79
The living room was quiet except for the faint ticking of the wall clock. Dhruv sat at the dining table, laptop open, but his eyes weren't on the spreadsheet glowing in front of him. They kept darting to the door. His hand, resting on the mouse, tapped restlessly.
He had been working all afternoon, trying to distract himself, but the silence of the house was heavier than usual.
Where was she?
His phone lay beside him, its screen black. No new messages. No replies. He had texted her three times since morning. All left on double ticks, unread.
Dhruv sighed, pressing his knuckles against his temple. He hated not knowing. Vaani had always been expressive, vocal—he never had to guess what was on her mind. But now? It was like he was staring at a wall, waiting for it to shift.
The sound of the lock clicking startled him. The door pushed open and there she was, stepping inside with her tote slung over her shoulder.
Relief washed through him instantly. He straightened. "Vaani."
She didn't even glance at him. She slipped her shoes off, put her bag on the chair, and walked straight past him into the washroom.
"Vaani, come on," Dhruv called, his voice carrying a weight of frustration and something softer beneath it.
No answer. The bathroom door closed behind her with a muted click.
Dhruv exhaled through his nose. He ran a hand over his face and then stood up, moving into the kitchen. He filled the kettle, waiting for the water to heat. If she wouldn't talk to him... maybe she'd at least drink something.
By the time she came out—hair damp, face fresh, in comfortable home clothes—two steaming cups of chai were set on the counter. Dhruv stood there, leaning against it.
"Chai," he said, holding out a cup toward her.
Her eyes flickered to the cup, then to him. For the briefest second, something softened in her expression—just a flicker—but it vanished as quickly as it came. She looked away.
"I don't want it," she said, her tone clipped.
Dhruv exhaled sharply, then softened his voice. "Vaani, can you please have it? Maza raag khaanya varti nako kaadhu." (Don't take my anger out on food.)
That made her pause. She turned back to him, lips pressing together. Finally, with a resigned sigh, she took the cup from his hand. Their fingers brushed lightly against each other, and he caught the way she deliberately pulled hers back quickly.
She sat on the couch, curling her hands around the warm ceramic. He watched her take a sip.
"How is it?" he asked, cautiously.
Her brows furrowed. "What?"
"The chai," he clarified. "How's the taste?"
She looked at him blankly. "It's chai."
Dhruv gave a small chuckle, shaking his head. "I added the masala you like."
That got her attention. She blinked, then tilted her head slightly. "That masala isn't available anywhere but that shop 45 kilometers away."
"I know." His voice was quiet, steady.
Her gaze lingered on him, unreadable, before she looked down at her cup again. Without saying anything, she took another sip.
Dhruv took it as a small win. He moved toward the couch, shifting one of the cushions out of the way and sitting beside her. He noticed the way her shoulders stiffened, her body angling ever so slightly away from him. But she didn't get up.
He cleared his throat, searching for something to say. "So, when I reached Delhi, I thought it wouldn't be colder than here... but surprisingly, it was not. The jacket we packed went to waste."
Silence. She didn't respond.
He kept going anyway, his tone deliberately casual. "I didn't even have time to explore any market area. Even though I was staying near Sarojini Nagar... you'd have liked it there. But the meetings—back-to-back. No chance."
Still, nothing from her. Her eyes remained fixed on her chai, but he caught the slight tilt of her head, the smallest flicker of interest.
Encouraged, he continued. "Otherwise I'd have picked something for you. Maybe a kurta? Or salwar."
Her gaze lifted, briefly meeting his. He carried on.
"Actually, no... you'd probably prefer a saree. Pastel maybe. Or something in silk." He paused, then smirked faintly. "Though honestly, I don't know what you'd actually like. You'd probably reject whatever I got anyway."
For the first time, her lips twitched. Barely.
Dhruv pressed on, as if testing how far he could push her silence. "Or I'd get you earrings. No—bangles? No, wait. You're not that into bangles, right? Or maybe you are. Hard to tell." He glanced sideways at her. "What do you like more, Vaani? Sarees or salwars?"
Silence.
"So, sarees then?" he asked.
She didn't reply.
"Or salwars?" His tone was light, but there was something underneath it. He wanted her to respond.
She kept her eyes on the chai, not him.
He leaned slightly toward her, stubborn. "No, wait... maybe you like dresses. Western. That's it, isn't it? I should've bought a dress."
