96
The early morning light slanted through the sheer curtains, painting the room in soft gold.
Dhruv stirred first. For a second, he didn't even remember falling asleep — only the memory of the terrace, the lights of Dubai behind her, her voice soft as she'd said it back to him. I love you too.
He exhaled, still half in disbelief, and turned to look at her.
Vaani was curled up on her side, hair tumbling across her face, one hand tucked under her cheek. She looked peaceful in a way that made his chest feel full. There was something grounding about her — as if everything outside could fall apart, and she'd still bring him back to himself.
A slow smile tugged at his lips. He leaned closer, brushed a strand of hair from her face, and whispered under his breath, "You're something else, Vaani."
He chuckled quietly — part of him still surprised that he had actually said it last night. After weeks of keeping it in, second-guessing, overthinking, he'd finally blurted it out like it was the most natural thing in the world. And now... now it didn't feel strange at all. It felt right.
He tucked the blanket a little higher around her shoulders, his hand brushing against her arm for a second longer than necessary. She shifted slightly, murmured something incoherent, and went back to sleep.
"Sleep, drama queen," he whispered fondly, before quietly slipping out of bed.
He showered, the warm water helping him wake up fully. When he came out, towel slung around his neck, the apartment was still quiet — the kind of soft, lived-in quiet that made him feel strangely content.
He padded to the kitchen, switched on the kettle, and started making chai — the familiar rhythm of it grounding him. He scrolled through his phone, smiling when he saw messages from both Vihaan and Vedant.
Vihaan: Yo Jiju, guess who got invited to the intramural finals?
Dhruv: The guy who never slept before exams?
Vihaan: ???? guilty. How's Dubai? How's your wife?
Dhruv smirked. Wife. That word hit differently now.
Dhruv: We're good. Be safe over there.
Vihaan: I am! Also, Vedant texted me too. He's getting settled, said his flatmates are chill.
Dhruv switched over. Vedant had sent a picture — a slightly messy dorm room with boxes everywhere and a caption: First week in LSE housing. Missing ghar ka khana already.
Dhruv: We told you to take snacks.
Vedant: I did. Already finished them.
Dhruv: Classic.
He smiled at the screen, feeling that quiet satisfaction of knowing both his brothers were doing okay — that things, for once, were steady.
Just then, he heard the faint sound of the bedroom door opening.
He turned — and there she was.
Vaani, with her hair damp, wearing one of his oversized shirts and a sleepy smile. She blinked against the light, spotted him at the counter, and her whole face lit up.
"Dhruvvvvv!" she said dramatically, and before he could respond, she came running — barefoot, giggling, straight into his arms.
He barely had time to put his phone down before she threw her arms around his neck and half-landed on his lap, laughing as she did.
He steadied her instinctively, chuckling. "Not that I'm complaining," he said, eyes amused, "but what's going on?"
She hugged him tighter. "I'm happy to see you," she said simply, voice muffled against his shoulder.
He laughed, wrapping an arm around her waist. "I was literally sleeping beside you, baby."
She pulled back, smiling with that soft morning glow that made him weak. "I know," she said, "but still."
He tilted his head, grinning. "You're impossible, you know that?"
"Yep," she said cheerfully, unbothered.
He leaned forward, pressing a quick kiss to her forehead before murmuring, "Come on, have your breakfast before you start hugging me again for no reason."
"Excuse you," she said, mock-glaring, "there was plenty of reason."
"Uh-huh," he said, rising from the chair and heading toward the kitchen counter. "You want chai or should I assume you'll steal mine again?"
She gasped. "Rude! I made my own cup yesterday."
"Half a cup," he corrected. "The rest of it somehow ended up in my mug."
She snorted, walking to the counter and picking up her cup. "Details, details. Anyway—" she took a sip, sighed happily, "—perfect."
He shook his head, smiling to himself.
"So," she said after a moment, hopping onto one of the kitchen stools, "what do you want to do today?"
He looked up from his phone. "You decide."
"No, you decide," she countered, narrowing her eyes playfully.
"Fine," he said after pretending to think. "We can go somewhere."
"As you wish, darling," she said, raising her mug like a toast.
He smirked. "Dangerous words to say."
