SUNAINA'S POV

The Mehras were staying back for dinner. Since it was already dinner time, I quickly freshened up, changed into my cosy nightsuit, and skipped any accessories except my engagement ring. It wasn’t heavy—just the way I had always wanted my ring to be. With a small smile at that thought, I headed out and straight into the kitchen.

"Hi bhabhi, let me help," I said, joining her in arranging the dining table without even waiting for her response. The dinner had already been cooked by the staff, so there wasn’t much to worry about.

We were having simple pulao for dinner, since no one was particularly hungry. On the side, there was dahi, achar, green chutney, and salad.

"Aunty, please call everyone for dinner," I told our house help, who nodded and left.

Soon, everyone gathered, and we all sat down to eat with the usual light-hearted chit-chat. I was sitting next to him, and though the conversations around us flowed easily, I could feel his presence beside me.  His gaze kept dropping to my left hand, and when our eyes accidentally met, he gave me the faintest smile—as if silently telling me how much it meant to him that I was still wearing our engagement ring.

My heart skipped a beat when I noticed he was wearing his too, the silver band glinting softly under the light. That small gesture–it warmed my heart.

"I think it’s time for us to take our leave," Chachu finally said, getting up. The others agreed, and soon after, they bid their goodbyes.

~ Time skip to their wedding ~

Looking back, I can’t believe those 15 days are already over. I spent them shopping, laughing, and making memories with my family.

I barely had time to talk to him, and he too was caught up with work.

Mr. Vashisht though—well, I won’t deny he did try to make amends, but I’m still not ready to forgive him.

And now, here I am, sitting in my room, all dolled up like a bride—for him. The thought still feels surreal. I can’t believe I’m actually getting married.

A knock on the door pulled me out of my thoughts.

"Come in," I said softly, and the door creaked open.

"You look so beautiful, Sunu," bhabhi said, stepping in with bhaiya. All I could do was smile shyly in return.

"Look at my baby sister—who once didn’t even know how to wipe her runny nose—now all dressed up to get married," bhaiya teased. I couldn’t help but chuckle at his words, but the thought of leaving my brother and sister-in-law–it pained me.

"Mujhe nahi jana," I muttered, my voice breaking as tears blurred my vision. They both immediately pulled me into a tight hug.
(I don't want to go.)

"Mujhe aap dono ko chhod kar nahi jana," I whispered, sniffing as tears slipped down my cheeks.
( I don't want to leave both of you.)

"Shhhh, bas rote nahi," bhaiya said, though his own eyes mirrored mine.
(Shhhhh, stop crying.)

"Humein bhi tumhe nahi bhejna, Sunu. Lekin jo tumhe lene aa raha hai, uspar humein poora bharosa hai ki woh tumhara humse bhi zyada khayal rakhega," bhabhi murmured, gently wiping my tears.
( We too don't want to let you go, Sunu. But the guy who's coming to take you, we believe in him. He will take care of you, more than we ever did.)

"Ha, aur agar humne tujhe nahi chhoda na, toh woh tujhe utha kar le jaayega—woh bhi humari aankhon ke saamne," bhaiya added, making me chuckle through my tears.
(Yes and if we don't let you go, he will pick you in his arms and take you in front of our eyes.)

"Chalo, enough rona-dhona. We just came to see you. We’re needed downstairs to look after the guests. I’m sending Ashu, okay?" bhabhi said. I nodded, and they both left.
(Okay, enough crying.)

"Ooyee hooyee, jaaneman kya maal lag rahi hai," Ashi whistled the moment she entered, and I burst into a small laugh.
(Damn babygirl, you look so dang good.)

"Sun mera sapna?" I asked, pouting playfully.
(Listen, what about my dream?)

"Chal," she replied, making my eyes widen.
(Let's go.)

"What? Chal," she repeated firmly, and the next thing I knew, we were sneaking out in her car.
(What? Let's go.)

"Stop, stop, yehi hai!" I shouted, making her halt abruptly in front of my love.
(Stop, stop. This is the place.)

"Bhaiya, 2 plate momos dena, aur 1 Coke ki bottle bhi," I called out to the momos wale bhaiya from inside the car—because there was no way I was stepping out in this heavy lehenga.
(Please give us 2 plates of momos and a bottle of coke.)

