Morning felt lighter again.
After everything—
the talk, the truth—
something between them had softened.
But peace—
never lasted too long with them.
Meher stood near the mirror—
fixing her hair.
Wearing one of his shirts again—
loose—
comfortable.
Aarav sat on the bed—
watching her.
Quiet.
Too quiet.
"What?" she asked suddenly.
He didn't answer.
Just kept looking.
"Stop staring," she muttered.
"Can't."
She rolled her eyes.
"Creepy."
"Obsessed."
She ignored that—
continuing to fix her hair.
A few seconds later—
Aarav spoke again.
"You know… tum bilkul us jaisi nahi ho."
(You're nothing like her.)
Silence.
Meher froze.
Slowly—
she turned.
"Kaun?"
(Who?)
Aarav blinked.
Realizing.
Too late.
"Nothing."
"No."
Her tone changed.
"Kaun?" she repeated.
A pause.
Then—
"Someone from before."
That was enough.
"Oh…" she said slowly.
Turning back to the mirror.
But this time—
her movements weren't calm.
Sharp.
Annoyed.
"Good to know," she muttered.
Aarav frowned slightly.
"Kya?"
"Nothing."
"Meher."
She turned again—
arms crossed.
"Tumhari ex thi?"
(She was your ex?)
He stayed silent.
That silence—
was the answer.
"Wow."
She laughed slightly.
But there was no humor in it.
"Of course."
"Meher—"
"Kitni thi?" she interrupted.
(How many were there?)
Aarav exhaled.
"Don't start."
"Why not?" she shot back.
"You started."
He stood up now.
Walking toward her.
"Tum overreact kar rahi ho."
(You're overreacting.)
Her eyes widened.
"Oh really?"
"Yes."
She scoffed.
"Great."
Then turned away again—
grabbing random things from the table—
not even knowing why.
"Tumhe problem kya hai?" Aarav asked.
(What's your problem?)
She turned sharply.
"Problem yeh hai ki tumne kabhi bataya hi nahi!"
(The problem is you never told me!)
"Because it didn't matter."
"It matters to me!"
Silence.
Heavy again.
"Tum usse compare kar rahe the," she said quietly.
(You were comparing me to her.)
"I wasn't."
"You literally said 'tum us jaisi nahi ho'!"
Aarav ran a hand through his hair.
"Context alag tha."
(The context was different.)
"Explain."
He stepped closer.
Serious now.
"Main yeh keh raha tha ki tum us jaisi nahi ho…"
"…because she didn't matter."
Silence.
Meher blinked.
Confused.
"And tum…" he continued,
"…tum matter karti ho."
(You matter.)
Her anger paused.
Just slightly.
"She was part of my past," he said.
"You're… something else."
But Meher wasn't fully convinced.
"Phir bhi…" she muttered.
(Still…)
"Tumhari life mein koi aur thi."
Aarav nodded once.
"Haan thi."
Honest.
"No denial."
That honesty—
made it harder to stay angry.
"Par ab nahi hai," he added.
(But she's not there anymore.)
"Kaafi time se."
She looked at him.
Searching his face.
"Sure?" she asked softly.
Aarav stepped closer again.
This time—
very close.
"Main tumhare saath hoon."
(I'm with you.)
A pause.
"Yeh enough nahi hai?"
(Isn't that enough?)
Silence.
Then—
slowly—
her shoulders relaxed.
Just a little.
But she wasn't done.
"Still…" she said,
"I don't like it."
Aarav almost smiled.
"Jealous ho?"
(Are you jealous?)
She looked away.
"No."
"Liar."
She hit his arm lightly.
"Shut up!"
And just like that—
the tension cracked.
Slightly.
Aarav leaned closer—
smirking.
"Accha hai."
(It's good.)
She frowned.
"What?"
"Matlab tumhe farq padta hai."
(It means you care.)
Her cheeks flushed.
"Of course I care!"
Aarav's expression softened.
Then quietly—
"Good."
Because for him—
jealousy wasn't the problem.
Indifference was.
And Meher?
She was anything but indifferent.The room felt different.
Not loud.
But not peaceful either.
Cold.
Meher hadn't spoken to him since morning.
Not even a single proper word.
Just short answers.
Or silence.
Aarav leaned against the wall—
watching her.
Trying to stay calm.
But failing.
Because she was ignoring him.
And that—
he wasn't used to.
She stood near the mirror again.
But this time—
she wasn't in his shirt.
Not even close.
Aarav's eyes narrowed slightly.
A short dress.
Backless.
Elegant.
Bold.
Her hair—
soft curls falling perfectly.
