•| END |•
-8 Months Later…-
Eight months had passed since that night — Eight months of healing, laughter, quiet promises, and a love that only grew stronger with time.
The mansion no longer felt overwhelming or unfamiliar; it felt like yours.
Mornings were softer now. Safer. And every single day, without fail, Krish woke you up the same way — not with alarms, not with calls, but with slow, lingering kisses pressed against your temple, your cheek, your shoulder.
That morning was no different.
Sunlight slipped through the curtains in golden streaks, spilling across the bed and illuminating the peaceful curve of your sleeping face.
Krish had been awake for a while, just watching you — the way your lashes rested against your cheeks, the way your lips parted slightly as you breathed.
He smiled to himself, brushing a strand of hair away from your forehead.
He leaned down and pressed a soft kiss to your hairline.
Then another to your cheek.
And then one dangerously close to the corner of your lips.
You stirred slightly, letting out a sleepy groan before turning to the other side, pulling the blanket with you.
“Umm…” you mumbled, half-asleep.
He chuckled under his breath and moved closer, wrapping an arm around your waist from behind, pulling you back against his chest. His voice was warm and teasing near your ear.
“Samira… wake up. It’s your graduation party today. Come on, don’t be lazy.”
You whined softly and tried to escape his hold, but he only tightened it playfully. When gentle persuasion didn’t work, he resorted to something far more dangerous.
Tickling.
His fingers slipped under the blanket and traced lightly along your sides.
You instantly gasped. “Krish— ahh! Stop!”
He kissed your shoulder between laughs. “Wake up, graduate madam.”
“Krish! S-stop, it’s tickling!” You twisted in his arms, giggling uncontrollably, trying to push his hands away.
He only smirked, enjoying every second of your helpless laughter. “Oh? Now you’re awake?”
You finally gave up, breathing heavily as you opened your eyes, glaring at him — though the softness in your expression completely ruined the effect. He hovered slightly above you, one arm supporting his weight beside your head, the other still resting around your waist.
God, he looked unfairly handsome in the morning light.
His messy hair. His sleepy smirk. The tenderness in his eyes that was reserved only for you.
“What?” he asked, pretending innocence.
You shook your head, biting back a smile. “You’re impossible.”
“And you,” he leaned closer, brushing his nose lightly against yours, “are officially graduating today. I’m proud of you.”
The teasing tone faded, replaced by sincerity. His thumb traced the outline of your jaw slowly, as if memorizing it.
“I told you,” he murmured softly, “your dreams matter.”
Your heart fluttered. Eight months ago, you had doubted his love. Today, you couldn’t imagine a world where it didn’t surround you.
You cupped his face gently. “Thank you… for always pushing me.”
“For always believing in me.”
He kissed you then — not hurried, not playful — but slow and deep, the kind of kiss that carried pride, admiration, and devotion all at once.
His hand slid to your waist, pulling you closer against him as your fingers tangled lightly in his hair.
The kiss lingered, warm and meaningful, until you were both slightly breathless.
When he pulled back, his forehead rested against yours.
“Go freshen up,” he whispered, though his lips were still dangerously close to yours. “We have to go to your university. Everyone’s waiting to celebrate Mrs. Krish Mehra, the graduate.”
You smiled shyly at the title.
“Yes, Mr. Mehra.”
You slipped out of bed, but before you could run off completely, he caught your wrist gently and tugged you back for one more quick kiss.
“For good luck,” he said.
You laughed, finally escaping and running toward the bathroom.
He watched you go, shaking his head with a soft chuckle.
“Such a baby,” he murmured fondly — though his eyes were full of love.
And as the bathroom door closed, he leaned back against the headboard, smiling to himself.
Eight months ago, he almost lost you.
Today, he was watching you walk toward your future.
And he couldn’t have been more proud.
---
“DADIII!”
Kiaan’s dramatic shout echoed through the mansion like an emergency siren.
Krish, who had just stepped out of the bedroom adjusting his watch, froze for a split second before panic kicked in. “What happened?” he muttered, already taking the stairs two at a time.
