WHISPERS OF NEW BEGINNING

Morning light filtered softly through the curtains, painting the room in a warm, golden hue. Devansh stirred first, the steady rhythm of Ananya’s breathing beside him making his chest tighten with something he couldn’t quite name. Her hair was tousled across the pillow, a few strands brushing her flushed cheeks, and her lips slightly parted in sleep. He couldn’t help but study her—the curve of her jaw, the delicate arch of her eyebrows, the peaceful rise and fall of her chest.

For a moment, he just watched, letting the quiet intimacy of the morning sink in. His fingers itched to brush a stray lock of hair from her face, but he restrained himself, afraid of disturbing her.

“She looks… safe,” he murmured softly to himself, almost a whisper, as if admitting it aloud made it more real. A part of him, the part still bound by the shadows of his past, wanted to stay silent, distant, untouchable. But seeing her like this—vulnerable yet serene—made his heart ache with a protective warmth.

Gently, he shifted slightly, resting an arm over her waist, pulling her closer without waking her. Her warmth seeped into him, grounding him, and he realized, with a slow, startling clarity, just how much he had come to care.

“Always,” he whispered, more to himself than to her, “I’ll always be here.”

For a long while, he stayed like that, the soft morning light wrapping them in a cocoon of calm. Outside, the world moved on, but here, in this quiet, Devansh allowed himself a rare, unguarded moment, simply watching her sleep, feeling the weight of everything he hadn’t yet said but knew he would have to.

Devansh slowly, carefully, removed his arm from around Ananya’s waist and stood up, his movements deliberate so as not to wake her. His gaze lingered on her sleeping face for a moment . A rare softness touched his eyes before he turned and walked toward the washroom.

A few minutes later, he emerged, freshened up, clad in a pair of black track pants and a plain fitted shirt that outlined his lean frame. Running a hand through his damp hair, his eyes instantly sought her. She was still curled on the bed, lost in sleep, her features glowing in the morning light.

Without disturbing her, he moved toward the balcony. The early air was crisp, carrying the faint scent of dew. Pulling out his phone, Devansh dialed a number.

“Paras,” his voice was firm, low. “Make the arrangements. I want everything ready.”

A pause, then a clipped, “Good.” He disconnected the call and tucked the phone back into his pocket. For a moment, he lingered there, staring out at the awakening city, as though steadying himself for something. Then, with composed steps, he reentered the room.

His gaze softened again when he saw her. Ananya was awake now, sitting on the bed, rubbing her eyes like a sleepy child. A lazy yawn escaped her lips, making her look disarmingly innocent. Devansh found himself smiling faintly, a smile he didn’t let linger for long.

He walked over and sat beside her on the edge of the bed. “You okay now?” he asked gently, his voice carrying that quiet concern only reserved for her.

Ananya blinked at him, still half-drowsy, and then nodded with a small smile. “Hmm,” she hummed softly.

Devansh reached out, almost instinctively, and tucked a strand of her hair behind her ear, his fingers brushing lightly against her cheek. His eyes lingered on her for a beat longer than necessary before he said, “Get ready. We’re going somewhere.”

Her brows knitted in confusion, her sleepy eyes now wide open. “Where?” she asked curiously, tilting her head.

A small smirk curved his lips, a flicker of mischief in his gaze. “You’ll know, Mrs. Singhania,” he said, his voice rich with that teasing edge that always left her a little off balance.

Ananya stood up from the bed, her bare feet padding softly against the wooden floor as she walked toward the washroom. The sound of running water soon followed, faint and soothing. Devansh leaned back slightly, his gaze unconsciously drifting to the closed door, his mind already playing with the thought of how she would look when she emerged.

Moments later, the door creaked open. Ananya stepped out, her damp hair falling loose around her shoulders, framing her delicate face. She wore a simple pastel-blue kurti paired with white leggings, the kind of attire that carried effortless grace. There was no jewelry, no makeup—just her. And yet, Devansh found himself pausing, watching her as though she’d stolen the air from the room.

