63. MARRIED
Next Morning
The dining table was unusually quiet.
Aarvi sat between Shivani and Satish, absentmindedly eating, a soft smile playing on her lips since morning. It wasn’t loud. It wasn’t obvious.
But it was there.
Too constant to be ignored.
Shivani noticed it first.
Then Satish.
Neither said anything.
Just then, the doorbell rang.
Shivani stood up. “I’ll get it.”
The moment she opened the door, she froze.
Her jaw dropped.
Standing at the doorstep was Vivan.
Beside him stood Vinod, Pragya, Vedant, and Prisha.
Shivani stepped aside wordlessly, letting them in.
The moment they entered the living room, Aarvi and Satish both looked up.
Startled.
Aarvi’s eyes met Vivan’s.
He smirked, just slightly.
Her lips twitched despite herself before she looked away, standing up quickly and moving toward his parents. She bent down and touched Vinod and Pragya’s feet respectfully.
Pragya smiled softly, placing a hand on her head.
Prisha cleared her throat lightly.
“You must be shocked by our sudden visit,” she said, breaking the silence.
No one replied.
She took a breath and continued, carefully,
“Actually… we’re here to ask for Aarvi’s hand for our Vivan.”
Silence.
Heavy. Absolute.
Then Shivani let out a short, humorless chuckle.
“This might be a joke for you,” she said coldly, “but not for us.”
Satish stood up.
“Yes,” he said firmly. “You may leave.”
Vivan opened his mouth—
But Aarvi spoke first.
“Papa,” she said, her voice steady despite the tremor in her hands, “I want to marry Vivan too.”
Satish turned to her sharply.
“When I told you not to divorce him, you didn’t listen,” he snapped.
“And now, after two days of your divorce, you suddenly want to marry him again?”
Aarvi lowered her gaze.
Shivani crossed her arms.
“No marriage is happening,” she said decisively.
Vinod stepped forward then, calm but firm.
“Satish,” he said, “let’s keep log kya kahenge aside for a moment. Let’s think about our children, about their happiness.”
Satish scoffed, his voice dropping dangerously low.
“And what if he cheats again?”
“What if he asks for divorce again?”
“You’ll again prioritize your son’s happiness and abandon my daughter?”
Before anyone else could speak, Vivan stepped forward.
“I won’t,” he said immediately.
“I will never cheat on her.”
Satish looked him straight in the eye.
“I don’t trust you.”
The room fell silent again.
That’s when Vedant stepped forward.
“Uncle,” he said politely, “can I talk to you for a minute?”
Satish studied him for a moment.
Then nodded.
Vedant guided him aside, lowering his voice.
“Uncle… did you tell the neighbors about the divorce?” he asked.
Satish shook his head. “No.”
Vedant nodded.
“Then let bhai and bhabhi marry.”
Satish frowned.
“Right now,” Vedant continued, “no one knows about the divorce. For the world, we’ll say they were forced earlier, that misunderstandings happened, and that’s why they’re marrying again.”
He paused, then added carefully,
“Your image will stay intact.”
Satish’s jaw tightened.
“But what if your brother cheats again?”
Vedant leaned closer, whispering,
“Then put a condition.”
Satish looked at him.
“Tell him you’ll only agree if he announces this marriage publicly. To the entire world.”
“If he cheats after that, there will be no hiding. The blame will be his.”
Vedant held his breath.
Satish thought for a long moment.
Then slowly he nodded.
Vedant’s face lit up. He turned slightly and gave a discreet thumbs-up.
“Good decision,” he murmured.
Satish walked back to the others.
Everyone straightened.
He looked at Vivan.
“If you want to marry my daughter,” Satish said slowly, “you will announce this marriage publicly. No secrecy. No hiding.”
Vivan didn’t hesitate for even a second.
“I will,” he said firmly.
Satish continued,
“If you ever betray her after that.don’t come to us with explanations.”
Vivan nodded.
Silence.
Then Satish looked at Aarvi.
She stood still but her eyes were shining.
He exhaled slowly.
“We agree,” he said.
Aarvi’s breath caught.
