Viraj Janaat Singh POV:

The whole fucking day, she was seated on that bench. Yes, I was seeing her from my personal office. Her class was on the second floor, so as my office and nothing is a coincidence, it's well planned. 

She didn’t get up during the break between lectures. I didn’t think my words could affect her this much. I should be careful with my words; she seems to be more sensitive than I know. 

But the problem is I only know her from a distance– like a shadow. 

I never talk to her, never make my presence noticeable. 

I was always maintaining distance, enough so I could hear her voice, her laugh, and giggling. 

If I say I have never seen her eyes and face up so close that I’m seeing since the last two nights, will you believe me? 

Her class is over at sharp two pm, and she stood from her seat in the last when the entire class was almost free. Then she stretched her arms and left the class. 

A sign escaped me, “her classes are over, so as my admiring session.” I whispered to the walls of my personal office, and I made my way towards the outside office, where Leo was already seated and waiting for me. 

“I hit a boy, he was bullying a student,” he said, but his voice held sharpness that was not a validation of what he was saying. 

“Which student?” 

“Someone…and I hit him…now he is in the college medical department, lying in a bed, and doctors are treating him.” He never explains, but now he means…

“So what do you want from me?” 

He immediately stretches a paper, “Your sign.” 

It was a dismissal letter of the student; he was in his final year, and my one signature would ruin his three years. 

I looked at his face, that was showing he was damn serious, and then I signed it without any question and left the office. 

He never did that before. That student must be important to him. 

After burning some of my time with the college faculty, I made my way toward the canteen, “maybe my wife is still wandering here and there.” 

And I was right, she was coming from the canteen side. I am sure she must have drunk cold coffee with her first love— sandwiches. 

She was so involved in the phone that she collided, but I held her on time, and I realized she is thin. Her biceps and my forearm are the same size. 

Then, in an urge to hold something, she held my collar. Not a single man on earth put his hand there before that. 

Did I mind? Absolutely not. 

She has all the rights to me. 

She started claiming them, and first was my collar. 

“Don’t forget you have to go to Moonlight Villa from here.” I got her glare, cute, my Sassy Heaven. 

I thought of any comment, a small argument, at least something, but no, she just passed me without a word. And I saw her disappearing from my view. 

That time I really wanted to go and follow her, but I have some other responsibilities too. 

But one thing is new finds that I would tease someone, but that someone is my Heaven.

It was almost eight pm when I reached the house, and like always, it was quiet; everyone was in their room. 

Without wasting a single second, I went directly to the room where she was staying. I know I have to call her again, like last night, otherwise she will sleep here. 

I knocked, but didn’t get any response, so I entered. Then the bathroom door opened, and she stepped out with a towel in her hand, hair wet enough that water was dripping, and nose red. 

She cried.

She avoids my eyes af if I will not catch her. Then she moved to the dressing table and sat. 

The towel from her hand was going near her wet hair, and I stopped it, taking that towel from her hand, and started scrunching her hair gently.

No rubbing, but scrunching.

When I felt it dry enough to use the diffuser, I pulled the towel away and kept it aside. 

“What happened, Janaat?” I asked, looking at her reflection in the mirror, but she didn’t lift her eyes from her lap. 

She shook her head without meeting my eyes. The glow that was there till evening is not there. Something definitely happened. I swear, if that old man is the reason behind this, then he will see my worst side.

I reached for the diffuser and started my work. I didn’t push her to speak. I dried her curls, and she didn’t spare me a single glance. 

Something is bothering her.

She stood on her feet and turned to me, still not making eye contact, “I’m tired,” her voice told me how drained she was.

I hummed and held her hand to sleep in our room. She was walking slowly, so I paused and slipped my arm under her knee and the other around her back and lifted her. A gasp left her mouth at my sudden action, then her head claimed my shoulder.

She didn’t meet my eyes. “You are tired, let me help you.” Still no expression, not a single word. I didn’t rush to fill the space with explanations or questions. I knew that sometimes answers don’t arrive first; care does.

