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"तुम्हारी ज़रूरत है
या बस खयालों का एहसास,
समझ नहीं आता
ये दिल का भी क्या है
राज़।"

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Avyansh Pov

I was asking her some things, and her getting annoyed was almost amusing. I picked up the guitar-shaped plushie.

"Can I have it?" I asked.

"No," she replied, stuffing more clothes into her suitcase.

"I told you, I'll buy you more," I said, trying to coax her.

"Nahi kaha na maine," she snapped, clearly irritated.

"Thanks for giving me this as a gift," I said, placing the plushie on my lap.

I knew she was getting annoyed, and I wasn't entirely sure why, but there was a part of me that enjoyed it.

Maybe, by annoying her, she'd show some more expressions or even talk to me. I wasn't sure why, but I wanted to talk to her about everything.

She huffed, clearly frustrated, and I couldn't help but smile internally. There was something oddly satisfying about seeing her flustered.

She got up and walked toward me. I noticed how a few strands of hair had escaped her bun and fell onto her face.

Her lavender kurti contrasted beautifully with her complexion.

For some reason, I found myself admiring her, the way she looked at that moment.

She reached out, trying to snatch the plushie from my lap. I leaned back, holding it just out of her reach.

"Give it to me," she said, a hint of desperation in her voice.

But I didn't.

Instead, I kept leaning back, enjoying this playful tug-of-war.

Suddenly, she lost her balance and stumbled forward, landing right on my lap.

My arms instinctively wrapped around her to steady her, and I felt the plushie squished between us.

For a moment, everything stood still. Her face was so close to mine, her breath warm on my skin.

Her eyes widened in surprise, and I felt a strange flutter in my chest. She looked away, her cheeks flushed, trying to pull away.

But the plushie was still in between us, and it made the situation even more awkward.

"I'm sorry," she mumbled, her voice barely audible. I could feel her heart racing against my chest, and it made me feel... something. Something unfamiliar yet not unwelcome.

I couldn't help but smile. "It's okay," I said softly, my voice a bit husky.

She quickly grabbed the plushie and stood up, putting some distance between us. Her face was still flushed, and she avoided making eye contact.

There was a tension in the air, a charged silence that neither of us knew how to break.

As she turned back to her suitcase, I sat there, still feeling the warmth of her in my lap, the lingering touch of her skin.

I didn't know why, but I wanted to reach out to her again, to feel that connection once more.

Maybe annoying her wasn't just about seeing her reactions; maybe it was about finding a way to connect with her in a way words couldn't express.

And that thought made me want to keep trying, to keep finding ways to break through her walls.

I looked at her she is confused and flushed. "It hurts." she said, sitting down on the bed.

My heart clenched. "What hurts? Are you okay?. Do I need to call a doctor? Show me where you're hurt. I'm so sorry for teasing you."

Avyansh's Pov Ended

AVANTIKA'S POV

As soon as I finished speaking, he started panicking.

How am I going to tell him it's not because of him? It's because of the toe ring.

"Toe rings," I said.

"Toe rings?" he repeated, standing up from the couch and walking towards me. He knelt beside my leg, and I quickly pulled my feet onto the bed.

"Kya kr rhe hai aap?" I asked, seeing him trying to touch my foot.

"Show me," he said.

"No, you can't touch my foot. It's not good," I replied.

"Shaant rahengi aap?" he said, gently grabbing my foot with his big hand.

I looked at him, my heart beating faster.

"Why didn't you tell me before?" he asked.

"It's a tradition to wear them for a month for a newlywed bride," I said.

I felt his fingers touching my feet. I tried to pull my toes away, but he seemed determined.

And, speaking of determination, I couldn't help but notice his desperation to know what was bothering me.

Truthfully, I was in a constant battle with myself. I felt tangled in a web of his expectations, unable to break free.

I tried to pull my feet back again, but suddenly, he lifted his gaze and glared at me. I saw a hint of anger in his eyes.

"You don't have to do this. I'm fine. This isn't your problem," I asserted. He averted his gaze.

"Everything related to you is my concern, Avantika," he said, and I looked away. The thunder of emotions caged me, a brutal reminder of the foundation of our marriage.

His family was welcoming and kind to me, but I felt they were doing it to keep him happy. No one really cared about what I thought or wanted. Especially not me.

It was like I didn't exist. No one knew me, and I was content with that. But suddenly, everyone was paying attention to me, judging me.

