Ananya stepped out of the car, her heels clicking against the driveway, announcing her presence like a soft drumbeat. In the grand hall, Sanya, Rohan, Rajveer, and Meenakshi were waiting, smiles wide on their faces.

“Finally!” Sanya exclaimed, clapping her hands. “We were about to start without you!”

Rohan chuckled, nudging her. “Yeah, and you know how your brother-in-law is—he’ll drag his feet if you’re not there to push him.”

Meenakshi smiled warmly at Ananya. “Come on, beta, we’re leaving now. Go and get ready quickly for the party.”

Rajveer added, teasingly, “And remember, tonight you have to look stunning. Don’t disappoint your old man.”

Ananya laughed softly, waving at them. “Yes, yes, Papa. Go ahead.”

The group left, leaving her alone in the quiet mansion. She walked upstairs, the soft carpet muffling her steps, and entered her room. The room was elegantly prepared—her eyes fell on the table adorned with a beautiful saree for the party. Beside it lay a suit for Devansh; the colors and designs were carefully twinned, a subtle gesture that made her smile.

She exhaled softly, standing for a moment to take in the sight, before heading toward the washroom to get ready.

Meanwhile, Devansh entered the room, tossing aside his tie with a flick of his wrist. He set down his jacket on the chair, loosening his collar, the faint scent of his cologne lingering in the air. He stretched, running a hand through his hair, before settling on the edge of the bed.

The door of the washroom creaked open, and Ananya stepped out, wrapped in a soft bathrobe. Devansh’s eyes immediately followed her, lingering just a little too long. Her curves hinted beneath the fabric, the soft drape falling elegantly, and her milky white legs peeked from beneath the robe, catching the light. His gaze hardened instinctively, a mixture of desire and something he tried—and failed—to suppress.

Ananya snapped her fingers sharply in front of him. “Sharm nahi aati? Apni biwi ko aise tedte hue?”

Devansh leaned back lazily, smirking. “So what? Biwi ho… aur ye mera haq hai.”

Ananya blinked, staring at him incredulously. Isse kya hua hai? Itna badal kaise gaye? she thought.

Devansh pushed off the bed slowly, walking toward her with a predatory grace, a mischievous glint in his eyes. “You’re staring too long,” he teased, his voice low. His hands moved toward her waist, drawing her subtly closer.

She swallowed hard as he leaned in, his warm breath brushing against her ear. “Get ready, Mrs. Singhania,” he murmured, before moving back toward the washroom, giving her just enough space to regain her composure.

Ananya stood frozen for a moment, letting out a shaky breath she hadn’t realized she was holding. Ye pagla gaya hai kya? she thought, shaking her head with a mix of exasperation and amusement.

Finally, she turned toward the saree laid out on the table, letting her fingers brush the soft fabric, and began getting ready, her heart racing in anticipation, and a quiet, unspoken thrill lingering from the encounter.

Ananya draped in a stunning deep maroon silk saree, the fabric shimmering softly in the light. The border was embroidered with delicate gold thread, and the pallu fell elegantly over her shoulder. Her hair was styled in loose waves, cascading down her back, and subtle jewelry glinted at her wrists and ears. She looked ethereal, yet commanding, every inch the graceful, confident woman she had always been.

Devansh emerged from the bathroom moments later, now fully dressed in his tailored black suit. His gaze fell on her instantly. She looked… breathtaking. The sharp contrast of her saree against his dark suit, the gentle curve of her neck, the glow of her skin… he blinked, momentarily lost in her presence.

“Ready??” Her voice pulled him out of his thoughts.

“Uh… umm… yeah,” he replied, clearing his throat, trying to sound composed.

Ananya tilted her head, scanning him critically. “Where’s your tie?”

“I… don’t know,” he muttered, shrugging casually, though a small smirk tugged at his lips.

Ananya walked toward the wardrobe, returning moments later with a small box. She handed it to him, a playful glint in her eyes.

Devansh raised an eyebrow. “What’s this?” he asked, taking the box.

She grinned mischievously. “Anniversary gift, patidev.”

He opened the box and saw a simple yet elegant tie, deep navy with subtle silver accents. A small smile crept onto his lips.

“How is it?” she asked, tilting her head.

