74
The sangeet hall glowed like a dream.
Golden fairy lights draped the ceiling like stars caught in a net, chandeliers shimmering above.
The stage at the far end was dressed in silver drapes and fresh flowers, marigold and white roses twined with green vines, while the dance floor gleamed beneath spotlights.
Round tables were scattered around, each centerpiece a tall glass vase with floating candles and petals, adding a touch of romance.
The air buzzed with chatter, laughter, and the faint hum of the DJ warming up the music system.
Vaani stepped inside, her saree shimmering like liquid silver under the lights.
The soft sequins caught every movement, every turn of her head, and her blouse was simple yet elegant, the cut just right to balance grace and modernity.
Her hair was half pinned, half flowing, with delicate earrings brushing her jawline.
She clutched a small silver clutch, eyes sparkling with excitement.
And then, as if scripted, Dhruv walked in behind her. A sharp black suit, crisp white shirt, and no tie—clean, effortless sophistication. The contrast between her glitter and his understated elegance was striking.
Simran spotted them immediately. "Oh. My. God. You two look sooooo cuteeee together!" she squealed, rushing over. "Wait, wait, I need a picture before anyone else steals you."
Vaani laughed, cheeks already pink. "Simran, stop, let us at least sit down."
"Nope, right now," Simran said firmly, pulling her phone out.
Vaani, shaking her head but smiling, stepped a little closer to Dhruv.
Before she could adjust her saree pallu properly, Dhruv casually slipped his arm around her waist, as if it were the most natural thing in the world.
She stilled for a fraction of a second, heart skipping, before finding her smile again for the camera.
Click. Click. Click.
Simran gasped dramatically after checking the photo. "No way. This is unfair. Your kid's gonna have great genes, wow."
"Simran!" Vaani exclaimed, blushing crimson.
Dhruv didn't miss a beat—just smirked, amused at both the comment and Vaani's reaction. "Guess we'll see," he murmured, low enough that only Vaani caught it.
She shot him a flustered look, clutching her clutch tighter, but couldn't stop the little smile tugging at her lips.
Before she could recover fully, the hall erupted with cheers.
Ria and Aayush made their grand entry. Ria wore a pastel peach lehenga embroidered with gold thread, her dupatta delicately draped over her shoulders, while Aayush looked regal in an ivory sherwani.
They walked hand in hand through the archway as sparklers lit their path, friends on both sides showering them with flower petals.
Ria blushed as people clapped, Aayush raising their intertwined hands like a winner in a ring.
"They look amazing," Vaani whispered to Dhruv.
He gave a small nod, eyes scanning the happy couple.
The sangeet began with a bang. Cousins from the groom's side danced first, a lively medley of Bollywood songs that had everyone clapping.
The bride's brothers followed, pulling Aayush onto the stage and teasing him with exaggerated moves about the trials of marriage.
Even uncles and aunts joined in, surprising everyone with a retro number that had the crowd whistling.
Vaani's excitement only grew with each performance. She bounced in her seat, clutching Simran's hand, whispering commentary between songs. Dhruv, as usual, sat more composed, but he didn't miss the way her eyes shone every time the music shifted.
And then the anchor grabbed the mic. "Alright, alright! You've seen the boys, you've seen the uncles, but now... it's time for the girl gang! Are you ready?"
The hall roared.
Vaani shot up instantly. "Yes! Our turn!"
Simran groaned. "Calm down, Vaani!"
But she was already half-running toward the side of the stage, her saree swishing as she moved. Naina and Ria joined, laughter spilling from all of them as they lined up.
The music changed. A high-energy Bollywood track boomed, and the spotlight found them.
The four of them—Vaani, Simran, Naina, and even Ria—entered with perfect synchronization, twirling their way to center stage. The crowd erupted.
Vaani was in her element. Every step was sharp, every turn graceful, her smile bright enough to rival the stage lights.
She sang along to the lyrics, pointing playfully at Aayush when the lines teased the groom, then at Ria when the lines praised the bride.
The chemistry between the four girls was electric—they laughed mid-dance, improvised moves, and hyped each other up.
From his seat, Dhruv found himself watching more closely than he'd intended.
His phone was in his hand almost unconsciously, recording the entire performance.
