Two months later.

The whispers hadn’t stopped.

"Behen ke pati se shaadi ki hai?"

"Kitna galat rishta hai yeh!"

But for Aarav and Meher, it didn’t matter anymore.

They had already survived guilt, loss, memory, and fate.

Now they had each other.

Unapologetically.

---

That Night

The rain was soft. The city lights low. Their bedroom smelled like jasmine.

Aarav stood by the window, half-buttoned shirt, hair damp from the shower.

Meher walked in, wearing a simple red satin nightdress. The same color she wore the first night she felt something for him—but never accepted it.

Now she did.

She walked to him and stood silently.

Aarav turned.

> “You look like a dream.”

She stepped closer and whispered,

> “Then don’t wake up.”

He touched her cheek, lips trembling.

> “Pehle tum mujhse door bhaagti thi…”

She smiled softly.

> “Ab toh sirf tumhari baahon mein rehna hai.”

He pulled her gently into a hug, their bodies meeting like puzzle pieces made only for each other.

Their lips met—soft at first. Then deeper. As if time itself paused.

Meher's fingers slipped under his shirt, feeling his heart beat wildly.

He lifted her in his arms and carried her to bed.

---

Passion, Not Just Pleasure

It wasn’t rushed.

It wasn’t mindless.

It was love—seen, touched, whispered, and felt.

Meher arched under his touch, moaning softly as he kissed her neck, her shoulder, her bare waist.

> “Tum meri ho, sirf meri,” he whispered against her skin.

> “Aur tum mere ho,” she replied, gasping, pulling him closer.

The sheets tangled.

The rain got louder.

So did her name from his lips.

Their bodies moved like they were writing poetry on each other’s skin—with every kiss, every sigh, every shiver.

And when they collapsed together, breathless and full of love, Meher whispered,

> “Iss baar mujhe kuch bhoolna nahi hai. Tumhe toh bilkul bhi nahi

.”

Aarav kissed her forehead.

> “Tum meri zindagi ho, Meher. Tumse shuru, tumpe khatam.”