"This is heaven," I sighed, taking a bite of momos.

"God, I still can’t believe you’re getting married in less than an hour. Your baraat will be here in half an hour, and here I am fulfilling your wish of eating momos in your wedding dress," she said, shaking her head in disbelief.

"You signed up for this—now eat fast," I said, taking a sip of Coke with a grin.

After eating, we drove back, and she helped me quickly touch up my lipstick. My heart was pounding, half with nerves, half with excitement—I was just moments away from stepping into a whole new life.

"Now you sit, I'll go downstairs to perform the rituals," she said. I nodded in response.

"Phew, Sunu, relax. Tera sapna bhi poora hogya, ladka bhi theek hai, aur sirf shaadi hi toh hai. Chill, girl," I murmured to myself. At this point, I couldn’t even defend what I was saying—I had no idea what I was murmuring. But I had to calm my nerves, so whatever worked.
(Your dream is fulfilled, the guy is nice too and it's just a wedding. )

"Sunu bachha, let's go," bhaiya said, entering after thirty minutes of me giving myself some gyaan.

"Phew, let's go," I whispered, taking a deep breath.

"Relax, hmm," he said, gently taking my trembling, mehendi-clad right hand in his to steady me.

"Are you ready to go, princess?" Mr. Vashisht asked as he stepped in. I only managed a small nod. Nodding at my response he went to make calls for my grand entry.

"Call Devesh bhai too, if possible, please," I said to bhaiya, who nodded and went to fetch him.

"You called?" Devesh bhai said as he entered.

"Yes, I want you, bhai," I said, waiting for him to hold my left hand—which he, of course, did without hesitation.

"Relax, Sunu bachhe, it’s just Adhvait. If he dares to hurt you, I’ll shove his ass up my fireplace and then we’ll have a bonfire night," Devesh bhai said with mock determination, making me chuckle. We’d had so many bonfire nights back when I stayed in the US—those days were truly unforgettable.

"Thanks, bhai," I whispered, side-hugging him.

"Let’s go, little one," he murmured softly.

"Ooyee, terese pehle she’s my little one," bhaiya teased, trying to lighten the mood.
(Hey, before you, she's my little one.)

"So what, asshole," Devesh bhai shot back.

"Let’s go, guys, warna mera dulha yehi na aa jae," I said playfully, making them both chuckle. Nodding, we finally moved out, both my brothers carefully helping me with my heavy lehenga. My heart was racing—soon I’d be walking down the aisle alone, and I only hoped I wouldn’t stumble or mess it up.
(Let's go guys, or my groom might come here.)

"There you go, little one. Relax, hmm? You won’t mess it up," Devesh bhai reassured me at the entrance, from where I was supposed to take those daunting steps on my own. I nodded in response, inhaling deeply as though to gather every bit of courage.

"Relax, Sunu, hum log wahi hi honge," bhaiya said, giving my hand a reassuring squeeze.
(We'll be there.)

"Okay, Su… here goes nothing," I murmured to myself and finally gave a nod to the waiter, who was waiting for my signal to open the door.

Looking up, I started walking, and all the chaos around me seemed to fade into silence. My eyes lifted and met his. Even from a distance, I could see his eyes glistening with tears. He was crying? But why?

As I walked down the aisle, my gaze shifted to my brother and sister-in-law, whose eyes were also brimming with tears. Then I passed by my parents, who stood motionless. Was I surprised? No.

A few steps ahead, I came across Devesh bhai and bhabhi. In their case, bhabhi was openly sobbing while bhai tried to calm her, though his own eyes were welling up.

And finally, my best friend, who stood next to the stage, waiting for me—probably ready to help me climb the stairs. She too was fighting back tears, trying her best not to cry.

Looking at all of them, I realized… So what if I never received my parents’ love? I had two brothers and two sisters-in-law who loved me like their own child, and a best friend who loved me unconditionally. That was more than enough—I was content with it.

I wouldn’t start my new journey holding grudges against anyone.

When I looked up again, my eyes met his, and he gave me the brightest smile. I couldn’t help but smile back. Just as I was about to climb the stairs, he raised his hand slightly, gesturing for me to stop. Confused, I froze in place.