“It’s… beautiful,” Devansh admitted softly, his voice carrying a rare warmth.

“So wear it, na,” Ananya said, stepping closer.

Devansh handed the tie back to her. “You do it. Make me wear it,” he said, his gaze locking with hers.

Ananya’s eyes flicked from the tie to him, and her hands began to adjust it around his neck. As she worked, his hands found her waist, pulling her subtly closer. Their bodies brushed lightly, and a shiver of electricity ran through her.

She looked up, and their eyes met—intense, unspoken emotions flickering between them. Devansh leaned just slightly, enough for her to feel his breath against her cheek, and whispered teasingly, “Careful, Mrs. Singhania… you’re tying more than just a tie.”

Ananya’s lips curved into a smile, though her heart raced. “Patidev, stop distracting me. Focus,” she murmured, tightening the knot expertly.

Devansh let out a low chuckle, his hands still resting lightly on her waist. “Hmm… difficult when the distraction looks like this,” he murmured, his eyes roaming over her.

Ananya finished tying the tie, stepping back slightly, though Devansh’s hands lingered on her. He straightened, his fingers brushing her arms lightly as he admired her handiwork. “Perfect,” he said softly, a small, rare smile gracing his lips.

She exhaled slowly, trying to calm her racing heart, and teased, “All done, sir. Now maybe you can control your wandering eyes?”

Devansh smirked, leaning in just a fraction closer. “No promises, Mrs. Singhania,” he whispered, before moving toward the mirror to adjust his cufflinks.

Ananya stood there for a moment, letting out the breath she hadn’t realized she was holding. She then moved pick up her clutch and step toward the party awaiting them.

____________________________________________________________________________________

The sleek black car came to a halt in front of the grand entrance of the venue. Devansh was the first to step out, his tailored suit fitting him like a second skin. The crisp lines of the fabric, the glint of his cufflinks, and the subtle shine of his shoes made him look every inch the powerful business tycoon he was. His aura commanded attention—sharp, confident, and intimidating—yet undeniably magnetic. Cameras flashed from every direction as the media had already anticipated the arrival of the Singhania power couple.

A cluster of journalists and photographers called out, snapping photos and shouting questions:

“Mr. Singhania! How does it feel celebrating another anniversary?”

“Devansh sir, what’s the secret behind your relationship?”

“Are we expecting any surprises tonight?”

Devansh ignored the chaos, his eyes scanning the street until they landed on Ananya. He moved toward the car, his posture a perfect mix of grace and authority, and opened the door for her. Holding out his hand, he gestured for her to step down.

Ananya placed her hand in his, her fingers brushing his palm. She stepped out gracefully, the deep maroon silk saree hugging her curves and flowing elegantly to the floor. The gold embroidery on the border caught the lights of the cameras, glittering subtly with every step. Her hair was styled in soft waves, the light catching the shine of her earrings and delicate necklace. She carried herself with poise, a perfect blend of elegance and confidence, yet the slightest hint of a playful sparkle in her eyes.

Devansh’s hand immediately moved to her waist as she descended the steps—a subtle gesture of love and protection. He leaned slightly toward her as if guiding her through the crowd, shielding her from the pressing media while maintaining their aura of power.

The media’s flashbulbs went off relentlessly. Questions flew:

“Mrs. Singhania, can you share the secret of this amazing bond?”

“Ananya mam, what does it feel like being married to one of India’s most eligible tycoons?”

“Any special plans for tonight?”

Ananya gave a graceful smile, her eyes briefly meeting Devansh’s as she replied, “We’ll let the evening speak for itself.”

Devansh’s hand tightened subtly on her waist, guiding her through the crowd as they moved forward. The air between them was charged—their movements perfectly synchronized, a subtle display of unity that spoke louder than words.

Finally, they reached the grand hall of the venue. The doors opened to reveal glittering chandeliers, floral arrangements in deep reds and golds, and the hum of well-dressed guests waiting inside. The media frenzy continued outside, but inside, the world seemed to pause as the couple stepped in together—Devansh, poised and commanding; Ananya, radiant and confident, yet soft and graceful.

All eyes turned toward them as they walked forward, the cameras capturing every moment. Their synchronized movement, the slight protective touch at her waist, and the silent but undeniable chemistry between them made it clear: this was more than a couple—it was power, elegance, and a story unfolding.

