It's been five years. Five long years away from home and Sarthak, years filled with study, work, and the pursuit of my dreams. And now, finally, I had achieved it. My name would soon be written as Dr. Samira Mishra, I owned my own home, had financial independence, and was on the verge of becoming a professor. Today, I was returning home, carrying gifts for what I thought was Sarthak and Aarne's child. My heart swelled with anticipation and nostalgia.
After landing, I waited at the airport, scanning the crowd. Then, through the bustling crowd, I saw Manya in her pajamas, holding a banner with my name. She didn't care who saw her—she ran straight to me, throwing herself into my arms.
"You're back! I missed you so much, Sammy! Didn't you miss me?" she cried.
"I missed you… so much," I whispered, holding her tight. "Now, let's go home. I want to meet my nephew or niece. I bought them gifts."
Manya blinked, confused. "What? Who has a baby? I didn't know about it. Why?"
"Sarthak, of course. It's been so long—they got married," I replied excitedly. "Just tell me—is it a boy or a girl?"
Manya shook her head. "Nothing. Let's just go home."
At the doorstep of my house, I felt my heart pounding. I rushed inside and froze. A small boy stood there with Aarne. His eyes, his smile… he was exactly like Sarthak when he was that age. My heart melted. I scooped him up, handed over a big remote-controlled car, and said softly, "This is for you, little one. You look just like your father."
Aarne's eyes widened in shock. "No, that's not true… we're not married. You must have misunderstood. He's my child with Abhinav. He's not Sarthak's. I only came to welcome you; I don't live here."
I froze, confusion sweeping through me. Why had he waited all these years? Why hadn't Sarthak married? My mind raced as I retreated to my room.
A knock at the door broke my thoughts. I opened it to see Sarthak, impeccably dressed, sleeves rolled up, blazer in hand, his tie loosened. His gaze was intense, and I felt that familiar pull in my chest—the one I hadn't felt in years.
"Hello, brother. How are you?" I asked softly.
He stepped closer, his voice low and intense. "Who is your brother, Samira?" One step at a time, he closed the distance between us. "I waited so long to hear you call me brother. I've loved you for years, and you call me brother… today, no one will save you."
Before I could respond, his hands were on my waist, pulling me close. Our lips met in a searing kiss, familiar yet urgent, the pent-up longing of years spilling over. I tried to resist, but his hands moved to my back, tugging me against him. His kiss deepened, slow and demanding, tasting, exploring, claiming.
He guided me toward the bed gently but insistently. Our bodies pressed together, heat radiating from our skin. His lips trailed from mine to my jaw, to my neck, sending shivers down my spine. I melted against him, my hands clutching his shirt, feeling the taut muscles beneath.
"Sammy… you're mine," he whispered, voice husky. "Forever."
The world narrowed to just us. His hands moved with reverence, yet a confident hunger. I surrendered to the moment, letting go of restraint. Each touch, each kiss was electric. Our breaths mingled, hearts racing in perfect sync.
As our passion grew, the intensity of our closeness became overwhelming. I trembled beneath him, feeling his every movement, our connection more than physical—it was the culmination of years of longing, of unspoken words, of love that had never wavered.
We moved together, slowly at first, savoring the rediscovery of one another. Then, as our need became urgent, the pace quickened, each motion a declaration of our love and desire. I gasped, laughed, and whispered his name, letting every emotion flow freely.
Hours passed in a blur of passion, intimacy, and whispered confessions. Finally, we collapsed together, tangled in the sheets, hearts pounding, bodies sated but still entwined.
I pressed my face into his chest, listening to the steady beat of his heart. He wrapped his arms around me, holding me as if he would never let me go.
"I'm sorry for keeping things hidden," he murmured. "The engagement with Aarne… it was only a contact arrangement. It was meant to uncover the truth about our parents' murder, to protect you. I planned to reveal everything at our engagement, but you left before I could. I lost you, and I regret it every day."
I lifted my head to meet his eyes. "Whose child was at the door?"
"That's Abhinav and Aarne's son," he explained gently. "Born after you left. During our plan, Abhinav and Aarne were together briefly. She became pregnant, but Abhinav assumed the child was mine and didn't believe her. She raised him alone. She didn't marry anyone, not even Abhinav."
I exhaled, relief mingling with disbelief. "Oh… then I forgive you."
Sarthak's lips curved into a smile. "Really?" He leaned in, pressing a gentle kiss to my lips. "Then let's begin again." He wrapped me in a warm embrace, the two of us moving together with all the love, longing, and passion we'd restrained for years.
That night, we rediscovered each other, physically and emotionally, a perfect blend of love, desire, and trust. The room was filled with the heat of our bodies and the gentle whispers of our hearts finally reunited.