Her lips twitched. She fought it down.
He smirked faintly, noticing the crack in her armor. "Or kurtis. You wear those sometimes. But then again... sarees always win, don't they?"
She rolled her eyes, still silent.
Dhruv tilted his head, studying her profile. "I think it's definitely saree's. You don't look that good in salwar suits anyway."
That did it. Her head snapped toward him, eyes flashing, voice sharp but alive for the first time in days. "Oh really? I don't? Then why did you say I did when I wore it that day?"
For a moment, the house was silent again. Then he smiled, small and satisfied.
"There it is," he murmured.
Her brows furrowed. "What?"
"You," he said simply. "Finally talking to me."
She blinked, caught off guard by his honesty. The irritation that had flared softened into something else, something she didn't want to name.
"Ridiculous," she muttered, but her voice was quieter now, the edges blunted.
"Maybe." His gaze lingered on her, steady. "But I'll take ridiculous if it means I get to hear your voice again."
Her heart stuttered, and for once, she didn't have a retort. She just sipped her chai, hiding the smallest smile at the corner of her lips.
Dhruv leaned back against the couch, watching her, a quiet sense of relief settling in his chest. It wasn't a truce, not yet. But the wall between them had cracked, just a little.
And for now, that was enough.
Dhruv let out a breath, leaning back slightly on the couch. "Right. Sarees. Should've known. I mean, I've seen your closet. Half of it's silk."
She narrowed her eyes at him. "More than half."
That little correction made his lips twitch into a smile. "Exactly. My point."
She huffed, looking away again, but there was a faintness in her irritation now — not the heavy, suffocating silence of the last few days.
He let her sip her chai while he spoke, his tone softer. "You know... I thought about getting you something in Delhi. Actually thought of going outside to a shop once. But I didn't know what to pick."
Her brows furrowed. She didn't reply, but he continued.
"Didn't want to come back with something you'd wrinkle your nose at. Or worse, pretend to like." He glanced at her, catching the faintest quirk at her mouth before she hid it again behind her cup.
He looked down at his own untouched tea, tracing the rim of the cup with his finger. "Truth is... I was too wrapped up in meetings to even think straight. Everything was a blur. Flights, schedules, presentations. But still... somewhere in between, I kept thinking of you."
Her head jerked slightly, but she didn't interrupt.
"I'd open my phone to reply, but then another call would come. Another deadline. I'd tell myself I'd message you properly once I was free. Only... that moment never came. By the time I looked up, the whole day had gone. And then I saw your story about Vihaan's birthday."
Vaani's fingers froze around her cup.
Dhruv's voice dipped lower, honest now. "That's when I realized... I'd missed it. His big day. And you'd wanted me there."
She shifted, her anger flashing briefly again. "I did. But you weren't."
"I know." He looked at her properly now, his dark eyes steady but heavy with regret. "And I'm sorry."
The words hung in the air, weighted and uncharacteristic of him. Dhruv didn't do sorry easily — not unless he meant it.
Vaani stared at him, torn. Her heart wanted to believe him, but her mind still clung to the ache of the last few days. "Sorry doesn't change that you weren't there. That you haven't been here. Not really."
He nodded, accepting it without defense. "You're right."
Her throat tightened at how simply he admitted it. She had expected him to argue, to deflect. But he didn't.
"I've been... absent," he continued, almost searching for the right word. "Even when I'm physically here, I've been somewhere else. My head's been buried in work. And I know that's not fair to you."
Vaani blinked rapidly, caught off guard by the rawness in his tone.
He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees, speaking to the floor more than to her.
"I didn't mean to push you away, Vaani. I just..
. I don't always know how to balance things.
Work, family, us. And I thought — no, I assumed — you'd understand.
That you wouldn't mind. That you'd just.. . wait."
Her lips parted, stung. "I did wait, Dhruv. For days. And it felt like I was the only one trying."
His jaw clenched, guilt flashing across his face. "I know. And that's on me. I should've talked to you. Even just a few minutes. I didn't realize how much my silence was hurting you."
Vaani bit her lip, tears threatening, but she held herself stiff. "You made me feel invisible. Like I didn't matter."
Those words cut him deeper than he expected. His chest tightened, his voice low and rough. "You matter, Vaani. More than you know."