As Ananya entered the venue, her eyes immediately fell upon her parents, Harshad and Kavita Rathore, and her siblings, Arshik and Vidisha, standing near the center of the hall. Her lips curved into a warm smile, and she hurried toward them, wrapping her arms around her mother.

“Happy Anniversary, mera baccha!” Kavita said, planting a soft kiss on Ananya’s forehead.

“Thank you, Mumma,” Ananya replied, her voice brimming with affection.

Devansh moved forward gracefully, bending slightly to touch their feet. “Happy Anniversary, Beta,” Kavita said again, smiling warmly.

“Thank you, Mumma,” Devansh responded, his tone respectful yet playful.

Harshad chuckled, teasing Devansh. “Hats off to you, Beta… ki tune iss ladki ke saath panch saal guzar liye!”

Ananya raised her eyebrows. “Papa??? Seriously??”

Arshik grinned, nudging her. “Papa is right, Di.”

Vidisha laughed. “Haan, bichare Jiju, pata nahi kaise sambhala aapko inhone.”

Ananya folded her arms, feigning exasperation. “Tum dono chupp raho!”

Kabir, standing slightly aside with a mischievous smirk, clapped his hands. “Kya baat hai, kya jodi hai dono ki! Dono twinning tonight… perfect couple material!”

Ananya rolled her eyes playfully. “Shut up Kabir!”

Just then, a familiar voice called out. “They are always like that, Kabir.”

Ira, the CA of Singhania Group of Companies and Ananya’s best friend, appeared with her signature bright smile. She hugged Ananya tightly. “Happy Anniversary, my darling!”

“Thank you, Ira,” Ananya replied warmly.

Ira turned toward Devansh, playfully teasing him. “Happy Anniversary, Jiju!”

Devansh smiled politely. “Thank you, Ira,” he said, though a small smirk hinted that he appreciated her teasing.

Ananya chuckled at the interaction. “You two really know how to make an entrance,” she said softly.

Kabir leaned in, whispering to Ira with a grin, “Dekho na, perfect twinning… dono ne milke stage capture kar liya.”

Ira laughed, shaking her head. “You never change, Kabir. Always teasing!”

The laughter and banter were interrupted by a voice booming through the hall:

“Good evening, ladies and gentlemen!” Rajveer’s voice carried effortlessly across the venue. “Tonight, we gather to celebrate a very special occasion—the wedding anniversary of my son, Devansh Singhania, and my daughter-in-law, Ananya Devansh Singhania! Five years of love, partnership, and memories, and many more to come!”

A cheer rose from the guests, the chandeliers glittering overhead, capturing the warmth and grandeur of the celebration.

Kabir, never one to miss a moment of fun, strode confidently toward Rajveer and snatched the microphone with a cheeky grin.

“Alright, everyone!” he called out, his voice carrying effortlessly across the hall. “Get ready for a special treat—the couple dance by our very own Devanya!”

The crowd erupted into applause and whistles. Cameras flashed, guests cheered, and a few even started clapping in rhythm.

Devansh extended his hand toward Ananya, his sharp, commanding aura softened by the warmth in his eyes. She placed her hand in his, and he guided her toward the stage with fluid confidence, his grip firm yet gentle.

The stage was set like a dream—soft golden lights draped over the edges, casting a warm glow. A polished mahogany floor reflected the twinkling chandeliers above. Rose petals were scattered artistically across the edges, and the soft scent of fresh flowers filled the air. A live orchestra played a slow, romantic melody, the strains of violins and piano creating an intimate bubble amid the grandeur of the hall.

Janam janam janam sath chalna yunhi

Kasam tumhe kasam aake milna yahi

Ek jaan hai bhale do badan ho juda

Meri hoke hamesha hi rehna

Kabhi na kehna alvida

As Devansh led Ananya into the center, he instinctively drew her closer, their bodies almost touching. His hands rested lightly on her waist, guiding her movements with effortless precision. Ananya, in her deep maroon silk saree with gold embroidery, felt the fabric cling slightly with every twirl, the pallu cascading elegantly around her, adding drama to every step. Her hair shimmered under the lights, and the subtle sparkle of her jewelry caught the audience’s gaze.

