The clinking of plates echoes softly as maids arrange the evening dishes on the long dining table. The golden glow of chandeliers spills over the polished surface, filling the room with warmth. Sitara and Rajveer stand nearby, watching as everything is set to perfection.

Ruhanika enters quietly, her steps light yet eager. She pulls out a chair and sits, her eyes sparkling with curiosity. “So, what’s for dinner today? I know it’s my favourite, right?” she asks, a mischievous smile tugging at her lips.

“Yes, Princess!” Rajveer chuckles, gently pulling her cheeks before sitting beside her.

One by one, Ruhanika lifts the lids from the bowls, and her eyes widen. The table gleams with her favourites — naan, shahi paneer, biryani, raita, mix veg, papad, and salad. Each dish radiates the comforting aroma of home.

“Oh damn!” she exclaims, her voice full of sudden, childlike joy she hasn’t felt in years.

Rajveer laughs softly and begins serving her. “Careful, or you’ll drool before the plate’s ready.”

Ruhanika’s gaze stays fixed on the food, her mouth watering impatiently.

When Rajveer finishes, she doesn’t wait a second longer. She dives into the meal, her cheeks puffing as she eats with delight. Between bites, muffled words escape.

“Mmm… this food is so good! I missed Nanu’s cooking so much.”

“Oh really?” a familiar, warm voice calls from behind. “Then why hasn’t my granddaughter visited me in three years?”

Ruhanika freezes mid-bite. She turns to find her grandfather — Ranvijay Kashyap — standing in the doorway, a bowl in his hands, his face glowing with affection.

“Nanu!” she says, eyes softening. “I really wanted to come, but my studies didn’t let me.”

He places the bowl on the table and takes a seat beside her. “I know, Ruhani. But your Nanu missed you just as much.”

Ruhanika smiles playfully and resumes eating.

“Dad,” Rajveer says, looking up with a grin, “our Ruhanika is finally home. Shouldn’t we celebrate? Maybe throw a little party tonight?”

Ranvijay’s eyes light up. “A perfect idea! What do you say, Ruhanika? Shall we do it tonight?”

Ruhanika nods eagerly, her eyes twinkling.

At the edge of the table, Sitara watches the three of them, her lips curved in a tender smile. This — this laughter, this love — is the family she cherishes more than her life.

Ranvijay glances toward her. “Tara beta, come eat something too.”

Sitara nods softly and takes the seat beside Rajveer. He serves both of them, and soon the table fills with chatter and warmth.

When dinner ends, they all gather in the hall. The house rings with laughter and joy, as if the walls themselves are smiling — welcoming their daughter home after so long.

A gentle ray of sunlight slips through the curtains and falls across Ruhanika’s face. She stirs, scrunching her eyes in irritation before tugging the blanket over her head.

The alarm rings moments later. She groans dramatically.

“Ugh… why does morning come so early?”

Reluctantly, she sits up, stretching her arms with a long yawn. After a quick shower and change into her soft home clothes, a bright smile forms on her face. She’s home — truly home — and for once, she doesn’t have to wake up alone.

She hurries to the hall, where her parents sit talking over tea. Her grandfather, as always, is absorbed in his newspaper.

“Good morning!” she shouts cheerfully.

All three look up, smiling at her energy.

“Our Ruhanika is finally awake,” Ranvijay says, folding the newspaper. “Did you sleep well, beta?”

“Yes, Nanu!” she replies with a grin.

“Good. Now go have breakfast quickly,” Sitara says warmly.

Ruhanika nods and rushes toward the dining area, her heart light with a joy she had long forgotten.

The air outside is still, painted in shades of grey-blue. It’s 4:00 a.m. when Kunal’s eyes flutter open. He doesn’t need an alarm — his body is trained to wake at this hour.

With a low groan, he sits up, folding his hands together. Eyes closed, he whispers softly,

“Om Namah Shivaay.”

For two quiet minutes, the room fills with the calm rhythm of his breath and the faint hum of devotion. Then, he stands, takes a rolled mat from the closet, and steps into the dark hallway. The mansion is silent, wrapped in peace.

Outside, the garden glistens with dew. The faint chirrup of birds greets the dawn as he spreads his mat in the center — surrounded by flowers of every color. The world seems to hold its breath.