Instead, he stepped down from the stage and came to stand right beside me. He took my hand in his warm ones and helped me climb up the stairs, with my best friend holding my lehenga from the side.

"Varmala shuru karte hai," pandit ji said. Ashi came forward and handed over the varmala to both of us as we stood facing each other. He was smiling widely, which instantly made me smile too.
(Let's start the wedding.)

"Vadhu var ko varmala pehnaye," pandit ji instructed.
(The bride will go first.)

"Are you ready?" I whispered, holding out the varmala.

"I've been dying to do this, Senorita," he replied, bending his head slightly. Smiling widely, I placed the garland around his neck. With a warm smile, he gently made me wear the varmala after pandit ji gestured to him.

"Can I kiss you on your forehead, jaan?" he whispered, holding my hands in his, his eyes patiently searching for approval in mine. I blinked in response, and he leaned forward, gently kissing my forehead.

Butterflies fluttered in my stomach, all I felt was love and warmth. That forehead kiss felt like a promise—his promise to cherish and love me. As he moved back, I gave him my biggest smile. I could hear everyone cheering, but in that moment, nothing else mattered.

We turned to face the front, still holding hands, and our families cheered even louder.

Soon, we were taken for photographs, and afterward, we had our dinner before preparing for the pheras.

After the pheras, it was time for him to fill my hairline with vermilion and tie the mangalsutra around my neck.

"Ab var vadhu ke gale mein mangalsutra pehnaega," pandit ji said. With a breathtaking smile he gently clasped the sacred mangalsutra around my neck.
(The groom should clasp the mangalsutra around the bride's neck.)

"Iske baad vadhu ki maang mein sindur bharna hai," pandit ji announced.
(After that, he will fill her hairline with vermilion.)

He took some vermilion on a coin, brought it close to my hairline, and looked at me, raising his eyebrow. I gave a slight nod with a smile. His eyes brimmed with tears as he gently lifted my maang-teeka and filled the vermilion in my hairline. Some of it fell onto my nose, but that didn’t matter—what mattered most to me was seeing him cry.

I gently wiped his tears away and whispered softly, “Please don't cry.”

"I waited for this," he murmured, hugging me tightly and crying against my neck. I rubbed his back to calm him.

"Thank you for trusting me, jaan," he whispered, sobbing softly before kissing my forehead affectionately. I smiled widely at him in response.

We then took our families’ blessings, and soon, it was time for the hardest goodbye.

I halted as we reached close to the door. The realization hit me like a wave—nothing would ever be the same again. I wouldn’t live here anymore. I wouldn’t see bhaiya and bhabhi every day anymore. I clutched his hand tightly, and in reassurance, he gave me a gentle squeeze. But that wasn’t enough to stop the ache in my heart.

Slowly, I turned around. There stood my family, tears streaming down their faces, and my own vision blurred as I looked at them.

"I’ll miss you," bhabhi whispered, pulling me into a tight hug.

"I—" I choked on my tears.

"Take care, bhabhi. Kick his ass if he troubles you," I whispered with a shaky laugh, forcing myself to hold back the tears. Bhabhi nodded, still crying but chuckling at the end.

I hugged everyone—my parents, Nishi bhabhi, and bhai—and then hugged my best friend. Somehow, I managed to hold back my tears. But the person I needed the most—my bhaiya—I couldn’t find him anywhere.

"bhaiya," I whispered, clutching his hand, looking at him with a pleading expression. He gestured something toward Devesh bhai.

"He’s not listening," Devesh bhai said, sighing.

"Take me to him, please," I asked. He nodded, and we both walked to my childhood room, the one on the ground floor.

That room—our room—where me and bhaiya had spent countless nights talking, laughing, and fighting over the smallest things. Now it stood cold, a mere guest room since the day I was sent away to boarding school.

As I opened the door, I found him sitting on the bedside chair with his head lowered.

“bhaiya,” I murmured.He turned to me slowly, his eyes red and glistening. For a moment, neither of us spoke. The silence between us was heavier than words.

“Ek baar jaane se pehle hug bhi nahi karoge apni Sunu ko?” I whispered, before breaking down into tears.
(You won't even hug your Sunu before I leave?)