Unaware of his gaze lingering on her, Ananya adjusted her dupatta lightly and made her way downstairs. The faint aroma of fresh parathas, butter, and chai wafted from the dining hall, wrapping the mansion in homely warmth.

Everyone was gathered at the breakfast table—Rajveer immersed in the morning newspaper, Meenakshi serving hot parathas to Rohan and Sanya, who were busy bickering over who got the bigger piece. Laughter mixed with the clinking of plates, the atmosphere lively and warm.

As Ananya entered, Meenakshi’s eyes instantly softened. “Good morning, baccha. Come, sit,” she said, pulling out the chair beside her.

Ananya smiled and quietly took her seat, exchanging soft greetings with everyone. Devansh followed her down a few minutes later, his presence immediately shifting the air at the table. His sharp eyes, however, never strayed too far from Ananya.And went for a call.

“Good morning, Mumma,” Ananya said softly as she settled near the table.

“Come, have your breakfast now,” Meenakshi replied, placing a warm paratha on her plate, her eyes glowing with affection.

“Good morning, Papa,” Ananya greeted Rajveer, who was folding his newspaper.

“Good morning, princess,” Rajveer said, his voice proud and gentle as always.

Ananya then turned towards the pair who were already grinning at her. “Good morning, mere pyaare jamuro,” she teased, her lips twitching into a playful smile.

“Good morning, Bhabhiii!!” Rohan and Sanya said in perfect unison, leaning dramatically towards her as if they were her biggest admirers.

Everyone chuckled at their antics, and Ananya shook her head. “Tum dono kabhi nahi sudhroge.”

“Arre sudharna hi nahi hai, Bhabhi,” Rohan said with mock seriousness, tearing his paratha. “Aapke bina ghar bore ho jaata hai. Thoda mazaak toh banta hai.”

“Bilkul,” Sanya added dramatically, placing a hand on her chest. “Hamari life mein thoda entertainment aapki wajah se hi hai.”

Meenakshi rolled her eyes but smiled nonetheless. “Tum dono bas nautanki karte rehna. Khaana khaya karo shanti se.”

Just then, Devansh entered and quietly took the seat beside Ananya. His presence drew subtle glances from everyone, but he kept his eyes fixed only on the food being served to him—and, occasionally, the girl sitting next to him.

“Good morning, beta,” Meenakshi said warmly, sliding a plate towards him.

“Good morning, Maa,” Devansh replied politely. His hand instinctively reached for the jug to pour water into Ananya’s glass before serving his own, a gesture that didn’t go unnoticed.

Rajveer raised an eyebrow with a small, knowing smile, while Rohan leaned over to whisper something to Sanya.

“Dekha? Hero entry hamesha late hoti hai, aur hero apni heroine ke bagal mein hi baithta hai,” Rohan muttered, earning a stifled laugh from his sister.

Ananya caught that and gave them both a deadly glare. “Tum dono chup karo, warna tumhara paratha abhi le lungi.”

“Arre waah, ab toh dhamki bhi mil rahi hai,” Sanya teased. “Bhai, dekh lo, Bhabhi ka asli rang saamne aa raha hai.”

Devansh, still eating calmly, leaned slightly towards Ananya and said in a low, teasing tone only she could hear, “Mere liye bhi paratha chura logi kya, Mrs. Singhania?”

Ananya’s cheeks heated, and she quickly looked away, hiding her reaction by taking a sip of water.

The table was filled with laughter and teasing. Rohan and Sanya kept exchanging dramatic glances, making Ananya shake her head in disbelief.

“Tum dono ki nautanki kabhi khatam nahi hoti,” she muttered, tearing a piece of paratha.

“Bhabhi, nautanki se hi ghar mein jaan hai,” Rohan shot back, grinning ear to ear.

Sanya leaned towards Ananya, her eyes mischievous. “Aur waise bhi, ab toh aap ho… Dev bhai ke bagal mein baithkar bhi blush kar rahi ho. Toh humari nautanki kese bandh hogi.”

Ananya almost choked on her paratha. “Sanya!!” she hissed, glaring at her.

