Chapter 17

Shehnaaz had just sent a quick text to Sanju, letting her know about the recent events. She tried to focus on the conversation with the women, but her mind kept drifting to the thought of Sidharth. Rita ji was bubbling with excitement as she eagerly showed Shehnaaz all the wedding preparations. Every little detail was thoughtfully planned.

As Shehnaaz looked around, her heart swelled with emotion. It was all so real, so overwhelming. She was about to marry the man who owned every part of her—her heart, her body, her soul. She could hardly believe it was happening. “Wo mere ho na ho… par main sirf unki hun… humesha ke liye,” she thought to herself, her heart beating faster with each word.

But amidst all the excitement, a single thought nagged at her, growing stronger with every passing second: Sidharth is hungry. The worry gnawed at her, making it impossible for her to stay calm. She tried to push the thought away, but it kept creeping back into her mind. She wanted to do something, anything, to ease his hunger. Rita ji and Tayiji noticed Shehnaaz’s restlessness, and they exchanged a knowing smile. They understood her concern, even without her saying a word.

After what felt like forever, Shehnaaz finally found her voice, though it came out hesitant and shaky. “Maa, woh… umm… Vihaan ko bhook lagi hogi… kya main kuch banake rakh du? Uthega toh kha lega,” she stammered, trying to keep her real thoughts hidden.

Rita ji’s smile widened, full of warmth and affection. “Isme puchha kya hai beta, tumhara ghar hai… jo man hai karo… Varsha will help you,” she replied, her voice as gentle as ever. She then called out to Varsha, instructing her to assist Shehnaaz in the kitchen.

As Shehnaaz made her way to the kitchen, her mind was still racing. Mera ghar… The words echoed in her head, filling her with a mix of emotions. It was strange, yet comforting, to think of this place as her home. A place where she belonged, where she could care for those she loved.

She quickly got to work, preparing pasta just the way Vihaan liked it. She put all her care and attention into the dish, hoping it would be enough to satisfy his little appetite. But her thoughts kept drifting back to Sidharth. She knew he was hungry too, and every fiber of her being wanted to take care of him, to bring him a plate of food. But the fear held her back. What if he got angry? What if someone else did?

Her mind spun with these thoughts, paralyzing her with worry. She was so lost in her own world that she didn’t even notice when Rita ji quietly entered the kitchen. “Ja de aa usse… usse bhook lagi hai na,” Rita ji said softly, her words filled with understanding and encouragement. She was talking about Sidharth, and Shehnaaz felt her cheeks flush with heat as if she had been caught red-handed.

Gathering her courage, Shehnaaz picked up the plate and made her way upstairs. Her heart pounded in her chest, her thoughts a jumble of fear and determination. She sent a quick prayer to Mata Rani, asking for strength, for protection, in case Sidharth got angry. But deep down, she knew she was ready to face his anger if it meant she could ease his hunger.

She reached his door and took a deep breath, trying to steady herself. Her hand trembled slightly as she raised it to knock on the door, careful not to wake Vihaan.

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Sidharth was working on his laptop, but his mind was far from focused. The blue glow of the laptop screen reflected off his face, highlighting the deep frown that had settled there. His thoughts kept wandering back to Shehnaaz, his heart heavy with a mix of anger and something he couldn’t quite place. He had made it clear that he was hungry, yet no one had bothered to bring him anything to eat. The irritation gnawed at him, making it hard to concentrate on his work.

But deep down, he knew that when he thought of “no one,” he really meant Shehnaaz. And when he thought of “anything,” what he truly craved was the pasta she made. The way she put care into everything she did, the way she knew what he liked without him ever having to say it—these were the thoughts that had taken hold of him, refusing to let go.

He sighed heavily, running a hand through his hair, trying to shake off the frustration. He didn’t want to admit it, even to himself, but he had been waiting—hoping—that she would bring him something to eat. Her absence gnawed at him more than the hunger itself. The thought that she might have left, made his chest tighten in a way that felt unbearable.

