~ Sometimes the smallest kindness can break the strongest walls. ~

~~~

After everyone had gone to their rooms, Aaradhya carefully placed the gifts in her closet, handling each one with the utmost care. Each item held a meaning, a warmth she wasn't used to. They weren't just gifts—they were proof of belonging. Proof that she mattered.

Once done, she changed into a comfortable outfit that consisted of sky-blue colored night suit with matching pajamas and settled onto the bed, opening her laptop. Work was her escape. If she kept herself occupied, maybe she wouldn't think about how her heart felt so full yet so fragile.

But then, his voice cut through the quiet.

"Mrs. Rajvansh."

Her fingers faltered over the keyboard.

A single name. Two simple words. Yet, they held power over her in ways she didn't want to admit.

Keeping her expression neutral, she hummed in response.

Shivansh, leaning against the wardrobe with his arms crossed, smirked knowingly. "Don't you want a gift from me?"

She turned to him, arching a brow. "You're late, Mr. Rajvansh. Everyone already gave me theirs."

His smirk deepened. "So you were expecting one from me." he was happy she was at least showing some emotions instead of being closed off like every time.

Her lips parted, but she pressed them shut again.

She had walked right into that.

Before she could argue, he stepped toward the closet, pulling out a small, elegant box.

"I didn't want to give it to you in front of everyone," he admitted, walking back toward her. "They would've teased me endlessly."

Aaradhya watched, her heart inexplicably racing, as he sat beside her and placed the box in front of her.

With careful hands, he lifted the lid.

Inside lay a platinum bracelet—delicate, timeless. A tiny pendant dangled from it, engraved with an intertwined A and S.

Her breath hitched.

She wasn't someone who craved grand gestures, but this—this wasn't just a bracelet.

It was a symbol. A reminder that she wasn't alone anymore. She swallowed, her fingers hovering above it, hesitating.

"Do you like it?" Shivansh's voice was softer now, careful.

She nodded. But even as she did, something in her chest tightened. A lump formed in her throat, burning, suffocating. She wasn't just overwhelmed by the gift itself.

She was overwhelmed by the way his family had made her feel in the past two days—like she was theirs.

Like she belonged.

For years, she had learned to expect nothing. To keep her head down. To make herself small. Because every time she had hoped for love, she had been reminded that she was unwanted. And now, suddenly, she was surrounded by people who cherished her. Who went out of their way to make her feel included.

It was too much.

Her fingers trembled.

She tried to suppress it, tried to take a deep breath, but before she could stop it, a single tear slipped down her cheek.

And then, warmth.

Strong arms wrapped around her.

Shivansh pulled her close, his embrace firm, unwavering.

That was all it took.

A broken sob escaped her lips, silent yet deafening. Aaradhya clutched his shirt, fingers digging into the fabric as if she needed something—someone—to hold onto.

And he let her.

He didn't say anything. Didn't ask her. Didn't try to stop her. He just held her. And as he did, his jaw clenched.

He had known.

He had always known.

The way her eyes held shadows too deep for someone her age. The way she hesitated before accepting kindness, as if waiting for it to be snatched away.

The way her family—her own parents—had looked at her at the reception.

That day, his doubts had turned into certainty.

The indifference in her mother's eyes. The taunting words spoken just low enough for only Aaradhya to hear.

The way she had shut down in response, not defending herself, not reacting. As if she had heard it all before. As if she had lived it all before.

He had wanted to say something. To question her. To tell her that she didn't deserve any of it.

But he hadn't.

Because she wasn't ready. Because she wasn't used to someone fighting for her. So, he had stayed quiet. But stayed, with her.

But right now, as she trembled in his arms, the weight of her past crashing over her, he made a silent promise—

She wouldn't have to face it alone.

Not anymore.

He pressed his cheek against her hair, tightening his hold as her sobs softened into uneven breaths.

She was still fragile in his arms. Still trying to compose herself. He could feel her heartbeat, wild and fast, against his own. After a long moment, she sniffled.

Shivansh pulled back slightly, his hands cupping the sides of her face. His thumbs brushed away the remnants of her tears, his touch featherlight.