He sits cross-legged, back straight, fingers touching lightly in mudra. Eyes close once again. Slowly, his mind empties, aligning with the quiet pulse of nature.

He flows through his asanas gracefully — the discipline in his body visible in every movement. When he’s done, he exhales deeply, allowing himself a moment of stillness.

To Kunal, this isn’t just exercise. Yoga is his balance, his shield. It keeps him centered, protected — as if no darkness could reach him once the morning light has touched his soul.

He stands, stretches, and looks up. On the electric wire above, a row of tiny birds chirps and flutters. A faint smile touches his lips. Gathering his mat, he walks back inside.

By now, the mansion begins to stir. The gardener passes him, watering can in hand. Kunal nods briefly and returns to his room. The mat goes back into the closet; his next stop is the gym.

He trains hard — each push-up counted under his breath until finally,

“Hundred.”

He falls back, panting, wiping the sweat from his face. His hair clings to his forehead, and for a moment, his reflection in the mirror seems to look right back at him — strong, composed, untouchable.

Downstairs, Vaishali sits gracefully on the sofa, the soft sound of her Rudraksha beads clicking between her fingers. Her lips move in gentle prayer, devotion shining in her calm expression.

When she finishes, she places the beads carefully back in their wooden box. “Sarika!” she calls toward the staircase. “Sarika, come downstairs!”

Upstairs, Sarika is already awake, combing her hair before the mirror. On the bed behind her, Prakash still sleeps — his face peaceful, unguarded.

She glances at him through the mirror, a faint smile playing on her lips. Every time she looks at him, her heart flutters, just as it did years ago.

She reaches for the small vermilion box, pausing for a moment. Her reflection stares back at her — a married woman, but still shy. She wishes, just once, that he would wake and fill her partition himself.

But he sleeps so peacefully. She sighs, opens the box, and pinches the vermilion between her fingers. Just as she’s about to touch it to her hairline, a hand gently catches hers.

Her breath stills.

She turns — and there he is. Prakash stands behind her, eyes half-open with sleep, yet a lazy smile curves on his lips.

Without a word, he takes the pinch of vermilion from her hand and fills her partition himself — slowly, tenderly.

Sarika’s eyes flutter shut for a moment, the weight of the moment pressing softly on her heart.

“Thank you,” she whispers.

Prakash’s voice is husky with sleep. “Why thank me, hmm? It’s my duty to fill my wife’s maang with my own hands. Isn’t it?”

Sarika blushes faintly. “Yes…”

He watches her lovingly, catching the unspoken wish that had flickered in her eyes a moment earlier. He understood her — always did.

Then, Vaishali’s voice echoes again from downstairs. “Sarika! Are you coming or not?”

Sarika steps back quickly. “I should go. Maa is calling.”

Prakash nods, smiling as she sets the box down and makes her way out. He watches her until she disappears from sight, the smile on his face widening with each passing second.

“Thank you, Sarika… for everything,” he murmurs to himself, his heart full.

The afternoon sun hangs gently above the Kashyap garden, its rays slipping through the leaves. Ruhanika paces along the soft grass, lost in thought, her phone twirling in her fingers.

She’s so deep in her own world that she doesn’t notice the quiet footsteps behind her — until—

“Bhooo!”

“Ahhh!” Ruhanika jumps, a startled scream escaping her lips as she clutches her chest. Her heart thunders wildly.

And then—laughter. Loud, unrestrained, uncontrollable laughter.

She turns sharply to see a boy rolling on the grass, laughing so hard that tears glisten in his eyes.

“Why are you laughing, stupid?!” she snaps, her nose scrunching in irritation — though a reluctant smile threatens to break through.

Because despite everything, after three long years, she’s finally looking at him — Kanu, her childhood friend.

“Beca—because your face is… so funny!” he manages between gasps of laughter, clutching his stomach.

“Itna bhi funny nahi tha!” she huffs, turning away.

After a while, when his laughter calms, Kanu gets up, brushing the grass from his shirt. His grin softens.

“Still, yaar, after so many years… even small things feel funny.”

Ruhanika’s irritation melts instantly. She smiles and steps forward.

“Haan haan, ab zyada mat bol. Come here.”

And before he can respond, she throws her arms around him.

Kanu freezes for a second — then hugs her back, spinning her in a full circle.

“Yayyy! Finally my Ruhanika is here!” he shouts, pure joy bursting from him.