But some other realization made my muscles tight. She was light, almost featherlike, nearly 45 kilograms. Holding her doesn’t feel like I’m holding a human; she also looks so fragile. That’s not enough for a teenage girl who is going to become a woman, my woman.

I could feel the breath of her body against my collarbone, the soft tremor of her heartbeat. Her this behavious causing my heart unbearable pain. 

I like her goofy, taking, and glaring. 

I moved with a patience that wasn’t slow so much as deliberate. I kicked the door open and lay her on the bed, tucked her in with the duvet. She closed her eyes instantly, and I caressed her head and forehead. 

Slowly, her breathing evened out, and she slept. 

But the question is, what made her tired? 

Her face looking pale and soft, I tucked a loose curl of hair away from her face, careful not to disturb her. “Sleep, I’m here,” I whispered to her sleeping form, and unconsciously, her lips curved in a small, almost imperceptible half-smile. 

I kept the pillow on both sides, like she didn’t feel alone in bed. She is a cuddler who needs something to hold for deep sleep. Taking a glance at her, I walked toward her room, where I might find something

The room was calm and predictable– not a trace of the reason behind her tiredness. 

So I entered the washroom. There, near the bathtub, were the clues: wet clothes clinging to the edge of the bathtub. The red bow that was adorning her hair was on the floor, discarded.

But why were the clothes wet? Did she…? Did she bathe with the clothes on? What bothers her this much?

I crouched, not out of a desire to invade. But picked that abondow red bow, My grip tightened on the wet fabric as if squeezing would somehow squeeze the truth out of it. 

Then I picked up her wet clothes and put them in the laundry basket. 

Something hurt her. How is this possible in my presence? I can’t digest this fact that was in front of me–taunting me. 

I came back to my room, and she was sleeping, in the same position, without hugging pillows. I quickly changed into a t-shirt and trousers, and didn’t want to leave her for a single second.

I still have to figure out what happened. But I will do it later; now she might need me. 

I was standing by the bed when she stirred, the sheen of sweat clinging to her skin, her breath ragged and uneven. Her eyelids fluttered open in fear, her brows creased, and I heard the tremor in her voice when she murmured something I almost didn’t catch. I immediately crouched down near her face, “Heaven,” I called her. 

“You’re safe,” I breathed, my fingertips tracing the line of her jaw, easing the tension from her features. 

Her eyes opened wider, with the fear of a nightmare. “Did you have a bad dream? Hea…” I asked, letting the nickname I kept tucked away on the tip of my tongue back.

She nodded, breath hitching as if the dream remembered itself. I shifted closer, sat on the bed, and cupped her face, feeling the pulse beneath her skin.

Her lip trembled, and she looked up at me with eyes that held longing for safety. I touched her forehead first with the back of my hand. Thank god her body temperature was normal. 

“Can I hug you?” she asked in her trembling voice.

Instantly, I pulled her towards me; action speaks louder than words. 

She didn’t have to ask, she can hug me, kiss me, and f*ck me too. Whom am I to deny my Heaven? She is my wife; she has all the rights over me. 

Her head met my heart, and I wrapped my arms protectively around her. 

“Tight wala,” she whispered against my chest, and I pulled her in my lap. She moved into me without hesitation, hips settling into the curve of my thigh as if she’d always belonged there. Her arms found their place softly around my neck. 

My one hand cupped the back of her head, and another holding her entire back. “Did you get scared?” 

“Hmm.” 

My hand starts moving on her head, calming the storm that arises, “Did you saw bed dream?” 

“Hmm.” 

I pull her move into me, her soft flush pressed on my hard chest, there was no gap to pass the air as if I can protect her from the nightmare, “You are safe.” 

Her chin brushed my shoulder, and she buried her face in the crook of my neck. “Hmm.”  I could feel her heartbeat in sync with mine. 

