Tara lay still beside Vikram, her thoughts tangled like the mess in her heart.
How long can I keep hiding this feeling?
He never said he loved me.
Then what… is all this?
Beside her, Vikram had already fallen asleep. Or so it seemed. Tara tried closing her eyes, but the confusion and doubt stormed inside her mind.
Was this marriage only to protect me from Prithvi? Or was there something more?
Why can't Vikram Sir just say it out loud? That he feels something for me…
But what if… there's nothing?
With those questions swirling in her heart, sleep finally took her.
---
Morning — 6 AM
Vikram's eyes fluttered open.
Tara was asleep in his arms.
This… this is the best thing in my life, he thought, pulling her gently closer.
Why can't she see it? Why can't she understand what I feel… the words I can't say…
He brushed a strand of hair from her face.
You know, Tara… it's so damn hard hiding feelings — especially when you're this close. I'm not expressive… but I do feel. When you look at me with those big eyes… when you fight, calling me 'Mr. Suryavanshi' — I just want to hold you close…
He kissed her forehead softly.
"I love you…" he whispered against her skin.
Then his lips trailed softly over her closed eyes… to the tip of her nose… and finally hovered over her lips.
For a second, he froze.
An inner battle tore inside him…
And then, as if pulled by a force stronger than his restraint, Vikram placed a soft, gentle kiss on her lips.
It wasn't deep… nor demanding…
Just a kiss carrying everything he'd kept buried. His love… his longing… his silent confession.
As he opened his eyes, he realized—
Tara was awake.
Vikram's heart pounded.
What now? What do I even say?
He carefully placed her on the bed and sat up, eyes darting anywhere but at her.
"Tara… I'm sorry," he mumbled and hurried out of the room.
---
Tara sat up, stunned.
Sorry?
Why is he apologizing?
Was that… a mistake?
Just… a meaningless kiss? Just because we happened to sleep together in the same bed?
Why did her heart feel like it cracked at the word 'sorry'?
---
Downstairs
Vikram was lost in thought, sipping his coffee.
How do I even face her? What the hell was I thinking? First, she won't forgive me… now this…
Dadi approached.
"Vikram, what's going on? Everything alright?"
"Haan… Dadi," he replied faintly.
"Fought with Tara again?"
When have we not fought since marriage? he thought bitterly.
"Vikram, where's your mind at?"
"Nothing, Dadi… You know how Tara is… she gets upset over little things."
Dadi smiled. "Then go and make it right."
If only it were that easy…
Vikram sighed, gulped his coffee, and headed upstairs to get ready for work.
What if she questions me? Will we fight again? God… why does this scare me now…
He entered the room. Tara was there — looking straight at him. Without a word, he rushed to the bathroom, exhaling deeply.
Even the most powerful man fears his wife… great.
But surprisingly, Tara said nothing.
Vikram got ready and left without another glance.
Tara stared after him.
---
Later — In Her Room
Tara sat alone.
So… that kiss meant nothing.
Just… a moment's mistake.
Of course… why would he feel anything for me? A driver's daughter? Among all those stunning, rich, successful women I've seen around him at those high-profile parties?
Tara felt her own heart sting.
You fool… what were you expecting?
---
Vikram's Office
Vikram stared blankly at his desk.
Why is it so damn hard to say a meaningful sorry?
A knock.
"Come in."
His manager entered. "Good morning, sir! I'm sure by now you're so impressed you're thinking about my promotion—"
" Vikram smirked coldly. "To watchman. Actually… I'll just fire you."
The manager paled. "Sir?"
Vikram slammed the desk. "I told you to write a simple 'I'm sorry, Tara' — and what did you make her write?! Calligraphy? Doodles? Hearts?! You know damn well I've only ever typed my entire life! How the hell would I do calligraphy?!"
"I'm sorry, sir! I thought girls liked that sort of thing… I just—"
"Get out before I throw you out."
The manager fled.
Vikram buried his head in his hands.
What the hell do I do now?
---
Later that Afternoon
Finally… an idea.
A gift. Nothing too fancy — or she'll accuse me of buying forgiveness.
