Mihir's POV

The doorbell rang again.

I looked at the clock.

It was late.

I stood from the sofa and walked toward the entrance.

When I opened the door, Zyran was standing outside.

"Zyran."

He smiled.

"That sounded welcoming."

"It wasn't."

He laughed and stepped inside.

"Good. I was worried marriage had made you soft."

I closed the door behind him.

"Don't test that theory."

He shook his head.

"Still the same."

"Unfortunately."

Aayat appeared from the hallway.

The moment she saw him, her expression brightened.

"Zyran?"

He smiled.

"Aayu."

"What are you doing here?"

"I was nearby."

I looked at him.

"At midnight?"

He shrugged.

"Long story."

Aayat laughed.

"You're impossible."

"I've been told."

He removed his jacket and sat down.

I joined them.

For the next few minutes, the conversation remained casual.

The hotel came up.

Then the elections.

Then Naina's puja.

Zyran had something to say about everything.

Aayat laughed more than she usually did.

I found myself watching her.

She looked lighter tonight.

Eventually, Zyran's gaze moved toward the staircase.

His expression changed.

He looked at Aayat.

"Aayat?"

She looked up.

"Hmm?"

"Can I ask you something?"

"Sure."

He hesitated.

Then said quietly,

"Can I meet Uncle?"

Aayat went silent.

I watched her carefully.

Zyran immediately added,

"Only if you're comfortable with it."

Aayat looked at him.

He continued.

"I know he's resting. I don't want to disturb him."

She didn't answer immediately.

I understood why.

Her father had only just returned.

Twenty-one years.

Twenty-one years of waiting.

Every moment with him probably felt fragile.

Zyran seemed to understand that too.

He wasn't asking because he was curious.

He was asking because the man mattered to Aayat.

"If he's tired," Zyran said, "it's completely fine. I can come another day."

Aayat looked at him.

Then she smiled.

"No."

Zyran waited.

"I think he'd like to meet you."

His face softened.

"You're sure?"

She nodded.

"Yes."

He smiled.

"Then only for a few minutes."

"Of course."

He stood.

Then stopped again.

"Aayat?"

She looked at him.

"Yes?"

"You're really sure?"

She smiled.

"Zyran, stop worrying."

"I'm not worrying."

"You are."

He laughed quietly.

"Maybe."

Aayat stood.

"I'll take you."

They started toward the staircase.

I remained seated.

Aayat stopped halfway up and looked back at me.

"You coming?"

I shook my head.

"No."

She raised an eyebrow.

"Why?"

"Because this is your moment."

She stared at me.

I continued calmly,

"You should introduce him."

Her expression softened.

"Okay."

She turned toward Zyran.

He followed her upstairs.

I watched them disappear down the hallway.

I just felt...

relieved.

Aayat had spent twenty-one years without her father.

Tonight she was finally getting pieces of her life back.

And if Zyran wanted to meet the man who meant so much to her, there was no reason for me to interfere.

I leaned back against the sofa.

Then I heard Aayat's voice faintly from upstairs.

"Papa?"

My eyes lifted toward the ceiling.

Her voice sounded different when she spoke to him.

Softer.

Younger.

Almost like the six-year-old girl she must have been before everything changed.

I smiled faintly.

A few minutes later, I heard Zyran laugh.

Then Papa's voice.

I couldn't make out the words.

But I could hear the warmth.

I stayed where I was.

Giving them privacy.

Because sometimes protecting someone wasn't about standing between them and the world.

Sometimes it was simply knowing when to step aside.

And tonight...

Aayat didn't need me beside her.

She needed the people she'd spent twenty-one years missing.

Her father.

Her memories.

And perhaps, slowly...

her life before everything had been taken from her.

The house was quiet again.

Too quiet.

I glanced toward the staircase.

Aayat and Zyran were upstairs with her father.

I had told myself I would give them privacy.

And I meant it.

But unfortunately, that left me alone with my thoughts.

Which was considerably worse.

I walked back toward the sofa and sat down.

My eyes landed on the dining table.

The bowls from earlier were still there.

The noodles.

The two spoons.

And suddenly, against my better judgment, my mind went straight back to the kitchen.

Her standing in front of me.

The knife in her hand.

The way she had insisted on learning.

The way I had stepped behind her to correct her grip.

I closed my eyes briefly.

Bad idea.

Because the memory became even clearer.

Her back against my chest.

My hands around hers.

Her hair brushing my jaw.

That faint scent of her perfume.

And then...

She had turned.

Too quickly.

Her face had been inches from mine.

I could still remember the exact moment our eyes met.

The surprise in hers.

The way her breathing had stopped.

And mine had too.

For three seconds, maybe less.

Neither of us moved.

My gaze had dropped to her lips.

I remembered that.

Too clearly.

I opened my eyes.

"Damn it."

I leaned forward, resting my elbows against my knees.

I had spent months convincing myself that I was capable of controlling my feelings.

Apparently, onions were enough to prove me wrong.

I rubbed a hand over my face.

Then there was the saree.

I remembered that too.

The brief glimpse of skin when the fabric shifted.

The spoon falling from my hand.

I had been so embarrassed by my own reaction that I hadn't even looked at her afterward.

I had acted as though nothing had happened.

Because what else was I supposed to do?