She rolled her eyes and slid off the stool. "Anyway, I just need to submit a design before 11 — after that I'm yours."
He raised an eyebrow. "Yours?"
She froze, then glared when she saw him smirking. "You know what I meant."
He chuckled. "Do I?"
She groaned, hiding her face behind the mug, and muttered, "You're annoying."
"True," he said easily.
She shot him a look but there was a smile tugging at her lips. Then she straightened, stretched, and said, "Okay, I'll be in the study for a bit."
He nodded, watching her disappear down the hallway — hair bouncing, humming softly to herself. The moment she vanished, his expression softened.
He leaned back against the counter, staring at nothing for a long moment.
Even after confessing, even after hearing her say it back, he couldn't stop thinking about it — not out of doubt, but awe. How had this even happened? When had he gone from being quietly indifferent about marriage to falling head over heels for this chaotic, kind, utterly warm woman?
He smiled faintly to himself.
And yet, in the quiet corners of his mind, another thought crept in — the one he couldn't shake.
Does she love me the same way?
Not that he doubted her feelings — she'd said it, he'd seen it — but Vaani was naturally affectionate. She hugged everyone. She cared deeply. She laughed easily. She was sunshine to everyone she met.
So was this — them — different for her? Or was she just like that?
He sighed, running a hand through his hair. He didn't want to overthink it, but he couldn't help it. That was who he was — always searching for logic in something as illogical as love.
Before his thoughts could spiral further, his phone buzzed. A work call.
He picked it up, glancing toward the study where she was probably already lost in her designs.
"Hey," he answered, voice instantly shifting into work mode. "Yeah, I saw the updates. Give me ten minutes."
He glanced once more toward the closed study door, the faint sound of her typing reaching him. Then he exhaled, grabbed his laptop, and went into the other room to take the call.
About half an hour later, Vaani peeked out from the study, stretching her arms. The living room was quiet again — his chai half-finished, his phone face-down on the counter. She smiled, walking over and picking it up. A new message had popped up from Vihaan.
She chuckled softly.
Then her eyes drifted toward the bedroom — empty now, since he'd gone to take his call — and she found herself smiling again, remembering last night.
How his voice had gone all soft when he said it. How he'd looked at her like she was the only person in the world.
Even now, it made her blush.
She'd always thought he'd be the harder one to read, the tougher one to reach. And yet here they were — him confessing first, and her still reeling from it.
"Crazy man," she whispered affectionately, sipping her chai.
And then, because she couldn't stop smiling, she added softly under her breath, "Crazy man that I love."
~·~
The clock hit six-thirty, and the Dubai skyline outside their window was turning honey-gold — that time of day when the light softened everything, even the sharpest of city edges.
Dhruv sat on the couch, laptop open, but his eyes weren't really on the screen anymore. Instead, they kept drifting to the small study across the living room — to where Vaani sat, still lost in her work.
Her hair was tied in a loose bun, a pencil tucked behind one ear, her brows slightly furrowed as she clicked through her designs.
There was something endlessly fascinating about watching her in focus mode — her lips moving faintly as she murmured notes to herself, her hand absently reaching for her chai cup and missing it twice before finding it.
He smiled to himself.
She was the kind of person who could make even work look alive — like it wasn't just a job but an extension of who she was.
He closed his laptop with a soft thud and called out, "Vaani?"
"Hmm?" she answered without looking up, still typing something.
"You okay?"
"Yes!" she said, voice bright, eyes glued to the screen. "Just finishing up a client edit."
He leaned against the doorway. "When will you be free?"
She glanced at the clock, mentally calculating. "Fifteen minutes."
He nodded. "Okay."
She looked up then, eyes suspicious. "Why?"
He shrugged casually, leaning against the wall. "Just be ready in thirty."
She blinked. "Wait, what? Why thirty?"
He smiled, that small, knowing smirk of his. "You'll see."
"Dhruv—"
He raised an eyebrow. "Thirty minutes, Vaani."
She opened her mouth to argue but he'd already turned away, heading back to the living room, pretending to check his phone. She narrowed her eyes at his retreating back, mumbling, "He's up to something, I know it."
