staring.

Still not saying anything.

Great.

Perfect.

I let out a breath, shaking my head slightly.

"Say something," I muttered.

"Or just keep looking at me like that, that's fine too."

She didn't say anything.

Just kept looking at me.

Like she was trying to figure out which version of me this was.

I shifted slightly, jaw tightening.

"Don't look at me like that," I muttered.

"Like what?" she asked.

"Like I've lost it."

A pause.

Then she said, very calmly...

"You're close."

I huffed out a quiet breath, looking away for a second.

"Yeah, well," I muttered, "you disappearing tends to have that effect."

Silence.

Then she stepped a little closer.

Not much.

But enough.

"You missed me?" she asked.

Straight to the point.

Of course.

I looked at her.

Held her gaze.

Then scoffed lightly.

"No," I said.

A beat.

Then, without breaking eye contact...

"Absolutely not."

Another beat.

"I just enjoyed the silence, the clean kitchen, the absence of chaos..."

Her eyebrow lifted slightly.

There it is.

I exhaled, shaking my head.

"Obviously I missed you, my witch."

Softer this time.

Less chaotic.

More real.

"It was boring without you."

That word sat there.

Boring.

Like everything had lost its edge.

She didn't reply immediately.

Just watched me.

Again.

Too much thinking going on behind those eyes.

I don't like it.

"Don't overanalyze it," I added quickly. "It's not a confession."

Lie.

I crossed my arms, leaning back slightly.

"It's a complaint."

That almost got a reaction.

Almost.

Then she said quietly,

"You talk a lot when you're like this."

I frowned.

"Like what?"

"Unfiltered."

I paused.

Fair.

"Don't get used to it," I muttered.

Another small silence.

Then, softer...

"I didn't like it."

She looked at me.

"What?"

I shrugged lightly, gaze shifting away.

"You not being there."

Simple.

No drama.

No exaggeration.

Just truth.

That one landed.

I could see it.

Her expression didn't change much...

But it softened.

Just a little.

And that was enough.

I pushed myself off the wall, stepping aside.

"Go," I said. "Before I start saying worse things."

"Worse?" she asked.

I glanced at her.

"Much worse."

A pause.

Then, quieter...

"And I won't take them back."

That held meaning.

More than I was willing to explain.

She watched me for a second longer.

Then turned, opening the door.

But just before stepping inside...

"I didn't leave," she said.

I stilled.

Looked at her.

Then gave a small nod.

"Good."

Because next time...

I wouldn't be this controlled about it.

She stepped inside finally, closing the door behind her.

I didn't move. Couldn't. Just watched her.

"Jail... wasn't good," she said finally, her voice steady, casual almost. But there was weight behind it.

I raised an eyebrow. "No kidding. Tell me something I don't know."

She gave me a small, almost tired smile. "I mean... there were people... charged even though they were innocent. Can you imagine? Innocent. And they had to..."

Her words trailed off, and I saw her hands tighten slightly at her sides.

I softened my tone, stepping closer. "That's... awful. I'm sorry you had to see that."

She shook her head, brushing a loose strand of hair behind her ear. "It's... not the worst part. Worst part was... the food."

I blinked. Wait. The food?

She smirked, just a little, like she knew exactly the effect her words had. "Honestly... it wasn't really good. Not even close."

I opened my mouth, then closed it. Wait. She just... insulted the prison food in front of me?

She continued, unbothered. "I mean... I missed the Chief Minister's menu. You know... your food. That was at least edible."

I froze. My chest tightened...not because she was joking, but because she'd called me CM.

I blinked, leaning back against the wall, trying to play it cool. "Oh. So... all the crime, chaos, injustice... and it's my cooking you missed?"

She shrugged, tilting her head like it was nothing. "Well... partly. But yes. Mostly."

I could feel the smirk tugging at my lips. "Mostly me, huh?"

She rolled her eyes, playful now. "Mostly the food. Don't let it go to your head, Chief Minister."

I laughed. Short. Sharp. And that sound... it felt like something had loosened. Like maybe, just maybe, this wasn't going to be awkward forever.

She sank down onto the couch, crossing her legs. "Anyway... jail is terrible. Food is terrible. Company is terrible. The only good part... was thinking about your kitchen."

I blinked. Wait... did she just...

She met my gaze, teasing now, but soft. "Your witch of a kitchen, Mihir. And the chef too, obviously."

I felt heat rise in my chest...not anger, not embarrassment. Something else. Something I wasn't ready to name yet.

"Glad to hear that," I muttered, trying to sound casual. "Though I'd prefer if the chief minister was actually cooking for you next time."

Her lips curved, small, knowing, almost smug. "I might hold you to that."

And just like that... the tension shifted. Conversation. Real, small, teasing, like it always used to be.

I could do this. I could... talk to her. And maybe, just maybe... I'd stop letting her walk away so easily next time.

She didn't respond immediately after that.

Just leaned back, quieter now. Not her usual sharp, chaotic energy...something softer, something... tired.

I noticed. Of course I did.

She exhaled slowly, eyes drifting somewhere past me.

"It wasn't just the food," she said after a moment. "It was everything."

I didn't interrupt.

Didn't joke.

Just listened.

"There were people there..." she continued, voice calmer than it should've been, "people who kept saying they didn't do anything. And the worst part?"