Winged eyeliner—
sharp.
Confident.
Dangerous.
And as she applied her lip gloss—
slowly—
without even looking at him—
something inside Aarav snapped.
"Meher."
No response.
"Meher."
Still nothing.
She just adjusted her hair—
picked up her purse—
and started walking toward the door.
That was it.
Aarav pushed himself off the wall—
walking toward her quickly.
"Where are you going?"
She stopped.
But didn't turn.
"Out."
One word.
Cold.
"Looking like this?" he asked.
Now she turned.
Slowly.
Her expression calm.
Too calm.
"Problem hai?"
(Is there a problem?)
Aarav looked at her—
head to toe.
Jaw tight.
"Bohot badi."
(A very big one.)
She smirked slightly.
"Tumhari problem hai."
(It's your problem.)
That attitude—
that calm confidence—
irritated him even more.
"Kapde change karo," he said.
(Change your clothes.)
Her eyebrow lifted instantly.
"Excuse me?"
"I said change."
She laughed softly.
"Why?"
Aarav stepped closer.
"Because I said so."
Silence.
Then—
she folded her arms.
"No."
That one word—
hit his ego.
Hard.
"Meher—"
"Don't," she cut him off.
Her voice still calm.
But sharp.
"You don't get to tell me what to wear."
Aarav stared at her.
And for a moment—
he didn't respond.
Because she was right.
But he didn't like it.
At all.
"Tum mujhe ignore kar rahi ho," he said.
(You're ignoring me.)
"Hmm."
"And now this?"
She tilted her head slightly.
"This what?"
A pause.
Then—
"Jealous ho rahe ho?" she asked.
(Are you getting jealous?)
Aarav didn't answer.
But his silence—
said everything.
Her lips curved slightly.
"Good."
That word—
made him step closer instantly.
Closing the distance.
"Tum jaan ke kar rahi ho," he said.
(You're doing this on purpose.)
She didn't deny it.
"Maybe."
Their eyes locked.
Tension thick between them.
"Aur kitna ignore karogi?" he asked quietly.
(How long will you ignore me?)
She looked at him.
And for a second—
something softer appeared.
But it disappeared just as fast.
"Jab tak mann kare."
(As long as I feel like.)
Aarav exhaled slowly.
Trying to control himself.
But then—
his eyes dropped slightly—
and stopped.
On her.
And he looked away immediately.
Because even in anger—
she looked…
too much.
That irritated him even more.
"Fine," he said finally.
"Jao."
(Go.)
She blinked.
Not expecting that.
"Ja rahi ho na?" he added.
She held his gaze for a second—
then turned.
Walking toward the door again.
But just before leaving—
she paused.
"By the way…" she said without turning,
"…main wapas late aaungi."
(I'll come back late.)
And then—
she walked out.
The door closed.
Silence filled the room again.
Aarav stood there—
still.
Jaw tight.
Fists clenched.
Because this time—
it wasn't fear.
It was jealousy.
And something else.
Something he didn't like feeling.
Losing control.The night had gone too far.
Too late.
Too quiet.
And Meher—
was still not back.
Aarav stood in the living room—
checking his phone again.
No messages.
No calls.
Nothing.
His jaw tightened.
"She said late…" he muttered.
But this wasn't late anymore.
This was something else.
Minutes turned into an hour.
Then another.
Aarav couldn't sit still anymore.
He grabbed his keys—
walking out fast.
The streets were almost empty.
Dark.
Cold.
He checked everywhere he could think of.
Called.
No answer.
Again.
Nothing.
For the first time in a long time—
Aarav felt it.
Not anger.
Not control.
Panic.
"What if—"
He stopped himself.
Didn't finish the thought.
Because even thinking it—
was too much.
He drove back.
Faster.
Heart racing.
Mind restless.
When he reached home—
the silence hit him again.
Hard.
He stood there—
breathing heavy—
running his hand through his hair.
Frustrated.
Helpless.
And then—
the doorbell rang.
He froze.
For a second.
Then rushed to the door.
Opening it immediately—
And there she was.
Meher.
Standing there.
Completely fine.
His breath stopped.
Relief hit first.
Then anger.
Strong.
Sharp.
She looked at him—
calm.
Almost… innocent.
"Bye Mrs. Mishra," she said on the phone casually.
"I'll talk tomorrow."
That one line—
that tone—
after everything—
Aarav lost it.
Not violently.
But internally.
Completely.
He stepped forward—
taking the phone from her hand.
Firm.
Controlled.
"Don't call this number again," he said coldly.
His voice low—
but serious.
"Wrong number hoga."
