AUTHOR POV

The lock clicked open with a sound louder than it should’ve been. Ruhi hesitated at the door, keys still in her hand, the weight of them suddenly heavier than she remembered.

Anirudh stood just behind her, silent, his presence filling the space without touching it. She didn’t look at him. She didn’t have to. She could feel every inch of his tension—the quiet kind, the kind that builds when too much has been said and not enough has been forgiven.

"It's yours. And I want you to open it. Our home." He said and she just nodded.

She pushed the door open.

The apartment smelled faintly of closed windows and untouched memories.

Ruhi stepped inside. She didn’t say anything.

Anirudh followed, slowly, setting down the bags in the hallway. He looked around—at the walls, the furniture, the silence.

“You want to sit?” he asked, voice low.

She didn’t answer right away. She walked toward the window instead, drawing the curtains back. Light flooded the room, soft and warm, highlighting the dust motes in the air like tiny ghosts.

“I’ll clean up,” he said behind her.

Ruhi nodded. “Okay.”

It wasn’t much. But it was something.

And after everything, maybe something was enough—for now.

"Rooh, dekh le na. Sahi lag raha hai ab?" He asked and she turned to see around.

(Does it look alright?)

She nodded smiling. "The place is so beautiful."

He stepped closer to her. Cupping her cheeks he looked into her eyes. "Jagah thodi choti hai. But, main koi kami mehsoos nahi hone dunga tujhe."

(The place is a little small. But I won't let you feel absence of anything.)

She smiled widely. "Main bade Ghar me akela rahi hu Ani. Mujhe ye sab mat bol. Being with you is enough for me." She hugged him and said, "Bas iss baar tu mujhe chhod ke mat chale jaana."

(I've been in a big house, alone. So don't say this kind of things to me. Just don't leave me this time.)

He pulled away to look at her. "Kabhi nahi."

(Not again)

"Paani chahiye." She said out of no where and he smiled. "I'll show you the kitchen. Come with me."

(I'm thirsty.)

He said and they headed towards the kitchen.

He made her drink water from a glass and sit on the kitchen counter. Princess treatment you know?

"Do you know why I brought you here?" He asked and she nodded.

"Kyuki tu ghar me sabke saamne Sharif banne ka natak karte karte thak gya." Wrapping her arms around his neck she spoke again. "Tujhe kya laga? Tu bolega 'I wanted to share my childhood memories' aur main maan lungi?"

(Because you're tired playing the 'good boy' in your house. What did you think? You will say 'I wanted to share my childhood memories' and I'll accept it?)

He just started laughing without answering anything. "Partially true."

"Partially?" She raised an eyebrow.

"Yes baby. And this doesn't have any childhood memory." He said and she frowned. "Then?"

"First of all. I needed to protect you... From whoever is there in Chauhan house to who doesn't want us to be together." He paused and take a deep breathe. "And second of all, This is the apartment I lived in when I was working for my first job. I didn't take advantage of my father's business. So I rented this apartment and stayed here. This apartment saw my sleepless nights. The nights I worked hard. And I wanted you to spent some time with me here."

She just smiled and pulled him closer. Her thumb brushed over his face. "I'm so proud of you Ani."

"I'm sorry for being a bad husband." He said and she immediately shook her head as a no.

"You're not a bad husband. It was just a bad time. But now we're together again. And everything is going to be okay." She assured and he finally felt relieved.

She ran her fingers through his hair, slow and deliberate, like she was memorizing the feel of him again.

"Why did you left me Ani?” she asked quietly.

He leaned into her touch. “Because… I was an asshole.”

Ruhi’s gaze softened. “No you're not. I had fault too. To be honest, it was my fault only...”

He didn’t respond. Instead, he kissed her palm, eyes closed, like it grounded him.

They stayed like that for a while—quiet, connected.

Then she slid off the counter and looked around. “We need groceries,” she said suddenly, lightening the mood. “This place feels like a bachelor pad from 2015.”

He chuckled. “Rude.”

She picked up a dishtowel and started wiping the already-clean counter, more to distract herself than anything else.

“So,” she said without looking at him, “when do we have to go back?”

“Hum kahin nahi ja rahe jab tak tum ready nahi ho.” His voice was firm, decisive. “No one decides for us anymore.”

Ruhi turned to him, eyes searching. “Not even your family?”

He took a breath. “Especially not.”

A silence settled between them, not heavy this time, just… thoughtful.

Then Ruhi said softly, “Ani?”

“Hmm?”

“Let’s start over. Not pretend like nothing happened. Just… start new. From here. From now.”