“My bachha,” he said softly, pulling me into his arms. His embrace—my safest place—made me feel protected once again.

“I’ll miss you,” I choked out between sobs.

“Mat ja na phir… tere bina main kaise rahunga?” he said, crying.
(Don't go then, how am I supposed to live without you?)

“Aapne hi toh kaha tha shaadi kar le… aur ab kar li toh jaana padega,” I replied through my tears.
(You wanted me to get married and now that I am married I have to go.)

“Remember, you’ll always be my first child, and you’ll always have your bhaiya standing beside you whenever you need,” he said gently, wiping my tears. More of them escaped despite my nod.

“Shhh… rona nahi bas. Mera dil tut raha hai tere aansoon dekh kar,” bhaiya whispered softly. I nodded, trying to calm myself.
(Shhh…stop crying. My heart breaks when you cry.)

“Bhabhi…” I called out to her. She was standing at the door, crying quietly. I gestured for her to come closer. She walked forward and held my hand.

“Aap logon ne mujhe mere sage maa-baap se badhkar pyaar diya hai. Thank you for giving me this unconditional love,” I whispered, as tears streamed down my face.
(You both loved me more than my real parents.)

“Pagal,” bhabhi said, giving me a soft, feather-light slap on the cheek before pulling me into a hug.

“It’s time to go,” Mr. Vashisht announced. I nodded, reluctantly stepping back.

“Take care,” I whispered to bhaiya, who nodded with a soft, teary smile.

Mr. Mehra extended his hand toward me. I slipped my hand into his, and together we walked out to complete the remaining rituals.

ADHVAIT'S POV

Can you believe it? I’m over the moon right now. I’m married—to Sunaina Vashisht—the love of my life, my jaan, my everything.

I better worship the ground she walks on.

I might just worship her li—

Ahem. Clearing my throat and setting my thoughts aside, I admired my wife, who was sleeping soundly in my arms. Our car had already pulled up at my home—no, our home. But I just didn’t have the heart to wake her. She must be exhausted.

Opening my front camera, I caught our reflection. Damn, we really did look like husband and wife.

"Jaan" I whispered softly. She stirred a little.

Quickly snapping our first picture together, I slipped my phone back into my pocket and gently called her.

“Jaan,” I whispered softly. She stirred a little.

“Uth jao, we’ve reached,” I said tenderly. She nodded, slowly sitting up.
(Wake up, we've reached.)

“Shall we?” I asked.
“Yes, let’s go,” she replied.

Getting out quickly, I jogged to her side and opened the door for her. Bending slightly, I offered my hand for her to hold. She needed it—her lehenga was heavier than she was.

She slipped her hand in mine, her grip was firm, probably because it was hard for her to move in that outfit.

I steadied her, keeping her close, and once she stepped out, I helped smooth the creases and folds in her lehenga caused by sitting in the car.

“Let’s go?” I asked again, taking her bag out. She nodded.

“I can hold my bag,” she suggested.
“There’s no need. Just hold yourself together—I’ll handle the bag and your lehenga,” I said, winking at her. That earned me a soft chuckle.

“Pagal,” she muttered, red blush coating her cheeks.

"I've been waiting to say this, call me pagal again" I replied pulling her closer slightly obviously with her wrist.

“I’ve been waiting to say this—call me pagal again,” I teased, gently pulling her closer by the wrist.

“Pagal?” she repeated, a little confused.
“Your pagal,” I replied, grinning like a fool. And that’s when I was rewarded with her beautiful laughter.

Haayeeeeeeeee.

Whipped husband who? Yep that's me,proudly.
“You’re unbelievable,” she said, sobering up  from laughing , and all I could do was admire her.

But now I'm sure my love life is incomplete without any interruptions from the family so as I was about to say something –

“Ooye love birds, how much more time?” Eshu shouted from the porch of our home.

“Let’s go,” she said, and we both continued walking. I tried helping her as much as I could—lifting her lehenga slightly from the side while holding her bag in the other hand.

“Here they are,” Chachi said as we stood in front of the main entrance of our home.