He called a female staff. "Find me a boutique with the best ethnic wear."
She suggested an app, showing him options.
Vikram scrolled endlessly.
Nope… if I buy all this, she'll say I tried too hard.
And then… a red saree caught his eye.
She wore a saree once… she looked beautiful… this will suit her.
Vikram ordered it.
And this time — he wrote the apology himself.
After wasting three notepads and a mental breakdown later, he finally penned down the words he thought were right.
He placed the note inside the saree box and sent it to the Suryavanshi Mansion.
---
At the Mansion
A staff carried the box, but Dadi intercepted.
"What's this?"
"From Vikram Sir… for Tara Ma'am."
Dadi opened it.
Red saree…
And this messy handwriting… this is definitely Vikram.
Dadi smirked.
So… this is what's going on between you two…
She called a maid. "Tell Tara this is from me — and ask her to try it on."
---
Tara's Room
Tara opened the box.
Her eyes widened.
This… is stunning… Dadi's choice is unbelievable. And this blouse… so bold… Dadi really picked this?!
She slipped into the saree, glancing at herself in the mirror.
Wow… you look like a model, Tara.
She clicked a selfie, smiling faintly.
---
Vikram's Office
Vikram called the mansion, asking a staff to check if Tara wore the saree.
"Yes, sir. Ma'am is wearing it."
Vikram smirked.
Good… that means she forgave me.
He glanced at the clock — 4 PM.
Time to head home and clear up everything. No more misunderstandings.
---
Suryavanshi Mansion — Tara's Room
Vikram entered.
Tara sat on the couch, looking gorgeous in the red saree.
Vikram stared.
God… she looks beautiful…
"You're home early," Tara said.
"I wanted to see you in that saree," Vikram replied.
Tara frowned. "What?"
"You read the note I sent with it… right?"
"What note?"
"The one I wrote… saying if you forgave me, you'd wear this…"
"I didn't get any note… and I wore this because Dadi sent it."
She paused. "Wait… you chose this saree?"
"Yes"
Tara narrowed her eyes. "So you're not that innocent after all… No wonder this blouse looked too bold for Dadi's choice."
Vikram sighed. "I only chose the saree — not the blouse."
"I'm changing," Tara said, standing up.
"Why? You look… beautiful… let it be."
"I'm definitely changing now!" she snapped, turning away.
Vikram reached out to stop her — but instead of her hand, his fingers caught the edge of her pallu.
It slipped from her shoulder.
Tara's eyes blazed. "Mr. Suryavanshi, don't cross your limits!"
"It… it was a mistake!"
Tara's eyes shimmered. "I don't want any of this in a temporary relationship. Don't misunderstand me!"
Vikram froze.
Temporary…?
"You really think I married you for some temporary fling?" he said, his voice dangerously low.
Tara glared back. "What else am I supposed to think? It's hard to believe you'd feel anything for a driver's daughter when you had supermodels, doctors, actresses around you!"
Vikram's temper snapped. He snatched the saree and thrust it into her hands.
"You saw who came to my parties — but did you ever see who I kept looking at?"
Tara took a step back.
"You noticed who attended — but did you see me walking past them… to you?"
Tara kept backing up until she hit the wall.
"You knew nobody entered my room without knocking — yet you did, and I never stopped you."
He moved closer.
"You knew I loved my silence — but when you came on Sundays, I sat in the living room… just to see you."
Tara's eyes widened.
"You only saw what you wanted. Yes — I forced this marriage. Because I thought you liked Prithvi… because I was scared he'd ruin you. And yes, I was furious… I was hurt. Did you ever see that? Did you ever notice how much it hurt me?"
His voice dropped, raw with emotion.
"And you still ask why I married you?"
Vikram exhaled, eyes burning into hers.
"I married you… because I love you."
Tara's heart slammed in her chest.
Her saree pallu slipped from her fingers.
She stood frozen.
"Yes," Vikram whispered, stepping even closer.
"I love you, Tara."
They stood, inches apart, breath mingling.
Tara closed her eyes…
But Vikram gently bent, picked up her pallu, and draped it over her shoulder.
Without another word, he walked out of the room.
---