“Okay, okay, calm down, mister!” she laughs breathlessly as he sets her down.

But he doesn’t let go immediately. His voice drops low, soft.

“You know how much I missed you?”

Ruhanika steps back, crossing her arms playfully. “Don’t tell me you’re going to cry, because then I’ll definitely laugh.”

Kanu chuckles, shaking his head. “Dhatt, pagli.”

She grins, finally admitting, “I missed you too, dumbo.”

His eyes light up with mischief. “Is that so?”

“Yes!” she says dramatically.

“I believe you,” he replies, linking his arm with hers. They begin walking slowly through the garden, the air between them filled with comfortable warmth and the scent of blooming jasmine.

After a pause, Ruhanika says thoughtfully, “You know… I still haven’t talked to Kahani yet.”

Kanu stiffens a little, his playful expression dimming. “Oh?” he hums, keeping his gaze straight.

“I’m worried,” she continues, chewing her lip. “She’s going to be really mad at me.”

“Haan toh? Aarti thodi utaregi?” Kanu mutters with mock seriousness. “You should’ve told her earlier.”

“Bhakk, gadha! I’m asking for advice, not sarcasm.”

“And I gave it,” he says simply, smirking.

“Uff! Gawar, shut up!” she says, but her voice carries no anger.

He laughs, and the sound drifts into the sunlight like a melody of old days.

---

They sit on the grass beneath a large neem tree, leaning back on their hands. The breeze brushes their faces as Ruhanika breaks the silence.

“Tell me about the dhaba you work at.”

Kanu’s eyes brighten immediately. “Ah, the dhaba! Nothing much, but I’m still there. The people are great — like family. Honestly, it’s going really well.”

“That’s nice,” she says, smiling. “So, you’re planning to work there forever?”

He blinks, a bit taken aback. “Yes… why, what’s wrong with that?”

“Oh, nothing,” she says quickly. “I just thought you’d go for something else.”

A shadow crosses his face. “I wanted to. But you know how it is — in our country, talent doesn’t always get a chance. I tried… many times. Rejected every single time.”

Her heart softens instantly. But before she can speak, he adds, with quiet pride, “Still, I’m happy. The dhaba isn’t just a job — it’s where I found myself. It keeps me alive, Ruhani.”

She looks at him with silent admiration. If her friend is happy, that’s all that matters.

The buzzing of her phone interrupts the moment. She glances down — Kahani flashes across the screen.

Kanu leans over to see the name and bursts out laughing. “Bas ho gaya kaam! Ab toh prarthna kar, meri jaan.”

“Yeah, yeah, just pray for me,” she says dramatically, stepping aside to take the call. She hides behind the tree, as if that would somehow protect her from Kahani’s wrath.

Kanu shakes his head and lies back on the grass, grinning.

Ruhanika presses the phone to her ear — and immediately jerks it away.

“AAAA! RUHANIKA SINGH KASHYAP! YOU ARE GOING TO DIE IN SOME TIME!”

Her ears ring from Kahani’s scream. She rolls her eyes and waits until the storm passes, then puts the phone back.

“Hello,” she says cautiously.

“Don’t ‘hello’ me! Just answer my question,” Kahani snaps.

“Which question?” Ruhanika asks innocently.

“Which—?! Ruhanika, I literally gave you a whole speech just now!”

“Sorry,” Ruhanika says, barely holding back laughter. “Didn’t understand a word.”

“You’ll get slapped one day!” Kahani growls. “I asked why the hell you didn’t tell me you were coming back!”

Ruhanika sighs, guilt flashing briefly. “Everything happened so suddenly, I didn’t get the time.”

“Oh, so now you’re too busy for your best friend?” Kahani says dramatically.

“Drama queen,” Ruhanika mutters. “I barely had time to tell Mumma and Papa. I’m sorry, yaar.”

There’s silence — then Kahani softens. “Fine. But I’m still hurt.”

“I know. I’m really sorry,” Ruhanika says sincerely.

“Hmph. Okay, fine. Now listen — we’re going to the fair today. Remember the one from three years ago?”

Ruhanika smiles faintly. “Of course.”

“Good. Don’t you dare say no. We’re going, and that’s final,” Kahani declares.

“Yes, ma’am,” Ruhanika says with mock salute.

