His Rooh | Deep Affection

✿ Six • A New Chapter ✿

Ruhani stood at Jodhbir's apartment door, a bright bouquet of white roses in her hands and a wide smile on her face. She pressed the doorbell, eagerly waiting for him to answer. After a couple of minutes, the door swung open, revealing Jodhbir. Her smile quickly faded as she noticed his injured hand, neatly dressed, and the redness in his eyes.

"Hey," he greeted, attempting a smile.

Ruhani's eyes were drawn to his gloomy expression. She stepped inside after he moved aside to let her in, her happiness diminishing at the sight of his condition. After he closed the main door, he turned to her, his face a mix of confusion and sorrow.

"You're here?" he asked.

"I came to wish you a happy birthday. Happy birthday, Jodh," she replied with a warm smile, extending the bouquet towards him.

"So, now we're on nickname terms. Thank you, Rooh," he said, smiling as he accepted the bouquet.

Jodhbir quickly placed the flowers in an empty vase and filled it with water, a gesture that didn't go unnoticed by Ruhani. She smiled at his thoughtfulness.

"Come, let's sit and chat," he suggested, still holding her hand as they moved to the sitting area.

As they both took their seats, Ruhani felt the gentle caress of his hand holding hers. She looked at him with concern. "Why do you look so sad?"

Jodhbir remained silent, biting his lower lip, his eyes focused on their intertwined hands.

"Jodh, please tell me," she pleaded.

He finally spoke, his voice tinged with sorrow. "When I was born twenty-eight years ago, my mother died the same day due to childbirth. And when I was celebrating my fifteenth birthday, my father was assassinated."

Tears welled up in his eyes as he shared his painful past with her. Ruhani wasn't sure what to say, but she reached out and slowly pulled her hand from his, embracing him in a gentle hug. His head rested on her shoulder, his arms encircling her waist. Ruhani planted a kiss on his forehead, her own eyes filling with tears.

"I miss them, Ruhani. I miss them a lot," he admitted, his voice breaking.

Ruhani held him, allowing him to cry in her arms while she gently stroked his back. She felt privileged that he was willing to show her his vulnerable side so openly. Not many would reveal their pain to a stranger, especially a woman, unless they felt a deep connection.

After about twenty minutes, Jodhbir's tears subsided, leaving him feeling lighter. He ended the hug and wiped his tears away.

"How are you feeling now?" Ruhani asked with genuine concern.

"I feel relieved," he replied, managing a smile.

"Now, let's celebrate your twenty-eighth birthday. Show me the kitchen," she said, standing up from the couch and playfully tugging him along with her.

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"I didn't know you could cook so well," Jodhbir complimented her as he savored the white sauce pasta she had prepared for him.

"Yeah, you must be thinking of me as a spoiled, rich brat," she jokingly replied, taking the last bite of her pasta.

"Actually, yes. But you surprised me," he admitted, pointing at his nearly empty plate.

"I'm glad," she said, beaming with pride.

By that time, both of them had finished their meal. Jodhbir picked up both their plates and placed them in the sink. Ruhani walked over to the fridge, poured herself a glass of cold water, and stood near the kitchen counter, sipping her drink. As she did, Jodhbir moved closer, placing his hands on either side of the counter, effectively trapping her between himself and the counter. She set the glass down and gently held his injured hand, which was wrapped in a white dressing.