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Advika's POV

Just then, my eyes caught a small bag tucked neatly on the shelf. For a second I frowned... then memory bloomed.

Navya and Saanvi.

They had insisted, "Tu mana karegi toh bhi hum leke denge."

A soft breath of relief escaped me. I quickly pulled the bag closer and opened it, fingers suddenly lighter, hopeful. Inside lay a few sarees... carefully folded and lovingly chosen.

My chest tightened at the thought of them, of laughter, of a world that already felt far away.

I picked a maroon saree with heavy work, running my fingers over the embroidery.

Rich.

Graceful.

Appropriate.

"This will work..." I murmured quietly to myself. With that fragile comfort, I stepped into the bathroom.

The shower washed away the lingering heaviness of sleep... but not the strange fluttering inside me.

When I finally draped the saree, pleat by pleat, I took my time.

Careful.

Precise.

As though I was assembling not just an outfit, but a version of myself meant for this house. For this role. For this life.

I stepped out of the closet... and paused. The room was empty, the bed perfectly made. No sign of him.

"He must be awake..." I whispered. Something about that realization sent a tiny, uninvited ripple through me. I moved toward the vanity mirror and settled into the chair.

This...

...this had always been my favourite part of the day.

My quiet ritual, the moment where I belonged only to myself, where the world hadn't yet begun asking things from me.

I reached for my earrings, then bangles.

The delicate clink... clink... clink filled the silence.

Soft.

Musical.

Oddly comforting.

A smile tugged at my lips before I could stop it. I gently rotated my wrists, just to hear them sing again.

Such a small sound... yet it grounded me.

Reminded me- I was still me.

Then a tiny bindi, a faint stroke of kohl.

Mascara and lastly a tinted lip balm.

Nothing excessive.

Nothing loud.

Just enough.

Just... myself.

Finally, I stood.

My fingers reached for the waist chain, my favourite, always had been.

I never knew why... but there was something deeply feminine, deeply personal, about the way it rested against my skin. Like a secret adornment meant only for me.

I fastened it slowly, feeling that familiar, delicate thrill. My eyes lifted to the mirror and I was busy in admiring myself when I noticed behind me. And my breath stopped.

He was there.

Leaning slightly against the doorframe.

Arms folded across his chest.

Silent.

Watching.

He looked like he had just returned from a run, hair messily falling over his forehead, slightly damp, a few rebellious strands refusing discipline.

His T-shirt clung faintly to his chest,

darkened just enough to hint at effort, at heat, at movement. But it wasn't that.

It was his eyes.

God...

his eyes.

Fixed on me. Unwavering, intense and dark. And impossibly deep, like something far more dangerous than the ocean.

For a second, the entire room seemed to still. Even the air forgot how to move.

And my heartbeat- my poor, traitorous heartbeat- forgot how to behave.

I was still lost... completely, dangerously,

in his eyes, when I realised he was moving.

Toward me.

Slow.

Unhurried.

Certain.

My heartbeat didn't just race... it skyrocketed.

Each step he took echoed louder inside my chest than in the room.

And then-

there it was.

A flicker. Brief. Unreadable.

Something shifting in his gaze before I could grasp it. Before I could understand it. He stopped behind me.

Close.

Too close.

But not touching.

His presence wrapped around me, the warmth of him, the quiet heat of his body- sent a nervous shiver down my spine.

His eyes never leaving mine. He leaned slightly closer to my ear. My breath hitched and then his voice- low, soft, a whisper meant only for me...

"Bahut khubsurat lag rahi hai aap..." My fingers tightened involuntarily. I tried to keep my expression steady... but a faint blush betrayed me.

Just then, he murmured again, calm, almost teasing, "Bas ek cheez ki kami lag rahi hai..." I frowned slightly. Confused. My eyes immediately darted to the mirror.

Earrings.

Bindi.

Kohl.

Mangalsutra.

Everything seemed in place. Then, my gaze froze.

My parting. Empty. Sindoor.

A wave of guilt crashed into me. Sharp.

Sudden.

How could I forget?

How could I overlook something so...

symbolic? So final. So real.

Before I could react, before I could even speak, he moved. I watched through the mirror as he leaned forward, reaching for the small silver box resting quietly on the vanity.

His movements were slow. Deliberate. Almost reverent.

He opened it and took a pinch of vermilion between his fingers. Then his eyes lifted to mine.

Not commanding. Not forceful. But asking. Softly.

"May I?"

My throat went dry. Words seem to abandoned me. So I simply nodded. Barely.

For a moment, the world shrank.

Just him.

Just me.

Just this breathless space between us.

His fingers rose. Steady and careful. As though he wasn't just touching me, but honouring something sacred.