He didn't ask why she was crying.

He already knew.

Her lashes fluttered as she looked up at him, still overwhelmed, still breaking. But no longer breaking alone.

"You don't have to adjust all at once," he finally said.

His gaze was steady, free of expectations.

"I know this is different for you," he continued. "But you don't have to force yourself. Just... take your time."

Aaradhya stared at him for a moment before looking away.

"I don't know how to do this," she admitted softly, barely above a whisper.

Shivansh exhaled. "You don't have to."

She turned to him again, confusion flickering in her eyes.

"You don't have to do anything, Aaradhya. Just be here. The rest will happen on its own."

Aaradhya didn't respond. But for the first time in a long time, something in her heart felt just a little lighter.

"it's ok" he said, his voice calm. "you're not alone in it. Even I also don't know anything but I know for certain about one thing." She looked at him and he continued "I know we're gonna make it. And i hope the future holds happy moments for us. " He said and looked at her trying to see her reaction but only got blank face as through she's trying to grasp something.

A soft silence lingered between them before he continued, his tone growing more serious, almost cautious. "Aaradhya... I know this marriage came with more pressure than choice. And we both know how it started—with conditions, expectations, a contract."

Her gaze lifted slowly, uncertain.

"I'm not bringing it up to unsettle you," Shivansh said quickly. "But I want to remind us both that this arrangement—this bond—it deserves a foundation of respect. No matter where life takes us from here."

Aaradhya nodded, her voice a whisper. "I agree."

"I know you're not ready to let someone in completely—and I won't force that. But I’ll always make sure you have space, peace, and dignity in this home. I’ll never cross any line."

She blinked, surprised by the clarity and firmness in his tone. He wasn’t saying it out of duty—he meant it.

He offered a half-smile. "We’ll take it one step at a time. No expectations, no pressure. Just… mutual respect. Friendship, even."

Her eyes flickered with something soft—something unspoken.

"You don’t need to smile or say something if you’re not feeling it," he added gently. "Just know that I meant every word. And if ever there’s something you need—about work, space, design plans, thoughts, anything at all—you can come to me."

Aaradhya looked at him for a long moment, then finally murmured, "Thank you."

Shivansh nodded once, content. "You too." She said slowly. Shivansh looked at her and she explained "You can tell me anything too, you know I'm a great listener." She said shyly. Still in his arms.

There were still walls around her heart, he knew. But cracks had begun to form—and from those cracks, light had already started to pour in.

And somewhere, deep down, he was willing to wait.

He exhaled deeply with a little smile almost invisible before lifting the bracelet.

"Can I?" His voice was gentle.

She blinked, nodding.

He fastened the clasp around her wrist, his fingers lingering just a moment longer than necessary.

Her skin burned under his touch.

She stared at the bracelet, her mind too full of emotions to form words. So instead, she simply looked at him. And in his eyes, she saw something terrifyingly familiar.

A warmth she wasn't ready for.

A safety she didn't know how to accept.

But somewhere, deep down, she wanted to. She wanted to hold onto this moment and never let it go. But instead, she cleared her throat and straightened.

"I should get back to work," she murmured.

His lips twitched, as if he saw right through her.

But he let it go.

"Me too."

They sat side by side, working in peaceful silence. But the air between them had shifted. And they both knew it.

A while later, Aaradhya's blinks grew slower, her head tilting slightly.

Within minutes, she was asleep.

Shivansh noticed immediately.

Without a word, he shut her laptop, placing it carefully on the nightstand. Then, ever so gently, he adjusted her posture, making sure she was comfortable.

As she lay there, her face peaceful, he let his gaze linger.

A strange ache settled in his chest. She had been through so much. And he had done nothing.

He had stayed silent. Held back.

Because he had been afraid of pushing her too soon. But if she wasn't ready to talk, if she wasn't ready to break her walls—

Then he would wait. He would wait for her to see him as her safe place. As someone she could trust.

And until that day came, he would make sure of one thing.

That she never felt unloved again.

Not while he was there.

And with that silent promise, he lay beside her, closing his eyes.

Letting himself hope that one day, she would trust him enough to let him heal what had been broken.

~~~