A pause.

"They sounded convincing."

My jaw tightened slightly.

She let out a small breath, almost a dry laugh. "You start wondering... what if they're telling the truth? What if half of them are just... stuck there because someone else decided it?"

Silence stretched between us.

I pushed myself off the counter, walking closer, but still gave her space.

She glanced at me briefly before looking away again.

"The nights were the worst," she added. "Too quiet. Too loud at the same time. You can hear everything. Every sound feels like it's sitting inside your head."

Her fingers tapped lightly against the couch, restless.

"I tried not to think too much," she muttered. "Didn't always work."

I leaned against the table beside her, arms crossed loosely.

"You thought," I said.

She gave me a look. "Obviously."

"Hm."

A small pause.

Then, quieter...

"What did you think about?"

She didn't answer right away.

Just stared ahead.

Then...

"Home."

Simple.

Something in my chest shifted.

"And?" I asked.

She huffed lightly. "And your annoyingly perfect food."

There she is.

I smirked faintly. "Ah yes. Priorities."

She shot me a look, but there was no bite in it this time. "Don't act like it's not justified. You cook like you've made a deal with God."

"I have," I said dryly. "It's called skill."

That got a small laugh out of her.

Good.

I watched her for a second longer.

She looked better now. Not fully...but better.

"You know," she said suddenly, glancing at me, "there was this one day... I actually tried to imagine cooking something properly."

I raised an eyebrow. "In jail?"

"Yes."

"And?"

She tilted her head slightly. "In my head, it still burned."

I let out a quiet breath, shaking my head. "Of course it did. Consistency is important."

She smiled...small, but real.

Then her expression softened again.

"I think that's what I missed the most," she said quietly.

I didn't ask what.

I knew.

Still...

"What?"

She looked at me this time. Fully.

"Normal."

The word sat there between us.

Heavy in a way nothing else had been.

I held her gaze.

"Then get used to it again," I said simply.

Her eyes searched mine for a second, like she was checking if I meant it.

I didn't look away.

Didn't soften it.

And something in her expression eased.

Just a little.

She leaned back again, quieter now, but not distant anymore.

Still here.

Still... her.

I exhaled slowly, running a hand through my hair.

"Also," I added after a second, tone shifting just slightly, "you're not entering my kitchen unsupervised for at least a week."

Her head snapped toward me. "Excuse me?"

"Recovery period," I said calmly. "For both you and the kitchen."

Her eyes narrowed. "Mihir.."

"No negotiations."

She scoffed, crossing her arms. "I survived prison food. I think I can handle a stove."

I smirked. "The stove is what I'm worried about."

That got another reaction.

A real one this time.

And just like that...

The heaviness didn't disappear.

But it loosened.

Enough for her to breathe.

Enough for me to know...

She was going to be okay.

And this time...

I wasn't letting her face anything alone.

She went quiet after that.

For a few seconds, at least.

Which, with her, never really meant silence...just a build-up.

I saw it coming.

The way her fingers started fidgeting again.

The way her gaze shifted, unfocused for a moment.

And then...

"Are Naina and Advit okay? Like actually okay? They didn't get hurt, right? And they've been fine? Did they talk to you properly? Or were they scared? Mihir, tell me honestly...everything's alright between you and them now, right? Nothing's... weird?"

All in one breath.

I blinked.

There it is.

I leaned back slightly, watching her. "Finished?"

She frowned. "Mihir..."

I held up a hand, stopping her before she could spiral further.

"They're fine."

That made her pause.

But not enough.

"Fine as in fine-fine? Or fine as in you're saying fine but something's actually wrong?"

I almost smiled.

Almost.

"Fine as in safe," I said calmly. "Untouched. Protected."

Her shoulders dropped a little.

Good.

"Naina?" she asked again, softer this time.

"She cried," I said simply.

Aayat's expression shifted immediately.

"Of course she did," she murmured.

"She handled it," I added. "Better than I expected."

That seemed to matter to her.

"And Advit?"

I exhaled quietly. "Didn't say much. But he stayed close to Naina."

A small nod from her.

Processing.

Always processing everything at once.

"Did they ask about me?" she asked, eyes flicking back to mine.

"Yes."

No hesitation.

"They didn't stop."

Something in her face softened again...relief mixed with something deeper.

"And you?" she asked suddenly. "You told them everything's okay?"

"I told them what they needed to hear."

Her eyes narrowed slightly. "Mihir."

I held her gaze.

"They're safe," I repeated. "And nothing is 'weird' between us."

A small pause.

Then, quieter...

"They trust me."

That one landed differently.

She studied me for a second longer, like she was trying to read between the words.

Then she leaned back, exhaling.

"Good," she murmured. "That's... good."

Silence settled again.

But lighter this time.

She wasn't spiraling anymore.

Just thinking.

Then...of course...

"You didn't scare them, right?"

I looked at her.

Flat.

She tried not to smile. Failed slightly.

"I don't scare children," I said dryly.

She raised an eyebrow. "Debatable."

I scoffed lightly. "They're not you."

That got a small reaction.

Good.

She shifted slightly on the couch, pulling her legs up just a bit, more comfortable now.

"Did they eat properly?" she added, like the interrogation wasn't over.

"Yes."

"Sleep?"

