🌙 Aanya’s POV
Trust.
Such a simple word, na?
But in this house, it was wrapped in too many layers — like a wedding gift no one really wanted to open.
It had been two days since I almost opened that envelope.
Two days since Kabir had hidden it again.
Two days since he started acting... different.
Not softer.
But careful.
Like he was walking on the edge of a knife — and I was the blade.
---
He made jokes now.
Small ones, half-smiles.
He even brought me ginger tea yesterday without me asking. Without poison, I hoped.
And today?
Today he’d planned a breakfast outing.
"Khaas invite mil gaya kya mujhe?" I had raised a brow this morning.
> “Nahi. Par tu envelope kholne wali thi. Mujhe laga distraction zaroori hai,” he said, smirking.
I froze.
He knew I was getting close again.
> “You’re not subtle, you know,” he added, tying his watch.
> “Aur tum toh distraction ke dictionary ke poster boy nikle,” I muttered.
He didn’t argue.
Just gave me that annoying half-laugh and handed me my phone.
---
☀️ Breakfast at the Café
His cousin Tanya joined us. So did my younger cousin, Yash.
Big mistake.
These two had no filter.
> “Waise bhai,” Tanya grinned, stirring her coffee, “Bhabhi se toh aap poora Pati, Patni aur Woh energy de rahe ho.”
> “Haan aur ‘Woh’ toh envelope hai,” Yash snorted.
Kabir gave him the look.
> “Tu zyada bol raha hai,” Kabir warned.
> “Bas bhai, pyaar chhupana hai toh acting thodi aur karni padegi,” Tanya added with a wink toward me.
> “Aur Aanya di... aap toh serious detective ban gayi ho,” Yash laughed.
I smiled awkwardly but my eyes stayed on Kabir.
> “What exactly is in that envelope?” I asked, testing.
Kabir took a long sip of his chai.
> “Kuch nahi jo tumhare Sunday ka mood kharab kare.”
> “Then let me decide that, Kabir.”
He leaned in slightly.
> “You’re not ready.”
My heart skipped.
Not because of the words — but the way he said them.
Quiet. Protective. Like he meant it.
Like he knew whatever truth waited inside that paper could burn me.
And maybe... it scared him too.
---
The day dragged on — too many cousins, too many snacks, too many “awww” moments from aunties pretending we were already madly in love.
I escaped to our room.
And that’s when Kabir followed.
He leaned on the door.
> “Still thinking about the envelope?”
> “Still trying to make me forget it?”
> “It’s a full-time job.”
I stared at him.
> “You’re distracting me on purpose.”
> “I’m married. I thought it was part of the deal.”
I rolled my eyes.
> “Very funny, Mr. Brooding Hero.”
He walked toward me slowly.
> “Tumhe kya lagta hai? Agar main chaahta toh tumhe pehle din hi sab sach bol deta?”
> “Haan. Wahi toh hona chahiye tha.”
> “Par tum kabhi mujhe sun’ti hi kahan ho?”
> “Because you don’t talk!”
He stepped closer.
> “Toh sun. Main tumse kuch nahi chhupana chahta tha. Bas... protect karna chahta tha. Tumse nahi, uss dard se jo tumne already feel kiya hoga.”
My throat tightened.
> “Tum mujhe protect kar rahe ho? Since when?”
> “Since I realised... tumhari aankhon mein wohi pain hai jo main roz ignore karta hoon.”
Silence.
I looked away.
He did too.
---
😴 Later That Night
Dinner was awkward. His parents laughed. My mom told some embarrassing childhood stories. His taayi kept staring at me like I was hiding devil horns.
I went to bed early.
I didn’t even realize when I fell asleep.
---
💭 Kabir’s POV
I couldn’t sleep.
Maybe because I was afraid she’d find it again.
Maybe because I couldn’t forget that look on her face at the café — the mixture of suspicion and something else.
But then...
I felt her.
Her arm around my chest. Her face tucked into the curve of my neck.
I froze.
It was 4:52 a.m.
She must’ve shifted in sleep. Blanket half-off, her breath warm against my collarbone, hair all over her cheek.
And me?
I didn’t move.
Because for the first time in weeks, I felt... peace.
Pure, unshakable peace.
---
I turned slightly, just enough to get a better view.
Her lashes curled perfectly.
Her lips parted softly.
A small frown between her brows, like she was dreaming of arguing even in sleep.
I reached up without thinking...
Tucked a strand of her hair behind her ear.
She didn’t stir.
I let my fingers linger near her cheek for a second longer than necessary.
My chest... hurt.
Not in a bad way.
But in a way that reminded me — this girl who I barely tolerated... might be the only person who ever looked peaceful in my arms.
I whispered, more to myself than her—
> “Tumhare saath sab kuch complicated hai, Aanya. Par tumhare bina sab kuch... khali.”
Then — BEEP BEEP BEEP — alarm shattered everything.
I jolted.
So did she.
> “Ugh, why is it so loud!” she groaned.
She looked up.
Saw how close we were.
Jumped.
> “You... I mean... I must’ve—”
> “Haan, tum ghoom jaati ho. Tumhari ek habit aur note kar li,” I teased, getting out of bed quickly before she saw the blush creeping up my neck.
> “Ajeeb ho,” she mumbled, but not in anger.
This time, it was softer.
Maybe even... fond.
And just like that, the space between us started closing.
Slowly. Silently.
But not completely.
Close, but not close enough.
---
Ready for Chapter 8?
Next up:
🌅 “The Morning That Wasn’t Supposed to Happen” — the full emotional fallout of that unexpected morning closeness… 👀🔥
Shall I begin?....
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