He nodded slowly. Walked to her. Took her hand. Kissed the back of it. “Deal.”

She smiled. And for the first time in a long time, it reached her eyes.

The afternoon sun was still soft when they stepped out of the apartment. The streets were lazily busy.

Ruhi clutched Anirudh’s hand tightly as they crossed the road. It felt like a date—the kind they hadn’t had in weeks. No pretense, no pressure, just...them.

“I want ice cream,” she said out of nowhere, eyes lighting up as she spotted a little cart under a neem tree.

“No,” Anirudh said immediately, without even looking in the direction she pointed. “Absolutely not.”

She stopped walking. “Kya? Kyun?”

(What? Why?)

“You just got better, Rooh. You had a severe cold. Do you want to lose your voice again?”

She pouted, dramatically. “But I need it. The weather is so nice. It’s perfect ice cream weather.”

“It’s never ice cream weather when your throat is still hurting."

She crossed her arms, face tilted up toward him defiantly. “I’ll eat it very slowly. Like...half a spoon every five minutes.”

He laughed, then caught himself and tried to look stern again. “No.”

She kept staring at him, all big eyes and stubborn silence. The kind he always lost to.

“Ruhi…” he warned.

“One scoop,” she bargained, holding up her finger. “Bas ek. I won’t even finish it. Promise.”

He sighed, already defeated. “You’re impossible.”

“I know,” she beamed, already dragging him toward the cart. “You love that about me.”

He didn’t answer, but he let her pull him along.

She ordered one small vanilla cone with chocolate syrup. Anirudh paid and handed it to her like he was giving away a piece of his soul.

She took one dainty bite, looking up at him with the satisfaction of a queen.

“I swear, if you wake up tomorrow sounding like an old uncle with a sore throat, I’ll say ‘I told you at least ten times.”

She licked the ice cream and shrugged. “Worth it.”

They walked slowly through the market—buying vegetables, arguing about which dal to get, Ruhi sneaking glances at earrings from a roadside stall, Anirudh grumbling about how she never sticks to the shopping list.

But somewhere between the tomatoes and the turmeric, between his warnings and her laughter, something settled between them—something soft, domestic, real.

Not perfect. But theirs.

RUHI POV

Ahhhh… college again.

I zipped up my bag with a heavy heart, the sound of the zipper slicing through the silence like a verdict. Anirudh had already messaged—he was waiting downstairs with the car. I lingered for a second longer, taking in the quiet of the apartment. My sanctuary… or maybe my cage.

With a deep breath, I stepped into the lift, descending like a reluctant soul into something inevitable.

The car door clicked open and I slipped in beside him. He didn’t look at me right away.

“Boht ho gaya, Ruhi,” he finally said, voice firm but low. “Ab padhai karni hogi. Seriously, okay?”

(It's been enough Ruhi. You've to study seriously now. Okay?)

I only nodded. What could I say? He was right. The silence that followed wasn’t empty—it was loaded with everything left unsaid.

The gap had been long. Too long. Marriage, chaos, compromises—my books had been shut for so long they felt like relics. And now I had to pass this semester. Not just pass—survive. God knows what would happen if I didn’t.

The college gate loomed closer, that familiar rush of nerves spiking in my chest. As we rolled to a stop, Anirudh glanced at me and offered a faint smile.

“I’ll pick you up,” he said.

“Of course,” I replied, letting a smirk break through. “Abhi toh aap humare patidev hai.”

(You're my husband now.)

“Hmm,” he murmured, amused.

I reached for the door. “Bye,” I said lightly—but just as I turned, his hand closed around mine.

“Wait.”

I looked back, puzzled. “What?”

His gaze held mine, intense. No smile now. Just something raw in his eyes. “Give me a kiss.”

My breath caught.

I blinked at him, heat rising to my cheeks. “Anirudh…” I warned, glancing nervously out the window. “We’re literally outside the college gate.”

He leaned in anyway, that mischievous smirk playing at the corners of his mouth. “So?” he whispered, his breath warm against my ear. “Let them watch. You’re my wife, remember?”

I rolled my eyes, trying to resist the grin tugging at my lips.

But before I could protest further, his hand slid behind my neck and he pulled me in, gently but deliberately. His lips brushed mine—soft at first. Teasing.

And then… he bit my lower lip.

I gasped, half-shocked, half-laughing against his mouth. “Anirudh!” I tried to pull back, but he caught me again, this time deepening the kiss, full of heat and playful hunger.

“You taste so good.,” he murmured against my lips.