“Two hours. Be ready. Or I’ll kill you.”

“Okay, okay! I’ll be ready!”

“Bye!”

“Bye.”

She ends the call and exhales in relief. “Thank God. I’m safe.”

Kanu looks over from the grass. “Survived the storm?”

“Barely.” She chuckles and sits beside him again.

Kanu gazes up at the sky, eyes full of unspoken dreams. “What are you thinking?” she asks softly.

“Nothing important, Ruhani,” he says, smiling faintly.

“Hmm… okay.”

They both fall silent, watching the clouds drift lazily above them. For a long moment, neither speaks. And in that quiet — in the warmth of the sun and the comfort of friendship — everything feels exactly right.

______________________________________

Kunal sat in his cabin, focused intently on his laptop. His brows were furrowed in concentration as his fingers moved swiftly across the keyboard.

A cup of ginger tea rested beside the laptop, steam curling softly into the air. The rhythmic tapping of the keys filled the room, blending with the gentle whisper of the wind drifting in through the open windows. The curtains swayed lightly, casting faint shadows across the floor.

A knock sounded at the door.

Kunal didn’t look up, his gaze fixed on the screen. “Come in,” he said flatly.

The door opened, and a man entered — munching loudly on a packet of chips.

The sound of typing was instantly replaced by the loud crunch of chips.

“Whoa! So Mr. Shekhawat is actually working? Nice,” the man teased, dropping into the chair across from Kunal and crossing one leg over the other.

Kunal didn’t even glance up. “Why are you here, Siddharth?” he asked, eyes still glued to the laptop.

“I was bored,” Siddharth replied casually. “So I thought — why not visit you?”

Kunal hummed in response, still typing.

“Can you please look at me once? And maybe keep that laptop aside?” Siddharth said, his voice edged with irritation.

Kunal finally lifted his gaze, glanced at him — and kept typing. “It’s important, Sid,” he replied before his eyes returned to the screen.

“Tsk. You’re such a workaholic,” Siddharth sighed dramatically. “Where’s your lover side — the one who didn’t even know what ‘work’ was?”

Kunal froze at the word lover. For a moment, his thoughts slipped back — to her. To his Lily.

A faint smile touched his lips.

“There isn’t a specific ‘lover side’ in me,” he said quietly. “Because in every side of myself, I love her — without stopping.”

Then, more firmly, “And besides, work and love are two different things.”

“Arey! I was just kidding, yaar,” Siddharth said, grinning. “I know you love her with your everything — kidneys, liver, pancreas, legs, hands, insulin, ribs, and so on. You’ve got no spare parts left!”

Kunal laughed, shaking his head. Finally, he pushed the laptop aside and gave Siddharth his full attention.

“Alright, tell me what you want. Because I know you too well — you wouldn’t come here without a reason.”

“That’s my Kunal!” Siddharth said proudly, grinning like a child. “You know me too well.”

“And trust me, you’re going to be very happy, because what I’m about to say will definitely make you smile.”

“Oh?” Kunal leaned back, amusement flickering in his eyes. “Now I’m curious.”

Siddharth’s expression grew more animated. “Remember, three years ago, we went to a fair? The one where you first saw her? The place where my friend turned into a true aashiq?”

At the mention of that fair, Kunal’s eyes softened. How could he ever forget that place — the one where he first saw her? The place that changed his life forever? The place that gave him hope again?

“Kaise bhool sakta hoon main us jagah ko…” he whispered to himself, the words slipping out tenderly — a mixture of affection and quiet sorrow.

Siddharth’s teasing expression melted. He remembered that day too — and how much it had meant to Kunal.

He saw Kunal’s gaze darken, shadows of the past flickering in his eyes. So he quickly lightened the mood again.

“Kunal! That fair is happening again — today!” Siddharth said, his voice bursting with excitement. “And who knows? Maybe, just like that day, you’ll find her again!”

Kunal’s expression changed instantly — shock, disbelief, hope — all flashing across his face at once.

“Really?” he asked, almost breathless.

“Haanji, Mr. Kunal!” Siddharth said, his face glowing with shared happiness. “So? Are you coming?”

“The hell, YES!” Kunal exc

laimed, his face lighting up with pure joy. Just the thought of seeing her again made his heart race.

He leaned back in his chair, head tilted toward the ceiling, eyes glimmering as he whispered softly —

“Please, Mahadev… aaj mujhe unse mila hi dena.”