The sincerity in his tone shook her. She searched his face, almost not believing he'd said it. "Then why do you act like you don't care?"
His gaze flicked up to hers, steady, unwavering. "Because I'm terrible at showing it. But don't mistake that for not caring. I care, Vaani. Maybe too much. Enough that I didn't want to dump all my stress on you. I thought I was protecting you from it."
Her breath caught, and she whispered, "I didn't need protecting. I needed you."
That made him pause. He sat back, the weight of her words sinking into him. For a moment, the silence was thick, but this time it wasn't empty — it was filled with everything unsaid between them.
Finally, he spoke, quieter now. "You're right again." He raked a hand through his hair, looking drained. "I messed up. And I hate that I made you feel alone. That's the last thing I ever wanted."
Her eyes glistened. "Then say it, Dhruv. Don't just skirt around it. Say you're sorry."
He inhaled slowly, then looked her straight in the eye. "I'm sorry, Vaani. For missing Vihaan's birthday. For not talking. For shutting you out. For making you feel like you don't matter when you do. I'm sorry."
The words, plain and direct, made her throat close up.
For a moment, she just sat there, chai forgotten in her hands, staring at him. And for the first time in days, she felt like he had let her in again. Like the walls he built around himself had cracked, even if just a little.
Her lips trembled, but she whispered back, almost inaudible, "Okay."
The heaviness of the room had begun to shift. Not completely gone, but lighter — like the first breeze after a storm. Vaani set her empty chai cup down on the table with a little thunk, and Dhruv's eyes followed the sound.
She leaned back against the couch, crossing her arms. Her face was calm but her eyes still carried sparks. "I'll forgive you," she said at last, voice slow, deliberate.
Dhruv's brows rose, surprised at the sudden declaration. "Just like that?"
She held up a finger. "On one condition."
He tilted his head, intrigued, his lips curving slightly. "Boliye."
Vaani pressed her lips together for a second, as if weighing whether to say it. Then she leaned forward, meeting his gaze directly. "You have to take me clubbing tonight."
For a second, Dhruv blinked. He hadn't expected that. "Clubbing?"
"Yes." Her tone was firm, like she was challenging him to argue.
His mouth twitched into the beginning of a smirk. "Wait. You? Clubbing? Vaani, you don't even drink."
She raised a brow. "I don't always drink. Doesn't mean I don't know how to have fun."
Dhruv leaned back against the couch, folding his arms across his chest as he studied her with that quietly amused look that always got under her skin. "Hmm. This is news. My wife, the secret party animal."
She rolled her eyes but there was a small smile tugging at the corner of her mouth. "Don't exaggerate. I just... want to go out. Loud music, lights, dancing. I want to do something different with you. Is that too much to ask?"
Dhruv tilted his head, mock serious. "You're asking me to go from spreadsheets and presentations to flashing lights and DJ remixes in one evening."
"Yes," she shot back immediately. "That's my condition. Accept it or leave it."
There was a challenge in her tone, but beneath it was something softer — the need for connection, for fun, for reclaiming what had been missing between them.
Dhruv let the silence stretch for a beat, as though weighing his options, though the gleam in his eye betrayed him. Slowly, deliberately, he leaned closer until she had to tilt her head back slightly to hold his gaze. "Be ready by eight," he said, voice low.
Vaani blinked, startled at how easily he gave in. "Wait—really?"
He smirked, leaning back again casually as though the decision hadn't cost him a thing. "Really. But don't think I'll dance."
Her lips curved into the smallest, reluctant smile. "We'll see."
Dhruv's eyes caught that smile before she quickly pressed her lips together to hide it. He sat back on the couch, stretching an arm along the backrest, his posture suddenly more relaxed than it had been in days. "So, this is how I earn forgiveness? By becoming your plus-one on a night out?"
"Exactly." Vaani crossed her arms again, but the fight in her stance was softer now, playful even. "You put me through silence and stress, you owe me loud music and lights."
Dhruv chuckled under his breath, shaking his head. "You're unbelievable."
"And you're boring."
That earned her a sharp look, and she bit back a grin.
"You're pushing it, Vaani" he said, narrowing his eyes though his tone carried no real sting.
"Am I?" she asked, tilting her head, daring him.
The tension between them wasn't heavy anymore — it was charged, lighter, almost electric. The way it used to be when they teased each other without fear of breaking.