“I know you both are very tired, so we’ll do all the other post-wedding rituals tomorrow morning. For now, we just need to complete the grahpravesh,” Chachi said, holding a puja plate. We both nodded with a smile.

I gestured with a soft nod, and our gang immediately sprang into action. They spread rose petals all along the hallway. Pari and Eshu handed her two bouquets of her favorite flowers—custom made, just for her. Nivedh and Devesh were in charge of fireworks, which burst in the sky exactly at the moment she raised her right leg to kick the kalash. Ashu took her bag from me and the bouquets from her, while I carefully adjusted her lehenga as she stepped into the alta and left her painted footprints on a white cloth.

“Welcome to my life, my love,” I said, standing in front of her and holding her soft hands in mine.

“Chal beta Adi, utha le apni biwi ko apni baahon mei,” Chachu teased with a wink, and the youngsters hooted at his words.
(Come on adi, pick up your wife in your arms.)

“Thank you, Chachu,” I whispered to myself, sneakingly winking back at him for the idea.

“Can I?” I asked her. She nodded, blushing profusely. And the next moment, I swiftly picked her up in my arms. Everyone cheered louder with hoots and whistles. She blushed even more, hiding her face in my chest.

“Adi, take her to your room directly. The rest of the rituals we’ll do tomorrow morning,” Chachi said, smiling widely. I nodded, smiling.

“Chale?” I asked, looking at her softly.
(Shall we?)

“Chalo,” she replied with a shy smile, still in my arms. What a serene moment.
(Yes let's go.)

I walked towards our room, while she kept looking sideways, avoiding my eyes.

“Itni sharam aa rahi hai aapko?” I asked softly, smiling.
(Are you that shy?)

“Bohot,” she muttered, blushing.
(A lot.)

I chuckled at her honesty and continued walking.

“You can put me down, my lehenga is very heavy,” she said after a minute.
“Nothing that I can’t handle,” I replied, winking at her.
Soon, we reached my room.
“Open the door for me, jaan,” I said.

She nodded, turned the knob slightly, and I pushed it open further with my leg.

“Welcome to our room, jaan,” I said, gently putting her down.
“Thank you,” she whispered softly.

“I’m sure you already know where the closet and washroom are,” I said with a mischievous smile.
“Surely,” she chuckled.

“Freshen up, I’ll change here,” I said. She nodded and started walking, but suddenly stopped as if she remembered something.

“Uh… can you call Ashu or someone?” she asked.

“What’s wrong? They must’ve slept, and Ashu must’ve left with Devesh,” I replied.

“Actually, I need help with the pins in my hair and the safety pins,” she admitted nervously.

“I… I can help… if you’re okay with it,” I said slowly, unsure of her reaction.

“O..okay,” she stuttered, biting her lips slightly.
“Don’t worry, I’ll be careful,” I reassured her. She nodded.

I helped her with the pins, careful not to touch her unnecessarily, but the slight brushes of my hands against her skin made her shudder—and made me nervous. Those little brushes stirred feelings inside me, but I knew I wouldn’t rush anything. We’ll take it at her pace.

“Go freshen up,” I said, though my voice came out raspy. She nodded quickly and rushed to the bathroom. I exhaled deeply, realizing I’d been holding my breath, and hurriedly changed.

Damn. I need tons of self-control. God, please help me.

She came out a few minutes later.

“I don’t prefer any particular side, do you?” she asked, placing her phone on the nightstand.

“Nope,” I said, unclasping my watch.

“Okay then, I’m sleeping here,” she said, slipping under the covers on the right side. I settled on the left and switched off the main light, leaving the small side lamp on—aware of her habit of not sleeping in complete darkness.

“Good night,” she said, making me smile.

“Good night, Senorita,” I replied. Within minutes, we both drifted off to sleep.

In the middle of the night, I woke up feeling thirsty, only to find her completely tangled up with me. I froze for a second, surprised and elated.
Surprised—because we had fallen asleep at a respectful distance. Elated—because my love was now nestled in my arms.

Suddenly, I wasn’t thirsty anymore. I pulled her closer, holding her tight, and went back to sleep with a content smile.

Maybe this is the peace I always lacked. Now, I’ve found it—in my wife’s arms.