Everyone chuckled. Even Rajveer and Meenakshi couldn’t hide their smiles. Devansh, however, remained calm, sipping his juice, though the corner of his lips curved slightly at her flustered reaction.

“Bas karo tum dono,” Meenakshi said, though her eyes sparkled with amusement. Then she turned towards Ananya, her voice softening, “Anu, thoda aur paratha le lo.”

Ananya looked at her mother with a small smile and nodded. “Mumma, aapko acche se pata hai ki mai kabhi aapko mana nahi karti isliye aur khane ko bolti ho aap.”

Meenakshi’s heart swelled. She reached out and tucked a strand of hair behind Ananya’s ear. “Kyuki mujhe pata hai tu kabhi apne aap ka khayal nahi rakhti. Isliye main hoon na.”

Rajveer, folding his newspaper and setting it aside, added warmly, “Aur main bhi.” His eyes lingered on Ananya, filled with pride and concern. “Meri princess ka khayal rakha na toh mere janm sidh adhikar hai.”

Ananya’s throat tightened, her eyes stinging slightly. She reached out and held both their hands for a brief second, her smile small but heartfelt. “Aap dono ho na… toh mujhe aur kuch nahi chahiye.”

For a moment, the teasing fell away, replaced by a cocoon of warmth and belonging around the breakfast table.

But it didn’t last long—Rohan broke the silence dramatically, fanning his eyes as if wiping invisible tears. “Bas, ab toh family serial ka background music bajaana chahiye.”

Everyone burst out laughing again, and the moment lightened. Devansh, however, silently observed Ananya’s smile—the way it reached her eyes now. And without realizing, he felt his own lips curve into a soft, protective smile.

Ananya entered her room, still replaying the laughter of the breakfast table in her head. She placed her dupatta neatly on the bed when she heard the faint sound of footsteps behind her. Turning slightly, she found Devansh leaning against the doorframe, his hands tucked casually in his pockets, that calm-yet-commanding look plastered on his face.

Before she could even ask, his deep voice filled the room.

“Pack your bags. We are leaving in an hour.”

Ananya blinked, confused. “Wait… what?” She turned fully towards him, her brows furrowing. “Where are we going?”

Devansh pushed off from the frame, walking towards her with measured steps, his gaze unwavering. “You’ll know, Mrs. Singhania.” His lips curved in that faint smirk that always unsettled her. “Right now, just go and pack your bags.”

Her mouth fell open slightly in disbelief. “Devansh! You can’t just walk in here, drop a bomb like that, and expect me to nod like an obedient wife.”

“Exactly,” he said smoothly, his tone teasingly dark. “That’s why I don’t expect you to nod… I expect you to grumble, roll your eyes, and still pack.”

Ananya’s jaw dropped further. “Tum apna sar diwar pe thukwake aaye ho kya?”

He chuckled low, clearly enjoying her fluster. “Probably. But you still have one hour, Mrs. Singhania. Clock’s ticking.”

He leaned down slightly, close enough for his breath to brush against her ear, and whispered, “Don’t make me come back and pack it for you.”

Her heartbeat stuttered. “Uff… impossible man,” she muttered under her breath, turning to yank open the wardrobe. But the faint smile tugging at her lips betrayed her annoyance.

Devansh, satisfied, straightened and made his way to the balcony, giving her the space—but his eyes lingered on her as she moved around the room, fussing with clothes and muttering to herself.

Once her bags were packed, Ananya pulled out a pair of a simple red kurti and black legging. She glanced once at the mirror, muttering under her breath, “Adventure ho ya punishment… bas Singhania version hi milega.” With that, she grabbed her clothes and went into the washroom.

Moments later, she emerged, adjusting her dupatta . Her eyes instantly found Devansh—standing near the window, already dressed in his usual crisp perfection, phone pressed to his ear. His voice was low and controlled, the kind that carried authority even in whispers.

“Yes, everything should be ready before we arrive… I don’t want any delays.” He disconnected the call, sliding the phone into his pocket, and his gaze shifted straight to her. For a fleeting second, his eyes softened before the mask of composure returned.

“Ready, Mrs. Singhania?” he asked, his tone carrying that faint teasing edge.