Forty-five minutes later — because Vaani Deshmukh and "thirty minutes" had never existed in the same universe — she stepped out of their room, adjusting her earrings and calling, "Dhruv?"
He looked up from where he was sitting and almost forgot what he'd been about to say.
She stood there in a soft, crop top and jeans that caught the light every time she moved — not too fancy, just... effortless. Her hair was down now, waves falling over her shoulders. She was glowing, not just because of what she was wearing, but because she always did.
She caught his look and smiled shyly. "What?"
He shook his head slightly. "Nothing."
"Say it," she teased, walking over.
He leaned back, lips twitching. "I was just wondering if it's legal to look that good."
She gasped dramatically. "Dhruv, are you flirting with me?"
"Always," he said simply.
Her blush deepened, but she tried to play it cool. "You look nice too," she said, eyes scanning him.
He was wearing a dark shirt, sleeves rolled to his forearms, and that easy confidence that made her heart do things it shouldn't.
"So?" she said, crossing her arms. "Where are we going?"
He smirked, standing up. "On a date."
Her jaw dropped slightly. "What? No! I'm underdressed!"
He just held out his hand. "You look gorgeous, wife. Let's go."
"Dhruv!" she said, half laughing, half flustered. "You could've told me earlier!"
"And miss this look on your face? Not a chance."
She rolled her eyes, grabbing her purse and following him out.
They took the elevator down, her peppering him with questions the whole way. "Are we going somewhere fancy? Should I have worn heels? Wait, tell me what cuisine at least—"
He glanced at her and said, completely deadpan, "Nope."
"Dhruv!"
"What?" he asked, lips twitching. "You said you wanted me to plan something for once."
She glared but couldn't hide the smile spreading across her face. "You're infuriating."
"Romantically infuriating," he corrected.
When the elevator doors opened, she was about to walk toward the parking area, but he stopped her by gently catching her hand.
"What happened?" she asked, looking confused.
"We don't need the car."
Her brows furrowed. "Then how are we—"
He only smiled, lacing his fingers through hers. "Trust me."
She looked at him for a beat, then smiled softly. "Okay. Lead the way."
They started walking, hand in hand, the city breeze warm and steady. Dubai's evening lights glittered above them, the streets humming softly with life.
Vaani glanced up at him. "So, no car means what? We're walking to our date?"
"Yep."
"And where exactly are we walking to?"
"You'll see."
She groaned. "You're killing me with the suspense."
He chuckled. "Patience, Mrs Deshmukh."
She playfully bumped his shoulder. "That's easy for you to say, you thrive on secrets."
He raised an eyebrow. "I told you I loved you, didn't I? That's a big secret gone."
Her lips curled into a grin. "Hmm, true. You did surprise me."
"Good surprise?"
"The best," she said softly.
He smiled — that quiet, almost shy one that never quite reached his lips but lived in his eyes. "Good."
They walked a little more in silence, the kind that wasn't awkward — the kind that felt like home. The streetlights cast little halos on the pavement as they passed, and she found herself thinking that this was what peace looked like — just the two of them, no rush, no noise.
After a few minutes, she tugged at his sleeve. "You're not taking me to one of your business meetings, right?"
He laughed. "Do I look that heartless?"
"Sometimes," she teased, earning an amused side-eye from him.
"Okay, I'll remember that," he said, pretending to be offended.
"Oh come on," she laughed, catching his arm again. "You know I didn't mean it."
"I know," he said softly, and the way his fingers brushed over hers made her heartbeat quicken.
They turned a corner, and she gasped.
In front of them was a small rooftop café, tucked between two tall buildings — nothing overly fancy, just warm lights, soft music, and an open view of the skyline that shimmered like gold dust.
"Dhruv..." she said, turning to him. "This is..."
He shrugged, a little sheepishly. "I thought you'd like it."
She blinked, touched. "You thought right."
He led her up the short staircase, and they found a table near the edge, overlooking the view. The waiter handed them menus, but she barely glanced at hers.
"This is perfect," she said softly, looking at him instead of the skyline.
He smirked. "You haven't even eaten yet."
"I don't care," she said, shaking her head. "You brought me here. That's what matters."
Something in his chest tightened at that — the way she said it so easily, so genuinely.