He wasn't one for loud cheering, but his eyes never left Vaani—her expressions, the way she winked at Simran, the little spin she added even when not choreographed.
"They are killing it!" someone near him shouted.
He only smirked, zooming in a little as Vaani tossed her hair back dramatically, the silver saree shimmering under the lights.
When the dance ended with all four striking a pose around Ria, the hall erupted into whistles and claps. Vaani blew a kiss to the bride before bouncing off the stage, slightly out of breath but glowing.
She made her way back to Dhruv, still fanning herself with her hand. "Did you record it?" she asked eagerly.
"Yeah," he said simply, holding up the phone.
"Show me later!" she grinned, sinking into her seat, still buzzing from the adrenaline.
He nodded, watching her sip from her water glass, cheeks flushed from the performance.
The night rolled on with more dances, speeches, and bursts of laughter. The groom's friends did a funny skit, the bride's cousins prepared a slideshow of childhood pictures, and the DJ kept the energy alive between acts. The hall was alive with music, food, and chatter, every corner buzzing.
Through it all, Dhruv stayed steady—quiet, observant, sometimes pulled into conversations, but always aware of where Vaani was. She, in turn, stayed at the center of the fun, dragging him into moments when she could, teasing him with whispers about how he'd have to dance next.
By the time the couple themselves took the floor for their slow romantic duet, the room softened into gentle applause. Dhruv found himself glancing once again at Vaani, who watched Ria and Aayush with misty eyes, already swaying slightly to the music as if she wanted to join.
He couldn't help the small, almost invisible smile tugging at his lips.
The sangeet had shifted into full-blown party mode.
The anchor's mic had been long forgotten, the DJ had taken over, and the dance floor was crammed with people—family, friends, cousins of cousins—everyone moving to the beat of a mashup of Bollywood hits.
The chandeliers flickered with disco lights, laughter bounced off the walls, and even the elders were tapping their feet from the sidelines.
Vaani was in her element. Her silver saree shimmered under the shifting colors as she twirled, her bangles clinking in rhythm with the beat.
Simran and Naina were beside her, equally wild with energy, and Ria, despite being the bride, couldn't resist joining in with her lehenga swishing dramatically around her.
Aayush had already been pulled in by his friends, and he was doing some questionable moves that had the crowd howling.
Meanwhile, Dhruv stood at the edge of the dance floor. Hands in his pockets, a faint smirk tugging at his lips, he watched it all unfold. Music thumped, lights flashed, people screamed lyrics into the air—and yet his eyes kept returning to one person.
Vaani.
She danced like she'd been waiting for this night forever. No hesitation, no weight pulling her down, just pure joy. For a fleeting second, Dhruv felt... relieved. Glad. She wasn't holding herself back, she wasn't worrying, she wasn't overthinking. She was just living, laughing, sparkling.
And then, through the mass of bodies, the chaos, the blaring music, she found him.
Across the crowd, their eyes met.
For a second, it felt like the noise around them blurred into the background. She froze mid-step, her smile softening into something else—something quieter, something only for him. Then, with a playful tilt of her head, she lifted her hand and gestured for him to come.
Dhruv immediately shook his head. A small, firm no.
Her smile widened into a grin. She gestured again, more insistently this time.
Another shake of his head. His smirk deepened, but his feet stayed glued to the floor.
Vaani narrowed her eyes. Even from across the floor, he could read her perfectly: don't test me, Dhruv. She mouthed something like "come here!" and when he still didn't move, she made a decision.
The next thing he knew, she was weaving her way through the dancing crowd, swishing her saree out of the way, pushing past Simran and Naina who hooted in encouragement. Within seconds, she was in front of him, slightly out of breath but determined.
"Dhruvi, come na," she shouted over the music, grabbing his hand.
"I'm good, Vaani," he said evenly, though his smirk betrayed him.
Her fingers tightened around his. "Please. Just for a little while."
He looked at her, really looked—her flushed cheeks, hair flying loose from all the dancing, eyes shining with pure excitement. And in that moment, as much as every bone in his body wanted to refuse, he couldn't say no.
"Fine," he muttered, his voice low, resigned but almost amused. "But I'm just standing."