Tell her that the smallest accidental glimpse of her waist had completely disrupted my train of thought?

Absolutely not.

I had a reputation to maintain.

More importantly, I had boundaries to maintain.

She was my wife.

Even if our marriage had begun under circumstances neither of us had expected.

Even if the contract had once been the only reason we stood beside each other.

Somewhere along the way, things had changed.

For me, at least.

I loved her.

There.

The thought came easily now.

No hesitation.

No denial.

I loved Aayat.

I didn't know when it had happened.

Maybe it was the first time she stood up to me without being intimidated.

Maybe it was the night she trusted me with something she had never told anyone.

Maybe it was when I saw how fiercely she fought for her father.

Or perhaps it happened slowly.

So slowly that I didn't notice until I realized that her happiness affected mine.

Her pain became mine.

Her absence made the house feel empty.

And now even a moment in the kitchen could stay in my head for hours.

I leaned back.

This was becoming ridiculous.

I looked toward the staircase again.

Still nothing.

I smiled faintly.

Zyran had clearly gotten her talking.

I wasn't bothered by him.

Not really.

He was her brother.

Someone who had known her.

And tonight, he had asked permission before meeting her father.

That told me enough about him.

Still...

I couldn't help wondering what they were talking about upstairs.

I immediately dismissed the thought.

It wasn't my business.

That was enough.

My phone buzzed.

A message from Naina.

Don't forget tomorrow. Puja. 7 AM.

I stared at it.

Seven in the morning.

I typed back.

I know.

Three dots appeared almost instantly.

And don't work during the puja.

I sighed.

I won't.

Another message.

And make sure Bhabhi eats breakfast.

I smiled despite myself.

Yes, Naina.

I put my phone away.

Then I heard footsteps.

I looked up.

Aayat was coming down the stairs.

Alone.

Her expression was soft.

She saw me and smiled.

"Zyran left?"

I nodded.

"About five minutes ago."

She came closer.

"Did he say goodbye?"

"He did."

She sat beside me.

"Papa liked him."

"I gathered."

She smiled.

"He asked a lot of questions."

"About you?"

"About everything."

I smiled.

"Sounds like him."

She leaned back.

For a moment, neither of us spoke.

Then her eyes moved toward the kitchen.

"Did you clean up?"

I glanced at the table.

"No."

She frowned.

"You didn't?"

"I was waiting for you."

"Why?"

"Because you helped."

She laughed.

"That's your excuse?"

"Yes."

She stood.

"Come on."

I looked up at her.

"Where?"

"Kitchen."

"Why?"

"To clean."

I stared at her.

"You made the mess."

"You made the noodles."

"You cut the vegetables."

"With your help."

I smiled.

"So?"

"So we're cleaning together."

I stood.

"Fine."

We walked toward the kitchen.

She stopped beside the counter and looked at the cutting board.

The onions were still there.

Uneven.

She picked one up.

"These aren't that bad."

I looked at them.

"They're terrible."

She gasped.

"Excuse me?"

I smiled.

"You need practice."

"I'll practice."

"With supervision."

She looked at me.

"Yours?"

"If you're brave enough."

Her cheeks turned faintly pink.

I noticed.

Of course I noticed.

I looked away before she could catch me staring.

"Give me the bowl."

She handed it to me.

Our fingers brushed.

Just once.

Neither of us said anything.

But this time, I noticed her pause.

I glanced at her.

She was looking at our hands.

Then she quickly looked away.

Interesting.

I hid a smile.

Maybe I wasn't the only one remembering the kitchen.

I turned toward the sink.

"Tomorrow's puja starts at seven."

She groaned.

"Seven?"

"Naina's orders."

"She's terrifying."

"Yes."

"You're the Chief Minister."

"I know."

"Why do you listen to her?"

I looked at her.

"Because she's my sister."

Aayat laughed.

"Fair."

She began collecting the plates.

I watched her for a moment.

Then quietly said,

"Aayat."

"Hmm?"

"About earlier..."

She froze.

I saw it immediately.

Her hand stopped over the sink.

She looked at me.

"What about earlier?"

I held her gaze.

"The kitchen."

Her expression changed.

"Oh."

A single word.

Soft.

Uncertain.

I could have said something.

I could have joked about it.

Could have pretended nothing happened.

Instead, I simply said,

"You were holding the knife wrong."

She stared at me.

Then her mouth fell open.

"That's what you wanted to say?"

I nodded calmly.

"Yes."

She narrowed her eyes.

"You're unbelievable."

I smiled.

"Goodnight, Aayat."

"It's not even midnight."

"I know."

I walked past her.

Behind me, I heard her mutter,

"Definitely possessed."

I smiled to myself.

She had no idea how difficult it had been to act normal.

And perhaps that was for the best.

Because if she ever found out what that moment in the kitchen had actually done to me...

I wasn't sure either of us would know what to do with the truth.

The lights were off.

Aayat was lying beside me, facing the ceiling.

I was doing the same.

Neither of us had said much after coming upstairs.

The house had finally settled into silence.

Then her voice broke through the darkness.

"Mihir?"

"Hmm?"

"Can I ask you something?"

I turned my head slightly toward her.

"Yes."

She was quiet for a moment.

Then she asked,

"Why did you come for me and Papa?"

I frowned.

"When?"

"When my number was unreachable."