The AC temperature rose, and the heat between our bodies increased. My arms wrap her tiny body like a blanket, holding her, shielding her. 

We stayed like that, not rushing, letting the moment until the nightmare’s echo faded from her breath. I could feel the tremor in her frame ease, the tension in her shoulders fading away. Her body relaxed into mine with a sigh that sounded like the last breath of a storm.

Then she pulled from hug, from my lap, from me. It f*cking hurts. 

She sat straight against the headboard of the room and looked at me…wanted to talk about something. So I have waited patiently. 

She stayed silent, watching me, and I also didn’t choose to speak. She was looking nervously, scared I might start throwing questions, but I didn’t. 

I took the glass from the side table and brought it forward to her lips; her expression softened, she leaned a little, and her dry lips met with the edge of the glass. She took two sips and gulped it.

I pulled away the glass, questioning with my brows, “If she wants more,” she understood and shook her head. I also placed the glass in its previous place. 

She rubbed her hands together, resting them in her lap, forming a proper sentence in her brain, then finally she spoke, “Hmm…” Then she stopped. 

I still didn’t choose to speak and waited, watching her. She looked away, then in her lap, then again back to me, “Is there any problem with the way I dressed? I mean, I didn’t wear revealing clothes; these are the clothes I am comfortable in. Also…” She paused. 

F*ck that old man, his words are still hovering in her mind. 

Her breath hitched, not in defiance but in a quiet ache of self-doubt. “Is it really a problem?” 

I looked at my eyes with her green eyes, and leaned a little, just a little, “Is there any problem with your dresses? No, a big no. If someone has a problem, that’s their problem. You can wear whatever you are comfortable in.”

“Pakka mein…” she paused after that. 

My hand rose and touched the corner of her lips, there a water drop resting, there and distracting me. 

“Hmm, pakke wala pakka. You can wear whatever you want. You can also wear revealing clothes as long as you are comfortable. Don’t let anyone's comment affect you.” 

Then I cupped her cheek with my hand, and my finger started moving behind her ear. “You have to be strong-headed, not every person around you gonna like you, and you also don’t have to like everyone. If someone is affecting you that much, then name that person; I’ll personally see them.” She looked up, a flicker of resolve warming her eyes.

Now I know what was bothering her, so my expression was calm, and there was no trace of frustration. 

My thumb never stopped her tiny movement on her cheeks, and unconsciously he face leaned into my touch. 

“Listen to me, very carefully. You are still growing, still developing. You are still in your teenage years, grow like a woman who is sure within herself. Don’t let other opinions affect you.  Let confidence be your armor, guiding you through doubts and echoes, and  I’ll be your shield, standing close, shielding that armor from the sharpest arrows of judgment. I’m always here to support you, so trust yourself; you are more than anyone's comments. ” 

“Hmm, ” she said, almost a whisper with a tiny smile.

That tiny smile was enough to keep my rage in control for now. 

“Are you hungry?” I asked, and she blinked, then nodded. 

My thumb brushed her corner of lips as their own, and I asked, “what you want to eat?” before I lost my control, I pulled my hand away. 

“Can I have Cheetos?” 

Cheetos? What was that now? 

She looked here and there, so I opened my phone and handled to her. She looked at the screen and then at me, and passed a narrowed-eyed look. That same day, she gave me the judging look on our first meeting.

Then she installed the app– BlinkKit. So this mere app causes me to look hard. 

Then she placed an order, and after twenty minutes, her order was here. 

I presented that blinkkit bag, and her eyes softened the spark like a light, as if she got the treasure. 

She is grinning with that red nose, then opened it, and there are black, blue, red, and green color packets. She opened the red packet, filled her tiny fist, and then put it in her mouth. “mmmmmmmmmm.” 

She was half-laughing, half-sighing sound that meant her heart was aligned with heaven itself. And I was admiring her like always. 

My eyes are still not used to seeing her so close. 

The crunch was enough to wake the house from its nap, but our floor was soundproof. 

