7. Soft Changes #2
And just like that, the storm of thoughts swirling inside her stilled.
His one sentence, calm and simple, cleared every confusion in her heart.
She realized that he saw something which she didn't even speak. She was ready to accept him, as her husband.
But to become his wife, fully, completely, in front of the world, she still needed time.
And Rakshit… he understood that without her having to say it.
She smiled faintly through the tears she hadn't realized had escaped.
She looked down at the file resting in her lap, her trembling fingers tracing over the bold letters — Rakshit Mahajan and Shivika Bhardwaj.
Their names… together.
Her chest tightened as her eyes filled with unshed tears. When she looked up, Rakshit was already watching her, silently, as though her every heartbeat echoed in his gaze.
"Can we… sign it tomorrow?" Shivika asked softly, her voice barely above a whisper.
Rakshit's lips curved.
Without thinking, she leaned forward and wrapped her arms around his waist, pressing her cheek against his chest.
The warmth of his body and the calm rhythm of his heartbeat made her eyes sting with emotion.
Rakshit froze for a moment, caught off guard, before his hands moved, slow, careful, gentle, as he held her close, rubbing small circles on her back.
For a few seconds, neither spoke. When she finally pulled back, Rakshit looked at her like she was something precious he never thought he could deserve.
He cleared his throat softly and stood up. "Shivika, you keep the papers safely," he said, his tone returning to its usual composed calm.
"I'll get freshened up and then make dinner."
He turned to leave, but before he could take another step, she caught his wrist. He looked down, surprised, and found her gazing up with those pleading eyes that could melt any storm within him.
"Rakshit… can we go out for dinner today?" she asked in a soft, hopeful voice.
"Please?" she added, blinking her eyes playfully.
Rakshit felt his throat dry, that innocence in her tone, the way she looked at him like he was her whole world, made his heartbeat stumble.
"Okay," he said quietly, nodding.
Her face instantly lit up.
"I'll get ready!" she said excitedly, closing the file with a bright smile and turning to rush toward her room.
But before she could take a step, Rakshit's hand wrapped around her wrist again.
She turned back, confused, only to find him frowning down at her feet.
"Where are your slippers, Shivika?" he asked in a low, firm tone.
"Ohh… I forgot them in my room," she replied, biting her lip, embarrassed.
He sighed softly, shaking his head.
"You need to take care of yourself. Don't roam around barefoot, it's not good. Now don't move," he said gently, before walking off toward her room.
As he disappeared down the hallway, she couldn't help but whisper under her breath, her eyes glistening, "Thank you, God… for sending him into my life."
Moments later, Rakshit returned holding her slippers carefully in his hands.
"Rakshit, you didn't have to-" she began, stepping forward to take them from him.
But he didn't hand them over. Instead, he knelt down before her, quietly placed the slippers at her feet, and said, in a voice barely above a whisper, "Wear them."
Her throat tightened, her heart thudding wildly as she watched the man — her protector, her calm, her husband — bowing before her with so much care.
She wore them silently, her eyes never leaving his face.
With a small smile, she turned toward her room, while Rakshit walked toward his.
Shivika walked out of her room wearing a soft peach Anarkali suit, the delicate fabric flowing gently around her as she moved.
Her hair framed her face softly, and she carried a small purse in her hand — simple yet elegant, just like her.
In the living room, Rakshit sat on the sofa, dressed in a deep blue shirt and black jeans, scrolling through his phone while waiting. The faint click of her made him look up and for a moment, he forgot to breathe.
She looked radiant.
I thought she looked most beautiful in lavender… but no, he thought silently, she looks beautiful in every colour.
He stood up slowly, trying to hide the flicker of admiration in his eyes.
“Shall we go?” Shivika asked, her tone light but her eyes sparkling with excitement.
Rakshit simply nodded, a small smile tugging at his lips as he gestured toward the door.
He picked up the car keys, locked the house, and they began walking side by side toward the parking area.
Their hands brushed — once, then again — and both pretended it was nothing.
But the way Shivika’s heart skipped and Rakshit’s breath hitched said otherwise.
He opened the car door for her, his every move careful, composed, the gentleman he always was.
After making sure she was seated comfortably, he closed the door and walked around to take his seat behind the wheel.
“Do you want to eat something special?” Rakshit asked, glancing at her from the corner of his eye.
Her face instantly lit up.
“Hmm… I want paneer tikka, masala dosa, and maybe rajma chawal too— oh, and gulab jamun!” she said, counting on her fingers with the enthusiasm of a little child.
Rakshit’s lips twitched. He knew he will smile just because of her-for her.
He didn’t interrupt her — just let her speak, her voice and excitement filling the quiet car.
“Anything else?” he asked after she finally paused for breath.
She thought for a second, then giggled softly.
“Maybe lassi too?”
Rakshit shook his head slightly.
“Okay."
By the time they reached the restaurant, they were still talking about food — her favourite dishes and all.
Rakshit stopped the car, stepped out first, and walked around to open her door.
His hand brushed the top of the car frame lightly as if to protect her from bumping her head — a small gesture, but it made her heart flutter.
“Thank you,” she said softly as she stepped out.
He only nodded, locking the car. The golden light from the restaurant entrance fell on them as they walked inside.
As they entered the restaurant, the soft glow of hanging lanterns and the faint aroma of spices wrapped around them.
Shivika’s eyes instantly widened in awe — everything from the cozy ambience to the soft music felt magical.
Rakshit watched her from the side, the corner of his lips lifting slightly.
Seeing her happy did something to him, something he couldn’t name, but felt deeply.
She turned to him, her voice light. “It’s beautiful, Rakshit.”
He nodded once, eyes still on her. “It is.”
Rakshit realized that maybe, just maybe, this evening wasn’t about food.