The vermillion brushed against my hairline. Soft, warm and unbelievably intimate.

My breath trembled.

My pulse thundered.

He filled my maang with sindoor not like a ritual performed out of duty... but like something that mattered to him. Something he felt.

A few tiny particles slipped loose, falling lightly onto my nose. I blinked. Startled.

And before I could react, his fingers moved again.

Gentle.

Unhurried.

He brushed them away with the softest touch. A touch that sent my heart spiralling all over again. Then, his gaze returned to mine.

Deep.

Dark.

Burning with something I wasn't ready to name. "Ab..." he whispered, his voice lower than before, "...aap aur bhi zyada khubsurat lag rahi hai."

Heat rushed to my face.

My cheeks.

My ears.

Everywhere.

"Shukriya..." I stammered softly.

Flustered.

Breathless.

"H-hum aate hain..."

And before my traitorous heart could embarrass me further, I turned and almost fled. My steps quick, hurried, desperate for distance.

For air. For control. But behind me, I was certain... I heard it.

That faint,

amused chuckle.

Author's POV

The moment Advika disappeared from Ekansh's sight, the faint trace of amusement on his face faded and replaced by something far more serious.

His jaw tightened slightly. Eyes darkening with a quiet resolve.

"I'll make sure..." he murmured under his breath, voice low, steady and dangerously determined, "...you believe in love again."

A pause and a slow exhale. "And I think..." A subtle smirk ghosted his lips.

"...I might need someone's help for that."

With that thought, Ekansh turned and strode toward his gym. Purpose in every step.

Meanwhile, Advika walked through the long hallway, her pace slow, mind anything but calm.

Shouldn't he be angry?

After everything I said last night...

How can he be so... composed?

Her brows furrowed faintly, heart still unsettled and still replaying his expressions. His voice, his eyes. Always those eyes. Lost in her thoughts, she descended the staircase carefully.

The mansion stood wrapped in early morning silence- Soft, still, barely awake and from the quietness around, it was clear, not many had risen yet.

Advika adjusted her pallu slightly and turned toward the kitchen but then

she stopped. Near the entrance, she spotted Dadaji. Walking slowly, as though preparing for his morning stroll.

A gentle smile touched her lips and without hesitation, she changed direction. "Good morning, Dadu," she said softly, voice respectful and warm.

Bending gracefully, she reached for his feet. Dadaji's eyes softened instantly. A fond smile spreading across his wrinkled face.

He placed a loving hand on her head.

"Humesha khush rahiye, laado."

"Let's take a walk," Dadaji said gently, his voice carrying a softness only age and love could create, and a pause. "I know you have many questions in your mind."

Advika looked at him. Just for a second as if wondering how he could read her so easily, then she nodded quietly and respectfully and fell into step beside him.

The garden welcomed them in silence.

Bathed in the pale gold of early dawn. At one side roses bloomed everywhere- crimson, pink, white- their fragrance drifting lazily through the morning air.

Dadaji inhaled deeply. A familiar smile touching his lips. "Pata hai, laado..." he began, voice lighter now, tinted with memory, "ye gulab..."

His gaze moved across the garden. Soft and distant, "...behad pasand hai aapki Dadi ko."

Advika's eyes flickered with curiosity. "We planted them together," he continued. "Ek ek gulab..." a faint chuckle escaped him. "...apne haathon se lagaya tha humne."

There was love and nostalgia in his tone. "When I found out how much she adored roses..." He shook his head slightly, smiling like a young man trapped inside an old body. "...I wanted the entire garden to bloom for her."

Advika listened quietly with a small smile forming and awe shimmering softly in her eyes. They walked slowly, unhurried, until they reached a wooden bench resting beneath the wide shade of a mango tree.

Both sat. Comfortable and peaceful. Ahead of them, the sun began its ascent- slow, majestic, painting the sky in hues of amber and gold.

But Advika's expression changed and the softness faded, replaced by something heavier. She turned toward him. Eyes searching. "You said..." her voice was careful and tentative, "...that you and Dadu were friends when I was a child."

A pause and a frown. "Then why..." her brows knitted slightly. "...don't I remember you?"

Silence.

Dadaji's smile vanished. Not abruptly. But quietly. Like a curtain falling and for a fleeting moment, his eyes turned cold.

Hardened by something unseen, something old. Yet when he spoke, his voice remained calm, gentle and controlled.

"Well..." He looked ahead, not at her. "...you don't remember most of your childhood, do you?"

Advika froze and shock flickered across her face. "How..." her voice dropped to a whisper. "...how do you know that, Dadu?"

Now, he turned to her with eyes unreadable and heavy with truths long buried.

"Because, laado..." he said softly,

"...some wounds don't just erase memories."

A pause.

A breath.

"...they hide them."

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