"Issh," I winced in pain and came out of my thoughts. I saw him taking off the toe rings. The swelling and bruising were terrible and painful.

"Why didn't you tell me you were hurting?" he asked, and I blinked silently.

"Why does it matter to you that I was hurting?" I asked.

"You are my wife, and it matters to me that you're hurt," he said, looking intently at me.

I tried to pull my feet back.

"A forced wife," I said.

He looked at me, then at my foot, holding it firmly as I shook my head.

He pulled the second toe ring from my toes. He also removed the third one, and I looked at my foot. It looked horrible.

"You don't have to wear them anymore. I'll talk to Maa," he said, and I swallowed hard.

"This holds greater significance in married life. It shows everyone that I'm your wife," I said.

"Everybody doesn't need to know that you're my wife. Only I need to know, and I do. I don't need this materialistic reminder," he said.

He caressed my feet, and I felt odd. Husbands weren't supposed to touch their wives' feet; he wasn't just a husband. Seeing him touch my feet made me feel uncomfortable.

"It must be hurting badly," he said, caressing the tip of my toes. I slowly pulled my feet back.

"I'm perfectly fine," I said, and he lifted his gaze to mine. I felt the unspoken warning in his intense eyes.

"Show me the other foot," he said, gently touching the toes of my other foot and slowly pulling out the toe rings. My feet looked awful.

"Thank you," I muttered, but he didn't seem finished.

As he stood up, he asked, "Do you have some medicine?"

I didn't say anything, and he started looking through my drawers. My heartbeat stopped. I remembered there were injections, cutters, and blades among my medicines.

"Woh waha nahi hai," I shouted a little.

"It is there," I said.

He rummaged through the drawer, finally pulling out a small tube of medicinal cream. Without a word, he turned and walked back toward me, his expression softening slightly.

He knelt beside me again, his eyes locking with mine. "This might sting a little," he murmured, squeezing a small amount of the cream onto his fingers.

I watched him, feeling a mixture of anxiety and something I couldn't quite place. He gently lifted my foot, his touch surprisingly tender. As he applied the cream to the swollen and bruised areas, I winced, but he continued with a steady hand.

"Sorry," he said softly, looking up at me with concern. "I’ll be gentle."

"It's okay," I whispered, feeling the cool relief of the cream soothe the pain. The closeness between us was unnerving, and I couldn't help but notice the furrow of concentration on his brow as he worked.

After he finished with one foot, he gently placed it down and reached for the other. I hesitated for a moment, then slowly offered it to him. He repeated the same careful process, his hands warm and steady against my skin.

"Why do you care so much?" I found myself asking, breaking the silence. My voice was barely above a whisper, laden with confusion and vulnerability.

He paused, his gaze lifting to meet mine. There was a depth in his eyes that I hadn’t noticed before, a sincerity that caught me off guard. "Because you're my wife," he said simply, as if that explained everything.

I looked away, my heart heavy. "But I didn't want this marriage. You know that, right?"

His hands stilled for a moment, and I felt a pang of guilt for bringing it up. But he continued applying the cream, his touch even gentler than before.

"I know," he admitted, his voice quiet. "But that doesn't change the fact that we're in this together now. And I want to take care of you, even if you don't want it."

I swallowed hard, emotions swirling inside me. The truth was, I didn't know what I wanted. This whole situation was overwhelming, and his kindness only made it more confusing.

He finished applying the cream and gently set my foot down. "There," he said, standing up and wiping his hands on a tissue. "That should help with the swelling. You need to rest and keep your feet elevated."

I nodded, feeling a strange warmth in my chest. "Thank you," I mumbled, not quite meeting his eyes.

He finished cleaning his hands and turned to face me. "You should rest now," he said gently.

I tried to stand up, but before I could move, he asked, "Kahan ja rhe hai aap?"

I looked at him and took a deep breath. "I can sleep on the couch. You can sleep here. The couch is small, so I will fit there, not you. So don't argue after I finish speaking," I said, trying to sound firm.

He sighed, running a hand through his hair. "I know I won't fit there, but you won't be comfortable either. We can manage on the bed, right? I'll maintain my distance while sleeping."

I stared at him for a moment, feeling a strange, burning sensation in my chest. It was a mix of frustration, confusion, and something else I couldn't quite identify. His words were logical, but the thought of sharing the bed with him felt overwhelming.

