ISHQ IBAADAT 💗

20. DAADI'S BIRTHDAY 💗

Author POV

Adhya stormed out of the living area, her footsteps echoing on the wooden floor, and went straight to Vidyut’s room. Her heart was pounding—not from anger alone, but from the storm of emotions she was trying to hide from herself.

She pushed the door open sharply and stepped inside.

“Aap sabke saamne aise kyu jata rahe the jaise aap mujhse sachme pyar karte hai…?” Her voice trembled with a mix of anger and hurt. Her hands clenched into fists at her sides, and her eyes burned with unshed tears.

Vidyut, sitting on the edge of the bed, didn’t respond immediately. His jaw tightened, and his fingers drummed lightly on the wooden frame. He looked at her, his eyes dark, unreadable, yet holding a strange softness she couldn’t quite place.

After a long pause, he finally spoke, his voice low, almost a whisper:
“Aap bed par so jayiye…”

“Nahi, aap so jayiye.” Adhya snapped, stepping closer, her anger mingling with defiance.

Vidyut sighed and ran a hand through his hair, frustrated but trying to maintain calm. “Dekhiye, aapko bed par sone ki aadat hai… aur main nahi chahta aap couch par soye… to please…” His gaze softened slightly as he looked at her, and for a moment, the storm of anger in her eyes seemed to shake him.

Adhya arched an eyebrow, tilting her head slightly. “To kya aapko niche sone ki Aadat hai?” Her tone was teasing now, but the edge of sarcasm was clear.

Vidyut blinked, utterly confused. “What?!” His brows furrowed, his lips parting slightly as he stared at her like she had suddenly spoken a different language.

She crossed her arms, the corners of her lips twitching with annoyance. “Aap hi ne to kaha… mujhe bed par sone ki Aadat hai… to kya aapko couch par sone ki aadat hai?”

Vidyut leaned back slightly, exhaling sharply, running both hands down his face. “Aisa nahi hai… aap Aise kyun baat kar rahi hai mujhse…” His voice was a mix of confusion and a faint irritation, but his eyes never left hers.

“To aur kaise baat karte hai?” She said with an annoyed huff, tossing her hair over her shoulder. There was a subtle softness beneath her irritation, a vulnerability she refused to show.

Vidyut stood up and walked over to the bed, grabbing some pillows and a blanket. He moved carefully, almost ceremoniously, as if preparing for a ritual, then laid them gently on the couch. Each motion was deliberate, his mind working in overdrive to keep his emotions under control.

Adhya watched him, her chest tight. Her irritation had cooled slightly, replaced by a strange warmth that made her stomach flutter uncomfortably. She climbed onto the bed and pulled the covers around her, sinking into the soft mattress. The exhaustion from the day hit her like a wave, and she felt herself melting into sleep almost instantly.

Vidyut, now on the couch, adjusted the blanket over himself, his eyes stealing glances at her every few seconds. A small sigh escaped him—half frustration, half relief. He hated that she fell asleep so quickly, leaving him awake with the storm of his own thoughts.

For a moment, the room was silent except for the soft rhythm of her breathing. Vidyut’s hand twitched as if he wanted to reach out and brush a stray strand of hair from her face but stopped himself. He looked at her sleeping form, and a small, almost imperceptible smile tugged at the corners of his lips.

He whispered under his breath, almost to himself:
“Bas… yahi ruka hai… aur main aapko kisi se door nahi dekhoonga…”

Vidhyut POV