"Yes."

"Talk?"

"Yes, Aayat."

She narrowed her eyes. "You're being very short with your answers."

"Because you're asking twenty questions at once."

"That's efficient."

"That's exhausting."

She almost smiled again.

Then, softer...

"They weren't alone... right?"

That one wasn't rapid.

That one mattered.

I shook my head. "Never."

Her shoulders finally relaxed fully at that.

And for the first time since she started...

She stopped asking.

Just sat there.

Quiet.

Relieved.

I watched her for a second.

Then looked away, voice casual again...

"Interrogation over?"

She glanced at me.

"...For now."

I nodded once.

"Good."

Because if she kept going...

I might actually start answering more than I should.

She went quiet after that.

Finally.

I thought the interrogation was over.

I was wrong.

Because instead of speaking...

She moved.

Slowly.

And then...

Her hand wrapped around mine.

I froze.

Not visibly.

But inside...

What.

The.

Hell.

My entire body went still for half a second.

A current shot straight through my arm...sharp, sudden, completely uninvited.

Did she just...

Did she just hold my hand?

Voluntarily?

My brain short-circuited.

Don't react.

Do not react.

Stay normal.

Stay...

Why is my heartbeat doing that?

Shut up.

It's just a hand.

A hand.

People hold hands.

Normal human activity.

Completely normal.

Then why does it feel like someone plugged me into electricity?

I kept my face neutral. Barely.

She didn't seem to notice.

Or worse...

She did, and she was ignoring it.

"Thank you," she said quietly.

Oh.

That's why.

Not... anything else.

Idiot.

Of course it's not anything else.

She's grateful.

That's it.

Nothing more.

My brain, however, refused to shut up.

Did she think before doing that?

Or was it just... instinct?

And why am I even thinking about this?

It's a contract marriage.

Contract.

Very clear terms.

No complications.

No...

Do I feel something?

No.

No.

Absolutely not.

Don't be stupid.

It's just...

She's just...

She's Aayat.

That's it.

Stop overthinking.

She's going to notice.

You're going to make this weird.

Don't make it weird.

I cleared my throat lightly, forcing my thoughts to line up.

"You're welcome," I said, tone steady.

Good.

Normal.

Controlled.

Ignore the fact that her hand was still in mine.

Ignore the fact that I hadn't pulled away.

Ignore the fact that I didn't want to pull away.

Wait...

No.

Wrong direction.

Abort that thought immediately.

I shifted slightly, trying to act like nothing was happening.

"Don't make a habit out of thanking me," I added casually. "It'll ruin my reputation."

Deflect.

Always deflect.

She huffed out a soft breath...almost a laugh.

But she didn't let go.

And neither did I.

Because pulling away now would make it obvious.

And I don't do obvious.

So I stayed still.

Composed.

Externally calm.

Internally....

Complete chaos.

She didn't let go.

And I didn't move.

Bad decision.

Very bad decision.

Because now my brain had moved from denial to overanalysis.

Ignore it.

Focus.

Focus on something else.

And right on cue...

"Are Naina and Advit here in this mansion?" she asked, her voice softer now.

I blinked, pulling myself back. "Yes."

Her fingers tightened slightly around mine. Not enough to be obvious. Just enough for me to notice.

"Can I meet them?"

I looked at her.

Really looked this time.

There it was again...that hesitation she never showed easily.

"Will they..." she paused, searching for words, "will they feel... okay meeting me?"

I frowned slightly.

"What?"

She exhaled, gaze dropping for a second.

"They've only known me for a few days, Mihir. It's not like I've been there their whole life. What if they don't... I don't know... talk to me the same?"

That caught me off guard.

This...

This wasn't the Aayat who walked into rooms like she owned them.

This was... different.

Uncertain.

I didn't like it.

"They asked about you every day," I said.

Her eyes lifted immediately.

"Every day?"

"Yes."

No hesitation.

"No filter either," I added. "Especially Naina."

A faint, almost nervous smile appeared on her lips.

"And Advit?"

I glanced down briefly, then back at her.

"He didn't say much," I admitted. "But he listened every time your name came up."

That seemed to matter more to her than she expected.

She nodded slowly.

Still thinking.

Still doubting.

I clicked my tongue lightly.

"You're overthinking again."

"I'm not..."

"You are."

She narrowed her eyes slightly. "Mihir..."

"They'll run to you the second they see you," I cut in, calm, certain.

That made her pause.

I held her gaze.

"You're not forgettable, Aayat."

A small silence followed that.

Her expression shifted...just slightly.

Less doubt.

More... something else.

"And if they don't?" she asked quietly.

I tilted my head, a faint smirk forming.

"Then I'll remind them who you are."

She blinked. "How?"

"By pointing out the chaos they've clearly been missing."

That got a reaction.

A small one...but real.

She shook her head lightly. "You're impossible."

"And yet," I said calmly, "you're still holding my hand."

The words slipped out before I could stop them.

Damn it.

Her eyes dropped instantly.

To our hands.

Then back to me.

A beat of silence.

One second.

Two.

Did I just...

Why would you say that?

Idiot.

Absolute idiot.

I kept my expression neutral. Somehow.

Like I hadn't just pointed it out.

Like I hadn't noticed from the beginning.

Her grip loosened slightly...