“That’s because I had coffee,” I mumbled, trying not to melt right there in the passenger seat.

“Makes sense,” he said, his thumb stroking the side of my face. “Addictive.”

I shoved his shoulder lightly. “You’re going to get me late.”

“You mean you’re going to walk into class looking like you’ve been kissed within an inch of your life?” he teased, eyes dark with amusement.

I groaned and covered my face. “This is not how I imagined my comeback to college going.”

He laughed, the sound rich and wicked. “This is exactly how I imagined it.”

I finally managed to open the door, legs slightly shaky. Before stepping out, I turned and narrowed my eyes at him. “Tonight, I’m locking the bedroom door.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Challenge accepted.”

“Not a challenge,” I muttered, cheeks burning as I slammed the door shut and walked off—aware of his eyes on me the whole time.

God help me.

As I walked through the college gates, the familiar buzz hit me like a wave—students rushing past, professors already looking stressed, the faint smell of chai and old books in the air. After everything, it still felt like home. A chaotic, unforgiving, nostalgic kind of home.

“RUHIIIIIIII!”

I turned just in time to see Meera charging at me like a human missile, her arms wide open.

“Meera!” I braced myself for the impact and hugged her tightly. She smelled like that same ridiculous vanilla perfume she always drowned herself in.

“AHHHH YOU'RE BACK, finally!” she squealed. “I thought you'd just become one of those mysterious married girls who disappear forever!”

“Trust me, I thought the same,” I muttered.

Vishal appeared behind her, cool as ever, with his signature half-grin. “Madam wapas aayi hai, par padhai karne ya pati se bhaag ke?”

“Oh shut up,” I laughed, punching his arm.

Then came Neeti, clutching her bag and iced coffee, still the perfectionist. “You’re late,” she said flatly.

“I got delayed,” I replied, rolling my eyes. “Let me guess—first class is Anatomy?”

“Yes. And surprise surprise…” She gestured dramatically. “We have a new guy.”

“New student?”

Before she could answer, we all filed into the Anatomy hall—cold, clinical, the smell of disinfectant thick in the air.

And there he was.

Tall. Fair. Hair styled like he’d just walked out of a salon. Akshay Kumar style. Sitting in the second row like he already belonged there. As I walked to my seat, his eyes met mine.

Instantly, he smiled. Boldly.

“Hey. You must be Ruhi.”

I blinked. “Uh… yeah?”

“I’m Rahul. New transfer. First day here and already overwhelmed.” He grinned wider, as if we were already friends. “Mind if I sit with you?”

I hesitated. “Sure,” I said cautiously, not wanting to seem rude.

He slid into the seat next to me. “You’ve got kind eyes,” he said immediately.

I coughed. “Okay…”

From behind me, Meera stifled a laugh.

Rahul leaned closer. “So, married, huh?”

My head snapped toward him.

“How—?”

He pointed to my nuptial chain. “Oh, it’s just obvious. But still—you don’t look married. You’ve got that… single girl energy.”

I turned sharply, locking eyes with Meera.

“Who is this guy?” I mouthed.

She shrugged, mouthing back, Creep, but kinda hot.

I rolled my eyes. Great. Day one, and this Rahul guy already had the social awareness of a soap opera villain.

Professor Arora walked in just in time, sparing me further weirdness.

But as the class began, I could still feel Rahul glancing at me. Occasionally smiling. Like we shared some inside joke I definitely wasn’t in on.

Something about him felt… off.

Too friendly. Too fast.

And I had a sinking feeling this wasn’t the last time he’d make things awkward.

Classes dragged on, and my brain was fried by the end of the day. Anatomy had been brutal—and not because of the subject, but because Rahul wouldn’t stop talking.

“So you and your husband, love marriage?”

“Do you drive?”

“You’ve got that calm vibe—like you meditate or something.”

I had nodded, smiled politely, and tried my best not to stab myself with a pen.

When I finally stepped out of the building, the sun was beginning to set and the campus was bathed in that soft golden light.

I spotted Anirudh’s car across the lot—he was leaning against it, sunglasses on, arms folded.

God, he looked good.

I waved and walked faster, but just as I neared the car, a voice called behind me.

“Ruhi! Wait up!”

Rahul again.

I turned, mentally sighing. “Yeah?”

He jogged up to me, completely unaware—or maybe uncaring—that my husband was just a few feet away.

“Hey, you forgot your notebook,” he said, holding it out.

“Oh. Thanks,” I said, taking it quickly.