I understood immediately.

She continued before I could answer.

"You came all the way there. You didn't even know what was happening."

I stared at the ceiling.

"I was worried."

"That's it?"

"Yes."

She turned toward me.

"Mihir."

"Hmm?"

"Even though you knew about the contract?"

I went still.

She wasn't asking about the contract ending.

She was asking something else.

Why did I care so much despite how our marriage had started?

I looked at her.

"Because you're my wife."

She blinked.

"But..."

I could see the question forming in her eyes.

So I waited.

She swallowed.

"Before London..."

Her voice softened.

"When I didn't answer your calls."

I raised an eyebrow.

"You didn't answer my calls."

She nodded.

"You came anyway."

"Yes."

"You called me so many times."

I looked at her.

"How many?"

She hesitated.

"Eighty-seven."

I stared at her.

"Eighty-seven?"

She nodded.

"You called me eighty-seven times."

I was silent for a moment.

Then I said,

"Just?"

Her eyes widened.

"Just?!"

I almost smiled.

"Yes."

"Mihir, who calls someone eighty-seven times?"

"Apparently me."

"You didn't think that was excessive?"

"No."

She stared at me like I'd lost my mind.

"I was in London."

"I know."

"You were in India."

"I know."

"You had no idea if I was busy, asleep, in a meeting..."

"You weren't answering."

"So?"

"So I called."

She shook her head.

"Seventeen calls would've been enough."

"Seventeen?"

"Yes."

"That's still excessive."

She gave me an incredulous look.

"You called eighty-seven times!"

"I was worried."

She became quiet.

I looked away.

Because that was the simplest explanation.

And also the most dangerous one.

She didn't know how terrified I'd been.

I remembered that day too clearly.

Her phone going unanswered.

Once.

Twice.

Ten times.

Twenty.

I had tried telling myself she was busy.

Then I'd called again.

And again.

By the time I'd reached eighty-seven, I wasn't thinking about the contract anymore.

I was thinking about every possible thing that could have happened to her.

And when I couldn't reach her...

I went after her.

I didn't care about meetings.

I didn't care about schedules.

I didn't care what anyone thought.

I just needed to know she was safe.

Aayat was still staring at me.

"Why?"

I looked at her.

"Why what?"

"Why were you that worried?"

I stayed quiet.

She waited.

I could have told her.

Because I love you.

Because the thought of something happening to you makes it impossible for me to breathe normally.

Because somewhere along the way, your safety became more important to me than my own peace.

But I couldn't say any of that.

Not yet.

So I answered carefully.

"Because you disappeared."

She frowned.

"People disappear from their phones all the time."

"Not you."

Her expression softened slightly.

"You noticed?"

"I notice everything about you."

The words came out before I could stop them.

Silence.

I realized what I'd said.

Aayat's eyes widened slightly.

I looked away.

She didn't speak for several seconds.

Then quietly,

"Everything?"

I cleared my throat.

"Things that matter."

She looked at me.

"And I matter?"

My chest tightened.

"Yes."

The answer came too quickly.

Too honestly.

I watched her expression change.

She looked down.

For a few seconds, neither of us spoke.

Then she whispered,

"Even though this started as a contract?"

I looked at her.

"Yes."

She seemed confused.

"Why?"

I didn't have an answer I could safely give her.

So I reached for the blanket and pulled it slightly higher over her shoulder.

"Because contracts don't change whether someone is safe."

She looked at me.

"That's not what I mean."

"I know."

"Mihir..."

I met her eyes.

"Get some sleep."

She frowned.

"You always do this."

"Do what?"

"Change the subject."

I smiled faintly.

"Occupational hazard."

She rolled her eyes.

"Chief Minister."

"Hmm?"

"You are impossible."

"I've heard."

She turned away from me.

Neither of us said anything.

She didn't know why I had called eighty-seven times.

She didn't know why I had come after her.

She didn't know why I had been afraid.

And maybe...

for now, that was okay.

Because if she ever understood the real reason...

she would understand exactly how deeply I had fallen for her.

And I wasn't ready to let her see that yet.

It happened again.

At exactly the moment I was beginning to fall asleep, Aayat shifted beside me.

I opened my eyes.

She was still completely asleep.

Her face was turned slightly toward me, hair scattered across the pillow.

Then her hand moved beneath the blanket.

Slowly.

Sleepily.

Until her fingers found mine.

I already knew what was coming.

Her entire hand curled around my pinky.

I stared at it.

A ridiculous warmth spread across my face.

Again.

She always did this.

Every night.

Sometimes she held my wrist.

Sometimes she'd catch the edge of my sleeve.

But most nights...

it was my pinky.

As though some part of her sleeping mind had decided that was enough to make sure I was still there.

I didn't move my hand.

Not even an inch.

I could have.

I should have.

Instead, I simply let her hold it.

My lips curved into a helpless smile.

"You're going to be the death of me," I whispered.

She didn't hear me.

Her breathing remained slow and even.

I looked at her hand around my pinky again.

My cheeks grew warmer.

I actually felt embarrassed.

Embarrassed.

Me.

The man who could stand in front of thousands of people without blinking.

The man who could handle an entire cabinet meeting without showing the slightest crack in his composure.

And here I was, lying in the dark, blushing because my wife was holding my pinky in her sleep.