Then... didn't let go.

Great.

Now what?

I exhaled slowly, dragging my thoughts back under control.

"They're downstairs," I said, tone steady again. "If you want to meet them."

She nodded.

Still looking at me for a second longer than necessary.

Then finally...

She let go.

And for some reason...

My hand felt colder without hers.

She stood up slowly, like she was still thinking through everything I had just said.

"How do I meet them?" she asked, glancing toward the door. "Do I just... go? Or will they feel awkward?"

I leaned back slightly, forcing myself to stay normal. "Just go. Don't overthink it."

She nodded, though I could tell she still was overthinking it.

Of course she was.

She took a step toward the door, then paused...like she wanted to say something else.

But she didn't.

Just gave me one last look... and walked out.

The door clicked shut behind her.

Silence.

I stayed exactly where I was for a second.

Two.

Three.

Then I looked down at my hand.

The same one she had been holding.

...

What.

Was that?

I flexed my fingers slightly, like I was checking if something had physically changed.

Nothing had.

And yet...

Everything had.

I dragged a hand through my hair, pacing once across the room.

Okay.

Let's think logically.

She held your hand.

Normal.

People do that.

Right?

Then why did it feel like...

No.

Stop.

Don't go there.

I stopped pacing, staring at the floor like it had answers.

Does that... count as something?

My jaw tightened.

Absolutely not.

It's nothing.

Just... a reaction.

A biological glitch.

Yeah. That sounds right.

Still...

My brain refused to shut up.

Fine.

I reached into my pocket, pulling out my phone.

This is stupid.

Very stupid.

But I opened it anyway.

Unlocked it.

Opened the browser.

Typed...

"does holding hands and feeling lot of things at once like current rise heartbeat etc counts as something"

I stared at the screen for a second.

Then hit search.

What am I doing?

I leaned back slightly, reading through the results, expression completely blank.

"Emotional connection..."

"Physical attraction..."

"Early signs of attachment..."

I frowned.

No.

Wrong.

Completely wrong.

I scrolled.

"Heightened awareness of the other person..."

"Possible romantic feelings..."

I locked my phone instantly.

Nope.

Absolutely not.

I tossed it onto the bed like it had personally offended me.

"This is ridiculous," I muttered.

It's just a hand.

Just a moment.

Nothing else.

I crossed my arms, exhaling slowly, forcing my thoughts back into order.

Contract marriage.

Clear boundaries.

No complications.

That's how this works.

That's how it stays.

I nodded to myself once.

Resolved.

Done.

Then...

My eyes drifted back to my hand again.

...

Why did it still feel like that?

I clenched my fingers slightly.

Annoyed now.

At myself.

At her.

At whatever that was.

"Unbelievable," I muttered under my breath.

And yet...

Somewhere in the back of my mind...

One thought refused to leave.

It didn't feel like nothing.

"No," I muttered under my breath, pacing once again.

"It doesn't count."

I stopped.

"It does not count."

I ran a hand through my hair, more annoyed now than confused.

"It's just a hand."

A pause.

"Just a reaction."

Another step.

"Doesn't mean anything."

I nodded once, like I had just settled a legal argument in court.

"Yes. Good. Done."

Right at that exact moment...

My phone rang.

I stared at it for a second.

Zyran.

Of course.

Perfect timing.

I picked it up, answering without thinking. "What?"

"Wow," Zyran's voice came through immediately, amused as always. "That's how you greet your best friend?"

"Say what you want," I muttered, still distracted.

There was a pause.

Then...

"Okay, random question," I said flatly.

Zyran chuckled. "This should be interesting."

I leaned against the wall, lowering my voice slightly, like the walls might judge me.

"If someone...hypothetically...holds your hand," I started, already regretting this, "and there's... I don't know... some kind of reaction...like heartbeat, whatever...does that count as something?"

Silence.

One second.

Two.

And then....

Zyran burst out laughing.

Loud.

Annoyingly loud.

"Oh my God," he said between laughs. "It finally happened."

I closed my eyes briefly. "Answer the question."

"It does count as something," he said immediately.

I frowned. "No, it doesn't."

"It does," he repeated, far too entertained. "That's literally how this works."

"It's not 'how this works,'" I snapped quietly. "It's just..."

"Love."

The word dropped casually from his side.

I went still.

"...No."

"Yes," he said, way too confidently.

"No."

"Absolutely yes."

"It's not love."

"It's the beginning of it," he corrected.

I pinched the bridge of my nose. "You're not helping."

"I'm helping a lot," he said. "Also...congratulations."

"For what?" I asked flatly.

"For finally not dying a virgin."

I went silent.

Completely.

Utterly.

Silently.

"...I'm hanging up."

"Wait, wait...was it Aayat?"

Click.

I ended the call.

Stared at the phone for a full three seconds.

Then tossed it onto the bed again.

"Idiot," I muttered.

Him.

Not me.

Definitely him.

I crossed my arms, leaning back against the wall, exhaling slowly.

Love?

Seriously?

No.

Not even close.

This is exactly why I don't ask people things.

Completely useless.

I shook my head once.

"It doesn't count," I repeated under my breath.

Firm.

Certain.

Final.

...

Then why did it still feel like it did?

I cleared my throat, forcing my hand to loosen slightly in hers before it became... noticeable.

