It was nearly 1 pm, and the house was quiet. Samaira was seated cross-legged on her bed, completely absorbed in her book, her brows furrowed with interest as she turned each page. She’d been lost in the story for hours, the lines of reality blurring until she suddenly remembered the kitchen and the need to check the food for lunch.
She slipped her dupatta over her shoulder, setting her book down as she headed towards the main door. Just as she reached for it, the door opened, and she took a startled step back. Aayansh was there, returning home earlier than she’d expected. He was loosening his tie, his expression a blend of weariness and calm, and his gaze fell on her, lingering for a moment longer than necessary.
Samaira’s breath hitched as she quickly adjusted her dupatta, a flicker of self-consciousness in her movements. She felt his eyes on her, catching the faintest glint of admiration as he watched her. She cleared her throat, breaking the silence. “Aap... aap itni jaldi wapas?”
Aayansh straightened, his cool expression returning. “Yehi mera lunch ka waqt hai. Roz yahin aata hoon,” he replied simply, his voice smooth yet slightly amused by her surprise.
“Oh… mujhe nahi pata tha,” she murmured, a slight smile tugging at her lips. She turned, moving toward the kitchen with him following close behind. “Phir main jaldi se khana laga deti hoon.”
A faint smirk played on Aayansh’s face. “Waise, tumhein mujhe bataane ki zaroorat nahi hoti... tum already perfect timing mein hi aa gayi ho,” he teased, his voice carrying a subtle charm.
Samaira blinked, speechless for a moment, her heart fluttering as his words lingered in the air. She ducked her head, hiding her smile, and busied herself with preparing lunch, her cheeks warming under his gaze.
She moved toward the kitchen, her steps light but measured, and he followed. There was a smirk lingering on his face as he watched her.
As she set the food on the table, she felt his eyes on her, studying her quiet movements. It was new for her, this feeling of being noticed. Most of her life, she’d been in the shadows, unnoticed and unheard.
Sitting across from him, she served him food, hands gentle but steady. The silence between them was thick yet not uncomfortable, filled with unsaid things.
“Aap ko kitaabein kaafi pasand hain na?” he asked suddenly, his voice softer than she’d expected.
Samaira looked up, caught off guard by the unexpected question. “Haan... woh… bas aise hi… duniya se door ho jaati hoon kuch der ke liye,” she replied, her voice barely a whisper as if admitting a secret.
He gave a slow nod, and for a moment, his gaze softened, but it was brief, quickly hidden behind his usual composed expression. “Hum sabko kuch na kuch chahiye hota hai, Samaira. Tumhare liye yeh kitaabein hain… aur mere liye kaam.”
She looked down, processing his words. There was a subtle understanding there, a shared vulnerability that neither of them openly acknowledged. He knew she had scars, even if he didn’t know the details.
They ate in silence for a while, the only sounds being the clinking of utensils. After a few moments, Aayansh finally broke the silence. “Kal se tumhe intezaar nahi karna padega. Main roz iss waqt yahin hoon kal se,” he said, almost as if he was offering her a small anchor in her otherwise uncertain world.
Samaira’s heart fluttered slightly, caught off guard by his words. She couldn’t bring herself to look up, instead giving a small nod. “Theek hai…”
The silence returned, but it was gentler now, filled with a sense of unspoken understanding between them. Aayansh may have been guarded and distant, but in small moments like this, she sensed a depth in him—a quiet, restrained warmth that he rarely allowed anyone to see.
After lunch, Samaira began clearing the plates, her movements quick yet careful. But as she picked up his plate, her hand brushed against his for just a second. The touch was brief, but her heart skipped a beat.
Aayansh’s gaze flicked to her, something unreadable in his eyes, but he didn’t pull back. Instead, he let his hand linger for just a moment longer than necessary before finally releasing it.
As she turned back to the kitchen, she felt his eyes on her, a subtle intensity in his gaze that made her both nervous and comforted. She knew Aayansh wasn’t one to express his emotions openly, but in these quiet moments, she sensed there was something more—something that could be felt even if it wasn’t said.
As she washed the dishes, she couldn’t help but wonder if maybe, just maybe, there was something between them that neither of them had yet dared to acknowledge.
As Samaira finished with the dishes, she leaned against the counter, taking a steadying breath. Her heart was still racing from those small moments—the quiet looks, the unspoken warmth in his voice, the touch of his hand. She brushed off the thought, yet the trace of his presence lingered.
“Samaira,” Aayansh’s voice broke her thoughts. He was standing by the doorway, watching her with his usual, unreadable expression. “Main nikal raha hoon. Kaam hai.”
“Oh… jee, theek hai,” she replied, hiding the sudden pang of disappointment. She wasn’t sure why she wanted him to stay longer.
Aayansh paused, watching her for a long moment as if trying to decide something. Finally, he spoke, his tone softer than usual. “Tum agar kuch chahiye… ya bas kisi se baat karna ho, toh mujhe call kar sakti ho.”
She blinked, caught off guard. She had never thought that he would offer his time like that, not when he was always so guarded and distant.
“Jee… main yaad rakhungi,” she managed to say, her voice almost a whisper.
He nodded, his gaze still fixed on her with an intensity she could barely hold. Then, with one last look, he turned and walked out, his footsteps fading down the hall.
Later that evening, as Samaira lay on her bed, her thoughts kept drifting back to Aayansh’s unexpected kindness. Despite his cold exterior, there was a side of him that she could sense—a part that was protective, even gentle in its own way. She clutched her pillow, trying to push the thoughts aside, but the memory of his lingering gaze and the warmth in his words wouldn’t leave her.
In her world, love and kindness were unfamiliar. Her father’s indifference, her sister’s betrayal, and the scars of a past marked by loneliness and rejection—those were the things she knew well. But Aayansh was different. He was cold and unreadable, but there was something deeper within him, something that called to her own wounded heart in a way she didn’t fully understand.
A quiet knock at her door startled her. She sat up, her pulse quickening. It was unusual for anyone to come to her room at this hour.
“Samaira?” Aayansh’s voice was soft but clear, a surprising sound in the stillness.
Samaira quickly adjusted her dupatta and opened the door. He stood there, hands in his pockets, his expression slightly softened by the dim hallway light.
“Mujhe laga tum jaag rahi hogi,” he murmured, his eyes meeting hers.
“Jee… bas aise hi…” she trailed off, unsure of what to say.
He gave a small nod. “Bas ye dekhne aaya ke tum theek ho ya nahi,” he said, as though it were a casual thing for him to check on her. But she knew this wasn’t a habit of his—and he certainly never showed this level of concern.
Aayansh’s gaze softened just a fraction, his expression no longer as rigid. “Waqt lagta hai nayi jagah aur naye rishte mein adjust hone mein. Agar tumhein kuch bhi chahiye ho… yaad rakhna, main hoon.”
Samaira swallowed, feeling a warmth she hadn’t known in a long time. “Aapka t-theek hai,” she replied, her voice soft yet sincere.
He held her gaze for a moment longer, something unreadable in his eyes. She didn’t know if he could understand just how much his words meant to her. To feel seen, to feel cared for—these were things she hadn’t felt since she was a child.
Then, without another word, Aayansh gave her a slight nod and turned to leave. But as he reached the hallway, he stopped, glancing back.
“Goodnight, Samaira,” he said, his tone unusually gentle.
“Goodnight,” she replied, her voice barely above a whisper.
As she watched him walk away, she felt something inside her begin to shift—a fragile hope that maybe, despite the scars they both carried, they could find a place in each other’s lives. It was a small feeling, but it was enough to make her heart flutter just a little.
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