I turned my face slightly into the pillow, hoping the darkness would somehow hide my expression.

There was no one to see it anyway.

Except me.

And perhaps God.

I looked back at her.

She shifted closer.

Her fingers tightened around mine.

My heart gave an embarrassing little jump.

I smiled again.

I didn't try to free my hand.

I didn't want to.

Not when she was doing it unconsciously.

Not when she trusted me enough to reach for me without even knowing it.

I watched her for a few seconds.

Then quietly whispered,

"Every night."

She remained asleep.

"You don't even know you do this, do you?"

Nothing.

I smiled.

"Of course you don't."

Her thumb moved slightly against my finger.

I went completely still.

Then I laughed under my breath.

"This is unfair."

I settled deeper into the pillow, leaving my hand exactly where it was.

If she wanted my pinky...

she could have it.

All night.

I looked at her one last time.

The woman who argued with me over everything.

The woman who insisted she could handle everything herself.

The woman who would probably deny needing anyone if I asked her directly.

And yet, asleep beside me, she always found my hand.

I felt the heat return to my cheeks.

I shook my head quietly.

"God, Aayat."

A pause.

Then, softer...

"What have you done to me?"

She didn't answer.

She only held my pinky a little tighter.

And I smiled into the darkness like an absolute fool.

5:27 a.m.

"Why the heck did you turn on the lights this early?"

I looked over my shoulder.

Aayat was sitting upright, hair everywhere, eyes narrowed at me like I'd personally declared war on sleep.

"It's five twenty-seven."

"I can see that."

"I have work."

"You have a serious problem."

I raised an eyebrow.

"You've been awake for thirty seconds."

"And I've already identified the problem."

I almost smiled.

She pointed toward the lights.

"Turn them off."

"I'm working."

"Then work without destroying my sleep."

"Your sleep?"

"Our sleep."

"Exactly."

She glared at me.

I calmly turned back to my laptop.

That apparently made things worse.

"Mihir."

"Hmm?"

"Are you even listening?"

"Yes."

"Then turn them off."

"I need the light."

"You have a desk lamp."

"I can't see properly."

"You have glasses."

I looked at her.

She looked completely serious.

"That's not how glasses work."

"Then buy better ones."

I laughed.

She frowned.

"What's funny?"

"You."

"Why?"

"You woke up five minutes ago and you're already fighting with me."

"I wouldn't have to fight if you behaved normally."

"I am behaving normally."

"Working at five in the morning isn't normal."

"For me it is."

"Exactly. That's the problem."

I shook my head.

She pulled the blanket around herself and glared at me.

Then suddenly her expression changed.

She looked at the clock.

Her eyes widened.

"Wait."

I looked at her.

"What?"

"What time is it?"

"Five twenty-nine."

Her eyes widened further.

"Oh my God."

She threw the blanket aside and jumped out of bed.

I stared at her.

"What happened?"

"Puja!"

I frowned.

"The puja is at seven."

"I know."

"You have an hour and a half."

"Exactly!"

She rushed toward the wardrobe.

I closed my laptop.

"You're going to be ready in an hour and a half."

She pulled open the wardrobe.

"I need to shower, get dressed, do my hair—"

"You have plenty of time."

"I don't."

"You do."

She looked at me.

"Easy for you to say. You're already dressed."

I looked down at myself.

"I've been working."

"Exactly."

She disappeared into the bathroom with clothes in her hands.

A moment later, her voice came from inside.

"Mihir!"

"Hmm?"

"Don't touch my things!"

"I wasn't planning to."

"And don't turn the lights off!"

"I thought you hated them."

"I hate them when I'm sleeping!"

I smiled.

"Understood."

There was a pause.

Then...

"And don't start working again!"

I looked at my laptop.

I closed it completely.

"Fine."

"Good!"

I shook my head.

She had been awake for less than ten minutes.

Already she'd given me instructions, argued with me, and somehow taken control of the entire morning.

I couldn't help smiling.

6:32 a.m.

I was standing near the window, checking a message on my phone when I heard the bathroom door open.

I looked up.

And forgot what I was doing.

Aayat stepped out.

She was wearing a yellow saree.

Simple.

Elegant.

The soft morning light caught against the fabric, making the yellow look almost golden. Her hair was neatly arranged, a few loose strands framing her face, and there was something different about her expression.

She wasn't rushing anymore.

She looked calm.

Almost serene.

For a second, I just stared.

She noticed.

Of course she noticed.

"What?"

I blinked.

"Nothing."

Her eyes narrowed.

"You've been staring."

"I wasn't."

"You absolutely were."

I cleared my throat and looked back at my phone.

"You look..."

I stopped.

She waited.

"Like something?"

I looked at her again.

That was the problem.

I couldn't find a word that didn't sound far too honest.

Beautiful was inadequate.

Gorgeous was too obvious.

She looked like something that belonged in a painting.

Something warm.

Something impossible to ignore.

I finally said,

"Like you're ready for the puja."

She stared at me.

"That's the best you could come up with?"

"It's accurate."

She rolled her eyes.

"You're terrible at compliments."

"I wasn't complimenting you."

"Exactly."

I smiled.

She walked toward the mirror and adjusted the edge of her saree.

I tried to look away.

I failed.

The yellow suited her far too well.

She caught me again through the mirror.

"Mihir."

