The Weight of Emotions

Veer's hand was warm against Arya's, his grip firm yet hesitant, as if he was unsure whether to hold on or let go.

Arya swallowed hard, the reality of the moment settling around her like a heavy mist. This wasn't a dream. This wasn't one of those fleeting glances or silent exchanges that she could brush off later. This was *real.*

Veer was holding her hand. And he wasn't letting go.

She glanced up at him, searching his face for something—*anything*—that could help her understand what he was feeling. But his expression was guarded, his dark eyes swirling with emotions she couldn't quite decipher.

"Veer," she whispered, her voice barely audible.

He exhaled slowly. "Arya… I don't know what this is."

Her heart clenched. "This?"

He nodded. "You and me. Whatever it is between us… it's not something I planned."

Arya let out a shaky breath. "Neither did I."

Veer's gaze softened, and for the first time, he looked… uncertain. Vulnerable.

He had always been the composed one, the strong one, the man who carried the weight of expectations without complaint. But right now, in this quiet moment, he was just *Veer*—a man standing on the edge of something unfamiliar, afraid to take the next step.

Arya squeezed his hand gently. "Maybe we don't need to define it yet."

Veer's lips parted slightly, as if surprised by her words. Then, after a long pause, he nodded. "Maybe."

But neither of them moved.

They stood there, the silence stretching between them, filled with all the things they weren't ready to say.

And yet, the way Veer's thumb brushed against her knuckles, the way his gaze lingered on her lips for just a second too long, spoke volumes.

Something had shifted between them. And there was no turning back now.

---

### **A Sudden Distance**

The following days were… different.

Veer wasn't avoiding her, not exactly. He still greeted her in the mornings, still made sure she was comfortable at the estate, still listened when she spoke.

But there was a careful distance in his actions, a restraint that hadn't been there before.

Arya noticed the way he caught himself before reaching for her, the way he quickly looked away when their eyes met for too long.

And it hurt more than she cared to admit.

She knew he felt something. She had *seen* it in his eyes that night. So why was he holding back now?

Was he afraid?

Or worse—was he regretting it?

---

### **Confrontation**

One evening, unable to take it anymore, Arya found him in the study, buried in his work as usual.

She didn't knock. She didn't hesitate. She walked straight up to his desk and planted both hands on the wooden surface.

Veer looked up, startled. "Arya?"

She exhaled sharply. "Are you going to keep pretending nothing happened?"

Veer's expression flickered for just a second before he masked it with his usual calm. "I don't know what you mean."

Arya clenched her fists. "Yes, you do."

He sighed, setting his pen down. "Arya…"

"No," she interrupted. "You don't get to do this. You don't get to hold my hand, look at me like I'm the only person in the world, and then *pull away* without an explanation."

Veer's jaw tightened. "I'm not pulling away."

She let out a bitter laugh. "Really? Because that's exactly what it feels like."

Veer stood up, towering over her, his expression unreadable. "You don't understand, Arya."

"Then make me understand," she shot back.

The room was silent.

Then, in a quiet voice, Veer said, "I don't want to hurt you."

Arya blinked. "What?"

He ran a hand through his hair, looking away. "You don't know what it means to be close to me. The expectations, the responsibilities… the dangers."

Arya's heart ached. "I don't care about any of that."

Veer's gaze snapped back to hers. "You should."

She shook her head. "No, Veer. What I *should* care about is the fact that you feel something for me but you're too scared to admit it."

Veer didn't respond.

Instead, he took a step closer, his hands clenching at his sides as if he was fighting against something inside him.

"Arya…" His voice was hoarse. "If I let this happen, if I let myself *fall* for you… I don't know if I can stop."

Arya's breath caught.

For the first time, she saw it—his fear. Not of her, not of them, but of how much he *felt.*

And in that moment, she knew.

He was already falling.

Just like she was.

Taking a deep breath, she reached up, placing a gentle hand against his chest. "Then don't stop."

Veer inhaled sharply, his entire body going rigid beneath her touch.

For a second, she thought he might pull away again.

But then—

His hands came up, hesitantly at first, before settling against her waist.

His fingers flexed slightly, as if memorizing the feel of her.

And then, in a voice so low it was barely a whisper, he said, "Arya… tell me to stop."

She shook her head. "I won't."

Veer closed his eyes briefly, as if battling something deep within him.

Then, before she could say anything else, he leaned in—

And kissed her.

---

### **The First Kiss**

The moment his lips touched hers, the world fell away.

Arya had imagined this before, in fleeting daydreams she barely allowed herself to acknowledge. But nothing could have prepared her for the reality of it.

Veer kissed her slowly, as if savoring every second, as if trying to memorize the taste of her.

His hands tightened on her waist, pulling her closer, and Arya melted against him, her fingers tangling in his hair.

There was no hesitation now. No restraint.

Just them.

Veer deepened the kiss, his breath warm against her skin, his heartbeat steady beneath her palm.

And in that moment, Arya knew—

She was his.

And he was hers.