He tried to focus on the work in front of him, but it all seemed pointless without her. He wanted to be angry with her, to hold on to the irritation that she hadn’t come to him. But all he could feel was an overwhelming sense of emptiness.

His eyes flicked to the door every few seconds, half-expecting her to walk in, plate in hand, with that hesitant smile she always had when she was unsure of his reaction. But the door remained closed, and the silence of the room only made the emptiness inside him grow.

The pasta—he had mentioned it so casually, almost offhandedly, but it wasn’t just about the food. It was about the comfort, the care that came with it. He knew that if she brought him pasta, it meant she was thinking of him, caring for him in the way only she could. 

With a sigh, Sidharth leaned back in his chair, staring at the ceiling as the emotions he tried so hard to suppress started to surface. He had pushed her away, yet here he was, longing for her presence, for the simple act of her bringing him a meal. The contradiction tore at him, leaving him feeling more lost than ever.

Sidharth was deep in thought, his mind clouded with the weight of his emotions, when he suddenly heard a soft knock on the door. Startled, he looked over at Vihaan, who was fast asleep beside him, his small chest rising and falling with each peaceful breath. Not wanting to disturb him, Sidharth stood up quietly and walked over to the door, deciding to open it himself rather than call out.

He expected to see one of the helpers on the other side, maybe bringing him something trivial. But when he opened the door, he was taken aback, his breath catching in his throat. There, standing just outside, was Shehnaaz. She was holding a tray in her hands, her eyes fixed on anything but him, avoiding his gaze with a nervousness that made his heart skip a beat. For a moment, he simply stood there, rooted in place, unable to process what he was seeing.

She didn’t leave… A soft voice inside him whispered with a sense of relief that he couldn’t deny. A wave of warmth spread through his chest, and for a fleeting moment, all his irritation and frustration melted away. She was still here.

But just as quickly, he pushed the feeling away, trying to convince himself that he didn’t care. I am least bothered… he told himself sternly, but the words felt hollow, even to him.

His eyes traced her figure, noting the way she stood there, almost hesitantly, as if unsure of her place. She came for him… the soft voice inside him insisted.

No, she came for Vihaan… he countered, trying to keep his emotions in check, but the battle within him was fierce.

Shehnaaz, meanwhile, grew increasingly tense with his silence. Her heart pounded in her chest, each second feeling like an eternity. She had come here with so much fear, so much uncertainty, and now she was standing in front of him, waiting for some kind of reaction. Finally, unable to bear the quiet any longer, she spoke, her voice soft and trembling, “Um… woh, Vihaan ke liye pasta banaya hai… umm… aap… aap lenge?” Her words were filled with hope, though she didn’t dare let it show too much.

Sidharth’s eyes never left Shehnaaz as he stood there, trying to make sense of the storm of emotions raging inside him. Her presence, so close and yet so distant, stirred something deep within him that he was desperately trying to ignore. She stood at the door with a tray in her hands, her nervousness palpable, and the small flicker of hope in her eyes was something he couldn’t just brush off.

He wanted to maintain his distance, to stay cold and detached, but there was something about the way she spoke, the way she offered him the pasta with such quiet concern, that made it impossible. She had made the pasta for Vihaan, that much was clear, but Sidharth couldn’t help but wonder if there wasn’t a part of her that had done it for him too.

He couldn’t bring himself to say anything more than a gruff, **”Hmm,”** before turning on his heel and walking back inside the room. His voice was low, almost indifferent, but even that small sound carried more emotion than he intended. It was a small concession, and he knew it. He left Shehnaaz standing at the door, uncertain and hesitant, and it took everything in him to not turn around and look at her again.