Focus.

Work.

Yes. Work is safe.

I pulled my phone out, stepping half a pace away...not enough to break contact completely, just enough to breathe.

I didn't wait.

The second the call connected, my voice shifted.

Cold. Direct. Efficient.

"Raghav. Noble Estate Group. Update."

A brief pause on the other end, then papers shuffled.

"Yes, sir. The transfer to Dev Chopra was completed three weeks ago. Majority control has already shifted under his primary holding..."

"Stop."

Silence.

I stared ahead, jaw tightening slightly.

"Current status," I said. "Assets. Distribution. I want exact numbers."

"Yes, sir," he said quickly. "Core hotel chains...transferred. International branches...partially restructured. Liquid reserves remain under Aayat's name, but minimal compared to original valuation."

Minimal.

Of course.

I let out a slow breath.

"And reversal?"

A pause.

"Legally... complicated, sir."

I didn't blink.

"I didn't ask if it was simple."

Another pause.

"Possible," he admitted carefully.

"That's enough."

My tone stayed even.

"Prepare everything. I want control back."

"Sir... Dev Chopra won't..."

"I'm not negotiating."

That ended that.

"Yes, sir."

I hung up.

The room fell silent.

For a second, I just stood there, thinking through the next steps

Then I felt it.

That presence.

Close.

I turned.

She was standing right there.

Of course she was.

Watching me like she'd heard enough to understand more than I'd said.

"You'll get them back," I said before she could speak.

Her brows pulled together slightly.

"All of it?"

"Yes."

No hesitation.

No space for doubt.

She studied my face.

Then...

"Legally?"

I didn't answer.

Didn't even try.

Just looked at her.

Because the answer was obvious.

And unnecessary.

A second passed.

Then two.

Her eyes narrowed slightly.

"Mihir."

I exhaled, running a hand through my hair, already done with this line of questioning.

"Why do you ask questions you already know the answer to?"

She didn't reply.

Just stood there.

Waiting.

I looked away first.

Obviously.

Then shrugged, like it didn't matter.

"Legal is... flexible," I said casually.

"Things get sorted."

That wasn't enough for her.

I could see it.

Good.

It wasn't meant to be.

I crossed my arms, leaning back slightly.

"You lost them three weeks ago," I added. "You'll have them back soon."

End of discussion.

Or it should've been.

But she didn't move.

Still watching me.

Again.

I frowned.

"What?"

"Nothing."

That word again.

I narrowed my eyes slightly.

"Say it."

She shook her head.

"Just thinking."

I scoffed lightly.

"Don't."

A small pause.

Then, quieter...

"It's handled."

That's all she needed to know.

That's all I was going to say.

I stepped past her slightly, then stopped.

Then I looked away again, jaw tightening faintly.

"And next time..."

I stopped myself.

Exhaled.

"...don't sell things that are yours."

Because fixing it...

Is a lot harder than just keeping it.

And for some reason...

I didn't like that she had to lose something that mattered

just to protect people who mattered more.

Silence settled, but this time it didn't feel distant.

She was still there.

Close.

Not leaving.

And for once... I didn't feel the need to create space.

"They're okay."

Her voice was softer now.

Not questioning.

Just... telling me.

I looked at her, properly this time.

"I know," I said.

But my tone wasn't flat.

It eased.

Just a little.

She stepped closer, like the conversation didn't need distance anymore.

"They've grown," she added.

A small breath left me.

"Yeah," I said quietly.

Her eyes stayed on me.

"And they're good," she said.

That made something in my chest settle.

Not surprise.

Not relief.

Something steadier.

"I told you," I murmured, a faint hint of something softer slipping in, "they're mine."

A pause.

Then I added, quieter..

"They don't break that easily."

Her expression shifted slightly at that.

Understanding.

Then...

"Advit hugged me like..." she stopped, searching for words.

"Like he wasn't sure I'd stay."

That...

I felt that.

Didn't show it.

But I felt it.

"He does that," I said, voice lower now. "He holds on first... asks later."

A small pause.

Then, softer...

"He's always been like that."

She nodded slowly.

"And Naina..." she hesitated.

I waited.

"She pretends she's fine," Aayat said. "But she watches everything."

A quiet breath left me.

"Yeah," I said. "She got that from me."

That actually made her look at me differently.

Like she was seeing it.

Then a small silence passed.

Not awkward.

Just... shared.

"They're comfortable with you," I said after a moment.

Her eyes flicked to mine.

"You think so?"

"I know so."

A pause.

"They don't open up like that."

Especially not that fast.

She didn't reply immediately.

Then, quieter...

"I didn't expect that."

"I did," I said.

She frowned slightly.

"Why?"

I held her gaze for a second.

Then shrugged lightly.

"Because it's you."

Simple.

But it wasn't casual.

It landed heavier than I intended.

Her expression stilled for a moment.

And for once...

She didn't have a reply.

Good.

Because I didn't have an explanation.

Silence again.

But it wasn't uncomfortable.

It felt... steady.

Then I added, softer this time...

"They needed someone like you."

That wasn't planned.

That wasn't controlled.

That just...

Came out.

Her fingers shifted slightly at her side.

Like she didn't know what to do with that.

I exhaled lightly, glancing away for a second before looking back at her.

