SUNAINA'S POV

It’s been a few days since I returned. My mornings begin in a familiar rhythm—getting ready, sharing breakfast with bhaiyu and bhabhi, working from home, and ending the day with dinner alongside them. The night never feels complete without the mandatory call with Mr. Mehra, where we rant of our days on each other before drifting off to sleep.

The engagement preparations are in full swing. Just yesterday, we finalized our outfits. He was there too, and though we didn’t get much time together, simply having him around was enough to make me smile. The rings have been chosen as well, and I can’t wait to see his reaction when I finally slip it onto his finger.

Now, with exactly a week left until the engagement, my heart feels like it’s constantly racing. At this very moment, I’m on my way to Mr. Mehra’s office to sign some paperwork for our marriage certificate—something we’re supposed to officially complete on the wedding day. The thought alone sends a wave of anticipation rushing through me.

The moment I stepped into Mehra Industries, my eyes were instantly drawn to the sophisticated elegance of the place. The interiors spoke of power, grace, and refinement—much like him. For a second, I simply stood there, then, gathering myself, I walked over to the receptionist’s desk to enquire about him.

“Hi ma’am, how may I help you?” the receptionist asked.

“Hi, I’d like to meet Mr. Mehra. Myself, Sunaina Vashisht,” I replied.

“Of course, ma’am. Just give me a moment… yes, your name is on the family list,” she said, her eyes scanning the screen.

“Mahesh, please escort Ms. Vashisht to sir’s office,” she instructed one of the guards.

“Thank you,” I said softly before following the guard. He led me down the corridor to a grand cabin, the nameplate outside proudly displaying Mr. Adhvait Mehra.

"you can go in mam" the guard said.

"thankyou for your help" I replied, he smiled politely and left. I knocked the door twice as the guard left.

“Come in,” came his deep voice from inside.

I stepped in, and there he was—my handsome-to-be fiancé. He was leaning against his mahogany desk, eyes fixed on a file. His hair was slightly messy, his sleeves casually rolled up, and the top two buttons of his shirt were undone. He looked effortlessly perfect… like a whole damn meal.

“Hey,” I said, snapping out of the trance he had unknowingly pulled me into.

“Finally, you’re here,” he said, standing up with a wide smile that instantly lit up his face.

“Come here,” he motioned for me to move closer to his seat. I did, and with a gentle jerk, he pulled me down onto his chair while he squatted in front of me, his eyes never leaving mine.

“You—” I began, but he cut me off.

“Shhh… let me look at you. I haven’t seen you properly for so long,” he murmured, his fingers wrapping around my wrist, his thumb brushing softly against my skin as his gaze turned tender.

“Get up at least,” I whispered, my hand caressing his cheek. His face looked tired, the exhaustion clear in his eyes.

“Let’s go sit over there,” I said, pointing towards the couch. He nodded, and the moment we sat down facing each other, his hands immediately found mine, holding them as if he didn’t want to let go.

“You look tired,” I said, worry slipping into my voice.

“I am,” he admitted quietly.

“Did you have your lunch?” I asked, already guessing the answer.

“I… I didn’t,” he confessed with a weak, sleepy smile.

“I knew it,” I sighed. “That’s why I asked someone to bring our lunch from home. You’re going to eat now—quietly—and after that, you’ll take a nap for at least an hour or two. No objections.” I pointed a finger at him, pretending to glare.

“Aapka hukum sar aankhon par, meri jaan,” he replied, a playful smile tugging at his lips as he intertwined his finger with mine.

( Your wish is my command, my love.)

“Kya kar rahe ho aap, leave my finger,” I said, trying to pull it back from his strong grip.

(What are you doing, leave my finger.)

“I like it this way,” he said huskily, pulling my hand closer. My heart skipped, but before I could react, a knock at the door broke the moment. I pulled back quickly.

“Come in,” he groaned with clear annoyance, making me giggle.

“Sir, a man gave this and said ma’am ordered it,” a guard stepped in, holding a bag.

“Thank you, please keep it here,” I said politely. He placed the bag down and left.