Shehnaaz, on the other hand, was left confused, her heart pounding in her chest. She had expected him to take the tray from her hands and maybe even shut the door in her face, leaving her outside, alone with her doubts. But he did none of that. Instead, his simple, noncommittal response had left her in a state of uncertainty. What did his “hmm” mean? Was it an invitation? Was it permission? She wasn’t sure if she should step inside or stay put. It was his room, after all, and she wasn’t even sure if he would allow her to be there after they were married, let alone now.

The thought of staying with him in the same room, being that close to him, filled her with a mix of fear and anxiety. She remembered the last time they were together in one room—how intense, how overwhelming it had been. It was an experience that had left a lasting impression on her, one she wasn’t sure she was ready to relive.

But she also knew she had to give him the pasta. She couldn’t just leave without making sure he had it, especially when she knew how hungry he was. And then there was Vihaan’s bowl—she needed to set that down too.

Taking a deep breath, Shehnaaz decided to take the risk. With her heart in her throat, she finally stepped inside, moving quietly, almost on tiptoe, as she made her way to the nearby table. Every step felt heavy, the tension thick in the air, but she was determined to see this through. Without making a sound, she carefully placed the tray on the table, her hands trembling slightly as she did so. The silence in the room was almost deafening, and she could feel Sidharth’s gaze on her, even though she didn’t dare look up.

Without a word, his hand moved purposefully toward the table, reaching for the bowl of pasta. As his arm brushed past her side, Shehnaaz shivered, the proximity sending a jolt through her. She stood frozen, too afraid to move, too unsure of what he might do next.

Sidharth picked up the bowl, his movements deliberate, though his mind was anything but calm. Having her so close, feeling the tremor in her body as he reached for the pasta, only intensified the emotions swirling inside him. He couldn’t understand why she affected him this way, why he couldn’t just let her leave, let her go without a second thought.

Sidharth brought the bowl between them, almost as if it was a shield against the overwhelming emotions he was grappling with. His hand moved almost automatically, picking up a few pieces of pasta with the fork. He raised it to her mouth, his actions both surprising and shocking him in equal measure. What was he doing? Why was he doing it? It was as if his body had completely stopped listening to his brain, acting on an impulse he couldn’t control. He was stunned by his own behavior, feeling as if he were losing his mind. These days, everything he did around her felt irrational, beyond his control.

Shehnaaz was equally stunned. Her wide eyes darted up to meet his, and the moment their gazes locked, time seemed to freeze. In that intense, silent exchange, she felt her heart melt instantly. The connection between them in that single moment of eye contact was powerful, almost tangible, carving itself deep into her soul. It was as if that look alone declared that she belonged to him, even if he would never openly acknowledge it.

But as much as she wanted to lose herself in the warmth of his gaze, confusion and pain quickly followed. Why was he doing this? Why was he creating a spark of hope in her heart, only to crush it underfoot when the moment passed? She knew better than to let herself believe that this tenderness could last. She knew he was in a daze, acting on some fleeting emotion, and she wished with all her heart that this daze would last forever.

But she knew the truth. He hated her. She understood that he was a good man, someone who found it difficult to hurt others, even her, but that didn’t change the reality of their situation. She had brought chaos into his life, disrupted the happiness he had once known. She had messed up their story, a story that could have been beautiful, and she had caused him a pain that could never be forgiven.

Even with all these thoughts swirling in her mind, she couldn’t resist the gentle offering he made. Slowly, softly, she opened her mouth and accepted the bite he offered. Her lips trembled slightly as they closed around the fork, leaving a faint pink lipstick stain on the metal as she took the food into her mouth. She chewed the pasta carefully, the taste almost irrelevant compared to the storm of emotions swirling inside her.

Sidharth watched her, his eyes fixed on the delicate way she accepted the food. He noticed the pink stain her lips left on the fork, and something inside him tightened, a mix of emotions he couldn’t name. He had no idea why he was doing this, why he was feeding her, why he couldn’t just walk away and maintain the distance he had sworn to keep. But here he was, watching her with a softness he didn’t want to admit to himself.