Dhruv exhaled, finally reaching for his tea and sipping it. "Fine. Clubbing it is. But I'll warn you — don't expect me to be entertained by sweaty strangers and bad EDM."
"You'll survive," she muttered, but her eyes flickered with warmth now.
He set the cup down and looked at her again, softer this time. "And if I survive, you'll forgive me?"
Vaani paused, her lips pressing together. She held his gaze for a long moment before finally nodding. "If you try. Not just tonight. Every day. If you actually try to be here. Then, yes, I'll forgive you."
Her voice was quiet now, stripped of the playfulness, and it made Dhruv sit straighter.
"I will," he said without hesitation. No smirk, no banter — just plain honesty. "I'll try."
Something in her chest loosened at that. She gave him the faintest smile, but it was there.
Dhruv noticed it, of course. His lips curved too, slower, smaller, but real. "Good. Then it's a date. Tonight."
Vaani rolled her eyes but her heart betrayed her with the warmth in her cheeks. "Don't call it that."
"Why not?" he teased, leaning toward her again, the smirk back in place. "It is a date. My first condition-accepting, wife-forgiving clubbing date."
She tried to glare at him, but it melted into a soft laugh that she quickly covered by grabbing the remote and switching on the TV.
Dhruv leaned back, watching her with a faint smile as if he'd just won a small battle. And in a way, he had.
Because for the first time in what felt like weeks, Vaani wasn't looking away from him with anger. She was looking forward — at something together.
~·~
By the time the clock hit 7:30, Vaani was standing in front of her mirror, fixing the last touch of eyeliner. She blinked once, leaning closer to check, then smoothed down a stray strand of hair that had escaped her curls.
Her reflection stared back — the sleek black dress hugging her figure, her makeup light yet sharp, lips painted a deep berry shade that added just enough edge to her usually softer looks.
For a moment, even she blinked at herself.
She couldn't remember the last time she had actually gotten ready to go out like this.
Her stomach fluttered — nerves, excitement, a tiny thrill she wouldn't admit out loud.
Just then, she heard a light knock on the doorframe.
"Vaani?" Dhruv's voice, deep and calm, drifted into the room.
She turned slightly, and there he was — leaning against the door, dressed in a crisp white shirt rolled up to his forearms, paired with dark jeans.
Casual, effortless, but the way he carried himself made the outfit look almost regal.
His hair was brushed back neatly, jaw freshly shaven, but his eyes—his eyes weren't casual at all.
They were fixed on her.
For a moment, he just stood there, drinking in the sight. His throat bobbed as if he were forcing down words, and his hand slid into his pocket like it needed something to do.
Vaani lifted a brow, breaking the silence. "Do I look okay?" she asked, her voice steadier than she felt.
His jaw tightened, his gaze lingering at her neckline before flicking back up to her eyes. When he finally spoke, his voice was low, husky, the kind of tone that sent an unexpected shiver down her spine.
"You look..." He paused, searching for the right word, and then smirked faintly. "You look more than okay."
Her lips curved into the smallest smirk in return, pleased at having gotten a reaction out of him. She picked up her clutch from the dresser and turned toward him. "Good. Then let's go."
Dhruv straightened, clearing his throat and gesturing toward the hallway with mock formality. "Your chauffeur is waiting downstairs, ma'am."
She chuckled, shaking her head at his dramatics, but followed him out.
The car was waiting in the driveway, headlights glowing softly against the evening. Dhruv walked beside her, his hand almost brushing hers as they stepped out of the building. The air between them was lighter now, playful, but it carried a charge neither of them named.
When the driver opened the door, Dhruv motioned for her to get in first. Vaani slid into the seat, smoothing down her dress, and he followed after, his shoulder brushing hers as he settled in.
The ride started quietly, the hum of the engine filling the silence. Vaani glanced out of the window, her fingers tapping lightly against her clutch.
"You know," she said suddenly, her lips quirking, "I still can't believe you agreed to this."
Dhruv turned his head, watching her profile. "Why not?"
"Because," she said, looking at him now, "you don't exactly strike me as the clubbing type."
He smirked, his eyes glinting in the dim light. "You're right. I'm not."
"Then why come?" she asked, tilting her head curiously.
His gaze softened just a little, though his tone stayed teasing. "Because apparently, my wife forgives people only under strobe lights and loud music."