"You should rest," I said, but this time it wasn't distant.

It was... quieter.

Considerate.

"You look tired."

"I am," she admitted.

I nodded once.

Then paused.

Didn't move.

Didn't leave.

"...You're staying," I said.

Not a question.

Never a question.

Her eyes met mine again.

And this time...

There was no hesitation in them.

Good.

Because neither was there in me.

I gave a small nod, like that settled everything.

Then added, almost under my breath...

"They're not letting you go anyway."

And neither am I.

I didn't say the last part.

But it stayed there

She didn't argue.

Didn't say anything dramatic.

Just turned, walked to the bed, and sat down like her body had finally remembered what exhaustion felt like.

For a moment, she just stayed there.

Still.

Then she lay down, pulling the blanket over herself, turning slightly to one side.

Quiet.

I didn't move.

Didn't leave.

I don't know why.

I should have.

I had work.

Calls.

But instead...

I stayed.

Leaning against the wall, arms crossed, watching her like that made any sense.

A few seconds passed.

Then a minute.

Then two.

She shifted.

Once.

Then again.

Blanket adjusted.

Pillow moved.

A soft exhale.

Not comfortable.

Not asleep.

I frowned slightly.

Five minutes.

Still moving.

Ten.

Still not asleep.

Yeah.

This is painful to watch.

"You're terrible at pretending," I said finally.

She froze.

Then slowly turned her head, glaring at me from the bed.

"I'm trying to sleep."

"No, you're not," I replied calmly.

"You're fighting the pillow like it insulted your existence."

Her eyes narrowed.

"I just got out of prison, Mihir."

"I can see that," I said dryly. "The dramatic restlessness is very convincing."

She pushed herself up slightly on her elbow.

"Can you not talk?"

"No."

Flat.

Immediate.

She stared at me.

I stared back.

Silence.

Then she dropped back onto the pillow with a frustrated huff, turning away from me again.

Another minute passed.

She moved again.

And again.

I sighed, pushing off the wall.

"This is painful," I muttered.

"For me."

Her voice came instantly...

"Then leave."

I ignored that.

Obviously.

"You're overthinking," I added.

"I'm not," she snapped.

"You are."

"I'm not."

"You are."

She turned sharply, glaring at me again.

"I was in jail for two weeks, Mihir. Excuse me if my brain doesn't just shut off on command."

Fair.

Still...

"You used to sleep anywhere," I pointed out.

"Couch. Car. Once in a meeting."

"That was different."

"How?"

"I wasn't in jail then!"

I tilted my head slightly.

"Skill issue."

That...

That was the wrong thing to say.

I knew it the second it left my mouth.

Her eyes went flat.

Dangerously calm.

"Oh?"

"Yes," I continued anyway, because apparently I don't learn. "You've lost your talent. Very disappointing."

Silence.

One second.

Two

Something flew at my face.

I barely caught it in time.

Pillow.

Of course.

I looked down at it, then back at her.

She was sitting up now, glaring properly.

"Say that again."

I raised an eyebrow, completely unbothered.

"You've lost your..."

She reached for another pillow.

I held up a hand immediately.

"Alright."

Pause.

"Violence is unnecessary."

"You started it."

"Incorrect," I said calmly. "I diagnosed the problem."

She stared at me like she was deciding whether to throw something heavier this time.

I tossed the pillow back onto the bed beside her.

"Sleep," I said.

"Without commentary."

She didn't respond.

Just lay back down again, turning away from me.

But this time...

She didn't move as much.

Didn't fight the pillow.

Didn't sigh every five seconds.

Progress.

I leaned back against the wall again, quieter now.

Watching.

Just for a moment.

Then I muttered under my breath...

"Still dramatic."

The pillow hit me again.

I almost smiled.

The pillow hit me again.

This time...direct hit.

I didn't even bother dodging.

I caught it mid-air, staring at it for a second like I was reconsidering every decision that brought me here.

Then I looked at her.

Slowly.

Deliberately.

"...The Chief Minister," I said, tone flat, "was just attacked."

She didn't even blink.

"Good."

I narrowed my eyes slightly.

"By his own wife."

That...

That made her react.

Her eyebrow lifted.

Slow.

Sharp.

Dangerous.

"What do you mean your own?" she asked.

I blinked.

Ah.

Right.

Wrong phrasing.

Abort.

Abort.

But obviously...

I didn't.

"What?" I said, like I hadn't just said something extremely questionable. "Factually correct."

Her expression didn't change.

If anything, it got worse.

"Everyone has their own," she said flatly, "terrible human."

I let out a quiet breath, looking away for a second to hide the almost-smirk.

"Comforting," I muttered.

She crossed her arms now, sitting up properly.

"You sound very sure."

"I am."

A beat.

"I didn't choose you randomly."

That slipped out.

Unfiltered.

I realized it a second too late.

She paused.

Actually paused.

Her expression shifted...not dramatic, not soft...

Just... caught.

For half a second.

Then it was gone.

Replaced with that calm look again.

"Oh?" she said.

Too calm.

"Then what was the criteria, Chief Minister?"

Yeah.

That's a trap.

I can hear it.

And I'm still going to answer.

"High tolerance for chaos," I said.

She glared.

"Proven ability to survive my house."

"That's because your siblings like me."

