"ओ बेदरदिया, इश्क हुआ मुझे दूसरी बार,
दिल के अरमानों को सजाया फिर प्यार में इस बार।
क्या खता थी मेरी जो पहली दफा मिट गई,
फिर से चोट खाई, फिर से मोहब्बत हुई बेक़रार।"
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"Surprise! I updated a day early-it was supposed to be on Sunday, but I'm feeling happy, so here it is for you!"
Vote Target :- 170+
Comment Target :- 30+
Avyansh's POV
"Avantika ji?" I called softly, trying to wake her, my voice barely a whisper. She didn't stir. Her face looked pale, her hair slightly damp from the rain.
I had an important meeting today, one that couldn't easily be rescheduled, but when one of my bodyguards-who I'd discreetly assigned to keep an eye on her from a distance-called to inform me that she was walking aimlessly in the rain, my mind went blank. I couldn't just ignore it.
Shashwat was nearby, so I told him to pick her up. I trusted him to get her home safely, but it didn't ease the worry gnawing at me. I needed to see her for myself, make sure she was okay. The meeting could wait. So, without a second thought, I canceled it.
And now, standing here, looking at her curled up in bed, I couldn't help but feel a mix of relief and frustration. Why does she do this to herself?
I moved closer, sitting gently on the edge of the bed, careful not to wake her. She had a habit of hiding her pain, but I could see the weight she carried, even when she slept. Her lips trembled slightly, as if she were caught in some distressing dream.
I reached out, brushing a strand of damp hair from her forehead. She stirred and wake I sighed, leaning back.
"You didn't take the medicine, did you?" I asked, noticing the untouched pills on the side table. There was a slight edge of frustration in my voice; I couldn't help it.
She mumbled something incoherent, turning slightly away from me, and I saw her hair was still damp against the pillow. "I don't need it," she said, pulling the blanket tighter around her.
I sighed, stepping closer. "You're not a kid," I replied, trying to keep my tone steady. "You should've dried your hair properly. Now you're running a fever."
As I watched her shiver slightly under the blanket, concern overtook my frustration. Without thinking, I walked over to the bed and gently pulled the blanket off her head. My fingers brushed against her damp hair, and I could see the hint of a blush on her cheeks.
"Sit up," I coaxed, my voice softening. "Let me dry your hair properly. You're going to get sicker like this."
After a moment of hesitation, she finally pushed herself up, looking weak and dizzy. I quickly grabbed a towel from the nearby chair and sat behind her, pulling her gently onto my lap. I began drying her hair, my movements as gentle as I could manage.
"Itna he nahane shock tha toh itna bara bathroom hai, waha shower on krke bheeng leti," I teased lightly, trying to lighten the mood.
She rolled her eyes, but I could see a small smile tugging at her lips despite her fatigue.
I concentrated on my task, the warmth of the towel against her scalp soothing both of us. The air between us felt different-less tense and more comfortable.