Ananya folded her arms, tilting her head. “Depends. Am I being kidnapped, or are you finally taking me on a holiday?”

A ghost of a smile tugged at his lips. “Call it… a forced holiday.”

Her jaw dropped. “Forced?! Seriously? Who even says that?”

“I do,” Devansh replied smoothly, walking closer. His eyes trailed briefly over her outfit before meeting her gaze again. “Not bad. You might actually survive this trip.”

Ananya narrowed her eyes. “Excuse me, Mr. Singhania, I’m tougher than I look. Don’t underestimate me.”

He leaned slightly, close enough for his cologne to tease her senses, and murmured, “Oh, Mrs. Singhania… I never underestimate you. I just enjoy watching you prove me wrong.”

Her heart skipped, but she covered it with a scoff. “Bas karo drama king. Chalo, let’s go before you start giving full Bollywood villain vibes.”

Devansh smirked, stepping back, gesturing towards the door with mock courtesy. “After you, Mrs. Singhania.”

Ananya rolled her eyes at his mock courtesy but still walked ahead, tugging her small suitcase along. Devansh followed with his usual composed stride, phone once again in his hand, probably giving last-minute instructions to Paras.

As they descended the staircase, Meenakshi and Rajveer looked up from the living room.

“Arre, bags leke kaha ja rahe ho?” Rajveer asked, raising a brow.

Ananya opened her mouth to answer, but Devansh cut in smoothly, “Business trip.”

“Business trip?!” Ananya mouthed in disbelief, glaring at him.

Meenakshi’s eyes sparkled with amusement. “Business trip yaa honeymoon trip?”

Ananya almost choked on air. “Mumma!”

Devansh, utterly unbothered, simply touched Rajveer’s feet for blessings and said with his signature calmness, “We’ll be back soon.”

Meenakshi winked at Ananya who turned red instantly.

Before she could argue, Devansh had already picked up her suitcase along with his, carrying them both effortlessly. “Come, Mrs. Singhania,” he said over his shoulder, not even giving her a chance to protest.

They stepped out of the mansion, the morning sun warm yet pleasant, the family’s driver already waiting near the sleek black SUV parked by the entrance.

Devansh handed over the luggage to the driver, then opened the passenger door with deliberate elegance. “Your chariot awaits,” he teased.

Ananya gave him a look, muttering under her breath, “Drama king…” but still slid inside.

Devansh followed, settling into the seat beside her. As the engine roared to life and the car pulled out of Singhania Mansion, Ananya’s curiosity bubbled over again.

“Ab toh bata do, Devansh… exactly where are we going?” she asked, side-eyeing him.

Devansh leaned back in his seat, that faint smirk never leaving his lips. “Patience, Mrs. Singhania. You’ll know soon enough.”

The car ride had been silent for the most part, except for Ananya’s constant attempts to make Devansh spill the destination. But like always, he remained unreadable, his gaze occasionally drifting outside the window, his lips curving into that smug half-smile every time she asked.

After an hour, the car finally slowed down. Ananya looked outside—and her eyes widened.

“Airport?!” she almost shrieked, whipping her head towards him.

Devansh calmly adjusted the cuffs of his shirt, utterly unbothered by her reaction. “Hmm. Airport.”

Her jaw dropped. “Excuse me, Mr. Singhania… yeh kya ho raha hai? Without telling me, without even a hint, you brought me here? At least destination toh bata dete!”

He finally turned to look at her, his dark eyes glittering with amusement. “Mrs. Singhania, ever heard of a surprise?”

“A surprise?” she echoed, blinking. “Devansh, jis tarha Tum leke Jaa rahe ho, Yeh toh kidnapping lag raha hai.”

That earned her a deep chuckle from him. “If this is kidnapping, then trust me, you’re the most pampered hostage alive.”

Before she could retort, the driver opened their door. Devansh stepped out first, extending his hand towards her. Ananya gave him a glare but placed her hand in his, letting him help her out. The moment she stood on the pavement, the cool morning breeze brushed against her face, mingling with the low hum of announcements echoing from inside the airport terminal.