"Hmm?"

"Stop staring."

"I'm not."

"You are."

I slipped my phone into my pocket.

"Fine."

She turned around.

"And?"

"And what?"

"You were going to say something."

I paused.

Then quietly,

"You look beautiful."

Her fingers stopped adjusting the saree.

For once, she didn't have an immediate sarcastic response.

She looked at me.

I held her gaze.

A few seconds passed.

Then she looked away.

"Thank you."

Soft.

Almost shy.

Something in my chest tightened.

I cleared my throat.

"We should go downstairs."

"Yes."

She picked up her phone.

I moved toward the door.

She followed.

Just before we stepped out, I glanced at her once more.

Yellow saree.

Morning light.

That quiet smile.

She looked like something I had no right to want this badly.

And yet, somehow, I already did.

We reached downstairs together.

The house was already prepared for the puja. Flowers decorated the entrance, the havan kund had been placed in the center of the room, and the soft fragrance of incense lingered in the air.

Pandit ji was standing near the puja arrangements.

The moment he saw us, he smiled.

"Namaste."

Aayat and I greeted him respectfully.

"Namaste, Pandit ji."

He looked toward the clock.

"The puja will begin at seven."

I nodded.

"Everything will be ready."

"I'll arrange the remaining things," I said, already looking around the room.

Aayat stood beside me, adjusting the pallu of her yellow saree.

Pandit ji suddenly looked down.

His gaze fell on her feet.

He smiled.

"Beti, you didn't apply alta?"

Aayat immediately looked down at her feet.

"Oh."

She blinked.

"I actually forgot."

Pandit ji chuckled.

"It's alright. You still have some time. Go and apply it."

"Yes."

She turned around and started walking toward the stairs.

I followed without thinking.

After a few steps, she glanced back.

"Why are you coming?"

"Work."

She stared at me.

"Work?"

"Yes."

"Upstairs?"

I nodded calmly.

"Yes."

She narrowed her eyes.

"You are such a liar."

I ignored that.

She shook her head and continued upstairs.

When we reached the room, Aayat went straight to the dressing table.

She opened a drawer and took out a small bottle of alta and a thin brush.

She sat down on the edge of the bed and placed everything beside her.

She picked up the brush.

Before she could dip it into the bottle, I took it from her hand.

She looked up at me.

"Mihir?"

"I'll do it."

Her eyes widened.

"What?"

"I'll apply it."

"No."

I sat down in front of her.

"Aayat."

"I can do it myself."

"I know."

I gently took her foot into my hand.

She immediately protested.

"Nooo, Mihir."

I glanced up at her.

"You forgot."

"I remembered now."

"Too late."

She stared at me in disbelief.

"You are actually going to do this?"

"Yes."

She tried pulling her foot back.

I held it gently, not letting her move too much.

"Stay still."

"But..."

"Otherwise it'll be uneven."

She went quiet.

I dipped the brush into the alta.

Then carefully brought it toward her foot.

For a moment, neither of us spoke.

I focused on the delicate red line, making sure it was neat.

Aayat looked down at me.

"You know how to do this?"

"Not particularly."

"Then why are you so confident?"

"I'm learning."

She laughed softly.

"You always have to be good at everything, don't you?"

"No."

I glanced up briefly.

"Just the things that matter."

She became quiet.

I immediately looked back down.

I continued carefully, following the curve of her foot.

She watched me silently.

Then she murmured,

"You didn't have to do this."

"I know."

"Then why?"

I paused.

Because I wanted to.

Because she had forgotten.

Because seeing her standing downstairs in that yellow saree had made something inside me soften in a way I didn't know how to explain.

But I only said,

"Because Pandit ji asked you to apply it."

She smiled.

"That's your excuse?"

"Yes."

She shook her head.

"You're impossible."

I smiled faintly.

"And you're going to be late."

She looked at the clock.

"Mihir!"

I laughed quietly.

"Stay still."

She finally stopped protesting.

And I continued applying the alta, carefully and patiently, while she sat there watching me with an expression I deliberately didn't try to understand.

Her foot rested in my palm.

The brush moved slowly, carefully, tracing the red alta along her skin.

And I don't know what happened to me in that moment.

I stopped thinking about the puja.

The election.

The files waiting downstairs.

Everything disappeared.

There was only Aayat.

I looked at her.

The yellow saree.

The morning light falling over her.

The quiet way she was watching me.

And the thought came with absolute certainty.

She's my goddess.

Not metaphorically.

Not as a joke.

Not because she looked beautiful this morning.

To me, she genuinely felt like something sacred.

Something I had been given when I least deserved it.

My goddess.

My blessing.

The person I bowed my head to in every way that mattered.

I looked down at her feet again.

And I'm her devotee.

There was something almost peaceful about admitting it to myself.

I didn't need her to know.

I didn't need her to understand.

I didn't even need her to feel the same way.

I simply loved her.

And if loving her meant putting her happiness before mine, protecting her without asking for anything, remembering every little thing she forgot, standing beside her even when she pushed me away...

then yes.

I was her devotee.

Completely.

Unashamedly.

Hopelessly.

Aayat shifted her foot slightly.

I immediately steadied it.

"Careful."

She looked down at me.

"Mihir, you're taking this way too seriously."

I smiled faintly.

If only you knew.