"Ha! We'll see about that," she said triumphantly, tugging him toward the crowd.
The music swallowed them. People cheered as Vaani pulled him in, cousins whistled, Simran clapped like it was a personal victory. Dhruv gave them all one dry look, but Vaani was too busy holding his hand and moving to the beat to care.
At first, he did exactly what he said he'd do—just stood there. Hands still in his pockets, a stoic expression that made him look more like security than a guest. But Vaani wasn't having it. She danced right in front of him, tugging at his arm, swaying closer.
"Come on, Dhruv!" she laughed, pointing at his stiff stance. "This isn't standing, this is sulking."
He quirked a brow. "I'm here, aren't I?"
"Yes, but you're boring."
That earned her a faint smirk. Then, just when she turned away in mock frustration, he surprised her. With a sudden movement, he caught her wrist, spun her around effortlessly, and when she stumbled back, he steadied her by the waist.
The crowd cheered at the smooth twirl.
Vaani blinked at him, startled, then burst into laughter. "Well, well, look who knows steps!"
"Don't push your luck," he said, though his smirk gave him away.
Still holding her hand, he let her guide him into the rhythm of the music.
It wasn't anything dramatic—he wasn't suddenly breaking into choreography—but he moved, enough to match her steps, enough to not look out of place.
And Vaani, glowing with happiness, kept her promise: she didn't let go of his hand.
Together, they moved through the crowd. She twirled again, hair flying, her laughter ringing above the music, and he found himself chuckling under his breath at her antics.
She swayed closer, tugging him along, and for a moment, it felt like the world had narrowed to just the two of them on the dance floor.
Then the song shifted into a slower beat. The wild jumping calmed, the lights dimmed into softer hues. Couples began to sway instead of bounce. Vaani glanced up at him, slightly breathless, strands of hair sticking to her cheek.
Dhruv looked down at her, his usual composure intact, but something in his eyes softer now.
Without a word, she stepped closer, her hand still in his, and he let his other hand settle lightly at her waist. Their movements were subtle, more swaying than dancing, but in the middle of the chaos, it felt... intimate.
Her eyes lifted to his, questioning, teasing, and he met them steadily, the faintest smirk on his lips. Neither spoke, the music filling the space between them. But their steps synced—her silver saree brushing against his suit, her bangles grazing his sleeve as they moved together.
For once, Dhruv didn't resist. He didn't retreat into the edge of the crowd. He let her pull him in, let her joy become his anchor for the night.
And Vaani, smiling up at him, knew she'd won. Not just pulling him to the dance floor, but something more—something quiet, unspoken, yet deeply felt between them.
The crowd spun and whirled around them, but for a few precious minutes, it didn't matter.
It was just Dhruv and Vaani, dancing.
~·~
The next morning, Goa woke up to a golden haze.
Sunlight spilled across the hotel lawns, where the mandap had been set up.
White drapes swayed with the sea breeze, threaded with marigold garlands and fairy lights that would glow later in the evening.
The structure was regal but simple, with pastel florals woven into its frame, matching the bride's chosen palette.
Guests bustled about in their wedding finery, children darted between the chairs, and the sound of the shehnai drifted across the grounds, soothing yet celebratory.
Dhruv stepped out into the hall first. He wore a regal cream kurta with gold embroidery, paired with a muted stole that draped effortlessly over his shoulder.
It wasn't flashy—it was understated, elegant, very him.
His posture was as straight as ever, his expression calm, but he drew attention regardless.
Simran spotted him and whistled softly, teasing, "Wah, Dhruv ji. Goa's dulha No. 2?"
He gave her a flat look, though the corner of his mouth twitched. "Don't start."
And then, before Simran could retort, a ripple went through the crowd near the staircase. Heads turned. Dhruv followed their gaze.
Vaani was descending slowly, her pastel pink saree flowing like a dream.
The delicate silver border caught the light, and the small cluster of white roses tucked into her hair made her look even softer, even more radiant.
She wasn't trying to draw attention, but she had it anyway.
Her bangles jingled lightly as she adjusted her saree, eyes darting until they landed on him.
Her smile bloomed instantly. "You look so good, Dhruvi," she said, walking over with that casual ease that only she could pull off, her saree swishing with each step.