He reached across the table, brushing his thumb over her knuckles. "You're something else, you know that?"
She grinned. "So I've been told."
"By me, repeatedly," he said.
"See, you're obsessed."
"Guilty," he said, and she burst out laughing.
The waiter came by to take their order, but even after he left, they just kept talking — about random things, from how good the sizzler smelled to how Dubai nights always looked like someone spilled stars over glass towers.
Halfway through, she leaned back and said softly, "You know what's crazy?"
"What?"
"This feels... easy."
He tilted his head. "It should."
"Yeah, but... I never thought it would. I used to think love was supposed to be messy and confusing and dramatic."
"And now?"
She smiled faintly. "Now I think it's this."
He looked at her, eyes softening, and said quietly, "So do I."
The air was soft that night — a mix of salt from the gulf breeze and the faint scent of jasmine from the building gardens below. The city was alive but not loud; its pulse was steady, golden, and comforting.
Dhruv and Vaani had just settled back at their rooftop table after ordering food. The waiter had walked away, leaving two glasses of iced lime water sweating gently on the table.
Vaani leaned forward, propping her chin on her palm. "So, what made you pick this place?"
Dhruv smiled. "You said you wanted something quiet. Something where the city feels close but not crowded. This seemed right."
She nodded, eyes sparkling. "It's perfect. Feels like one of those places you see in movies, you know? Like people come here and end up having deep, life-changing conversations."
He chuckled. "You planning to have one?"
"Maybe," she said with a teasing smirk. "If the company is good enough."
He raised an eyebrow. "You mean me?"
She rolled her eyes. "No! I mean the watchman!" After a second of silence, she continued, "Who else?"
He smiled, shaking his head. "Touché."
Their food arrived soon after — pasta for him, noodles for her, and a shared plate of fries because, as Vaani said, "No meal is complete without fries."
For a while, they just ate in comfortable silence.
The sound of quiet music played from the café speakers — soft piano notes blending into the hum of the city below.
Dhruv glanced at her now and then, watching the way she twirled her fork in her noodles, her eyes lighting up every time she had something to say.
"So," she said suddenly, after taking a sip of water. "You've never really asked me much about UCL."
He looked up. "I thought I did."
She shook her head. "Not properly. You've only heard the filtered version — the one I tell when people ask 'How was it?' and I say, 'Good, busy, cold.'"
He leaned back. "Then tell me the real version."
Her eyes brightened instantly. "Okay, so—first of all—London is chaos, but like, organized chaos."
He chuckled. "That sounds contradictory."
"It is!" she said, excitedly gesturing with her hands. "There's always noise, always people running for something — the tube, a bus, a meeting — but somehow, it's never too much. It's like the city trains you to keep up."
He smiled. "And did you?"
"I had to," she laughed. "First week itself, I got lost three times trying to find my lecture hall. I ended up sitting in a second-year design class thinking it was 'Media I'll need to help."
Vaani burst into a soft laugh. "Help? That's one way to put it."
He smirked. "You know what I mean. How will you raise them?"
"I do," she said, chuckling. Then she leaned back, thinking. "Hmm. I think I want to raise them to be kind, above everything else. Smart, yes. Ambitious, yes. But mostly kind. The world could use more kind people."
Dhruv nodded thoughtfully. "That's true."
The quiet that followed was soft and heavy — full of the kind of feeling that didn't need to be spoken out loud.
Then, because she couldn't resist, she asked, "So... how many kids do you want?"
Dhruv raised a brow. "We're really going there, huh?"
"Yes."
He smiled. "However many you want."
She laughed. "That's not an answer."
"It's the only one that matters."
She tilted her head. "What if I say just one?"
"Then one it is."
"And if I say three?"
"Then three."
She smiled, amused. "You're so agreeable."
He shrugged. "It's about you and me, Vaan. Whatever we decide together is fine."
She softened again, the sincerity in his tone making her heart swell. "You're annoyingly sweet sometimes."
"Annoyingly?"
"Yes."
He smirked. "You're stuck with me now."
She smiled wider. "I can live with that."
There was a long pause. Then she said softly, "I think I'd want two at least.
Dhruv smiled. "Perfect number."