I dipped the brush into the alta again.

You think I'm just helping you get ready for a puja.

You don't know that, in my eyes, you are the puja.

I carefully finished the final line.

Then I looked at her.

For one quiet second, I allowed myself to think what I could never say.

My goddess.

My Aayat.

And I will remain your devotee for as long as you'll let me.

I slowly released her foot.

The red alta was neat, delicate against her skin.

Aayat looked down at it and smiled.

"Pretty."

I nodded.

"Hmm."

She looked at me.

"Why are you so quiet?"

I stood, picking up the bottle and brush.

"Nothing."

She narrowed her eyes.

"You've been saying 'nothing' a lot lately."

I placed the brush back inside the bottle.

"Maybe there's nothing to say."

"Impossible."

She stood carefully, making sure not to disturb the alta.

Then she looked at me.

"Did you really know how to apply alta?"

"No."

"Then how did you manage that?"

"I watched."

"Where?"

I paused.

"My mother."

Her expression softened immediately.

"Oh."

I nodded.

"She used to do it before festivals."

Aayat smiled.

"Then I'm glad you remembered."

I looked at her.

I remember everything that matters.

The thought came automatically.

Especially when it concerned her.

She walked toward the mirror and checked her saree again.

I remained where I was.

Watching.

And once again, that strange certainty settled inside me.

My goddess.

There was no embarrassment in the thought anymore.

I'd accepted it.

She had become sacred to me long before I realized it.

"Are you coming?"

"Yes."

I followed her toward the door.

Then she stopped suddenly.

"Wait."

"What?"

She pointed toward her feet.

"I can't walk properly yet."

I looked down.

The alta needed a little time to dry.

"Then don't."

She frowned.

"We'll be late."

"We won't."

"I need to go downstairs."

"I'll help."

Before she could protest, I offered my arm.

She stared at it.

Then at me.

"I can walk."

"I know."

She hesitated.

Then quietly slipped her hand around my arm.

I looked ahead, hiding the smile threatening to appear.

This is dangerous.

Because moments like this made it harder to remember that she didn't know what she meant to me.

She thought this was simply kindness.

A husband helping his wife.

Nothing more.

And perhaps I should have corrected her.

Perhaps I should have told her.

But I wasn't ready to put that weight on her.

So I simply walked beside her.

Slowly.

Carefully.

As if I were escorting something precious.

Because to me...

I was.

We reached the stairs.

Aayat was still holding my arm, carefully keeping her feet from touching anything unnecessarily.

I glanced down at her.

"You're walking like you're carrying a national treasure."

She looked at me.

"I am carrying a national treasure."

I raised an eyebrow.

"Really?"

"My saree."

I laughed.

"Of course."

She smiled and started down the stairs.

I stayed beside her, slowing my steps whenever she did.

By the time we reached the last step, Pandit ji looked up.

His eyes immediately went to her feet.

He smiled.

"Very good. Now the alta is done."

Aayat looked at me.

I simply nodded.

Pandit ji began arranging the puja items.

"Come, both of you. Sit here."

Aayat sat beside me.

I noticed the faint red alta against her feet again.

For some reason, I couldn't stop looking.

It wasn't just the colour.

It was the fact that I had put it there.

My hands had touched her feet.

And somehow, the feeling still hadn't left me.

Not because I thought I deserved that moment.

Quite the opposite.

I felt strangely humbled by it.

As if I'd been allowed to serve someone far more precious than myself.

I lowered my gaze.

Aayat noticed.

"What?"

"Nothing."

She sighed.

"Again?"

I almost smiled.

"Again."

She shook her head and faced forward.

Pandit ji began chanting.

The room slowly filled with the sound of mantras.

Aayat folded her hands.

I did the same.

The chants continued around us.

Aayat sat beside me, her hands folded, her eyes lowered as she listened to Pandit ji.

I tried to focus on the mantras.

I really did.

But every few seconds, my eyes betrayed me and went back to her.

The way the diya flame reflected softly against her face.

The yellow of her saree.

The little red marks of alta on her feet.

Everything about her looked so peaceful that, for once, my mind wasn't racing through meetings, files, calls, or tomorrow's problems.

It was just...

quiet.

Pandit ji placed a small bowl of flowers in front of us.

"Both of you, offer these together."

Aayat reached for the flowers at the same time I did.

Our fingers touched.

She immediately glanced at me.

I smiled faintly.

"You first."

"No, you."

"Aayat."

"Mihir."

Pandit ji looked at us and chuckled.

"Together."

We both laughed quietly.

I held the flowers with her.

Our hands remained close as we lifted them toward the idol.

For a brief moment, I looked at her instead of the deity.

And something inside me settled.

I didn't know what the future held.

I didn't know how long it would take for her to understand what I felt.

I didn't even know if she ever would.

But sitting beside her like this...

felt right.

Pandit ji continued the prayer.

Aayat closed her eyes.

I watched her for a moment before closing mine too.

Please keep her happy.

The thought came instinctively.

Not wealth.

Not power.

Not success.

Not even for myself.

Just her.

Whatever happens, let her always have reasons to smile.

My fingers tightened slightly around the flowers.

Then I felt something against my hand.

Aayat's little finger had brushed mine.

I opened my eyes.

She was still praying.

I smiled to myself.

Even here.

Even during a puja.