He let his gaze linger a second longer than usual before replying, steady and low, "You too, Vaani."
She blushed—just faintly, enough to make her press her lips together and look away for a second. Then, regaining herself, she grinned and looped her arm with Simran's, diving back into the chatter around her.
The wedding preparations unfolded with the usual chaos—relatives trying to find their seats, photographers darting around for candids, kids climbing onto chairs for a better view.
Aayush looked handsome in his sherwani, trying to appear calm but visibly fidgeting with his dupatta until one of his friends teased him into relaxing.
Ria was a vision, her lehenga a soft blush tone with intricate work, her smile brighter than the sun itself as she made her entrance under a canopy of flowers.
The mandap ceremony began, the priest chanting mantras, relatives throwing petals, the air thick with the scent of incense and roses. People leaned forward, phones in hand, trying to capture every second.
Vaani, seated among the family section, leaned toward Simran and Naina, whispering little comments that made them stifle their laughter.
But when the vows began, her smile wavered.
Watching Ria and Aayush circle the sacred fire, her chest tightened.
She blinked rapidly, but the shimmer of tears betrayed her.
From his seat a row behind, Dhruv noticed instantly. Her usually animated face had gone still, her eyes glassy. Without hesitation, he leaned forward, slid into the space beside her, and quietly placed an arm around her shoulders.
She glanced up at him, startled, but his expression was calm—no teasing, no smirk. Just quiet reassurance.
"It's a love marriage, Vaani," he said under his breath, his voice steady against the hum of the mantras.
She sniffed, managing a small laugh through her tears. "I know... so what?"
"She's marrying her love," he continued. "Don't cry."
She looked back at Ria, then back at him, her lips trembling into a smile. "You don't get it," she whispered.
He studied her profile, the way her eyes glistened, her fingers clutching at the edge of her pallu. For a moment, he thought about it, then admitted, lowly, "Maybe I don't."
And that was it. No more words. He didn't press, didn't ask her to explain. He just sat there, his arm steady around her shoulders, anchoring her as she let the tears fall silently. She didn't hide them—she didn't need to.
The vows continued, chants rising, families showering the couple with blessings. Cheers rang out when the mangalsutra was tied, louder still when the sindoor was placed. Aayush and Ria looked at each other like no one else existed, hands entwined as the crowd erupted with applause.
Around them, guests clapped, whistled, called out playful remarks about "finally married!" and "ab toh no backing out." Vaani clapped too, smiling through her tears, and Dhruv withdrew his arm only when he felt her shoulders relax again.
The rituals stretched into laughter, photos, elders blessing the couple, cousins planning their shoe-stealing strategies, and kids sneaking sweets from trays.
The mandap was alive with joy, but in the middle of it all, that small, unspoken exchange between Dhruv and Vaani lingered like a thread tying them together.
And for once, Dhruv didn't mind.
~·~
The sun had dipped low over Goa, staining the sky in a brilliant mix of coral and lavender. The wedding had ended in a blur of laughter, blessings, and endless photos. But now, as the last ritual drew near, the atmosphere shifted.
The car stood waiting at the edge of the mandap, decorated in flowers and ribbons.
The crowd had gathered around, a bittersweet hush falling over them as Ria's vidaai began.
The priest's chants softened into the background as relatives came one by one, blessing her, hugging her, whispering their wishes into her ear.
Ria, dressed in her bridal lehenga, her jewelry glinting under the fairy lights, held herself strong for the first few moments. But when her father placed his hand over her head, blessing her, her lips trembled and her eyes brimmed with tears. And just like that—the dam broke.
Vaani, Simran, and Naina instantly clutched each other's hands, their own eyes swelling with tears. By the time Ria leaned into her mother's embrace, all three of them were weeping openly, their noses red, their makeup smudging.
"Arre yaar, stop crying so much, you'll scare the dulha," Aayush's cousin teased lightly, but even his voice cracked with emotion.
Vaani wiped her eyes with her pallu, shaking her head furiously. "I can't stop, okay? She's leaving with him," she said, pointing at Aayush dramatically, making Ria laugh and cry at the same time.