His heart thudded in alarm as he rushed downstairs — only to stop abruptly in the middle of the living room.
There sat Mrs. Mehra on the sofa.
Beside her stood Kiaan.
Both of them… glaring at him.
Krish blinked.
Did I do something wrong? he thought nervously. I don’t think so. Then why are they looking at me like I committed a crime?
He cleared his throat. “Umm… what happened?”
Mrs. Mehra folded her arms. “What happened, huh?!”
Kiaan copied her pose perfectly, tiny arms crossing over his chest.
Krish looked between them cautiously. “Okay… I’m scared.”
“I need a grandchild soon,” Mrs. Mehra declared dramatically.
“And I want a sibling soon!” Kiaan added loudly.
Krish stared at them.
For a full five seconds.
“…What?”
He ran a hand through his hair, exhaling sharply. “Mom, it’s too early.”
“No, it’s not.”
“Yes, it is.”
“No.”
“Yes.”
Kiaan nodded enthusiastically on his grandmother’s side. “Dadi is right!”
Krish rolled his eyes. “Wow. Betrayal. In my own house.”
“Come on,” Mrs. Mehra continued, pointing at him accusingly. “You two have been married long enough.”
“Mom,” he said patiently, “Samira is not ready.”
“Who said that? I’m ready from the first!” Your voice rang from upstairs.
Krish nearly choked on air.
“What—?!” He coughed, turning toward the staircase just in time to see you rushing down, trying to fix your hair while grinning shamelessly.
Mrs. Mehra gasped dramatically. “See! My daughter-in-law understands me.” Krish looked betrayed.
“Samira?!”
You stood proudly beside Mrs. Mehra, crossing your arms just like them. “What? I support her.”
He looked at the three of you — grandmother, grandson, and wife — united against him.
“This is a conspiracy,” he muttered.
Mrs. Mehra clapped her hands once, satisfied. “Then it’s final. You two are going for a honeymoon tomorrow.”
“What?!” Krish’s eyes widened.
You, on the other hand, tried (and failed) to hide your smile.
“Yes,” she continued confidently. “Proper honeymoon. No excuses. I’ll take care of Kiaan.”
Krish ran a hand over his face. Who did I end up living with?
“Dad,” Kiaan said seriously, tugging at his pants.
“Yes, young master?” Krish replied dryly.
“I want a baby sister.”
Krish crouched down to his level and gently pinched his nose, making Kiaan scrunch it cutely. “You’re getting naughty, huh?”
Kiaan giggled.
You slowly walked closer, standing right beside Krish. He glanced at you suspiciously.
“Krish…” you said softly.
“What?” he asked, already nervous.
You leaned closer, your lips brushing near his ear.
“I guess you were right.”
“About what?”
You looked up at him innocently. “I should call you daddy from today.”
Krish froze.
His brain stopped functioning.
“Yeah…” he began automatically — then his eyes widened. “What?!”
Mrs. Mehra burst into laughter.
Kiaan looked confused. “Why is Papa shocked?”
Krish stood up slowly, staring at you in disbelief while you tried very hard not to laugh.
“You’re enjoying this too much,” he accused.
You shrugged sweetly. “Maybe.”
He stepped closer, lowering his voice so only you could hear. “Careful, Samira. You’re playing with fire.”
Your cheeks warmed instantly, but you held your ground. “I’m not scared.”
His eyebrow lifted challengingly.
“Oh, you will be.”
Mrs. Mehra cleared her throat loudly. “We are still here.”
Both of you jumped apart awkwardly.
“Pack your bags,” she ordered cheerfully. “Flight is tomorrow morning.”
Krish looked at his mother. Then at Kiaan. Then at you — who looked entirely too pleased.
He sighed dramatically.
“Fine,” he said. “But when this house becomes even more chaotic, don’t blame me.”
You slipped your hand into his, squeezing it gently.
Chaos or not… this was your family.
And honestly?
He wouldn’t trade it for anything.