(Please, Mahadev… let me meet her today.)

__________________________

Sitara was sitting in her room, a book placed in her hands. She was so engrossed in it that she almost forgot her surroundings. Her face was flushed in a soft blush; her lips curved in a faint smile as her eyes wandered through the lines written on the pages.

"Saare toor ho, saare hashr ho..."

"Humein intezaar qubool hai."

"Woh kabhi mile, woh kahin sahi..."

"Na ho unpe mera bas, toh na sahi..."

"Ke yeh aashiqui hai, hawas nahi..."

"Main unhi ka tha, main unhi ka hoon..."

"Woh mera nahi, toh na sahi..."

Her eyes traced every line of the poetry. She could never get over it, because this book wasn’t just any book—it held deep emotions within it.

It always made her feel something she couldn’t quite describe.

This was one of her favorite books—one she had read countless times. But after her marriage, she had stopped reading it. Yet in the past few days, she had started reading it again.

And yes... it still felt the same as before.

Salar Sikandar—the man who changed himself for his Imama, the man who burned in the fire of love that bled from his very soul. A man who once thought of love as nothing, and became the dream of many.

It was the story of how he found his God—how he found the right path.

The door clicked open as Rajveer entered, but Sitara didn’t notice. Her entire focus remained on her book.

Rajveer’s gaze lingered on her—an amused smile curved on his lips.

He knew very well how much she loved reading, especially this book.

But she was reading it again after so many years. And it surprised him, because it wasn’t just two or three years—but almost thirty.

Even after five minutes, she hadn’t noticed him. So he chose to break the silence with a light sound—clearing his throat.

Sitara startled slightly and looked up, finding Rajveer standing there with a raised eyebrow.

She quickly placed the book aside and stood up from the bed.

“Woah, actually I didn’t realize... sorry,” she said softly, tucking her hair behind her ear before walking toward him.

“It’s okay, dove,” Rajveer replied with a smile that never left his lips.

Sitara stood in front of him. Her height barely reached his shoulder—5'4 against his tall 6'4 frame.

Her hands gently moved to his coat, undoing it from his body.

Rajveer stayed still, his eyes fixed on her—watching her every movement.

Because in this moment, she was entirely his. He loved when her attention belonged only to him. Yes—except for their children.

Sitara then reached for his tie. While untying it, she suddenly felt the weight of his gaze.

Her eyes lifted instinctively—and met his.

Their eyes locked.

His eyes held undeniable love.

Hers—something unexplainable, a mix of emotions even she couldn’t name.

The tie slipped from his neck. Sitara took it in her hands and, with one last glance, broke the eye contact.

She moved away quietly, coat and tie in hand.

Rajveer watched her as she walked to the closet.

His voice came from behind, low and casual. “Waise, kaafi saalon baad padh rahi thi tum wo book?”

Sitara hummed in reply.

Rajveer unbuttoned his shirt sleeves and shrugged the fabric off.

Even at his age, his body still carried the same power, the same sharp masculinity. The tattoo inked across his back added to his dangerous allure.

He didn’t look like a man in his fifties—almost sixties now.

A smirk played on his lips as his gaze fell on Sitara again—who was clearly trying not to look at him, knowing he was shirtless.

With that calm, mischievous aura he always carried, he stepped toward her—quietly. Sitara stiffened. Her grip on the closet handle tightened.

She could feel him coming closer.

The smirk on Rajveer’s lips deepened.

He stopped beside her—so close she could feel the heat radiating from his skin.

He placed his hands on either side of her, flat on the shelf—trapping her gently. His face nestled into the curve of her neck, his breath warm against her skin. Half of his face buried in the base of her neck, his eyes still fixed on her face.

He stood so dangerously close—it felt as if even the air had no space between them.

Sitara’s breath quickened.

She tried to compose herself, to not melt into him. She could sense his gaze on her—burning, unyielding.

Rajveer inhaled deeply, closing his eyes for a moment, and whispered softly, “You know how much I love you?” When he opened his eyes again, they were filled with warmth.

A small smile appeared on Sitara’s lips as she whispered back,

“Yes…”

Rajveer’s lips brushed near her ear as he asked in a low voice,

“Aaj wo book kaise padh rahi thi tum? Saalon se nahi dekhi tumhare paas.”