"Arre, excuse me, him is right here," Aayush retorted, though his own eyes were damp. "But fine, you all can cry, I'm taking her anyway."
The crowd chuckled, breaking the heaviness for a brief moment.
Ria turned to her girls, clutching their hands tightly. "Don't make me cry more," she whispered hoarsely, her eyeliner smudged but her smile glowing.
Vaani sniffled, trying to grin through her tears. "I'll see you after your honeymoon, Mrs. Ria Aayush Mehra."
Ria chuckled, nodding as she wiped her cheeks. "Yesss. And I expect you to send me daily updates till then."
Simran pouted, fanning her face with her hands. "Send us pictures, okay? Like, every detail. Even what you eat."
"Yes, please!" Naina chimed in. "Don't forget us once you're all honeymooning and being a Mrs. Mehra."
Ria laughed, the sound shaky but heartfelt. "Never. You three are stuck with me for life."
"Damn right we are," Vaani said, squeezing her hand tighter.
From the side, Dhruv stood quietly, watching the whole thing unfold.
He wasn't one for dramatics, but even he felt the tug in his chest seeing Vaani and her friends clinging together, their bond loud and unfiltered.
He found himself oddly amused too—between the tears, there was so much chatter, so much banter, so them.
Finally, Aayush, standing a little to the side, raised his voice, half-teasing, half-pleading. "Girls, can I take my wife now? Or do I need to file a petition?"
Everyone chuckled at that, even the elders shaking their heads fondly. Ria's friends groaned dramatically, hugging her one last time before stepping back, wiping their faces with tissues handed around by obliging cousins.
Ria climbed into the decorated car, her hand still clutching Aayush's. The two of them waved as petals rained down over them, cheers and shouts of "Happy married life!" filling the air. The car rolled forward slowly, disappearing into the night.
Vaani stood rooted to her spot, her eyes wet but her lips stretched into a wide smile. She clasped her hands together, murmuring softly, "She looked so happy, yaar."
Beside her, Simran and Naina nodded, their own tears still fresh. Slowly, though, the mood began to lighten. Guests dispersed toward the dinner, children ran off chasing each other, and the hum of conversation returned.
Vaani wiped her face one last time, breathing deeply, then turned to look for Dhruv. He was standing a little behind her, hands in his pockets, watching her quietly with that unreadable gaze of his.
She stepped toward him, her saree trailing softly across the ground. "Well..." she began, her voice still husky from crying, "...that's it. She's gone."
Dhruv tilted his head, regarding her. "You okay?"
She sniffled, then gave a watery smile. "Yeah. I'll miss her, though. But she's happy, and that's what matters."
He nodded once, steady. "She is. And you'll see her soon enough."
Vaani chuckled softly, brushing away the last of her tears. "You know, you're right. Ugh, why do you always have to be so... composed?"
He raised an eyebrow. "Would you rather I cry too?"
Her lips curved into a grin. "Maybe. Would've made for a great video."
For the first time all evening, his lips twitched into a smirk. "Not happening."
She giggled, shaking her head, the heaviness of the vidaai finally lifting from her shoulders.
They stood there for a moment in companionable silence, the soft hum of the festivities around them fading into the background.
For all the chaos and tears of the last hour, right now it was just the two of them—her smile slowly returning, his calm presence grounding her like always.
And somehow, that felt just right.
~·~
The villa was quieter than it had been in days. The mandap, the music, the laughter — all of it now only echoes of memory. The newlyweds had already left for their honeymoon, the guests had either retired for the night or caught late-night flights, and Goa itself seemed to exhale into stillness.
In their room, Vaani zipped up her suitcase, a simple cotton kurta replacing her pastel saree from earlier. She tugged at the zipper, sighing as she plopped onto the bed. "Finally. Done."
Across the room, Dhruv was folding his shirt neatly into his bag. He, too, had changed — a plain tee and track pants, his hair still damp from a quick shower. Everything about him screamed effortless calm, the exact opposite of the chaos Vaani had been the whole day.
She tilted her head at him, watching as he smoothed down the last crease on his folded shirt. "You know what I realized?"
He hummed, not looking up. "What?"
"You didn't cry once. Not even a little. Not even when Ria hugged her parents like she was never going to see them again."
