Reha got ready and came downstairs to join everyone at the breakfast table. Her father, Yash, a few close family friends—everyone was seated, chatting, smiling, as if life had magically pieced itself back together overnight.
Ved followed her down silently, dressed sharply but formally, standing right behind her like a shadow—her shadow now. Her personal guard.
Reha tried not to look back at him, but she felt his presence like a flame just close enough to burn.
The table was full of morning cheer. Tea being poured, plates clinking, the scent of parathas in the air.
Her dad cleared his throat. "Now that everything is fine," he said, resting his arms on the table as if making an announcement, "I think it's time to restart what was almost lost."
Reha's fork paused mid-air.
She looked up. Ved, from behind her, shifted slightly.
Their eyes met.
Something was off.
"What do you mean by that, Dad?" she asked carefully.
Her father smiled, completely unaware of the storm under the surface.
"Your marriage, beta. You and Yash."
He gestured toward Yash, who was already grinning.
"I mean... Yash waited for you. He loves you so much. And this time, we'll do everything right."
Reha's throat went dry.
She quickly tried to swallow the bite of food in her mouth, but it caught in her throat and she started coughing violently.
In an instant, both Yash and Ved moved toward her.
"Reha, are you okay?" they said in unison.
They each reached for a glass of water, arms overlapping. But the room froze when she glanced at Ved's glass.
Time slowed.
She wanted to take it from him. Her heart knew who she wanted comfort from.
But her brain screamed Don't. Not here.
She turned, avoiding Ved's gaze, and took the glass from Yash.
"Thank you," she muttered, forcing a small smile.
Ved stepped back, returning to his place behind her. Emotionless. Professional. A stranger in the room full of people who didn't know that he was the only one who had actually saved her.
And Reha?
She couldn't even taste her food anymore.
Reha kept her eyes on her plate after that, trying to look unaffected while every word at the table felt like noise. Yash was talking to her father about dates and venues, her aunts discussing jewellery, and all the while, Ved stood behind her, silent, unreadable.
When breakfast ended, her father clapped Yash on the shoulder. "We'll talk more about this in the evening. I want everything finalized soon."
Reha pushed her chair back slowly. Ved was already moving toward the door to escort her upstairs.
But halfway up the stairs, she stopped. "You're quiet," she said without looking at him.
Ved's voice was low. "What do you want me to say, Reha?"
She turned to face him. "Anything. You can't just—"
"I can," he cut in, eyes locked on hers. "Because I'm here to do a job now. Your father trusts me to keep you safe. That's all."
Her throat tightened. "That's not all, Ved."
His jaw flexed, but before he could respond, Yash's voice floated from below: "Reha? Come down for a minute!"
Ved's eyes flickered with something—possession, maybe frustration—before he stepped aside."Go. He's waiting."
She walked past him, but not without feeling the heat of his presence lingering behind her, just like it always did… even when he swore he was only her guard now.
The day dragged on. Reha barely stepped out of her room, using the excuse of feeling tired. But her mind was restless — every sound from the hall, every knock on the door made her pulse quicken.
By evening, the house was glowing with warm light. Her father had gathered a few close relatives again in the sitting room. Laughter, tea, and sweets filled the air — all under the banner of "celebration."
Ved was there, standing by the far wall in a crisp black shirt, scanning the room like the professional he was pretending to be. His eyes found hers once, briefly, but he looked away before she could read them.
Her father's voice rose above the chatter. "So, I've spoken to the priest. If all goes well, the engagement can be next week."
The relatives clapped in delight. Yash leaned toward her with a smile that felt almost rehearsed. "It'll be perfect this time, Reha."
She forced a nod. "If you say so."
Across the room, Ved's hands tightened behind his back. He didn't move, but his gaze sharpened like a blade.
When the gathering ended, Reha excused herself. She took the long way upstairs, slipping into the balcony that connected her room to Ved's.
He was already there, leaning against the railing, his phone in his hand but untouched.
"You heard them," she said quietly.
He didn't look at her. "I hear a lot of things. Doesn't mean I can change them."
"You could," she challenged. "If you wanted to."
That made him turn. His eyes were darker than the evening sky behind him. "You think I don't want to? You think it's easy standing there watching them plan your life like I'm not—" He stopped himself, jaw clenched. "Forget it."
Reha stepped closer, her voice low. "Not easy for me either, Ved."
For a moment, neither of them moved. The air between them was thick with everything they couldn't say in that house full of ears.
Then, from inside, her father's voice called her name again.
Ved straightened, masking himself in that cold professionalism once more. "Go, Reha. Before someone comes looking."
But as she turned to leave, his hand brushed hers — just for a second. Enough to remind her that under the uniform, he was still him.
Reha turned to leave, but before she could take a full step, Ved's hand closed around her wrist — firm, unyielding, yet gentle enough to make her pause.
In one swift move, he pulled her toward him. She collided with his chest, her hands instinctively resting against him. His arms wrapped around her, not like a guard protecting his charge, but like a man holding on to something he refused to lose.
For a moment, the night fell utterly silent. No muffled conversations from inside, no clinking of cutlery — just the rustle of leaves and the cool breeze circling them.
His breath brushed her ear when he spoke, voice low and deliberate."Reha… to remind you — we're married. You can't just marry someone else like this."
She tilted her head back, meeting his eyes, their faces separated by a breath." I remember, Mr. Husband," she whispered, her tone daring him. "If you've finally remembered, too, then do something. Stop all this."
That was all it took. The last thread of restraint snapped.
Ved cupped her face in his hands, his thumbs brushing against her skin, and under the silver light of the moon, he kissed her. It wasn't hurried. It wasn't hesitant. It was deep, claiming, as if he was pouring every unsaid word, every unspent moment into that one touch.
Her fingers gripped his shirt, pulling him even closer, as if she could anchor herself in him. The rest of the world didn't exist — there was only him, only her, and the unshakable truth between them.
When they finally broke apart, breathing unevenly, his forehead rested against hers. "I'm not letting them take you from me again, Reha," he murmured.
And in that moment, she knew this time, he meant every word.