Vivan’s fingers curled into a fist at his side not from fear, but from relief he refused to show.
No cheering.
No hugging.
Just quiet happiness.
A shared look.
Aarvi met Vivan’s eyes again.
This time neither looked away.
Vinod’s stern expression softened into a rare smile.
“Then it’s decided,” he said. “We should start preparing for the wedding.”
Satish’s smile faltered for a second. “So soon?” he asked, surprised. “At least ask the priest about an auspicious date.”
Pragya smiled calmly, as if she had been waiting for this moment.
“We already did,” she said. “The priest said this week is the most auspicious. If we miss it, we’ll have to wait another five months.”
Satish’s eyes widened instantly.
“N–no,” he said quickly. “Why wait five months? This week is perfect. Let’s get them married this week only.”
Everyone nodded in agreement.
Shivani leaned closer to Satish and whispered, confused, “Why did you agree so quickly?”
Satish replied just as quietly, eyes fixed ahead, “Because no one knows about the divorce yet. If they remarry now, there will be no chaos. And if we wait five months, people will start asking why Aarvi has been living here for so long. This is… safer.”
Shivani’s eyes widened in realization. “Oh,” she murmured, nodding slowly.
The room filled with discussion—dates, rituals, logistics.
That’s when Vivan cleared his throat, rubbing the back of his neck nervously.
“Uh… if you all don’t have a problem,” he said hesitantly, “can I take Aarvi with me?”
Aarvi’s head snapped up, eyes wide.
She glared at him.
Vivan froze.
“I–I mean—” he corrected himself instantly, panicking, “the wedding is this week only, so there’s a lot to do. Shopping, arrangements… I thought we could at least complete that together. What do you say?”
Silence fell.
Vivan gulped.
Aarvi looked down, fidgeting with her fingers.
Then Pragya spoke gently, “You can go.”
Both of them looked up at the same time.
“Really?” Vivan asked, disbelief and happiness colliding on his face.
Pragya smiled. “Yes.”
They stood up instantly.
“Thank you, maa,” Vivan said, grinning widely.
Pragya just smiled back, warmth in her eyes.
“I’ll just go change,” Aarvi said softly, turning toward her room.
But Vivan caught her hand.
“No,” he said, excitement spilling through his voice. “We don’t have time for that. Our marriage is soon.”
And before she could protest, he gently dragged her out of the house.
From inside, laughter followed them.
He took her outside and opened the car door for her. Aarvi sat down, still a little dazed. Vivan circled the car and slipped into the driver’s seat.
The ride was quiet.
Not uncomfortable, just filled with things left unsaid.
Aarvi kept glancing at him, a soft smile playing on her lips.
“Stop looking at me,” Vivan said, though a smile tugged at his own lips.
“Why?” she teased. “Can’t focus, huh?”
He glanced at her briefly before returning his eyes to the road.
“When you’re around me, I forget how to breathe,” he said honestly. “And you’re asking about focus?”
She slapped his arm lightly, flustered by his words. “Shut up.”
He only smiled wider.
After a few minutes, she spoke again. “Vivan.”
“Hm?”
“What about your position as CEO?”
His smile faded for just a second, his grip tightening on the steering wheel.
“I want you back as CEO,” she said, pouting slightly.
He smirked. “Why? Don’t you like Ved being the CEO? Does he scold you?”
She shook her head. “That’s not what I meant. You resigned because of me, and I want you back. You understand what I’m trying to say, right?”
The way she struggled to explain made him smile again.
He nodded. “The rumors haven’t settled yet. Once I officially announce our marriage, they will. After that, I’ll take my position back.”
She nodded, satisfied but only for a moment.
“And… what about her?” she asked softly.
His brows furrowed. “Who?”
“Kiara,” she said, lowering her gaze.
He sighed. “What do you want me to do with her?”
“She leaked company information and you still let her go so easily. Do you still feel—”
“What are you saying?” he interrupted gently.
“I’m not taking revenge on her, Aarvi,” he explained.
“She was forced into that relationship by her father.
Her father used her like a pawn for business.