Meri subah ho tumhi Aur tumhi sham ho

Tum dard ho tum hi aaram ho

Meri duaon se aati hai bas yeh sada

Meri ho ke hamesha hi rehna

Kabhi na kehna alvida

Meri hoke hamesha hi rehna

Kabhi na kehna alvida

The music swelled, and Devansh spun her gently, then drew her back into his arms. Their eyes met—her gaze soft yet playful, his intense yet protective. Every movement was synchronized, effortless, yet charged with the electric tension of unspoken emotions.

Teri bahon mein hai mere dono jahan

Tu rahein jidhar meri jannat wahi

Guests leaned forward, mesmerized. Some whispered among themselves, clearly impressed by the grace and chemistry of the couple. Others captured the moment on their phones, knowing this was a night to remember.

Jal rahi aggan hain jo yeh do tarfaa

Na bujhe kabhi meri mannat yahi

Tu meri arzoo, main teri aashiqui

Tu meri shayari, main teri mausiqi

Kabir, watching from the side with a mischievous grin, whispered to Ira, “Dekho na… perfect twinning on the dance floor as well. Ye dono ka angle hi alag hai.”

Talab talab talab bas teri hai mujhe

Nashon mein tu nasha bann ke ghulna yoonhi

Meri mohabbat ka karna tu hak ye adda

Meri ho ke hamesha hi rehna

Kabhi na kehna alvida

The orchestra shifted to a softer, more intimate section of the song. Devansh leaned slightly closer, guiding Ananya into a smooth turn. Their hands brushed, and for a heartbeat, the world outside the stage seemed to disappear. Every glance, every step, every subtle touch spoke of years of unspoken connection, silent understanding, and restrained passion.

Meri subah ho tumhi Aur tumhi shaam ho

Tum dard ho tum hi aaram ho

Meri duaon se aati hai bas yeh sada

Meri hoke hamesha hi rehna

Kabhi na kehna alvida

Aa.. alvida..

As the song reached its crescendo, Devansh dipped Ananya slightly, holding her securely as the crowd erupted in cheers and applause. She smiled, cheeks flushed, her heart racing—not just from the dance, but from the intensity of being so close to him.

Finally, the music slowed to a delicate ending. Devansh straightened, holding her hand firmly. Their foreheads almost touched as they shared a brief, intimate moment, the applause washing over them like a soft wave.

Even Kabir had to admit, watching them, that this was more than just a dance—it was a story, a display of a bond that words could hardly capture.

As the music ended, Devansh loosened his grip but Ananya was still in his arms. Both were breathing a little heavier than before, their gazes meeting for a second too long.

A sudden loud clap broke the moment.

Kabir whistled, “Wah wah, kya baat hai Devanya! Aaj toh pura Bollywood fail ho gaya tum dono ke saamne.”

Ananya rolled her eyes and stepped away from Devansh, “Kabir, bas bhi kar jab dekho tab apna drama shuru kar deta hai.”

Vidisha giggled, “Arey drama toh sahi keh rahi ho di, but seriously, jiju aur aap… uff! What a chemistry!”

“Chemistry?!” Ananya arched a brow at her sister. “Ye sab tum logon ko hi dikh raha hai.”

Rohan teased from behind, “Nahi bhabhi, poore hall ko dikh rahi thi. Humein toh darr lag raha tha ki aaj stage pe hi pyaar ka izhaar na ho jaye.”

Devansh smirked faintly, looking at his brother, “Tere jokes kabhi sudhrenge nahi, Rohan.”

“Arre jokes nahi, sach bol raha hoon,” Rohan replied with a grin.

Sanya nudged Ananya playfully, “Bhabhi, sach batao… dance practice kiya tha chhup chhup ke?”

Ananya gave a little laugh, brushing her hair back, “Bilkul nahi. Ye sab toh bas… flow mein ho gaya.”

“Flow mein ho gaya? Matlab dil se ho gaya,” Kabir cut in dramatically, holding his chest.

Devansh shook his head, hiding a small chuckle, “Kabir, jis din tu sudhar jayega na mai samajh jaunga ki duniya badal gayi finally.”

Ira chimed in, “I agree, but you two looked stunning together. Bilkul ek dusre ke liye bane hue.”