(Must be a wrong number.)
And he cut the call.
Silence.
Heavy.
Meher looked at him.
Surprised—
but also… aware.
Aarav turned to her.
His eyes locked onto hers.
"Phone kyun nahi uthaya?" he asked.
(Why didn't you pick up the phone?)
No answer.
"Meher."
Still silence.
"I was worried," he said.
This time—
not angry.
Just… real.
She looked away slightly.
"I told you… I'll be late."
"That wasn't late," he said sharply.
"That was disappearing."
She crossed her arms.
Still holding onto her attitude.
"I'm fine."
"I can see that!"
A pause.
Then—
his voice dropped.
"But mujhe kaise pata hota?"
(But how was I supposed to know?)
That line—
hit differently.
She looked at him again.
And for the first time—
she saw it.
Not anger.
Not control.
Fear.
"I called you…" he continued,
"…again and again."
"You didn't answer."
Her expression softened—
just slightly.
"I thought—"
He stopped.
Didn't finish.
Silence filled the space.
Meher looked down.
Her grip on her purse loosened.
"I didn't think…" she whispered.
"I know."
A pause.
Then suddenly—
Aarav pulled her into a hug.
Tight.
Unexpected.
She froze.
For a second.
"You can be angry," he said quietly,
"…ignore me…"
"But don't disappear like that."
Her hands slowly moved—
holding onto him.
"I was scared," he admitted.
Soft.
Almost inaudible.
That broke something inside her.
"I'm sorry…" she whispered.
And for a moment—
everything else faded.
Because this wasn't about ego anymore.
Not about control.
It was about fear—
of losing something that mattered too much.The night ended quietly.
But something had changed.
Not outside.
Inside him.
Aarav didn't sleep much.
Even when Meher rested beside him—
finally calm—
he stayed awake.
Watching.
Listening.
Thinking.
Because last night—
wasn't just anger.
It was fear.
And Aarav didn't ignore fear.
He acted on it.
Morning came slowly.
Soft light entered the room.
Meher stirred—
waking up peacefully this time.
But the moment she moved—
Aarav's eyes opened.
Instant.
Alert.
She blinked.
"Tum soye nahi?"
(You didn't sleep?)
He didn't answer directly.
"Tum theek ho?" he asked instead.
(Are you okay?)
She nodded slowly.
"Haan…"
He sat up—
running a hand through his hair.
But his expression—
wasn't soft like yesterday.
It was focused.
Serious.
"From today," he said,
"tum akeli bahar nahi jaogi."
(You won't go out alone.)
Meher frowned instantly.
"What?"
"Jo suna wahi."
(You heard me.)
She sat up too—
clearly not liking it.
"Aarav, I'm not a kid."
"I know."
"Then don't treat me like one."
Silence.
Then—
his voice lowered.
"I'm not taking chances."
That tone—
was different.
Not controlling.
But final.
"Aarav…" she said softer now,
"nothing happened."
"Exactly," he replied.
"And I want it to stay that way."
She looked at him—
trying to understand.
"You're overreacting."
He shook his head.
"I'm being careful."
A pause.
Then—
"Driver hoga," he continued.
"Security hoga."
"Location on rahega."
Her eyes widened.
"Seriously?!"
"Yes."
She crossed her arms.
"I'm not agreeing to all that."
Aarav stood up.
Walking toward her.
Slowly.
"Meher," he said quietly,
"I lost control kal raat ko."
(I lost control last night.)
A pause.
"Next time… I don't want to reach that point."
She stared at him.
Because this—
wasn't anger.
It was fear again.
Hidden under control.
"I just want you safe," he added.
That line—
softened her instantly.
She looked down for a moment.
Then back at him.
"Thoda less intense ho sakte ho?"
(Can you be a little less intense?)
Aarav almost smiled.
"Try karunga."
(I'll try.)
Silence.
Then—
she stepped closer.
"Compromise?" she asked.
He raised an eyebrow.
"Explain."
"No over-security drama…"
"…but I'll inform you properly."
"And pick your calls."
Aarav thought for a second.
Then nodded.
"Deal."
She smiled slightly.
But before she could move—
he pulled her gently closer.
Not sudden.
Not rough.
Just… firm.
"Ek aur condition," he added.
"What?"
"Late night disappear mat hona."
(Don't disappear late at night.)
She rolled her eyes lightly—
but nodded.
"Fine."
He relaxed.
Just a little.
But even then—
his hand didn't leave her.
Because now—
he wasn't just in love.
He was protecting something—
he couldn't afford to lose.
.
.
.
.
.
Hopefully you liked it