I nodded slowly, feeling a bit defeated. "Which side?" I asked quietly, my voice barely audible.

He glanced at the bed and then back at me. "You can take whichever side you prefer," he said. "I'll take the other. Just... try to relax, okay?"

I hesitated for a moment before deciding. "I'll take the left side," I said, walking over to the bed and sitting down. The mattress felt cool against my skin, a stark contrast to the warmth spreading through my body.

He walked around to the right side and sat down, keeping a respectful distance. The silence between us was thick, filled with unspoken words and unresolved emotions. I lay down, pulling the blanket over myself, and he did the same.

For a few minutes, we lay there in silence, the room dimly lit by the soft glow of a bedside lamp. I could feel the tension in the air, the weight of our situation pressing down on me. I closed my eyes, trying to calm my racing thoughts, but the unfamiliarity of the situation made it difficult to relax.

I felt the mattress shift slightly as he settled into a comfortable position.

The reality of sharing a bed with him, even with the promise of distance, was unsettling. Yet, there was also a strange sense of comfort in his presence, a reassurance that I wasn't alone in this unfamiliar situation.

As I lay there, I couldn't help but think about the complexities of our relationship.

The forced marriage, the conflicting emotions, and the uncertainty of the future all weighed heavily on my mind. But for now, I had to focus on the present, on getting through this moment without letting my anxieties overwhelm me.

With a deep breath, I closed my eyes and tried to let sleep take over, hoping that the night would bring some clarity or at least a temporary reprieve from the tangled mess of my thoughts and feelings.

AVANATIKA'S  POV ENDED

Timeskip

Avyansh Pov

I was deep in sleep when a muffled sound pulled me awake. For a moment, I lay still, disoriented, listening to the quiet of the room.

Then, I heard it again—a faint, distressed murmur. I turned my head and saw her beside me, her face glistening with sweat, eyebrows knit together in a frown.

She seemed to be trapped in a bad dream, her soft whimpers echoing in the silence.

My heart ached at the sight. I wanted to comfort her, but I hesitated, unsure if waking her was the right choice.

Instead, I gently scooted closer, careful not to startle her. I wrapped my arm around her, pulling her gently into my embrace.

Her body tensed briefly, then relaxed as if recognizing the comfort of another's presence. She nestled closer, her head resting against my chest, and I felt her breath against my skin, warm and steadying.

I held her carefully, feeling the delicate rise and fall of her chest. Her hand, which had been gripping the sheets, now lay relaxed beside mine.

As I looked at her, the room's soft glow highlighted the gentle curve of her cheek, the way her lashes rested against her skin, and the subtle tremor of her lips as she mumbled in her sleep. She seemed so different in this vulnerable state—softer, more approachable, and far removed from the guarded exterior she often wore during the day.

In that moment, I couldn't help but be struck by her beauty. The way the dim light accentuated the softness of her features, the slight flutter of her eyelashes as she dreamed, and the way a lock of hair had fallen across her forehead.

She looked peaceful now, almost angelic, and I felt a deep, inexplicable connection to her—a longing to understand her, to know her beyond the surface.

But as I held her, feeling her warmth and listening to the soft rhythm of her breathing, a bittersweet realization crept in. Despite this intimate moment, despite the quiet comfort of holding her, there was an undeniable truth hanging over us: we were not bound together by choice, but by circumstances beyond our control.

Our marriage, a forced arrangement, was a reality we couldn't escape, no matter how much comfort we found in moments like these.

The thought was a cold reminder of the distance between us, the unspoken barriers that lay between our hearts.

I wished I could change things, make them different, but reality was not so kind. We were two strangers bound by a promise neither of us had made willingly, navigating a life neither of us had chosen.

As I looked down at her peaceful face, a soft sigh escaped me. She deserved happiness, freedom, and a life she could choose for herself. And I? I was just a part of a complex situation that neither of us had asked for.

Yet, in this moment, all I wanted was to hold onto the fleeting sense of closeness, even if it was just an illusion.

I tightened my hold slightly, careful not to wake her, and closed my eyes. The warmth of her presence, the gentle hum of her breathing—it was a temporary comfort in a complicated reality.

And as sleep began to reclaim me, I couldn't shake the hope that, despite everything, we might find a way to make this work, to build something real out of a situation neither of us had wanted.

But for now, all I could do was cherish this moment, knowing it was a rare glimpse of what could be, in a world full of what wasn't.

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