Ananya, half-smiling, quickly deflected, “Accha chhodo ye sab. Main bas stage pe girti nahi, ye hi bahut badi baat hai.”

Everyone burst into laughter.

Harshad, her father, walked up with a mischievous grin, “Beta, tumhare liye toh Devansh khud gir jaaye toh bhi taiyaar hoga.”

Ananya’s cheeks flushed slightly as she glanced at Devansh. He looked away, but there was a flicker of softness in his eyes that no one missed.

Rajveer cleared his throat, “Alright, enough teasing. Aaj unka special din hai, thoda shanti bhi rehne do.”

Kabir smirked, “Special toh hai hi, lekin Dev… ek advice hai.”

Devansh raised a brow, “Kya?”

Kabir leaned closer with his ever-teasing grin, “Apni biwi ko thoda time diya kar. Sirf gym aur office se shaadi nahi hoti.”

The group chuckled again. Ananya looked at Devansh with a small smile—playful yet holding an unspoken truth.

Devansh, instead of snapping back, simply said in a low tone, “Main koshish kar raha hoon.”

For a moment, silence fell. Ananya blinked at him, her heart skipping unexpectedly at those words. But before she could process it, Vidisha jumped in with her bubbly voice, “Bas bas, ab sab dinner pe chalo warna main aur Arshik saara khana kha jaayenge.”

The crowd laughed again, and the moment between Devansh and Ananya dissolved into the lively chatter of family.

Ananya was just about to walk when Meenakshi’s voice stopped her.

“Ananya, idhar aana zara,” Meenakshi said warmly, waving her over.

Ananya nodded, excused herself from the group, and walked toward her mother-in-law. Meenakshi was surrounded by a couple of elderly guests, talking politely. Ananya joined, her usual graceful smile on her lips.

One of the women, a family friend, looked at her curiously and then at Meenakshi.

“Meenakshi ji, ek baat puchni thi…”

Meenakshi smiled, “Haan haan, zaroor.”

The woman tilted her head and asked innocently, “Ye toh abhi abhi socha… Devansh aur Ananya ki shaadi ko paanch saal ho gaye, hai na?”

Meenakshi nodded proudly, “Bilkul.”

The woman gave a teasing laugh, “Paanch saal… aur abhi tak koi good news hi nahi?”

The smile on Ananya’s lips froze. Her throat tightened. The noise of the party around her seemed to fade for a moment. She quickly looked down, trying to keep her composure, but her hands gripped the edge of her saree tightly.

Meenakshi’s own smile faltered slightly at the bluntness of the question. Before she could reply, the guest added softly, “Matlab… aap log tension nahi lete? Bas pooch liya.”

Ananya’s heart sank. Her mind screamed at her to say something, to escape somehow, but words wouldn’t come. A sheen of tears welled in her eyes, but she blinked them back, forcing her face to remain calm.

“Anu…” Meenakshi whispered, sensing her daughter-in-law’s unease.

Just then, a familiar presence stepped in. Devansh.

He had noticed the change in her expression from afar and walked straight toward them. His tall frame and sharp aura silenced the small group immediately. Standing beside Ananya, his arm automatically slid to her back, protective yet subtle.

He looked at the guest directly, his voice calm but laced with steel, “Kisi ki zindagi ke faisle hamesha unki marzi se hote hain. Aur meri aur Ananya ki zindagi mein jo bhi hoga… uska waqt hum tay karenge, koi aur nahi.”

The guest shifted uncomfortably, stammering, “Arre beta… main toh bas…”

Devansh cut in politely but firmly, “I know. Lekin kabhi kabhi ‘bas’ bolte hue shabd teekhe lag jaate hain. Aur Ananya meri biwi hai, uski khushi meri zimmedaari hai. I won’t let anyone question that.”

Ananya’s eyes widened slightly at his words. She turned to look at him—his tone wasn’t just defensive, it carried a rare softness, a rare claim.

Meenakshi smiled faintly, easing the tension. “Bilkul sahi kaha Devansh ne. Waise bhi, hum sabko apne bachchon ki khushi chahiye… aur Ananya aur Devansh ki khushi unke apne haath mein hai.”

The guest muttered an apology and quickly changed the topic.