“And hey,” he added, lowering his voice just slightly, “if you ever need help with anything... I’m pretty good at anatomy.”

I blinked at him. “Noted.”

I turned and walked to the car. Anirudh had taken off his sunglasses and was watching—really watching—Rahul.

“Friend?” he asked as I got in.

“Classmate,” I corrected.

Anirudh didn’t reply right away. He started the engine, his jaw tight. “He seems… friendly.”

“He’s new,” I said casually, buckling my seatbelt. “Doesn’t know anyone yet.”

Anirudh pulled out of the lot, eyes on the road but his voice quiet. “Too friendly.”

I sighed. “You’re overthinking. He’s just awkward. You know how some people are.”

“He’s not awkward. He was flirting with you.”

I turned to him, amused. “And what if he was? I’m married. He’s wasting his time.”

Anirudh glanced at me. “Doesn’t mean I won’t break his jaw if he keeps it up.”

I chuckled, leaning my head back against the seat. “Jealous much?”

He smirked. “obviously. My wife is beautiful enough!"

I reached over and squeezed his hand. “Don’t worry. He’s not even a blip on my radar.”

He didn't say anything after that, but his grip on the steering wheel loosened. Barely.

And from the passenger mirror, I caught one last glimpse of Rahul watching the car drive away.

Still smiling.

The ride back was mostly quiet—comfortable silence, broken only by the hum of the engine and the occasional traffic honk.

But every few seconds, I could feel Anirudh glancing at me.

“What?” I finally asked, looking over.

He shrugged, eyes still on the road. “Nothing.”

“Liar,” I said, grinning.

He didn’t deny it. Instead, as we pulled into the parking area of our apartment building, he turned off the engine and looked right at me.

“I don’t like him.”

I blinked. “Still on that?”

“Yep.”

“Anirudh…” I sighed dramatically, “you’re acting like I’m going to run off with Rahul the anatomy boy who thinks I ‘have kind eyes.’”

Anirudh narrowed his eyes. “He said that to you?”

Oops. Wrong timing Ruhi.

I tried to backtrack. “I mean, it was just a comment. A weird one. He says a lot of things. You should hear how he talks to Neeti.”

Anirudh didn’t budge.

We stepped out of the car and headed to the lift, and that’s when he did it.

Without warning, he grabbed my hand—firmly, not aggressively—and laced his fingers through mine. “He should know you’re taken.”

I smirked. “Oh, you want me to start wearing a flashing neon sign that says 'married to Anirudh, don’t flirt or die?'”

“Not a bad idea,” he said, deadpan.

I laughed, shaking my head. “You’re ridiculous.”

As the lift door closed, he gently pulled me closer, arms slipping around my waist. “I’m serious. I don’t like the idea of anyone else thinking they have a chance. Even in their head.”

I looked up at him. “Do you know how hot you are when you’re all… territorial like this?”

His eyes darkened just a shade, and his smile curved wickedly. “Oh? Then maybe I should remind you why you married me.”

My heart fluttered at that.

The lift pinged, but neither of us moved.

He leaned down, brushing his lips against mine in a slow, deliberate kiss—one that said 'you’re mine' without ever needing to speak.

When we finally reached our door and stepped inside, he tossed the keys on the table and looked at me again.

“Just saying, Ruhi… I might need to start dropping you to class too.”

I burst out laughing. “You mean like a schoolkid?”

“Exactly. Escort services by Anirudh. Special offer: possessiveness included.”

I shook my head, still grinning. “God, you’re dramatic.”

He winked. “Only when it comes to you.”

The evening melted into warmth and comfort. I had changed into my old college hoodie, and Anirudh—still a little smug from his earlier "husband with attitude" moment—was stretched out on the couch, flipping through a movie list.

“Rom-com or thriller?” he asked, tossing me the remote.

“Neither. Let’s just talk.”

He raised an eyebrow. “What’s this? My wife wants emotional bonding? Ye toh list mein nahi tha.”

“I want snacks too,” I added.

He chuckled, pulled me into his lap, and kissed my temple. “That’s more like it. What about me?”

"I meant a snack." I said and he frowned for a moment. But then I finished, "Not a meal."

"Ahhh Rooh, I'll start blushing now." He said in the most dramatic tone possible.

We sat like that for a while—legs tangled, the hum of the AC in the background, and our phones tossed somewhere on the table. I felt safe. Settled. Like the chaos of college and awkward classmates couldn’t touch this space we’d built.

That’s when my phone buzzed.

I ignored it.

Then it buzzed again.

Anirudh casually reached for it, still talking. “Might be Meera or something. Want me to check—?”