"Exactly," I replied. "Qualification."

She grabbed the pillow again.

I raised a hand.

"Wait..."

Too late.

This time I didn't catch it.

It hit my shoulder.

I sighed, picking it up again.

"You're violent."

"You're annoying."

"Accurate."

A pause.

Then, quieter...

"But still mine."

That...

That just happened.

I went still for half a second.

She did too.

The air shifted.

Again.

Too much.

Too fast.

Abort.

Immediately.

I tossed the pillow back onto the bed casually, like nothing happened.

"Sleep," I said, tone back to normal.

"Before you start throwing furniture."

She stared at me for a second longer.

Like she was deciding whether to respond to that...

Or to what I'd said before.

Thankfully...

She chose neither.

She lay back down again, turning away.

Silence followed.

But it wasn't the same silence.

This one stayed.

Lingering.

Unfinished.

I leaned back against the wall again, exhaling quietly.

This is getting out of control.

I glanced at her once more.

She'd gone still.

Finally.

"Good," I muttered under my breath.

A small pause.

Then, quieter...

"...my witch."

This time...

No pillow came flying.

And for some reason...

That felt worse.

The room went quiet.

Properly quiet this time.

No shifting.

No sighing.

No pillows flying at my face.

I glanced at her again.

Still.

Finally.

Asleep.

I watched her for a second longer than necessary, just to be sure.

No movement.

Breathing even.

Good.

About time.

I pushed myself off the wall, stretching my shoulders slightly before walking toward the bed.

Then I stopped.

Right beside it.

...Right.

This.

I looked at her.

Then at the empty space beside her.

Then back at her.

It's my bed.

Obviously.

Logically.

But...

I hadn't slept beside her in a month.

London.

Then...

that place.

My jaw tightened slightly.

Would she...

No.

She's asleep.

She won't even notice.

Unless she wakes up.

Then she'll notice.

Then what?

Would she feel awkward?

Would she move away?

Would she...

Why am I thinking this much?

I exhaled quietly.

"This is stupid," I muttered under my breath.

It's my room.

My bed.

My wife.

Contract.

Still.

I stood there for another second.

Then another.

Yeah.

This is getting ridiculous.

I pulled the blanket slightly, carefully, making sure not to disturb her too much, and sat down on the edge of the bed.

She didn't move.

Good.

Slowly, I lay down on my side.

Keeping distance.

Not too close.

Not too far.

Perfectly reasonable.

Completely normal.

I stared at the ceiling.

This is fine.

Everything is fine.

Then...

She shifted.

Just slightly.

I froze.

Didn't move.

Didn't breathe.

For a second.

Two.

A tiny pressure. At first, I thought I was imagining it.

I looked down.

Her hand.

She'd curled her small palm around my pinky finger. Fully. Firmly, almost possessively. And she was asleep.

I froze.

Electricity shot through me. A surge straight to my chest. My heart kicked up a notch. My pulse raced. My stomach... well, let's just say my body decided to make things awkward.

It was ridiculous. Absolutely ridiculous. A single pinky finger. And yet, the current running through me was unmistakable. Heat. Tension. Something raw and impossible to ignore.

I swallowed. My throat was dry. I tried to tell myself: It's nothing. A finger. She's asleep. Nothing counts.

And yet, I couldn't stop staring.

Her fingers were tiny. Soft. Warm. The way she was holding me like that... it was intimate. Comforting. Dangerous. All at once.

I felt my cheeks heat. My muscles tighten. My hands itched to twitch, to react. But I didn't. Couldn't. Wouldn't.

"...It doesn't count," I muttered under my breath. "...Definitely doesn't count. Just a finger. Stop it, idiot."

Her grip didn't loosen. Not at all. It was like she'd claimed it, without realizing it. And every nerve in me screamed.

I cleared my throat. "...Just sleep. Nothing more. Nothing counts."

And then, against my better judgment, I felt my thumb twitch slightly, brushing her palm. Reflex. Accidental. Totally not intentional. But my chest betrayed me.

Stupid. Absolutely stupid.

I closed my eyes, forcing my thoughts elsewhere. Focus on work. Focus on...nothing. Just sleep.

But the warmth, the little current, the quiet heartbeat pressed against mine... it refused to be ignored.

"...My witch," I whispered softly, though she couldn't possibly hear.

I stayed still, holding her pinky. Watching. Feeling. Fighting the absurd rush of something I couldn't name.

Because sometimes, the smallest things...the simplest touches...were the hardest to forget.

And I knew. I would remember this. Every second.

I blinked slowly, forcing myself to focus on the ceiling. Lines of policy, meetings, deadlines...anything but the pinky finger wrapped around mine.

But no. Every rational thought evaporated the second her warmth pressed against me. Her soft, sleeping grip, the gentle weight of her hand, the faint rise and fall of her chest nearby... it was impossible to ignore.

Stop. Stop thinking like this. You're the Chief Minister. You have work. You have responsibility. You are not... not...

I froze mid-thought.

Because she moved. Slightly. Rolled a little closer, in her sleep, still clutching my pinky.

And my chest... my chest betrayed me. My heartbeat thundered, my stomach flipped, and heat rose to my cheeks so fast I could almost feel it.