"You agree?"
"Of course. I was an only child — it's nice, but it gets lonely sometimes. Having a sibling changes everything. I wouldn't want our kid to feel that loneliness. Everyone should have siblings. It's a nice feeling."
Vaani nodded. "Yeah. I've always loved the madness of it. The fighting, the teasing, the love. Feels like home."
He looked at her fondly. "Our home will have that too."
Her cheeks turned warm, and she glanced away, hiding a smile. "You say things so casually sometimes."
"I only say what I mean," he said, voice low.
She rolled her eyes but her heart wouldn't stop smiling.
"Fine," she said after a beat. "If we're being specific, I want a girl first."
"That's not in our control, Vaan. But why?" he asked, grinning.
"So that she can boss her younger brother around. Like I did."
Dhruv laughed. "Poor boy doesn't stand a chance."
"Exactly."
He chuckled, leaning back in his chair. "You've got it all planned."
"I have to balance out your 'whatever you want' attitude," she teased.
He smiled. "Fair enough. Then I'll make sure our girl learns how to negotiate better than you."
"Excuse me?" she said, mock-offended.
He grinned. "You heard me."
"Unbelievable," she muttered, shaking her head, but the smile on her face gave her away.
He reached over and took her hand, fingers intertwining easily. "You know what though?"
"What?"
"I think they'll be happy kids. Because their mom will make sure of it."
Her breath hitched a little at that — not because it was dramatic, but because it was so him. Simple. Real.
"They'll be spoilt too. Because their dad will make sure of it." She chuckled.
Dhruv smirked, "I spoiled you, what makes you think I won't spoil them."
"You're such a sap," she said softly, smiling.
He smiled back. "Only for you."
She laughed quietly, resting her head on his shoulder again. "You're dangerous when you talk like that."
"Good dangerous?"
"The best kind," she said, eyes fluttering shut.
The silence that followed was golden — comfortable and warm, like a soft blanket. The city stretched endlessly below them, lights blinking like fireflies.
Vaani stirred after a while, looking up at him again. "You know, if this is what 'someday' looks like, I'm fine with it."
Dhruv smiled. "This is just the start, Vaan."
She grinned, voice playful. "You're sure? You're stuck with me forever, you know."
He laughed softly. "That's exactly what I want."
Her smile deepened. "Arre Dhruv..."
"Hmm?"
"I love you."
He turned slightly, eyes meeting hers — steady, warm, certain. "I love you too, Vaan."
And then he leaned in, their lips meeting softly, the kiss slow and easy — not new, not uncertain, just familiar, like breathing.
When they pulled apart, she stayed close, whispering, "Our kids are going to get sick of how much we say that."
He chuckled. "Let them. They'll learn what love looks like."
Vaani smiled, tracing a small circle on his arm. "You're really not bad at this whole romance thing, you know."
"Don't tell anyone," he teased, "I've got a reputation to maintain."
She laughed, resting her head against him again, voice turning sleepier now. "Okay, mister perfect, promise me one thing?"
"Anything."
"No matter how old we get, or how messy life gets, we always make time for chai and this view."
He smiled, pressing a soft kiss to her forehead. "Deal."
The wind moved again, brushing softly against them, and the city lights blinked below like a quiet heartbeat.
And there they sat — two people, two mugs of chai, one little world that was entirely their own.
~·~
The night gave way to a soft dawn, the kind that paints the sky in quiet shades of gold.
Two finished cups of chai sat between them on the balcony table, steam long gone, but warmth still lingering — much like them.
Vaani leaned against Dhruv's shoulder, and he instinctively pulled her closer, the silence between them gentle, familiar.
She smiled, thinking about how far they'd come — from awkward beginnings and quiet car rides to laughter that filled rooms and love that came softly, like a monsoon rain you didn't realize had begun.
They were strangers once — tied by circumstance, unsure and guarded.
But somewhere between shared cups of chai, late-night talks, and unspoken care, they'd become each other's constant.
Dhruv looked at her then, really looked, and smiled — the kind that said everything words couldn't.
And in that quiet morning light, surrounded by the city they called home, they sat there — two souls who had once been strangers, now utterly, beautifully in love.
T H E · E N D