Devansh turned slightly to Ananya, lowering his voice so only she could hear, “Tum theek ho?”

Ananya nodded faintly, though her throat was dry. “Haan,” she whispered, though her heart was still racing.

For a brief second, their eyes met—his protective anger still simmering, her gratitude quietly shining through.

Ananya’s footsteps quickened as she walked out to the terrace. The cool night breeze brushed against her face, but it couldn’t wash away the sting of those words echoing in her head.

“Paanch saal… aur abhi tak koi good news hi nahi?”

She leaned on the railing, closing her eyes, trying to shut the voices out. Her chest felt heavy, her smile long gone.

A soft voice broke the silence.

“Tu theek hai?”

Her eyes snapped open. She turned around and found Kabir standing there, his arms folded, his sharp eyes watching her with concern.

She sighed, forcing a weak smile. “Yeah.”

Kabir raised his brow. “Jhuth mat bol, Anu.”

She looked away, focusing back on the stars. “Main sach mein theek hoon Kabir… don’t worry.”

Kabir stepped closer, his tone firmer now. “Kab tak chupayegi, yaar? Bol bhi de usse.”

Her eyes immediately shot to his, a deadly glare that told him to stop right there.

He raised his hands in surrender but continued softly, “Arre… woh nahi, ye keh de… keh de ki tu usse pyaar karti hai, Anu.”

Her gaze softened at his words. She sighed, her voice barely above a whisper.

“Bolke kya faida, Kabir? Mujhe khud malum hai… uske dil mein abhi bhi sirf uska hi naam hai. Uske dil ki jagah main kabhi le hi nahi paungi.”

Kabir’s chest tightened at the helplessness in her tone. “Par Anu… tu uske saath hai paanch saal se. Tu uski dosti hai, uska sahara hai. Aur tu khud… usse bina apni zindagi soch bhi nahi sakti. Kab tak yeh sab chupayegi?”

Ananya closed her eyes, the tears threatening to fall. “Jab tak chupa sakti hu.”

Kabir frowned, “Lekin ek na ek din… yeh sach toh bahar aayega hi na, Anu aur woh bhi.”

Her hands gripped the railing tighter, her voice trembling. “Usi baat ka toh darr hai Kabir. Pata nahi… jab usse sach pata chalega toh kya karega,but mai woh risk nahi le sakti .”

Kabir placed a gentle hand on her shoulder, his tone softer. “Aur yeh risk lena hi agar uske saath teri asli khushi ho toh?”

Ananya finally turned to him, her eyes glistening but resolute. “Kabir, meri khushi uski khushi se judi hai. Agar woh khush hai mujhe pyaar na karke… toh main ussi mein khush ho jaungi. Bas itna samajh le.”

Kabir exhaled, his eyes softening with pain and helplessness. He wanted to argue, wanted to tell her she deserved more… but he knew nothing could move her until she was ready.

The silence stretched between them, heavy with unspoken truths.

Ananya sat on the high stool at the club bar, a half-finished glass of wine lazily twirling in her hand. Her mind, however, was far away—still replaying the terrace incident, the stares, the questions, Kabir’s words.

“Anu?”

The sudden voice pulled her out of her thoughts. She blinked and looked up. Devansh was standing there, hands tucked casually in his pockets, his usual calm yet intimidating aura still intact under the dim club lights.

She quickly plastered a smile on her lips, though it didn’t quite reach her eyes.

“You okay?” he asked, his tone neutral but his eyes sharp, studying her carefully.

“Yeah… mujhe kya hi hoga?” she replied, her voice light, almost dismissive.

Devansh raised a brow, clearly unconvinced. But instead of pressing further, he pulled something from his coat pocket—a small, sleek box—and placed it in front of her on the counter.

Her brows furrowed. “Yeh kya hai?”

“Nothing,” he said, shrugging his shoulders with an almost boyish indifference.

Curious, Ananya opened the box. Her eyes widened instantly. Inside was a shining key, the iconic BMW logo glinting under the lights. She looked at him with disbelief, her voice barely above a whisper.

“Sacchi??”

The corner of Devansh’s lips lifted. “BMW M8. Your anniversary gift, Mrs. Singhania.”