Many parents do that, they force their children, threaten to abandon them.
And this was just a relationship, many parents even force their children's for marriages. What choice did Kiara really have?”
Aarvi listened silently, eyes fixed on her lap.
“Aarvi,” he called softly.
She hummed.
“It was her father who did all this,” Vivan continued. “He will face consequences. Once the rumors die down, I’ll make sure of it.”
The car came to a stop at the mall. He parked but didn’t step out.
He turned to her. She still said nothing.
He just stared at her.
Aarvi kept her gaze lowered, fingers twisting in her lap, silence thick between them. It was loud—too loud.
Vivan reached out slowly and tilted her face up with a finger beneath her chin.
The moment her eyes met his, his heart sank.
Tears clung to her lashes, unshed but heavy.
“Trust me,” he said quietly, voice rough, sincere. “I will never cheat on you.”
She nodded. Just once.
That was all it took.
He leaned in and brushed his lips against hers—soft, brief, a promise more than a kiss.
He was already pulling away when her hand fisted in his shirt and she kissed him again.
Hard.
Desperate.
Her lips crashed into his like she was done holding back.
Vivan froze for half a second, then snapped.
His hands came up to cradle her face, needing more, wanting closer but the seatbelt was in the way. With a muttered curse, he unclipped it and slid his hand to her waist, pulling her fully onto his lap.
Their eyes were closed now.
Breaths tangled.
Lips moving in slow, heated rhythm.
This time, Vivan took control.
His mouth devoured hers not rushed, but intense—deepening the kiss as his tongue traced, tasted, claimed. He kissed her like he’d been starving and only now remembered how to breathe.
What started as a soft peck unraveled into something consuming.
Her fingers curled into his shoulders.
His grip tightened at her waist.
The world disappeared.
Finally, overwhelmed, Aarvi tapped his shoulder lightly.
He pulled back instantly, though his forehead rested against hers as if letting go physically hurt.
He kissed her one last time—slow, lingering—before parting.
They both gasped for air, chests rising and falling rapidly.
His hands were still cupping her face, thumbs brushing her cheeks as if grounding himself.
“I love you,” he said, looking straight into her eyes.
She smiled—soft, dangerous.
“And you dare not,” she replied lightly. “I’ll break every bone in your body.”
He laughed, breathless.
Gently, reluctantly, he settled her back into her seat, stepped out of the car, and walked around to open the door for her like nothing had happened.
They entered the mall, a small smile still lingering on Aarvi’s lips.
Vivan’s heart, on the other hand, had forgotten how to beat properly.
They headed straight toward the bridal section.
A salesgirl welcomed them with a bright, knowing smile and began pulling out lehengas—deep reds, rich maroons, shimmering vermilions. Aarvi’s eyes lit up instantly, fingers brushing the fabrics as if she were afraid they might disappear.
Meanwhile, Vivan was already lost—imagining her in every single lehenga she picked.
His smile grew softer… brighter… dangerous.
“I’ll try this,” Aarvi said, selecting one and turning to him. “You tell me if it looks good or not.”
Vivan nodded, far too distracted to say anything else.
She disappeared into the trial room.
Moments later, the curtain shifted.
Aarvi stepped out.
Vivan looked up and his breath hitched hard.
For a second, he forgot where he was.
She raised a brow at his silence, waiting.
When he still didn’t say anything, her smile faltered just a little.
“You didn’t like it?” she asked quietly.
Instead of answering, Vivan stepped toward her.
He stopped right in front of her, close enough that she could feel his warmth. Gently, almost absentmindedly, he adjusted her dupatta, letting his fingers linger just a second longer than necessary.
Then, in a casual whisper as if it meant nothing at all he said,
“If you look this stunning in a lehenga… how am I supposed to take it off?”
Aarvi’s eyes widened instantly.
She glanced around in panic, checking if anyone had heard, before slapping his arm lightly.
“Have you lost all shame?” she scolded in a hushed whisper, cheeks burning.
Vivan took a step back, brows creasing as he looked genuinely offended.
“What?” he asked. “Did I say something wrong?”