SUNAINA'S POV

The shrill voice of my alarm broke my peaceful slumber. Stretching a little, I switched it off, careful not to move too much. Glancing to my left, I found the reason—I smiled seeing him frown slightly at the sound, only to relax and drift back to sleep within seconds.

Maybe the alarm had disturbed him. Chuckling softly, I thought of getting up, but his arm was snugly resting around my waist, holding me captive in his sleep. Somehow, I carefully managed to slip out of his grip without waking him and headed to the shower, grabbing my clothes along the way.I was sure it was me who had moved closer in the night—because I’m a cuddler when I sleep.

When I came out wearing my saree, I quickly sat at the dressing table and started getting ready. Letting my hair air-dry, I did my skincare—nothing fancy, just toner, serum, sunscreen, and a little chapstick. Then I filled the vermilion in my hairline. After applying kajal and mascara, I dabbed on some blush and nude lipstick, and I was done.

I could feel someone’s eyes on me, but I stayed focused on my routine.

Next, I sprayed a heat protectant and blow-dried my hair. A few minutes with the curler and my hair looked just the way I wanted.

Slipping into my jewellery—mangalsutra, earrings, and a choker—I was finally ready.

Spraying on some perfume, I turned around… only to find my husband sitting against the headboard, watching me with a fond smile.

“What?” I asked, heat creeping up my cheeks. He shook his head, still smiling.

“You look…” he began, and my heart skipped, waiting for his words.
“…like mine. My wife,” he finished softly.

His words brought a blush to my cheeks and a genuine smile to my lips.

“Thank you,” I whispered back.
“You should freshen up, we need to head down,” I added, and he nodded before going to shower. Meanwhile, I decided to tidy up.

I carefully placed my wedding jewellery in his closet’s locker, folded my lehenga back into its box, and arranged the dresser neatly. Then, almost without thinking, I placed his watch, cufflinks, wallet, and phone on the dressing table, making it easier for him.

As soon as I did it, I froze. Was I overstepping? Should I put them back? I bit my lip nervously but sighed and let it be.

When he came out in a kurta-pajama that perfectly contrasted my saree, he stopped by the dresser.

“This…” he said, surprised.
“Um…I thought it might make your work easier. I-I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have—” I stammered, until he gently placed his finger on my lips.

“Shh… I loved it. Thank you,” he whispered with a smile that melted me.

“I’m ready, let’s go,” he said, and I nodded, picking up my phone. But before I could move, he pulled me into his arms and placed a soft kiss on my forehead.

“Now we’re ready,” he murmured, making me smile.

Our families were waiting. First, we performed a pooja and some rituals. bhaiya and Bhabhi were there too. I got so emotional on seeing them that I hugged bhaiya for a full five minutes, and no one interrupted.

Later, I was asked to cook a sweet dish, so I made kheer. Everyone loved it, and I was showered with praises and gifts, which I accepted hesitantly only after confirming with him through my eyes. He complimented me, and about the gift, he only said, “It’s a surprise.”

We spent the afternoon chatting, laughing, bickering like a true family, until everyone grew tired and retired to rest.

As we walked back to our room—me balancing my saree and him carrying the gifts— Not every moment is a grand romantic scene, sometimes it’s the simplicity that makes it special.

“You can keep them on the coffee table, I’ll arrange them later,” I said, giving him space to enter first. He set them down and collapsed onto the couch with a sigh.

“Thank you,” I said, settling on the bed with aching feet.

“No problem, Senorita,” he replied,
Somehow, his nicknames had the power to make me blush uncontrollably. Which, of course, I was.

“So, what are we supposed to do now?” I asked, since I had nothing else to do.

“Let’s get under the covers and talk,” he suggested. I nodded.

We both settled into our sides of the bed, facing each other.

“Come here,” he said, opening his arms.Without hesitation, I slid closer, into his embrace.

“Now it’s perfect,” he sighed.
“Peace,” he murmured softly, but I heard it—and it made me smile as I hugged him back. We talked about everything and nothing, discovering more about each other until sleep slowly claimed me.

I think I dozed off first, because I vaguely heard him whisper “my sleepy baby” and felt the tender brush of his lips on my forehead.

Honestly, in his arms, I slept so peacefully that I never wanted to wake up.