For a second, Ananya just stood frozen. Then joy erupted on her face, wiping away every trace of her earlier turmoil. She jumped up, eyes sparkling, and leaned in before he could react—pressing a quick kiss on his cheek.

Devansh froze. His usually composed eyes went wide, body stiff like he hadn’t expected that. The faintest shade of pink brushed against his cheekbones. For a man who rarely showed emotion, this reaction was priceless.

“You are the best husband ever, patidev!” Ananya said dramatically, clasping her hands together with a grin so wide it could light up the entire club.

Devansh finally blinked, the initial shock melting into a helpless smile. He shook his head faintly, muttering under his breath, “Pagal ladki…” but the warmth in his tone betrayed him.

“Can I drive it now?? Please??” she asked eagerly, her big puppy eyes locking onto him, knowing very well that her weaponized cuteness would work.

Devansh sighed, defeated already. “Fine. I’ll join too.”

Ananya’s face lit up brighter than the neon lights around them. “Yayy!” she squealed, and before he could add another word, she dashed out of the club, almost skipping in excitement.

Devansh stood there, watching her disappear through the doors. A chuckle escaped him, his usual sternness giving way to genuine amusement. Shaking his head, he followed her out, muttering softly, “Bachchi kahin ki.”

Ananya ran towards the BMW like a little girl who had just been given candy. She almost tripped on her saree but didn’t care, her laughter echoing as she opened the driver’s door. Sliding into the seat, her fingers traced the steering wheel as if it were a priceless treasure.

“Dev, ye kitna mast hai!” she exclaimed, her eyes wide with pure joy. “Mujhe lagta hai abhi isse hi chala ke chand tak jaaungi.”

Devansh settled into the passenger seat, his calm aura completely opposite to her childlike excitement. A faint smirk tugged at his lips.

“Tumhein dekh kar lagta hai BMW ne gaadi nahi, roller coaster banayi hai.”

Ananya turned to him dramatically. “Roller coaster bhi hoti toh main sabse pehle chadh jaati. Tum hi toh boring nikle.”

He raised a brow. “Boring?”

“Haan!” she said with a mischievous grin, revving the engine. “Mujhe lagta hai main tumhari zindagi ka sabse exciting part hoon.”

Devansh chuckled, shaking his head. “Ye toh tum sach keh rahi ho.”

With that, Ananya sped off, her laughter filling the car. She sang loudly—offbeat and completely wrong lyrics—while stealing glances at him just to annoy him. Devansh kept pretending to be unaffected, but the sparkle in his eyes betrayed him.

After a while, she suddenly pressed the brakes and brought the car to a halt on a quiet hilltop. The city below shimmered like a sea of diamonds, the cool breeze rushing in as she lowered the window.

“Bas… ab thoda shaanti bhi chahiye,” she whispered, turning off the ignition.

Devansh looked at her with curiosity but said nothing. He followed when she got out of the car. The night wrapped around them, the sound of rustling leaves mixing with the distant hum of the city.

Ananya spread her arms out dramatically, letting the breeze play with her hair. “Kya view hai… lagta hai poori duniya yahin se dekh lo.”

Devansh stood a step behind her, his hands in his pockets, silently watching her instead of the city.

She caught him staring and smiled faintly. “Tumhe kabhi kabhi lagta hoga… ki meri nautanki kabhi khatam hi nahi hoti.”

Devansh smirked. “Woh toh hai. Par yeh nautanki hi toh hai jo meri life mein rang bhar deti hai.”

Her smile faltered just a little. She turned back towards the city lights, her voice softening.

“Zindagi ajeeb hai na… sab kuch hone ke baad bhi lagta hai kuchh kami hai.”

Devansh’s smirk faded. For a moment, silence hung between them, heavy and unspoken.

“Ananya…” he started, his tone unusually serious.

She didn’t look at him, her eyes fixed on the horizon. “Kabhi kabhi sochti hoon… agar waqt ne kuch aur mod liya hota… toh shayad sab alag hota.”

Devansh exhaled slowly, his jaw tightening, but he didn’t respond immediately.

She turned her head slightly, her gaze soft yet distant. “Par jo bhi ho… tum meri zindagi ka hamesha ek hissa rahoge, chahe tumhe mano ya na mano.”

Devansh looked at her then—really looked—his eyes filled with something between pain and gratitude. He didn’t know what to say, so he just stood there beside her, the unspoken words hanging heavy between them.