Her face heated even more. She looked down, refusing to meet his eyes.
“I… I liked this lehenga,” she muttered.
His expression softened immediately, just for her.
Then, like the menace he was, he sighed dramatically.
“So you really want me to suffer, huh?”
Her eyes widened again as she shook her head quickly.
Vivan raised a brow and leaned closer, voice dropping just enough to make her heart race.
“So… you want me to take it off?”
The smirk on his lips was pure trouble.
Aarvi looked up sharply, mortified, flustered, and completely undone.
“Le–let me change,” she blurted out, turning so fast she almost ran back into the trial room.
Behind her, Vivan laughed—low, amused, and entirely satisfied.
Finally, It was the day.
The day their marriage finally happened.
Vivan had announced their wedding to the world—calmly, clearly, without spectacle or justification.
The wedding was grand. Royal. Nothing about it was private.
Business tycoons, politicians, celebrities, faces that ruled headlines filled the hall. Power hummed in the air, thick and undeniable.
Yet for Vivan, none of it mattered.
He stood at the aisle, waiting.
His feet tapped against the marble floor without him realizing. He checked his watch once. Then again. Fingers flexed. Unflexed.
He looked ethereal in an ivory sherwani, finely embroidered with gold thread that caught the lights softly. The fabric sat perfectly on his frame, regal without trying. A simple stole rested on his shoulder, his hair neatly styled but his eyes betrayed him.
Restless. Anticipating.
Then—
She entered.
The moment Aarvi stepped into the hall, his posture stiffened.
The world blurred.
She wore a deep red lehenga, rich and heavy, the fabric flowing around her like fire restrained. Gold jewelry adorned her.
She walked toward him slowly.
Too slowly.
His fist clenched at his side. His heart thudded so loudly he was sure the priest could hear it.
Aarvi kept her gaze lowered, aware—very aware—of his eyes on her. A small, almost knowing smile lingered on her lips.
When she reached him, she stopped.
Without hesitation, Vivan extended his hand.
She placed hers in it.
Warm. Steady.
As she stepped onto the stage, his eyes dropped, not to her face, but to her feet.
His brows creased.
She stood beside him, serene, composed.
He leaned closer, whispering under his breath, “Why are you wearing heels? Doesn’t it hurt?”
Aarvi turned her head slightly, giving him a look that clearly said are you serious right now?
She ignored him.
But Vivan didn’t relax.
The rituals began. Mantras filled the air. Cameras flashed. Blessings were spoken.
Still, he murmured again, “If it hurts, you can take them off.”
She elbowed him lightly, whispering back, “It’s my choice. Do you have a problem?”
He looked at her for a long second before shaking his head, defeated. “No,” he muttered.
The mangalsutra was tied.
His fingers trembled just slightly as he leaned forward, fastening it around her neck—careful, reverent, like he was afraid of doing it wrong.
Sindoor followed.
As he filled the parting of her hair, something settled inside both of them. Not relief. Not excitement.
Completion.
The rituals ended.
Vidai began.
Aarvi didn’t cry.
She bent to take her parents’ blessings, her movements calm, deliberate. Shivani kissed her forehead. Satish placed his hand on her head, holding it there for a second longer than necessary.
Then she turned away.
She sat inside the car, exhaustion finally seeping into her bones. The door closed. The engine started.
The moment it did, Vivan bent down suddenly.
“Wh—what are you doing?” Aarvi jerked, startled.
He looked up at her, eyes wide, straightening slightly. “No photos now,” he said seriously. “You can take them off.”
She scoffed.
Before she could say anything, he bent again, this time gently lifting her foot, unfastening her heels with careful fingers.
As he removed them, a wave of relief washed over her.
She leaned back against the seat, tired, content.
The car moved.
The image was simple—Vivan holding her heels absentmindedly, Aarvi resting her head back, eyes closed after a long, overwhelming day.
But it was everything.
The car came to a stop.
The gates of the Singhania house stood tall, softly illuminated—grand, imposing, yet strangely calm. Warm lights lined the pathway leading inside. Staff stood at a distance, respectful and silent, as if giving the moment the space it deserved.