“Go and wash your hands, I’ll serve,” I told him. He gave me a tired nod and went to freshen up. I had asked the chef at Vashisht Mansion to prepare all his favorites—shahi paneer, naan, dal makhni, rice, and rasmalai for dessert.

Come on my man deserves a treat.

“Here,” I said, handing him the plate once he returned and sat beside me.

“Thank you, love,” he murmured, taking it from me. His eyes lit up instantly at the sight of the food, like a child seeing his favorite candy after a long day.

“Eat with me,” he said softly, reaching for my hand just as I was about to make my own plate.

“Okay,” I said softly, settling back into my place. He fed me the first bite before taking one himself.

“I can ea—” I started, but he cut me off by feeding me another spoonful.

“I know you can, but let me do it this time, please,” he said, his eyes gentle as he held the spoon out again. I gave in with a small smile, opening my mouth without protest.

“Khud bhi khao,” I said, turning the bite he was about to feed me towards his mouth instead, and he accepted it with the faintest smile.

(Eat yourself too.)

“Now you take a nap,” I told him once we had finished eating and cleaning up, as we both settled onto the couch.

“I’m fin—” he began.

“No can do. You’re coming here right this instant and lying down with your head on my lap,” I said in a stern tone.

“Fine… but I’ll just keep my head on a pillow. Your leg will hurt,” he sighed, lying down with the pillow tucked beneath him.

“I’ll be fine. Come on now,” I said, pulling the pillow away. It was far too uncomfortable—his neck would have been sore in minutes. He gave me a defeated look, but still did as I asked, resting his head gently on my lap.

“Now sleep,” I whispered, running my fingers through his hair, stroking it with slow, soothing movements.

Aunty had already told me how badly he’d been overworking—coming home almost at dawn and leaving early again. I had a strong hunch he must have been skipping meals too. The thought of him not taking care of himself pained my heart.

I quickly informed his secretary not to disturb us unless it was urgent.

“Why would you not take care of yourself, you idiot?” I whispered softly, brushing my hand through his hair. He shifted slightly but didn’t wake. My heart melted at the sight of him finally resting, his face so peaceful after days of exhaustion.

Gently, I draped the huge scarf I always carried in my bag around him. It was thin, but it covered him almost completely—at least it was something.

“It’s okay… I’ll make sure to take care of you from now on,” I whispered, placing a soft kiss on his forehead. Leaning back against the couch’s headboard, I kept caressing his hair, my hand moving in a steady rhythm until, before I knew it, sleep quietly pulled me in too.

ADHVAIT'S POV

My eyes fluttered open after a beautiful nap I had taken, all thanks to my love. I let my gaze wander around the cabin trying to bring myself back on earth after a peaceful nap, and when it landed on her, my heart fell for her all over again.

Her scarf was wrapped securely around me, her hand still lightly caressing my hair, my head resting on her lap, and she was sleeping in a slightly uncomfortable position.

“Why are you like this?” I murmured, gently removing her hand from my hair as I slowly got up.

“Your neck will hurt, my love,” I whispered, helping her lie down properly and securing her petite figure with her scarf.

My eyes drifted to my watch on the table. It had been more than two hours since I’d been lying on her lap. Shit—her leg must be sore too.

“Jaan, wake up, please,” I whispered, brushing my fingers softly through her hair. She shifted a little and then opened her eyes.

“You’re awake,” she murmured, sitting up and looking slightly confused at her scarf.

“I made you lie down. You were sleeping in such an uncomfortable position,” I replied. She nodded, her eyes softening.

“Are your legs sore? And your neck—is it hurting? Should I get you a pain reliever? Maybe a tablet?” I asked, concern lacing my voice.

“Shhh, I’m okay. My neck is a little sore, but it’ll be fine in some time,” she shushed me softly.

“Are you sure? Should I massage your neck with some pain reliever?” I asked again, my fingers itching to soothe her.

“No, I’m fine. Don’t worry,” she replied, giving me a small reassuring smile.

“Oh god, it’s late. I should leave now,” she said, standing quickly.