Vaani laughed, shaking her head. "Not my fault you don't give me enough reasons otherwise."
He leaned back against the seat, still watching her. "Touché."
The ride continued in that mix of silence and small glances, the city lights flashing past the windows, reflecting on their faces.
By the time they reached the club, music was already pulsing faintly from inside, a steady beat vibrating through the pavement. A line of people was waiting at the entrance, dressed in everything from sequins to leather.
Dhruv paid the driver and offered his hand slightly as she stepped out, though she didn't take it — instead, she gave him a look as if to say, don't be overprotective.
But his hand lingered in the air a second too long before he casually shoved it into his pocket again.
Inside, the place was dimly lit with neon strips running along the ceiling, the bass of the music reverberating in their chests. The crowd moved like a single organism, swaying, laughing, shouting over the noise.
Dhruv's brow furrowed slightly as he took it in, but Vaani was already pulling him forward, her eyes sparkling with amusement.
"Come on," she shouted over the music. "This is the point!"
"The point is to go deaf?" he shouted back, deadpan.
She laughed, shaking her head, and tugged him toward the bar. "First drink, then we'll dance."
He raised an eyebrow, clearly skeptical, but followed anyway.
At the bar, she ordered something light, fruity, while he stuck to water.
"Really?" she teased, taking a sip of her drink. "Water?"
"I'm here, aren't I?" he countered, lifting the glass as if to prove a point. "That's already out of character for me."
She smirked, leaning closer so he could hear her over the music. "Fair enough. I'm not drinking anything either. Just one cocktail. But you're dancing tonight."
His eyes widened a fraction, then narrowed in mock warning. "That wasn't part of the condition."
"It's implied," she shot back with a grin.
"Vaani—"
"Shh." She placed a finger against her lips dramatically. "No backing out now."
He sighed but couldn't hide the twitch of a smile tugging at his lips.
When she finally tugged him toward the dance floor, he resisted for about five seconds before giving in. The crowd swallowed them up, the music pounding through the floor.
Vaani moved easily, laughing, letting herself flow with the beat. Dhruv stood a little stiff at first, scanning the crowd protectively, but eventually his eyes settled back on her. The way her hair moved when she laughed, the glint of joy in her eyes — it pulled something out of him.
Slowly, almost reluctantly, his shoulders loosened. His movements fell in sync with hers, not flashy, not wild — but he was there, with her.
And Vaani noticed. Her smile widened, softer now, as she leaned closer to shout in his ear. "See? Not so bad, is it?"
He smirked, leaning back enough to meet her gaze. "Don't get used to it."
But the way his hand brushed hers as the crowd surged, the way he didn't move away when their shoulders bumped — it told another story entirely.
For the first time in weeks, maybe months, they weren't fighting. They weren't drifting. They were together, even in the chaos.
And Vaani felt something inside her settle, just a little.
The club's lights pulsed in sync with the music, casting streaks of violet and gold across the dance floor.
The bass throbbed through the floorboards, a rhythm that matched the beat of Dhruv's own heart.
Vaani moved effortlessly, her body swaying, her black dress catching the flickering light with every spin.
She laughed, and it was a sound that made Dhruv's chest tighten, pulling his focus entirely onto her.
Every movement she made was fluid, confident, yet playful, teasing, drawing him in like a magnet.
He let her lead, trying to match her steps, but his eyes never left her.
The way her fingers brushed against his hand, the way her hair caught the neon light, the subtle way her lips curved when she smiled — it was intoxicating.
She twirled, and he followed, their bodies brushing more closely with each step.
She leaned back into him slightly during a turn, and he felt her weight, a thrilling tension running through him.
Then, something shifted in his awareness.
Out of the corner of his eye, he caught a group of men staring at her from the edge of the floor.
Not in admiration, not in harmless interest — their stares were the kind that made his chest tighten with protectiveness.
Without thinking, Dhruv guided Vaani closer to him, pressing gently against her, shielding her from the unwanted attention.
His hand found the small of her back, firm, possessive, pulling her closer while still keeping their movements in rhythm with the music.
Vaani glanced up at him, noticing the subtle change in his demeanor.
His jaw was set, his eyes darker, more intense, and she felt a shiver of something electric run through her.
He didn't speak, didn't need to — the possessiveness radiating from him was clear.
