He Belongs To Her

Author’s POV

After dinner, everyone retreated to their rooms. Sia and Vedarth also entered their room, the air between them thick with unspoken words.
Sia, unable to hold back any longer, turned to him the moment the door closed behind them.

“Aap yeh sab kyun kar rahe hain?” she asked, her voice a mix of frustration and confusion.

Vedarth, who had just begun rolling up his sleeves, stopped and looked at her. His expression remained calm, unreadable.

“Aur Kya kar raha hoon main?” he asked, his tone smooth yet firm, but there was something in his gaze—something intense, unwavering.

Vedarth’s POV

She clenched her fists, her eyes flashing with anger.

“Aapko zyada banne ki zaroorat nahi hai!” she snapped, pointing a finger at me.
“Aapko achi tarah se pata hai ki hum kya bol rahe hai!”

A smirk tugged at the corner of my lips. I took a slow step closer, tilting my head slightly.

“Mujhe nahi pata, Sia,” I murmured, my voice teasingly low. “Aap bataiye.”

Her breath hitched as I took another slow step toward her, deliberately closing the distance between us. I could see the way her eyes flickered with frustration, her fingers twitching slightly as if she wanted to push me away—but she didn’t. Instead, she held her ground, though I knew the closeness was making it difficult for her to think straight.

I was enjoying this—watching her struggle between her anger and the effect I had on her. The way her breath grew uneven, the way her lashes fluttered just slightly as my presence loomed over her. My smirk deepened.

“Toh, Sia?” I murmured, my voice dipping into something softer, something more dangerous.
“Kya keh rahi thi aap?”

She swallowed hard, her frustration flickering into something else, something she wasn’t ready to name.

But I wasn’t in a hurry. I could wait. I could enjoy this just a little longer.
I took another step closer, watching as she instinctively leaned back, her breath catching in her throat. The space between us was nearly nonexistent now, and I could see it—see the nervous flicker in her eyes, the way she swallowed, as if trying to steady herself.

She was feeling it too. The tension. The awareness.

Her gaze darted away, but I wasn’t looking away—not even for a second. I was taking in every detail of her face, as if seeing her for the first time. The soft curve of her jaw, the way her lashes trembled when I got too close, the way her lips parted slightly as if she wanted to say something but couldn’t.

And then, my eyes landed on it.

A single mole on her lower lip.

It was small, almost unnoticeable, but now that I had seen it, I couldn’t look away. Something inside me shifted—something unfamiliar, something dangerous. My gaze lingered, fixated, as if that one tiny mark had suddenly become the most captivating thing in the world.

My usual smirk faded, replaced by something deeper, something unexplainable. I felt a strange pull, an urge I wasn’t sure I wanted to resist. The way her lips parted slightly, her breath uneven, only made it worse.
I had seen her many times before—walking past me, arguing with me, avoiding my gaze. But never like this. Never this close. Never with this kind of awareness settling deep in my chest, making it hard to breathe.

For the first time, I wasn’t just looking at her—I was seeing her.

The way her lashes trembled, the way her breath hitched ever so slightly, the way her lips parted as if she wanted to say something but couldn’t find the words. Every detail of her face felt newly discovered.

As I took a step closer, I saw the panic flicker in her eyes. Sia instinctively stepped back, her back hitting the cold wall behind her. The air seemed to grow thicker with every inch I moved toward her. I watched as her breath quickened, her eyes darting between me and the space behind her, her body tense and fragile, like she was trying to hold herself together.

Her voice trembled as she asked, “Aap Kya Rahe hai?”

I reached out slowly, almost instinctively, my forefinger brushing her lips gently as I whispered, “Shhhh.”

She trembled under my touch, those petal-soft lips parting slightly in surprise. The sensation sent a jolt of electricity straight through me.

God, her lips.

Like rose petals dipped in sin—plush, yielding under the barest pressure of his touch. My thumb replaced my finger, tracing the delicate bow of her upper lip, and she made a sound. A tiny, broken whimper that went straight to my gut.

I couldn’t help but wonder, how would it feel to kiss those lips?

The thought seared through me. Would they part for me? Would she gasp when I will bit down, just enough to sting? Would she taste like the halwa she’d earlier, or something more sweeter, darker—
“Look at me,” I commanded softly, my voice low and demanding, yet tender.

She hesitated, her lashes fluttering against her cheeks, before her eyes met mine. The instant our gazes locked, I saw it. The same hunger mirrored in her eyes—the kind that clawed at my chest and made my heart race. The air between us thickened, charged with electricity, as though the very space between us was alive with tension.

For a moment, time seemed to stop. I could feel the heat of her breath mingling with mine, the way her chest rose and fell as if she, too, was struggling to hold herself together.
Her body was so close to mine, yet her vulnerability was undeniable. She stood there, waiting, her nerves betrayed by the subtle tremor in her hands, her lips parted just slightly, inviting.

I could feel it, the pull between us, drawing us closer with every breath. My lips hovered just above hers, our faces mere inches apart. I could almost taste the warmth of her skin, the sweetness of her breath. The world outside the room faded, leaving just the two of us, suspended in this charged silence, with everything in me aching for more.

But then, something shifted inside me. Her nervousness, her submission to the moment—it stirred something deeper within me, something I wasn’t prepared to fully let go of. I could see it in her eyes, the way she closed them, surrendering to what was coming. It was as if she was waiting for me to take the next step.
I leaned forward, my lips inching closer, but instead of kissing her lips, I pressed my lips gently against her forehead.

The soft contact, full of tenderness and affection, was nothing like what either of us had expected. Her breath caught, and for a split second, everything inside me stilled.
Her forehead was warm against mine, her hair soft beneath my fingers as I cradled her face in my hand. The kiss lingered there, unspoken, but meaningful. It wasn’t about passion in that moment. It was about something deeper—something unspoken between us that neither of us was ready to fully face yet.

When I pulled away slightly, I saw the confusion, the mix of emotions flickering in her eyes, but there was a softness to it now, something that wasn’t there before.

I smiled, just a little, at the unexpected turn of events.

“Not yet,” I whispered, my voice thick with emotion and restraint, as I let my fingers slide slowly from her chin, giving her space to breathe.

But even as I took a step back, I knew one thing for sure: the desire to have her—to truly have her—had only just begun.