She somehow found her way toward me.

Pandit ji's voice grew louder as he began the final chants.

The bells rang softly.

The fire flickered.

And I sat there beside the woman I loved, feeling strangely grateful.

Then Pandit ji looked toward us.

"Now both of you take the blessings."

Aayat immediately leaned forward.

I followed.

We bowed our heads.

And as I lowered mine, one thought returned.

The same thought I'd had upstairs.

My goddess.

Only this time, it didn't feel like something foolish.

It felt like gratitude.

Like devotion.

Like love.

I lifted my head.

Aayat was already looking at me.

"What?" she whispered.

I shook my head.

"Nothing."

She smiled suspiciously.

"You're doing that again."

"Doing what?"

"Looking at me like you're thinking something."

I looked away.

"Maybe I am."

"What?"

I smiled.

"Something good."

Her expression softened.

"Okay."

She turned back toward the puja.

I looked at her once more.

And silently thanked every god I had ever prayed to...

for putting her beside me.

A few minutes later, Aayat got up.

" I'll bring something from the kitchen."

Before I could even think about it, I stood too.

She looked back.

"You're coming?"

"Hmm."

"Why?"

"Work."

She gave me a suspicious look.

"Kitchen mein kya work hai?"

(What work is there in the kitchen?)

"I'll find something."

She rolled her eyes and walked toward the kitchen.

I followed.

The moment we entered, she went straight to the counter and started looking through the dishes.

I leaned against the doorway.

And watched her.

Again.

The way she moved around the kitchen so naturally.

The way her saree brushed against the counter.

The little crease between her eyebrows while she searched for whatever she had come for.

I didn't even realize I was staring until she turned around.

She caught me immediately.

Her lips curved into a mischievous smile.

She slowly walked toward me.

"Itne dhyan se na dikhiye...Pyaar ho jaayega, CM sahab."

("Don't look at me so intently... you'll fall in love, Chief Minister.")

For a second, my mind went completely blank.

I stared at her.

She was clearly teasing me.

Completely unaware that she'd just hit the one subject I was desperately trying not to reveal.

Love.

She smiled wider.

"Kya hua?"

(What happened?)

I recovered.

"Tumhe lagta hai itna aasaan hai?"

("Do you think it's that easy?")

She folded her arms.

"Kya?"

(What?)

"Pyaar ho jaana."

(Falling in love.)

She shrugged.

"Ho bhi sakta hai."

("may as well.")

I stepped a little closer.

"And if it already has?"

Her smile faltered.

Just for a second.

Her eyes met mine.

Neither of us moved.

I could see the teasing disappear from her face.

"Mihir..."

I smiled faintly and stepped back before she could read anything in my expression.

"Let's go. Did you get your things?"

She blinked.

"What?"

I pointed toward the counter.

"You came for something."

She looked back.

"Oh."

She picked up the bowl.

Then looked at me again.

"You're very good at changing the subject."

I smiled.

"Occupational hazard."

She shook her head.

"Terrible human."

"Hm?"

She walked past me.

"Don't think I didn't notice."

I watched her leave.

My heart was beating far too fast.

Pyaar ho jaayega.

I let out a quiet breath.

Too late, Aayat.

It already has.

Pandit ji finished his blessings, smiling at both of us.

"Bhagwan tum dono ko hamesha khush rakhein. Aur tumhare ghar mein bachchon ki kilkariyan goonjti rahein."

(May God keep both of you happy always, and may the sounds of children's laughter continue to echo in your home.)

Aayat smiled

He left soon after.

I looked at Aayat.

She was still fixing the edge of her saree.

I leaned closer and whispered,

"Lily and Leechys."

Her eyes widened.

"Mihir!"

She immediately elbowed me.

I laughed under my breath.

"What?"

She gave me a warning look before lowering her voice.

"Three months only."

My smile faded slightly.

"What?"

She glanced around to make sure no one was listening.

"Three months."

I knew exactly what she meant.

The contract.

She didn't say the word.

She never had to.

I looked at her for a moment.

She tried to smile like it was nothing.

Like she was simply reminding me of a date.

But something in my chest tightened.

"Right," I said quietly.

"Three months," she repeated.

I nodded.

"Okay."

She looked relieved that I hadn't argued.

Then she turned back toward the puja arrangements.

I stayed still.

Three months.

She had said it so easily.

As if three months was the end of something.

As if I could simply go back to the way things were before her.

Before I knew how she took her tea.

Before I knew she reached for my pinky in her sleep.

Before I knew exactly how her face changed when she was trying not to smile.

Before I had started imagining Lily and Leechy.

I looked at her.

She was completely unaware of the storm she'd just created inside my head.

And I couldn't tell her.

Not yet.

She thought these three months were a countdown.

For me, they felt like a deadline I desperately didn't want to reach.

I swallowed and forced a small smile.

"Three months," I repeated.

Aayat nodded.

"Hmm."

Then she walked away.

I watched her go.

And quietly, where she couldn't hear me, I thought...

Three months may be all you think we have.

But I'm going to spend every one of those days loving you.

And maybe, somehow, I'll convince you that this was never just a contract to me.

A little later, I was back in our room, getting ready for an important meeting with a delegation from overseas.

My laptop was open on the desk.

Documents were spread everywhere.