The nightmare fear was fading with every crunch, and her eyes transformed into a big grin. Each bite seemed to release a tiny volcano of her tiredness. 

I like how the smallest thing gives her so much joy. 

I like the way her eyes are dancing while chewing. 

I like the mischievous smile tugging at the corners of her mouth. 

She was fisting them. Those unhealthy snacks she was eating were so unhealthy, but now they are the reason for a smile on her face. So I am…watching her as she savored the last crumb with the same grin. 

But somewhere I felt jealous of that non-living thing. 

If I were a poet, I’d write about the way she tilted her head when taste touches her tongue. If I were a writer, I’d craft a script on how she was savoring them. But I wasn’t either of those things, not really. 

“Do you want one?” she asked, offering the bag when it was half eaten by her. 

That’s enough she offered, later or sooner, who cares. 

I picked one and took a single, glorious bite, feeling the crunchy edge. Honestly, they were not that good. 

But for her, they are treasures, she ordered four flavors and each in quantity of two, so in total eight packets. Finally, the packed comes to an end, so does my watching and admiring session. 

“Enough for now,” I said in a soft tone. 

“Haan, Haan, I already ate a burger, pasta, and two cold coffees earlier with the bhabhi.” Her grin vanished when the sentence ended, then she gave me her sheepish smile as she wasn’t supposed to tell me this, but her tongue slipped. I cock my brows as I want to say, “Really.” 

But I didn’t say anything; we already had a scene on food once, and I can’t afford her tears again.

“What about Dadu said in the morning?” smart, she is changing the topic now. She thought little, then gave me a long stare, “about our reception?”

I know she doesn’t want to disclose our marriage. Our marriage is not like a normal arranged marriage; it was arranged by me. But I didn’t force her into this marriage. I waited for her to say yes like a patient man. 

I am a man with morals. If she doesn’t agree to marry, then I will wait for her. I’ve already been waiting for her for the past few months; I can wait a few more months. 

But thanks to dad, she agreed to their own. I didn’t force anyone. But still, for her, I’m totally a new person. And for her, it is a surprise marriage.

“You don’t have to worry about anything. I already talked to the old man about the reception. On Sunday, only one couple will be introduced in front of society. They will be bhai-bhabhi. We will keep our marriage status as per your command. If you don’t want to tell anyone about us, we will not tell. When you want to introduce me as your husband, I’ll be there behind your back, waiting for your words.”

She was looking at me with a red siren nose. Then, without any awareness, I took her hand in mine, and my thumb started moving back of her hand. 

“A day after tomorrow, I mean on Sunday, there will be a function for bhai-bhabhi only, not for us,” I informed her with composed and calm composure.

“Their reception?” she asked, raising her brows. “Hmm, only theirs.” 

She nodded with a sigh. “But we both have to buy a gift for them. Will you help me? On Saturday, there will be only two classes. After your classes, we can both go shopping, I mean to buy a gift for them.” 

She narrowed her eyes, yanked her hands away from mine, “Why do we both give them a single gift. I will decide on my side of the gift; you can buy a gift of your own. I am not giving them a gift with you.” 

My Sassy Heaven is back. 

“I need your help for a gift, now that you are Bhabhi’s best friend. So, as her best friend, will you help me?”

She glared this time and said, “Fine…wase bhi men relay dumb in gifting.” 

She only means other men, I am not involved in them…or could I? 

“We should sleep,” she said, lifting the duvet, her way to say get up from my side. 

But again, my hands moved as if they had their own f*cking brain, “Don’t stress your little head because of people who don’t matter in our lives. You can share all your troubles with me.” Holding her one hand, I plant a kiss, light as a feather.

“You won’t judge me?” she asked in a whisper. 

“Never, I’ll give back trouble whoever is troubling you,” I said as a vow. 

