Page 54 of Substitute Bride
Vikrant called out and ran after her. But she darted outside and hid. When Vikrant came out and looked around, she was nowhere to be seen. He frantically searched the area.
“Jhankar…” he called again.
Jhankar was covering her mouth to stifle her laughter, making sure no sound escaped.
Vikrant, failing to spot her, rushed outside.
She quickly snuck back inside and hid in the room, knowing full well that Vikrant would now go looking for her everywhere.
She wanted to enjoy the frustration and expressions on his face.
Quietly, she stepped out onto the balcony to observe the scene below and savor the moment.
Vikrant ran outside, smiling, but couldn’t find her anywhere.
The bodyguards, seeing Vikrant come out, became more alert.
Ignoring them, he kept looking around. The guards exchanged nervous glances — no one dared ask Vikrant unnecessary questions, as that would be like inviting death.
When Vikrant still couldn’t find Jhankar, he turned to one of the bodyguards.
“Did Jhankar come out?”
“No, sir. Madam is still inside,” the guard replied.
Maintaining his calm smile, Vikrant reentered the room, shut the door, and quickly scanned every corner.
He could imagine it clearly — she had run out, hidden somewhere, and after seeing him search, sneaked back in.
He knew Jhankar well enough by now. He calmly closed the door of the room, walked over to the bed, and lay down.
From the balcony door, Jhankar peeked inside and saw him lying there comfortably.
She looked at him, puzzled — he wasn’t even searching for her anymore.
She couldn’t understand why he was acting this way, and it frustrated her. She burst back into the room and said,
“So it doesn’t matter to you if I get lost somewhere, does it?”
Without a moment's delay, Vikrant leaps toward her. Jhankar tries to run, but within the next second, she’s caught in Vikrant’s arms. Holding her close, he gently brushes his knuckle against her cheek, looks deep into her eyes, and says,
“You really think you could ever get away from me?”
She parted her lips with his comments and lost in the magic of his eyes.
The space between them shimmered with quiet tension—an ache that lingered just beneath the surface, humming like a secret neither dared to speak aloud.
His eyes met hers, deep and unwavering, holding a question and an answer all at once.
There was no challenge, only a silent yearning that reached across the stillness like a gentle pull on the soul.
She didn’t look away. Instead, her trembling hands found the front of his shirt, her fingers curling into the fabric not with force, but with vulnerability—like someone reaching for steady ground.
She drew him closer, breath hitching, her heart beating loud enough to echo in her ears.
Their lips met—not in a crash of desperation, but in a slow, aching surrender.
The world faded as warmth bloomed between them, their kiss unhurried yet charged, a meeting of mouths that whispered all the words they hadn’t yet spoken.
It was tender and deep, carrying the weight of everything they had held back for far too long.
His hands moved to her waist, firm but careful, grounding her.
She leaned into him fully, the contours of their bodies fitting as though made for this closeness.
Her back found the wall behind her, the contact sending a shiver through her spine, but she didn’t flinch.
Instead, she tilted her head, inviting more, her lips parting to deepen the kiss as her fingers wove into his hair.
A soft sound rumbled from his chest—not a growl, but something quieter, reverent.
He pressed into her just enough to close the last breath of space, his touch possessive but not forceful.
Each kiss was a promise, a plea, a memory in the making.
It wasn’t about urgency—it was about presence.
About finally being seen, being felt, and being wanted.
Their breaths came in soft, uneven pulses, their foreheads brushing, noses bumping.
Her fingers tightened in his hair, her body drawn to his like a tide returning home.
He kissed her again—slower now, tender—like he wanted to remember how she tasted in this moment forever.
And when they parted, barely, their lips still ghosting over each other, their eyes stayed closed, as if even the smallest motion might break the fragile beauty they’d just created.
His forehead rested against hers. In the hush that followed, they didn’t need to speak.
Everything important had already been said—in the press of lips, in the weight of a hand, in the way their hearts now beat not separately, but together.
Jhankar, her heart pounding rapidly, tries to keep looking at him—but her eyes refuse to cooperate, as if overwhelmed by the intensity of the moment.
Vikrant’s gaze, deep and unrelenting, holds a force that unsettles her, compelling her to hide herself from those piercing eyes.