He glanced at the screen.

And just like that, his whole body went still beneath me.

I turned my head slowly. “What?”

He didn’t answer at first. His jaw clenched.

Then, he held up the phone. Screen facing me.

Unknown number:

“Hey, Rahul here… hope I’m not disturbing. Just couldn’t stop thinking about your smile today. You’ve got that ‘dangerous distraction’ vibe. Sweet dreams 😇”

My heart sank.

“Anirudh—” I started.

He stood up gently, setting me aside as if I were made of glass. Calm. Too calm.

“This guy,” he muttered, voice like steel under ice, “really wants to lose his jaw."

I grabbed the phone from his hand. “It’s nothing. I didn’t even reply. I didn’t ask for this—”

“I know,” he said quickly, his tone shifting. “I’m not angry at 'you', Ruhi.”

He ran a hand through his hair, pacing. “I just—what the hell is wrong with him? This is day one and he’s sending you stuff like this? He knows you’re married.”

“I’ll block him,” I said, already opening the message thread.

Anirudh exhaled, came over, and gently took the phone from me. “No. I’ll reply.”

I froze. “Anirudh…”

He smirked. But it wasn’t playful. It was sharp. Cold. Very husband energy.

He typed quickly and handed the phone back to me.

You:

This is Ruhi’s husband. I’d suggest keeping things strictly academic from now on. Hope that clears things up. 🙂

My eyes widened. “Okay, now you look like the psycho.”

“Good, because when it comes to you... I am one.” he said, pulling me into his arms. “Let him think twice before even saying 'hi ruhi' tomorrow.”

“Are you going to fight someone on my first week back?” I teased, resting my head against his chest.

“If he makes me,” he muttered.

And despite the drama, the tension, the ridiculous message...

…I’d never felt more fiercely protected in my life.

The next day at college, everything felt a little too quiet.

Meera noticed it first. “Why do you look like someone texted you something gross at 1 a.m.?”

I side-eyed her. “Because someone did.”

Neeti raised an eyebrow. “Rahul?”

I nodded. "But wait, how do you know?"

Neeti smiled foolishly. "Because I was the one who gave him your number. So sorry, I didn't expect him to me like that. Oh god, so creepy. But what did you say?"

“Anirudh replied.”

Vishal nearly dropped his coffee. “Oof. RIP Rahul.”

“Shhh,” I hissed. “He’s coming.”

Sure enough, Rahul walked toward us across the courtyard—same confident walk, but something in his posture had changed. A little more controlled. Guarded.

And right behind me, I heard the rumble of a familiar engine.

I turned to see Anirudh stepping out of the car, jaw set like stone. He hadn’t said much on the drive over, but I could tell he was still running that message through his head.

Rahul spotted him and stopped in his tracks.

Then, to my surprise, he walked straight toward both of us.

“Ruhi,” he said, stopping at a polite distance. “And… Anirudh, right?”

Anirudh’s gaze didn’t waver. “Yeah.”

Rahul smiled tightly. “Listen. About last night—I’m really sorry. I think I crossed a line. That was stupid of me. I guess I got too comfortable too fast.”

I nodded. “Appreciate the apology.”

He turned to Anirudh. “And I wasn’t trying to disrespect your relationship or anything. I know she’s married. I just… misread things, maybe.”

Anirudh raised an eyebrow. “You definitely misread.”

Rahul nodded quickly. “Understood. Won’t happen again.”

And then… he smiled.

Not a sheepish, embarrassed smile.

A slow, steady smile—like he knew something we didn’t. Like this wasn’t the end of anything.

“Anyway,” he added, voice smooth, “I hope we can all be cool now. I’d hate for things to get weird.”

“Things are already weird,” Meera muttered under her breath.

I elbowed her.

Anirudh stepped forward, just a little closer than necessary. “Cool’s fine. Just remember—my wife doesn’t come with open access.”

Rahul raised his hands in mock surrender. “Crystal clear.”

And then he walked away, blending back into the crowd like he hadn’t just dropped a strange energy bomb in our morning.

I exhaled. “Well… that was civil.”

Anirudh didn’t reply. His eyes were still on Rahul’s back.

“There’s something about him,” he muttered. “Something off.”

“You’re just being protective again,” I said gently, sliding my hand into his.

“Maybe,” he murmured. “But just stay sharp around him, okay?”

I nodded.

But deep down, I couldn’t shake the feeling that Anirudh was right.

Rahul had apologized.

But it didn’t feel like an ending.

It felt like a warning.