She giggled, and I’m done. She should giggle like this all the time. I’m here to take all the stress. It’s a man's duty to take the stress. A real man never lets her woman take the stress. And my woman is growing to be a woman; stress is not healthy for my wife. She will grow into a confident woman who will inspire others, and I’ll make sure that.

“Okay, let’s sleep now,” she said, and getting up from her side, I lay beside her, on my side. 

Soon she slept facing me, and I was lying on my back, my one arm settled under my head, waiting for her to sleep so I could hold her close. 

Then again, my eyes fixed on her face, admiring the woman. My woman.

I would recommend this to all husbands or men who are reading, just try this once…you will thank me later. 

Then it happened.

The most awaited moment, her knee hit me, yeah, again in the same spot, but this time I was prepared. 

I already placed a cushion on my d!ck. 

A chuckle escaped from me at this situation. I am getting used to this combat. 

Next was her arm that settled on my chest. Now that I know she is in deep sleep, I can hold her. The hand was rested under my neck, stretched, and placed under her neck. My finger gently starts moving in her curls, careful enough not to wake her up. 

My Heaven moved more into me, her nose into my chest now, seeking warmth. I pulled the duvet over to cover her properly and placed a kiss in her curls. 

She is really tempting me, just by being herself. And that feels dangerous. But I really don’t want to run away from her kind of danger; instead, I want to surrender in front of that danger. 

.

.

.

At 1:00 am

Veer Heer Singh POV:

My sleep got disturbed because I felt some movement. My hand rose to feel my wife beside me, but it was empty. I opened my eyes immediately. And look beside my pillow, then where I was feeling some movement. 

There she was, her head resting on my lower stomach and her cheeks touching my manhood, making me

hard. 

The air feels thick, suffocating.

I hold myself up a little, then she rubbed her cheeks on my manhood, maybe trying to find a flat surface. She makes me aroused and hard. 

This made my body go on high alert. I know we have a line that can’t be crossed, but her innocent action was thinning that line. With this speed, things were moving. I knew the line would disappear eventually. 

Her action makes me feel the weight on my mind, but for now, I can feel the weight somewhere else, too. 

I cursed in my mind.

Then again, she rubbed her cheeks and this time more forcefully. 

I immediately got up and carefully slid her upward until her head met my chest. She stirred, letting out a soft and annoying huff. 

I looked down at her face; her eyes were half open, and sleep clung behind her lids. 

“Heriye, you are troubling me. Come here, sleep holding my chest, not my lower abdomen.” I whispered and earned a drowsy huff. 

“Sone dijiye na, raat hai abhi,” she mumbled in a sleepy voice.

(Let me sleep, it’s still night.)

I breathed a sigh of relief, “aap bhi hume sone dijiye.” 

(You should also let me sleep)

Again, she rubbed her head on my chest and huffed, half of protest and half of surrender. 

I tried to sleep, but a new problem arose. Her soft and full breasts are sticking to my chest like fabric, making it difficult for me to breathe evenly. 

I knew I was the one who told her not to wear a bra while sleeping, and now I’m the one who is struggling. 

I can feel the air shift and the rapid beats of my heart.

Now Bebo also climbed the bed and sat near my face. “Your mom will get angry if she finds out you climbed on the bed,” I whispered to Bebo. She understood and jumped from bed. Heer hates when Bebo sits on the bed because her gray hair falls on the sheet, which causes her to sneeze. 

I slowly separate myself from her and go to the washroom for a cold shower. I was standing under a cold shower just to calm the heat that she caused. I never knew that I would have to take a shower in the middle of the night, and the reason will be my innocent wife, not her so-called innocent actions. 

After a few minutes under the shower, I came out of the washroom and put on a fresh t-shirt and trousers. 

Scrouch near Bebo, “you know your Mom is troubling me, and see after causing me trouble, she is still sleeping like a kid.” I pat Bebo's head so she can sleep. After some time of patting, she also fell asleep. 

I lay again on the bed, waiting for sleep. 