Vivan stepped out first.
He didn’t rush.
He circled the car and opened her door himself.
Aarvi stepped out slowly, her movements careful, the weight of the day finally settling into her body. Without a word, they walked inside together.
The rituals followed.
They performed the grahpravesh—simple, traditional, sacred.
Just as Aarvi stepped in, a soft chuckle echoed behind them.
Vedant.
Vivan turned instantly, brows knitting together.
“What’s so funny?” he asked.
Ved grinned. “You.”
Offended, Vivan shot him a sharp glare. “What?”
Ved gulped, suddenly cautious. “I–I mean… see, before when we asked you to perform grahpravesh, you busted like a bomb.” He gestured vaguely. “And now look at you.”
Vivan frowned. “Now what?”
Ved nodded toward his hands. “Standing here… calmly… holding bhabhi’s sandals.”
Aarvi froze.
Her eyes widened as realization hit her.
She looked down.
Vivan was, indeed, still holding her heels.
She turned to him and elbowed his arm lightly. “Just place them aside,” she whispered, embarrassed.
Vivan shrugged, unfazed, and whispered back, “Why?”
She shot him a glare, cheeks heating up—
But before she could say anything, Vinod’s voice cut in gently, amused.
“Let him hold them, beta,” he said. “After all, he chose this duty himself.”
Aarvi’s breath hitched.
She looked down instantly, flustered, fingers curling into her dupatta.
Vivan said nothing.
He didn’t smile.
He didn’t explain.
He just tightened his grip on the sandals slightly and stood there, steady, unapologetic.
As if this was the most natural thing in the world.
As the rituals came to an end, they finally turned toward the staircase.
Aarvi had barely taken two steps when Pragya stopped them.
“Vivan,” she said gently, “carry Aarvi. She must be exhausted.”
Aarvi stiffened instantly, suddenly aware of everyone around her.
“I–it’s okay, maa, I can—”
She didn’t get to finish.
Vivan bent slightly and lifted her into his arms without hesitation.
Her eyes widened in shock.
She clutched his sherwani lightly and whispered, flustered, “Everyone is watching.”
Before he could respond, Pragya spoke again, amused.
“This isn’t anything new for us, Aarvi,” she said calmly. “Whenever you used to fall asleep late at night, he would carry you to your room.”
Aarvi’s cheeks burned.
She buried her face into Vivan’s chest instantly, mortified.
A soft chuckle escaped him as he adjusted his hold and started climbing the stairs, steady and unbothered.
When they reached the corridor, Prisha suddenly stepped in front of the room, spreading her arms dramatically.
“Stop,” she declared. “First give me money. Only then will I let you enter.”
Vivan frowned slightly. “Why?”
“It’s a ritual,” Prisha said with a grin.
Vivan scoffed, turned on his heel, and walked straight toward the guest room instead.
Prisha stared at him, confused until her eyes widened as he entered the room and locked the door.
“Hey! You can’t do that!” she shouted, banging on the door.
“First give me money!”
From inside, Vivan replied calmly, “I don’t have cash right now. Nor my card. I’ll pay you tomorrow. Now go.”
Prisha groaned dramatically and stormed downstairs.
Pragya looked at her and asked, amused, “What happened? Why are you making that face?”
Prisha complained animatedly about her brother. Pragya chuckled.
“Now even we can’t do anything,” she said. “I don’t think he’ll open the door tonight. Wait till tomorrow.”
Prisha sulked, muttered a curse under her breath, and disappeared into her room.
Vivan gently placed Aarvi on the edge of the bed.
Then, without a word, he knelt in front of her.
She looked down, surprised, just as he took her feet in his hands and massaged it slowly, carefully.
Relief washed over her instantly.
Her shoulders dropped. Her head tilted back unconsciously.
“Did you like it?” he asked softly.
She hummed in response.
A small smile curved on his lips.
“Go change first,” he said. “Then I’ll massage them properly.”
She nodded, still dazed, and walked toward the bathroom.
Behind her, Vivan watched quietly—
smiling.
~?~