Idiotic. Stupid. You feel way too much for just a finger. It doesn't count. IT DOES NOT COUNT, I repeated in my head, gritting my teeth.

Her thumb brushed against mine softly, almost like she was anchoring herself without knowing it. And I... I couldn't pull away. I didn't want to.

God, why couldn't I want to pull away? Why did it feel... nice?

I swallowed hard. "...Stop it, Mihir. You're not allowed to feel anything. This is not... not..."

And then my mind betrayed me further: Do you feel something for her?

I shoved the thought away. No. Absolutely not. Love? Don't be absurd. You're a Chief Minister. She's... sleeping. Just sleep. A pinky finger is nothing.

I tried to adjust my position, to give her space. But her fingers tightened slightly, a gentle, unconscious pull.

And I... froze again.

A current shot through me. Just one touch. Just one pinky finger. And yet, it felt like lightning.

I exhaled sharply through my nose, trying to downplay it. "...It doesn't mean anything," I muttered. Loud enough for no one to hear but me.

Then, in an insane moment of honesty, I thought: Shut up. She'll think something if you think something. You can't. You absolutely cannot.

I glanced at her sleeping face. Serene. Peaceful. Unaware of the chaos her tiny hand had wrought in my chest.

And I allowed myself...just this once...to stay. To lie there, pinky held, heart racing, a quiet blush spreading across my face.

Because in that instant, I realized something terrifying, exhilarating, and undeniable:

Her sleep, her hand, the simplest touch... it counted. Even if I refused to admit it aloud.

I closed my eyes, muttering under my breath: "...Stupid. Absolutely, catastrophically stupid."

And still, I didn't pull away.

Not yet.

The room was dark. Quiet. Too quiet.

And then...

"Leechies... Mihir..."

Her soft, sleepy voice floated across the bed.

I froze. Heart skipping. Pulse spiking.

Did she... just say leechies?

It was midnight. I should have been asleep. I should have ignored it. I should have... what?

I swallowed hard, voice low, muttering to the empty room:

"Is she... dreaming about eating leechies?"

A small, absurd laugh escaped me, quiet enough not to wake her. Ridiculous. Completely ridiculous.

But my mind... oh, my mind refused to be reasonable.

I thought back to our earlier conversation...months ago...when she had joked about names. Said she would name her kids Lily and Leechies.

Leechies.

And my chest had tightened then, playful as it was. Now... now the blush was spreading like wildfire. My ears, my cheeks... all of me. A fool. A complete fool.

Midnight. In a dark room. And I was blushing like an idiot because of... what exactly? A name? A fantasy about our future kids?

My brain screamed: You are not ready. Not ready to accept feelings.

But then the unthinkable struck.

Her blush...her children's names...made me think: not just her... but our children.

Her... and mine.

I choked slightly on my own thoughts. Heart thundering, mind spiraling, trying to maintain logic like I always did.

It was impossible. Absolutely impossible. And yet... I couldn't stop thinking about it.

I exhaled sharply, forcing myself to whisper into the dark:

"Stupid... completely ridiculous..."

And then, against every rational thought, I smiled. A small, foolish, uncontrollable smile.

Because somewhere deep down, I realized: she wasn't just saying random words in her sleep. She was speaking a tiny piece of the life we could have... and it was enough to make me lose every scrap of composure I thought I had.

I leaned back against the headboard, staring at the ceiling. Midnight. Her soft breathing. The word leechies echoing in my mind.

And yes...somewhere deep inside me, I knew: I was far from ready for what that feeling might mean. But I also didn't want to be.

Not yet.

Not tonight.

But oh... how impossibly, infuriatingly, beautifully... tempting it was.

The morning sunlight streamed lazily through the study windows. I was at my desk, papers scattered around, pen moving almost on autopilot. Numbers, reports, reminders... all running together.

I didn't even notice what I was writing. My mind was elsewhere, drifting through thoughts that had nothing to do with work.

Then I heard the soft click of the door opening.

"Aayat?" I said, not looking up. "Morning."

She stepped in, eyes wandering to the paper in my hand.

"What's this?" she asked, tone curious...and then, seeing the words, her lips twitched, trying not to laugh.

I glanced down...my heart skipped a beat.

Lily... Leechies...

I had literally written down the names we had joked about for her kids. Our...kids?

"What... Mihir, what is this?" Her voice was soft, teasing, but I could hear the disbelief. "You've written... Lily and Leechies... my kids' names? At... what? Are you planning to... transfer something to them?"

I froze. My pen slipped. My face turned red as fire.

"I—I didn't... I wasn't...." I stammered, fumbling for words. "I didn't even... I wasn't thinking..."

Her laugh broke through, small and melodious, and I wanted the floor to swallow me whole.

"You didn't even notice what you wrote?" she asked, clearly amused, leaning slightly on the desk. "Mihir... my kids?"

I swallowed hard, heat rising. "O-Our... our kids," I blurted before I could stop myself, voice low, embarrassed, fumbling.

Her head tilted slightly, eyes locking onto mine, calm but piercing. "Ours?" she repeated.

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

1. Who is more chaotic in their relationship, Mihir or Aayat?

2. If Mihir and Aayat really had kids, which name do you think would actually come first: Lily or Leechies?

3. Be honest-how do you all imagine me while writing all this madness?😝

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

To be continued

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