Without another thought, she buries her face in his chest, wrapping her arms tightly around him.
Vikrant, holding her close, shuts his eyes as well, wanting nothing more than to lose himself in the beauty of this moment.
He can feel the quick rise and fall of her breath against his chest—so vivid, so alive—but he wants to feel her even closer.
Without a word, Vikrant lifts her into his arms. Jhankar instinctively hides her face in the crook of his neck, clinging to him, seeking comfort in his warmth.
He kisses her gently on the shoulder as he carries her to the bed, laying her down with the utmost tenderness, as though she were a delicate doll that might shatter at the slightest roughness.
Jhankar’s eyes remain lowered, unable to meet his gaze, her lashes heavy with emotion.
Vikrant softly brushes her hair away from her face, then leans in and places a tender kiss on her forehead—each gesture a silent promise, each moment a quiet surrender to the love neither of them can hold back anymore.
The night had fallen thick and silent, cloaking the room in shadows that danced along the walls with every flicker of the bedside lamp.
Outside, the world was asleep, but inside the room, time had stilled—held gently between two hearts beating in unspoken harmony.
Jhankar clung a little tighter to Vikrant, her fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt as the darkness outside pressed against the windows.
She had never truly felt comfortable at his home; she would often wake up in the middle of the night, frightened—because no matter how many times she had faced the darkness, it still terrified her deeply.
She would usually lie on the couch, trying to catch glimpses of Vikrant, as his presence somehow dulled the edge of her fear, even if it never truly vanished.
But tonight, it’s different. She isn’t just in the same room with him—she is in his arms, held close; the darkness doesn’t feel threatening.
It feels safe. Vikrant held her close, as though his arms could shield her from every shadow, every whisper of fear.
His presence wrapped around her more securely than any blanket.
He didn’t speak, didn’t ask—but he knew.
In the soft way he rested his chin against the crown of her head, in the steady rhythm of his breathing, he gave her the reassurance that no darkness could ever reach her while he was near.
She nestled deeper into his embrace, her cheek resting over his heart.
The strong, steady thump beneath her ear was her lullaby, calming the tremble in her thoughts.
His hands moved in slow, soothing circles across her back, not to entice, not to claim, but to comfort.
Each touch spoke of care, of protection, of a love so deep it asked for nothing in return but closeness.
There was no hunger in their nearness tonight—only warmth.
There was only the quiet ache of souls finding solace in each other.
Their legs tangled together beneath the sheets, their bodies molding not with desire, but with belonging.
As if, after a thousand restless nights, they had finally come home.
Jhankar's eyelids grew heavy, and with a soft sigh, she surrendered to the peace he offered.
Vikrant felt her breathing become steady and held her closer, as if to protect even her dreams.
He was completely lost in the bliss of her nearness, savoring every second like a man who had searched a lifetime for this very peace.
The calm he had longed for, the one that had always eluded him, now rested quietly in his arms. Vikrant felt as though there was nothing left to conquer in this world—nothing more he needed to ask from life.
His entire world was right here, wrapped in his embrace.
With a tender smile, he ran his fingers softly through her hair and pressed a gentle kiss to her forehead.
He wanted to sleep, to rest in this moment—but something in him kept pulling him back to her, making him want to kiss her again and again.
He knew she was already asleep and that his touch might disturb her, but he couldn't resist. Once more, he leaned down and placed another delicate kiss on her forehead.
Even in sleep, Jhankar could feel the warmth of his lips.
Without opening her eyes, she instinctively wrapped her arms tighter around his waist, pulling herself even closer to him.
Then, resting her lips gently on his chest, she whispered ever so softly.
“Good night, my love…”
Vikrant opened his eyes wide in surprise, having just begun to drift into sleep.
He tried to catch a glimpse of her face, but in the very next moment, she turned away, hiding her expression.
His arms tightened instinctively around her, pressing her back to his chest, letting her feel the steady beat of his heart against her.
she refused to turn back toward him. Vikrant didn’t have the courage to ask her again what she had just said—because even if it was a dream, even if it wasn’t real, it was beautiful.
And he didn’t want to risk losing it. So he simply closed his eyes, holding her tightly in his arms, a soft smile playing on his lips, as he allowed himself to drift into the world of dreams—with her.