The two of them remained like that, side by side under the vast sky, with the whole city glittering beneath them—two souls tied together by fate, friendship, and an unhealed past.

The cool breeze brushed against Ananya, making her cross her arms instinctively. Before she could react further, Devansh slipped off his coat and, without a word, draped it gently around her shoulders.

Startled, she looked up at him, her eyes widening a little at the unexpected gesture. For a second, her lips parted as if to say something, but the weight in his gaze silenced her.

“Chalein?” his voice was low, almost careful.

She only nodded, clutching the coat closer around herself, as if stealing both warmth and comfort from it.

They walked back towards the car. Devansh moved ahead, opened the door for her like he always did, and waited. Ananya slid into the seat, her saree folding gracefully as she adjusted. He closed the door softly, then circled around to the driver’s side.

The ride back was quiet, filled only with the faint hum of the engine and the soft rustle of the wind through the open window. Somewhere along the way, the day’s exhaustion finally caught up with her. Ananya’s head tilted slightly, her lashes fluttered closed, and soon she drifted into slumber.

When they finally halted at Singhania Mansion, Devansh turned to her. His usually sharp gaze softened.

Her face, stripped of all pretenses, looked almost angelic in sleep. The faint smile that lingered at the corners of her lips, the way her long lashes rested delicately against her cheeks, and the gentle rise and fall of her chest made her seem at peace—so unlike the Ananya who always put on a brave, playful mask for the world.

For a moment, Devansh just sat there, watching her, as though he wanted to capture this image in his memory.

Then, with quiet care, he stepped out of the car, walked to her side, and opened the door. He leaned in, sliding an arm beneath her knees and another around her shoulders. She stirred slightly, murmuring something incomprehensible, then settled back into his hold, her head resting against his chest.

Lifting her effortlessly, Devansh cradled her as if she was the most precious thing in the world. His steps were steady as he carried her into the mansion, the dim golden lights of the hallway casting a soft glow around them.

Anyone watching would have thought it was a scene straight out of a fairytale—where a husband carried his sleeping wife home, wrapped in love, silence, and a thousand unsaid emotions.

Devansh pushed open the door to their room, his arms holding her securely against him. The dim lights of the chandelier spilled a soft golden hue, making the room feel warm and hushed. With every step, he was careful not to wake her.

He gently laid Ananya down on the bed, her head sinking into the plush pillow. For a moment, he simply stood there, looking at her—her hair spread across the pillow like silk, her face glowing with serenity. She seemed untouched by the chaos of the world, lost in a dream that he could never enter.

Silently, he slid his coat from her shoulders and tossed it onto the couch. Then, kneeling beside the bed, he reached for her feet. One by one, he carefully removed her heels, setting them aside with a quiet sigh. His fingers lingered a moment longer than necessary, as if he was afraid of disturbing the peace on her face.

Next, his hands moved to her jewellery—removing her earrings with delicate precision, unclasping her necklace, and slipping her bangles off gently so they wouldn’t clink. Each piece was set aside, yet every gesture carried an intimacy that only he understood.

Pulling the duvet up, he tucked it softly till her chest, shielding her from the night’s chill. And then, almost unconsciously, he leaned down and pressed a feather-light kiss against her forehead.

When he pulled back, his eyes didn’t leave her.

She looked so calm, so innocent, and yet… she was a storm in his life. A storm that reminded him of everything he wanted to bury.

And yet, here she was.

Ananya.

This woman who had married him despite knowing his broken pieces.

This woman who laughed like she never carried any wounds, yet he knew she had her own scars.

This woman who, for reasons he couldn’t understand, had stayed by his side through his silence, his distance, his walls.

Devansh sat on the edge of the bed, elbows resting on his knees, his eyes fixed on her sleeping figure. His face, always stern and unreadable, softened.

“Tumhe dekh kar lagta hai… jaise main bhi phir se jee sakta hoon,” he whispered to himself, the words never meant to reach her ears.

But then he clenched his fists, shaking his head.

“No, Devansh. Don’t forget… pyaar sirf dard deta hai.”

Still, despite his own warning, his gaze returned to her. His heart, traitor as ever, lingered in that moment with her.

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