She pressed herself slightly against him, letting her hand rest over his shoulder as he moved with her, their bodies now entirely in sync.
The remix of a love song started, a soft sensual beat weaving through the loud bass.
The lyrics, though distorted by the DJ, seemed to echo the tension between them.
Dhruv's grip on her waist tightened slightly with each beat, his body leaning into hers, as if he could physically absorb her presence, needed it.
Vaani's pulse quickened; every brush of his hands, every small tilt of his head, every subtle look he threw her way made her heart hammer in her chest.
She let her gaze linger on him, trying to read him. "Dhruv...." she breathed, her voice barely audible over the music.
His eyes, dark and smoldering, snapped up to meet hers, piercing, filled with an intensity that made her stomach twist with both excitement and apprehension.
He leaned in slightly, his breath brushing her ear.
"Can we go home now?" he murmured, low and husky, a whisper that vibrated against her skin.
Vaani blinked, startled. "Why...?" she asked, her voice small, tentative, as though the question might break the delicate tension hanging between them.
Dhruv groaned, tilting his head away for a moment, his frustration evident. His eyes searched the crowd briefly before returning to hers, his grip on her waist firming. He swallowed hard, and his voice dropped even lower, rough with emotion. "Let's go, Vaani."
She shook her head slightly, trying to keep her tone light, teasing, but there was an edge to it. "Why, Dhruv?"
He leaned even closer, his chest brushing against hers, his fingers pressing into her lower back in a possessive hold. "Because," he said, his voice trembling just slightly with restraint,
"I can't control myself anymore, darling."
Her eyes widened at the words, a mix of fear and exhilaration coursing through her. She gulped, her hands tightening slightly on his shoulders, feeling the intensity radiating off him like heat.
"Then... don't," she whispered, her lips parting slightly as her chest rose and fell faster, caught in the tension he had built between them.
He paused, just for a heartbeat, his eyes searching hers. The darkness in them was fierce, magnetic, and yet there was a question lingering there — a silent asking for consent, for permission. He leaned in just slightly, brushing his forehead against hers, giving her a chance to pull away.
Vaani's grip on his shoulders tightened, subtle but clear, and that was all the consent he needed. He let himself inhale the scent of her hair, the warmth of her presence. And then, firmly, deliberately...
He slammed his lips to hers.
The kiss was relatively gentle at first, testing, searching, their lips moving tentatively against each other, tasting, exploring.
Then it deepened, intensified, his hands holding her closer, anchoring her to him as though he couldn't bear even a fraction of distance between them.
Her arms went around his neck, fingers tangling in the collar of his shirt, pulling him closer.
The music behind them faded into a low thrum in their ears, the crowd and chaos of the club blurring into a distant background as they were consumed entirely by each other.
Dhruv's hands moved to the small of her back, pulling her flush against him, and she could feel the rapid beat of his heart, matching her own.
The grip was firm, demanding, yet protective — the kind of hold that communicated both possession and devotion in a single gesture.
Every brush of their bodies, every movement in rhythm with the music, every tilt of their heads only drew them closer.
She moaned softly into the kiss, and he deepened it, tilting his head to capture her lips more fully, one hand threading into her hair while the other remained anchored at her waist. The world around them ceased to exist — the pulsing lights, the beat of the club, the whispers of other dancers — it all melted away until only Dhruv and Vaani remained.
Dhruv finally pulled back slightly, just enough to rest his forehead against hers, both of them panting softly. His eyes roamed hers, searching, asking again, silently: are you okay? are you with me?
Vaani's eyes softened, the fire of anger and teasing now melting into warmth and surrender. She gave a tiny nod, a silent promise, and he felt it deep in his chest. The intensity didn't fade — it only shifted, became a quiet, heated acknowledgment of everything between them.
He rested his forehead against hers for a long moment, his hands still cradling her waist, before whispering just above her lips, "You're back."
Vaani let out a soft laugh, breathless, "Yes... Dhruvi," she murmured, almost a vow, almost a surrender, and he smirked, heart racing, pulling her even closer as if he could hold her there forever.
Even with the crowd around them, the lights, the music, the chaos of the club, the world had narrowed to this — the rhythm of their hearts, the brush of their bodies, the intensity of a moment neither would forget.
Every touch, every movement, every whispered word had led them here, and Dhruv knew, with a certainty he had never admitted even to himself, that he would never let go.
??