I was going through the briefing notes when I glanced at the mirror.

I was ready for the meeting.

Dark suit. White shirt. Cufflinks. Watch.

Everything was perfect.

Except the tie hanging untied around my neck.

I looked at myself in the mirror and tried to make the knot.

It went horribly.

I sighed and glanced toward Aayat.

She was sitting on the sofa, going through something on her phone.

"Aayat?"

She looked up.

"Hm?"

"Can you tie my tie?"

She looked at me.

Then at the tie.

Then back at me.

"No."

I nodded.

"Okay."

I turned toward the mirror again.

I tried once more.

The knot came out crooked.

I frowned.

I wasn't exactly used to asking anyone for help.

Especially her.

And honestly, I'd asked expecting her to refuse.

Still, I tried again.

"Aayat."

"What?"

"Are you sure?"

"Yes."

She went back to her phone.

I stared at my reflection.

"Fine."

I attempted the knot again.

She glanced at me from the corner of her eye.

"You don't know how to tie it?"

"I know."

"You clearly don't."

"I haven't done it in a while."

She smiled faintly.

"Then learn."

I looked at her.

"You're not going to help?"

"No."

There was a tiny hesitation in her voice.

Almost like she wanted to help but had decided against it.

I noticed.

But I didn't push.

"Okay."

I loosened the tie completely and tried again.

Aayat watched silently for a few seconds.

Then she looked away.

I caught her expression in the mirror.

She was trying very hard not to smile.

I shook my head.

"Enjoying this?"

"A little."

"Very supportive."

"You'll survive."

I finally managed a decent knot.

Not perfect.

But acceptable.

I straightened it and picked up my files.

Before leaving, I looked at her.

"Thanks for the help."

She blinked.

"I didn't help."

"I know."

A faint smile appeared on my face.

"That was the point."

She stared at me.

Then rolled her eyes.

"Go to your meeting, Mihir."

I was almost at the door when I stopped.

Aayat was standing in front of the mirror, adjusting the pleats of her saree.

She caught my reflection in the mirror.

Our eyes met.

For a second, neither of us said anything.

Then she noticed exactly where my eyes had gone.

A tiny, knowing smile appeared on her face.

Instead of moving away, she deliberately adjusted her saree a little higher, making sure the drape sat neatly at her waist.

I immediately looked away.

Too late.

She had seen my reaction.

"Mihir?"

"Hm?"

"Were you looking?"

"No."

She turned around, folding her arms.

"Really?"

"Really."

Her smile grew.

"You're a terrible liar."

I cleared my throat and picked up my files.

"I have a meeting."

"Of course you do."

I walked toward the door.

Behind me, she laughed softly.

"Mihir?"

I stopped.

"What?"

She looked at me innocently.

"Nothing."

I narrowed my eyes.

"You're enjoying this."

"Maybe."

I shook my head, trying not to smile.

"Three months," she reminded me teasingly.

I looked back at her.

"That line isn't going to work forever."

Her smile faded into curiosity.

"What does that mean?"

I simply smiled.

"You'll find out."

And before she could ask another question, I walked out.

Behind me, I heard her mutter,

"Annoying man."

I smiled all the way down the corridor.

By the time I entered the conference room, the teasing exchange with Aayat was already out of my mind.

There was work to do.

The foreign delegation was waiting around the long table, along with my advisers and the senior officials handling the discussions.

I took my seat at the head of the table.

"Good morning, everyone."

The room settled.

One of the delegates opened the discussion with a presentation on the proposed investment project. I listened carefully, going through the figures in front of me.

"What is the projected employment generation over the next five years?" I asked.

An official beside the delegation answered immediately.

"Approximately forty thousand direct and indirect opportunities."

I glanced at the document.

"And the infrastructure commitment?"

They explained the proposed investment.

I made a note.

"That figure needs to be revised."

The room went quiet.

"Our priority isn't simply bringing investment into the state," I continued. "We need long-term infrastructure, local employment, and measurable benefits for the communities involved."

One of the delegates nodded.

"That's understandable, Chief Minister."

"Good. Then let's discuss the revised proposal."

The meeting continued.

For the next two hours, my attention remained completely on the negotiations.

Every clause was examined.

Every number was questioned.

Every commitment was put on record.

There was no room for distraction.

Eventually, the lead delegate extended his hand.

"I believe we've made considerable progress today."

I shook his hand.

"So do I."

My secretary began collecting the documents.

"We'll have the revised draft prepared by tomorrow."

The delegation thanked us and began leaving the room.

I remained seated for another moment, reviewing the notes I'd made.

My secretary approached.

"Sir, your next meeting is at four."

I checked the time.

"Move it to four-thirty."

"Yes, sir."

I closed the file.

The meeting had gone well.

That was what mattered.

I stood and straightened my jacket before leaving the room.

At 8 p.m., my phone rang..."Sir, Tej Kapoor is dead," and a slow, unreadable smirk appeared on my face.

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

1. What was your reaction to Mihir being so careful while applying the alta?

2. Three months are ticking... do you think Mihir will actually let Aayat walk away?

3. What was your favorite moment in this chapter?

4. Make one prediction for the next chapter—and let's see who gets it right!

5. One song for MIHIR AND AAYAT.

Tell me how was the chapter?

DO NOT FORGET TO VOTE AND COMMENT