Passengers wheeled their luggage trolleys, families hugged their goodbyes, and the metallic clinking of suitcase wheels filled the air. Amidst all that chaos, Devansh and Ananya walked side by side, his hand casually resting on the small of her back—steady, possessive, protective.

Ananya tried one last time, tugging at his sleeve. “At least tell me if we’re going domestic or international?”

Devansh smirked, his gaze straight ahead. “Wait and watch, Mrs. Singhania.”

Her mouth fell open, and she muttered under her breath, “Yeh pakka apna sar deewar pe thukwake aaya hai…”

Devansh’s lips twitched as if he’d heard her. “Careful, Mrs. Singhania. Main soch raha hoon next surprise mein tumhe airport pe hi chhod doon.”

She gasped. “You wouldn’t dare!”

“Try me,” he said smoothly, walking towards the check-in counters.

As they crossed through the VIP passage, Ananya’s brows knitted together. This wasn’t the usual boarding route. Her confusion only deepened when they were escorted straight to the private hangar.

And then she saw it—sleek, elegant, and shimmering under the sunlight—the Singhania family’s private jet.

Her lips parted in shock. “No way…”

Devansh, walking beside her with that signature calmness, simply nodded toward the stairs. “Way.”

“Devansh!” she grabbed his arm, eyes wide. “Yeh sab… for me?”

He tilted his head, amused. “Nahi. For my secret girlfriend in Paris. Tum bas bonus ho.”

Her jaw dropped. “Tum…” She lifted her hand as if to hit him, but he caught her wrist midair, smirking.

“Come on, Mrs. Singhania It's obviously for you. Now come.” With that, he guided her toward the staircase.

Ananya didn’t blink twice. She simply arched a brow at Devansh. “So… jet plan, huh?”

Devansh smirked, shoving one hand into his pocket. “Of course. Tum expect kar rahi thi economy class?”

She rolled her eyes with a small laugh. “Please, Mr. Singhania. Economy class aur humari kismat ki toh dushmani hai. I’m pretty sure maine apni life mein ek baar bhi uske seats dekhe nahi.”

Devansh chuckled, tilting his head. “Fair point, Mrs. Rathore-turned-Singhania. Private jets toh tumhari bhi bachpan ki toys rahe honge.”

“Exactly,” she replied with a smug little smile, walking ahead of him up the steps. “Difference bas itna hai, tum plane lete ho apni business trips ke liye, aur main summer vacations ke liye.”

Devansh shook his head, following her in. “Typical.”

Inside, the cabin glowed with understated luxury—cream recliners, wooden panels, a faint vanilla fragrance in the air. The hostess greeted them, and Ananya, perfectly comfortable, slipped into the seat near the window.

Devansh settled opposite her, watching her calmly adjust the recliner and cross her legs. Not even a flicker of surprise on her face.

“You’re too calm,” he remarked, narrowing his eyes slightly. “No excitement, no wide eyes, no ‘oh my God ' moment. Nothing.”

Ananya smirked, tucking a loose strand behind her ear. “Excitement tab hota jab tum mujhe double-decker bus mein le jaate. This?” She gestured around casually. “This is routine.”

Devansh let out a low chuckle, his gaze darkening. “Routine… tumhare liye. Lekin tumhe pata hai, routine mein bhi thrill ho sakta hai, Mrs. Singhania.”

She narrowed her eyes. “Thrill? Kya matlab hai tumhara?”

He leaned back, voice dipped with his teasing dark humor. “Matlab… tum mere saath ho. Aur mere saath ka routine hamesha unpredictable hota hai.”

Ananya felt her cheeks warm, but she quickly masked it with a shrug. “Tum pakka apna sar deewar pe thukwake aaye ho.”

Devansh smirked, enjoying her fluster more than he should.

The jet engines roared softly, preparing for take-off. Without saying a word, Devansh stretched across, took her hand casually, and locked his gaze on hers.

“Ready, Mrs. Singhania?”

She squeezed his hand back lightly, her lips curving. “Always.”

______________________________________________________________________________________

So what do you guys think that Where are our couples heading to???

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