She thinks I didn’t notice the empty food containers. My mind raced, and it clicked. My baby sister can bring junk into our house, because Vaani is pregnant and Bua strictly controls her diet. She used to eat junk, but she understood it could harm the health of the baby, so she stopped and listened to her mom like an obedient girl. 

Then my wife chose this moment to talk and opened her eyes, that was filled with sleep. Her arms came around my chest, and she hugged me. 

Something was off; this hug is different, it’s showing hurt. Did someone hurt my Heriye? Did Dadu again say something?

Kissing her forehead, I asked, “Kya hua humari sundar si Heer ko?” 

(What happened to my beautiful Heer?)

Opening her eyes and tilting her head just enough to catch my gaze, she whispered, “Baby humari Bebo se dar kar yaha se bhag gyi.” 

(Baby got scared of Bebo and ran from here)

I start brushing my finger on her cheeks, warmth seeping into my fingertips. “Some people are scared of cats, Heer. It’s normal. Like you are also scared of cockroaches.” 

She took a deep breath and then hummed, still looking at me with those sleepy eyes, “From now onwards,” I continued, choosing my words with care, “when the baby comes here, you should hide the bebo in our room. Maybe on the outside roof, and also you can use a glass door.”

 She hummed again, listening, weighing each instruction the way a child weighs a bedtime story.

“Aur kya-kya kiya aapne aaj?” I asked with a big smile. 

(And what else did you do today?)

Resting her head on my chest, she began to recount, “Hum aaj salon gaye thy Vaani ke sath.” Her voice carried a mix of excitement and relief; the little details she shared felt like a small treasure to me.

(Today I went to the salon with Vaani)

“Did you try anything new?” I asked because she was awake now, and to go back to sleep, she needed a taking or maybe a question session. 

She didn’t respond. Her fingers found the fabric of my t-shirt and tightened just a fraction, the signal that she wanted to say something or not to say at the same time. 

So finally I asked, “How was the junk food you ate earlier?” She thinks she can hide things from me. 

She raised her head from my chest and looked with wide eyes, thinking how I caught them. “Sone dijiye hume,” saying she buried her face in my chest and covered herself with the blanket. 

My wife definitely knows when to ignore. I hummed and started smiling. 

I have to talk with VJ; both should eat healthy food. But I can’t deny her anything directly. She might get angry and stop talking to me. Heer hate the word “no.” 

I was still thinking about how I can stop both of them from eating junk, then…again… her soft and full breasts pressed into me. 

I looked at my sleeping innocent wife, who caused me a not-so-called innocent problem some time ago, and is doing the same now without any awareness. 

She is fast asleep, and I am again struggling to breathe evenly, so I focused on anything else. 

I never wanted to marry. But when I saw her for the first time in that small flower shop, something changed. I started visiting her shop daily, and then I got to know she was special. She is a slow-developing person; her brain development is just half that of a normal person. 

She is not a weird child, but a child who is curious about so many things. Those who love to ask questions, who were cared for in the crowd, because she had never been in crowded spaces. 

I can’t let her go with anyone else. She is so pure that she needs time to understand things. She needs someone who can preserve her innocence and give her the love and attention she needs. She needs a patient man who can answer all her curious questions. 

She deserves the whole world, and to give her world, I have to surrender my desires. I did exactly that. 

I looked down, and she was fast asleep, her softness still glued to my chest. 

I had a choice, I always had a choice, hold that line and erase all the lines that are causing our distance. 

But I always choose to maintain the line. I’ll never be the first one to cross that line. When the lines disappear, she will take the lead in every step.

I pull her little towards me. And her head found its place against the pillow. 

Then she did something new…her bare feet started mingling with my legs. 

She was wearing loose palazzo with a short kurti. That palazzo ride up, her bare legs start rubbing against my legs. The heat again starts to build up, and I know I’ll have to take another cold shower. 

“Perfect.” 

To be continued…

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⬩➤ Up next ~ Janaat claimed Viraj again? But how?

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