Sitara swallowed, then replied,

“Woh… actually, I found it suddenly while cleaning the old cottage in the garden. So I thought—why not read it again?”

Rajveer hummed in response, his teeth grazing lightly against her ear.

Then, with a swift motion, he turned her around.

Now she was facing him—her eyes lowered, shyness painting her face.

Her heart raced at his sudden act.

He lifted two fingers to her chin, tilting it up gently. Her hesitant eyes met his—and the warmth and intensity in them made her knees weaken.

“You still haven’t changed,” Rajveer said with a soft chuckle. “Still the same shy Sitara.”

A small, shy smile appeared on her lips. She looked away slightly, and Rajveer’s smile grew wider at her reaction.

He brushed his nose playfully against hers, and she hit his chest lightly in protest.

And in that moment, he felt it again—the same feeling he always did when he looked at his dove: Shy. Innocent. Respectful. Divine. Ethereal. And completely his.

______________________________________

Ruhanika steps out, fully ready in her purple suit. The fabric hugs every curve perfectly, accentuating her figure in a way that’s impossible to ignore. Oxidised jhumkas dangle from her ears, a small bindi rests on her forehead, and delicate anklets tinkle softly with every step.

She gives herself one final look in the mirror, a satisfied smile spreading across her lips. Phone and purse in hand, she makes her way outside.

Kanu is already there, hidden behind a corner of the mansion, his body pressed against the wall as he watches. The car waits outside, and Kahani sits inside, earbuds in, her fingers drumming rhythmically against the steering wheel.

Kanu’s eyes never leave her. The anklets he holds tremble slightly in his hands—the ones he wants to give kahani, but can’t. Not yet.

It’s not fear alone—it’s timing. One wrong step now, and the moment will shatter. So he does what his instincts tell him: he stays hidden, patient, still. Waiting.

Ruhanika, adjusting her sleeves, notices him at last. Her eyes narrow as they fall on the corner where he stands, anklets in hand, gaze fixed outside. Confusion etches her face.

Quietly, she walks up and taps him twice on the shoulder. Kanu jumps, heart racing.

Her eyebrows rise, asking silently: Why are you here?

Kanu looks around nervously, then meets her gaze. Instead of answering, he asks deliberately,

“Where are you going, Ruhani?”

“Don’t ask a question with another question,” Ruhanika snaps, narrowing her eyes.

“And now tell me quickly—what are you doing hiding behind the wall, hm?” she presses, curiosity mixed with irritation.

Kanu swallows hard, glancing sideways, then finally admits,

“Nothing… I was just… wondering. When I found these anklets, I thought maybe someone had dropped them by mistake. So… I was just… looking outside.”

Ruhanika snorts, mockery in her voice.“OMG! I believe you.”

The lie is too obvious—if he were really searching for something, he wouldn’t be crouching behind a wall.

“Believe me or not, it’s the truth. And now I have to go—I have work. Enjoy the fair.”

Before she can respond, he melts into the shadows, disappearing.

But wait… he asked her where she was going—how did he know she was heading to the fair?

Suspicious…

Ruhanika brushes it off and walks toward the car, where Kahani’s impatient honking grows louder. She slides into the seat, the door shutting with a soft thud.

Kahani’s eyes blaze with cold, sharp anger, but Ruhanika only smiles mischievously.

“Didn’t you come so quickly?” Kahani teases, mockery dripping from her words.

“Yes…” Ruhanika replies smoothly.

“Shut up!”

“But you asked,” she counters, her smile teasing.

Kahani shoots her a dangerous glare, snapping her mouth shut.

“I’m not late intentionally… it’s because of Kanu,” Ruhanika admits softly.

In that instant, every trace of anger vanishes from Kahani’s face. Her expression softens, the corners of her lips curving ever so slightly. Ruhanika notices it, a triumphant, secret smile playing across her own.

“Let’s go…”

The car glides forward, leaving the mansion behind, heading straight for the fair—the very place where three years ago, their fates intertwined, sealed by the quiet promises of their hearts.

Outside, the wind whispers through the trees, carrying the faint echo of laughter, memories, and the unspoken magic of moments waiting to be relived.

And somewhere, Kanu watches from afar, heart tight in anticipation, the anklets still clutched in his hands, waiting for the perfect moment…