“I’ll drop you,” I said, holding her hand. “No questions,” I added firmly. She nodded, murmuring her agreement.

“Let’s go,” she said, and I picked up the lunch bag she had brought, carrying it for her.

When we reached the parking lot, I opened the car door for her.

“Thank you,” she said, getting in and fastening her seatbelt.

“Chale?” I asked as I buckled myself in.

(Shall we?)

“Chalo,” she replied, and I started the car, driving towards her home.

(Yes, let's go.)

“Chachi told me you’ve been overworking yourself,” she said, narrowing her eyes at me.

“Uh… yes,” I admitted sleepily.

“Why?” she asked, crossing her arms, and I looked away for a moment, trying not to get distracted by her presence.

“There’s a lot of work because of a new deal, and I want to complete as much as I can before our marriage. I want to give you proper time after we’re married,” I said sincerely.

“You don’t have to. You’re making me worry. Please don’t overwork yourself,” she said softly, caressing her thumb over my hand resting on the gear.

“Bu—” I started.

“No buts. You have to promise me,” she interrupted, extending her pinky.

“Okay, I promise,” I said, intertwining my pinky with hers.

“Good,” she said with a victorious smile, making me shake my head with a small laugh.

“And after dropping me, you’re heading straight home,” she added, trying to sound stern—but I could see through her, and it only made her look even cuter.

“Ji biwi sahiba,” I replied, making her chuckle.

(Yes wife.)

“I’m playing music,” she announced, connecting her phone to the car’s Bluetooth and playing Do Gallan by Garry Sandhu.

“I love this song so much,” she said, smiling wholeheartedly. I couldn’t help but smile back.

And just like that, singing along softly to romantic songs, we reached her home.

“Take care of yourself, okay? No overworking, and eat your meals on time too,” she said, narrowing her eyes and wagging a finger at me.

I intertwined my finger with hers and gently pulled her closer.

“Abhi toh shadi hui nahi hai aur aap abhi se wife ki tarah order kar rahi ho,” I said teasingly.

(We are not even married yet and look at you ordering around like a wife does.)

“Ab aap dhyan nahi rakhoge toh karna padega na,” she replied, trying to look stern but failing completely.

(It's not my fault that you are not even taking care of yourself.)

“Acha ji,” I said with a smile.(Really?)

“Ji,” she replied, returning my smile.(Really.)

“I will. Don’t worry,” I murmured, kissing her forehead gently.

“I should go now,” she said softly, still caressing my hand as I held hers.

“Can I hug you before you leave?” I asked. She hugged me instantly.

“You don’t have to ask,” she whispered. I nuzzled into her neck.

“Peace,” I murmured.

“Huh?” she asked, confused.

“You are my peace,” I replied, kissing her forehead and breaking the hug. She gave me a breathtaking smile.

“Text me when you reach home,” she murmured, cupping my face—and then she kissed my forehead.

She kissed my forehead!

My forehead. She. Kissed. It.

I froze. She giggled at my reaction, got out of the car, and ran inside.

I touched the spot she had kissed—still feeling the warmth. Heat crept over my neck and ears. I was blushing like a mad teenager. Damn the effect she had on me, and she didn’t even know it.

Smiling wholeheartedly, I drove back home. Once in my room, I immediately texted her:

“Reached.”

“Okay!” came her reply.

“Will I get a kiss like that every day after our marriage?” I texted.

“Depends,” she replied.

“On what?” I asked.

“On me,” came her reply.

“So you mean I have to earn it?” I asked.

“What if I say yes?” she replied.

“I’ll make sure to never lose it, then,” I said.

“Good night, Mr businessman,” she replied.

“I love it when you blush, but I love it more when you blush in front of me, jaan,” I replied.

“Byeeeee,” she replied. I could almost imagine her pouting, cheeks flushed and lips slightly parted.

“Alright, I’ll stop. Good night, love,” I replied, and she sent a red heart in response.

Setting my phone aside, I freshened up and crashed like a drained battery, my mind still replaying the warmth of her hug and the soft kiss on my forehead.