From the moment Tara stepped into the room, something shifted. Amid the chatter, clinking cups, and Rekha's well-polished hospitality, a pair of eyes had already found her — Rudra Rathoure's.

He didn't know what it was. Maybe the calm in her movements, maybe the silence she carried like armor. But as Tara quietly stood beside the table, half-hidden by the curtain's golden light, Rudra couldn't look away. She didn't smile much, didn't try to impress. And that, oddly, impressed him most.

Across the room, Dadi ji's voice cut through the still air.
"Isha beta, come here."
Isha appeared instantly, glowing in her bright pink suit. Dadi smiled kindly, slipping a delicate pair of gold bangles into her hands.
"These are from our family," Dadi said. "A small blessing for your new journey."

Rekha's grin widened — part satisfaction, part calculation. Tara stood silently behind, pretending to be busy clearing cups. But her heart... it pinched. Not in jealousy — just that quiet ache of being unseen.

Then, as the evening stretched on, a rumble of thunder rolled through the sky. The first drops of rain began tapping against the glass.

"Oh no," Rekha exclaimed softly, pretending concern. "It's pouring outside! The roads will be terrible. Please, stay here tonight. We have plenty of rooms."

Mr. Rathoure nodded after a pause. "If it's not too much trouble—"

"Not at all, not at all!" Rekha cut in smoothly.

And just like that, the plan shifted. Servants hurried to prepare the guest rooms. Meera Rathoure chatted politely with Rekha, while Dadi ji spoke to Raghav about old times.

But Rudra, he found himself standing near the window, watching the rain trail down the glass. Behind him, he could hear Tara giving instructions to the maid, her voice low and clear.

When she passed him to hand a towel to Dadi, her sleeve brushed against his arm — light, accidental, electric.

For a heartbeat, both froze.

Outside, the storm grew louder. Inside, something unspoken began to stir — quiet as a secret, steady as rain.

The movie room glowed blue with the ghost's shadow on the screen—
and then, click.

Everything went dark.
The house fell silent, except for the rain smacking against the windows.

Ayaan laughed nervously, "Perfect timing, huh?"
Isha shrieked, clutching Arjun's arm. Someone giggled, someone groaned.

But one person wasn't laughing.

Tara's chest tightened. The laughter blurred into noise. She tried to breathe, but her lungs clawed at the air, desperate. Her hand pressed over her heart — no rhythm, just panic.

No one noticed. They were too busy teasing, fumbling for flashlights.

Quietly, Tara stood. Her breath came in short bursts — shaky, uneven. She turned and slipped out of the hall, clutching her dupatta, eyes blurry with tears.
Each step down the dark corridor felt heavier, harder. She needed her room. Her inhaler. Now.

Only one person saw her leave.

Rudra.

From where he sat, half in shadow, his eyes caught the faint flutter of her peach suit disappearing into the hallway. And something in him just knew.

"Tara," he whispered under his breath, already standing. Then louder —
"Sunshine?"

No answer.

He followed, heart pounding harder than he'd admit. The house was pitch black, lit only by flashes of lightning through the high windows. He found her halfway up the stairs, trembling, gripping the railing like it was her last anchor.

"Sunshine!" he called again, gently but firm.

She turned toward him, eyes wide, gasping, voice breaking. "I—I can't breathe..."

He was beside her in a second, steadying her before she could fall.
"Hey, hey, I've got you. Look at me." His voice was low, calm. "Room's right there, yeah? Let's go."

He guided her forward, hand on her back, whispering between every breath she took.
"Slowly, Sunshine. In... out. You're okay. I'm right here."

They reached her room. Her fingers fumbled with the drawer until the inhaler fell into her palm. One, two puffs — the sound of air returning, life returning.

The world steadied again.

She sank onto the bed, tears still clinging to her lashes. Rudra crouched beside her, not saying anything — just waiting, just there.

When her breathing finally slowed, she looked up at him, voice soft and raw.
"You noticed."

Rudra smiled faintly, brushing a strand of hair from her face.
"I always notice, Sunshine."

Lightning flashed again outside, but this time, the dark didn't scare her.
Not while he was there.

When her breath finally steadied, Tara leaned back against the pillow. Her chest still ached faintly, but the tightness was easing, the air settling back into her lungs.

Rudra stood quietly, watching her — the rise and fall of her breathing, the tremor still in her hands. The storm outside had softened to a drizzle, moonlight slicing through the window just enough to touch her face.

"Try to rest, Sunshine," he said softly. "You'll feel better soon."

She nodded weakly, clutching her inhaler. "It... it has medicine that makes me sleepy."

"I know," he murmured. "That's good. Sleep's what you need."

Tara's eyelids fluttered, her voice growing faint. "You're kind, Rudra..."

He smiled, a quiet thing that reached his eyes. "Just looking after my sunshine."

Within moments, her breathing evened out — deep, soft, peaceful. Her hand still rested near the inhaler, as if holding onto safety itself.

Rudra lingered a few seconds longer, making sure she was truly asleep. Then he turned, moving silently through the hallway, back toward the guest room.

The rain had stopped. The house was wrapped in that calm after-storm stillness — too quiet, almost sacred.

He entered the guest room where Ayaan and Arjun were already snoring like thunder. Lying down on the extra bed, he stared at the ceiling for a long moment.

His mind wasn't in the room — it was still with her.
The way her voice broke when she couldn't breathe. The way she tried not to be a burden.

He sighed, closing his eyes, whispering just to the dark—
"Sleep well, Sunshine."

And for the first time in years, Rudra felt something shift quietly inside him — not love yet, but the start of it.

The next morning arrived with sunlight pouring through the curtains, gentle and golden after the storm. By the time Tara woke, the Rathoure family had already left. The house felt strangely emptier without them — quieter, but not peaceful.

She sat up slowly, rubbing her eyes. A faint memory of the night before flickered through her mind — Rudra's hand steadying hers, his voice in the dark, that quiet word that still echoed somewhere deep inside her.
Sunshine.

Downstairs, chaos had already begun. The Chauhan mansion was no longer calm — it was draped in silk, fresh flowers, and glittering lights. Servants ran in every direction, decorators shouting over one another.

Rekha's sharp voice cut through the noise, giving orders faster than anyone could follow. "Fix the garlands! Move that sofa! Where's the sweet boxes? Everything must be perfect — the Rathoures will be here again by evening!"

Because today wasn't just another day.
Today was Isha's wedding.

The air was thick with perfume, marigold, and tension. Everyone seemed to be glowing — except Tara. She moved through the hall quietly, helping where she could, her peach dupatta tied back as she carried trays and checked decorations.

Oiiiii readers Don't just watch the chapter vote also 😒