He glanced up, one eyebrow raised. "Why would I cry?"
Vaani sat up straighter, scandalized. "Because it was emotional! Everyone cried. Even Aayush, the dulha, had tears in his eyes. And there you were, standing like—like a stone wall."
Dhruv zipped his bag with a sharp tug, chuckling under his breath. "So?"
She gasped dramatically. "So?! That means you're not emotional, are you?"
He shook his head, amused. "Nope."
Her eyes narrowed. "Not even a little?"
"Nope."
Vaani leaned forward, resting her chin in her palms as she studied him like he was some rare specimen. "Have you ever cried, Dhruv?"
"Yes. Of course," he answered easily, sitting on the edge of his own suitcase.
Her eyes widened. "Not when you were a kid. I mean after. When you were... I don't know, older. Mature. Like university time or later."
He paused, tilting his head slightly as if replaying his life like a reel. "I don't know," he admitted after a beat.
Vaani blinked, taken aback. "What do you mean you don't know? You either cried or you didn't!"
Dhruv gave her a small, half-smile, his voice calm. "I really don't know. Not in recent years, at least."
Her curiosity spiked even more. "So what makes you cry then? Like, what would it take?"
He leaned back on his hands, thoughtful. "Extreme emotions, I guess."
She tilted her head. "Extreme emotions like...?"
"I don't know," he shrugged. "Loss. Or something hitting too close to home. Something... big."
Her brows knitted. "But not for anyone? Or anything?"
"Nope." His answer was firm, simple, unshaken.
Vaani sat back, almost scandalized. "Wow. Not even for, like... a movie?"
He gave her a look that made her burst out laughing. "You are heartless, Dhruv."
"Practical," he corrected with a smirk.
She threw a cushion at him. "No, heartless. Here I am crying at animated movies, and you're like—'nope, never cried in my life.'"
He caught the cushion with ease, tossing it back onto the bed. "Not never. Just... not recently."
Vaani studied him for a long second, the corners of her lips quirking. "You're strange, you know that?"
He only chuckled, the sound low and warm. "You've mentioned."
For a moment, silence filled the room. The kind that wasn't heavy but instead comforting, wrapping around them like a soft blanket. Outside, the crickets chirped faintly, the sound of waves rolling against the Goan shore somewhere in the distance.
Finally, Dhruv glanced at the clock. "We should get going. Flight's soon."
Vaani groaned, flopping back onto the bed dramatically. "Why are early morning flights even a thing?"
"Less layovers — to avoid your complaining."
"Ugh, practical again." She peeked at him from behind her hand. "Sometimes I forget I married a robot."
He smirked. "Efficient robot."
She laughed, rolling off the bed and slipping into her sandals. "Fine, fine. Efficient robot. Let's go before we miss this flight."
Dhruv grabbed his phone and wallet, already dialing for the cab. He didn't need to ask — he just handled it.
Vaani, watching him, felt that little warm tug in her chest again.
She wasn't used to someone always being this.
.. steady. Her family had always been a whirlwind of emotions, and she herself was basically a hurricane.
Dhruv, though — he was calm waters. Reliable.
Someone who would just be there without needing to announce it.
When the cab pulled up, Dhruv carried both their bags down without a word. Vaani trailed behind, pouting dramatically. "You didn't even let me carry one."
"You'd complain after five minutes."
"Not true."
He glanced at her, the faintest smile tugging at his lips. "Vaani, you complained after standing in the buffet line for five minutes."
She gasped. "That was different!"
"Sure."
She nudged his shoulder as they walked toward the car. "You're impossible."
He only opened the cab door for her, waiting until she got in before sliding in beside her.
As the car pulled away from the villa, Vaani leaned her head against the glass, watching the lights of Goa fade into the quiet darkness of early morning.
Her body was exhausted, but her mind buzzed with everything that had happened — Ria's wedding, the dances, the tears, the laughter.
And somewhere in the middle of it all, Dhruv's steady presence, anchoring her through every high and low.
She glanced at him from the corner of her eye. He sat straight, eyes on the road, his jawline sharp in the dim light, his calm composure unchanged even at 3 a.m.
She smiled to herself. Heartless or not, practical or not, he was hers.
And that was enough.
??