Chosen Love

9. Halfway to Forever

Ruhika's room looked like a bridal showroom had exploded inside it—makeup brushes, jewellery boxes, safety pins, tissue paper, bangles arranged by colour and then rearranged by someone else who disagreed.

"Don't smudge the kajal."

"I'm not touching it."

"You just blinked aggressively."

"That's not a crime, Isha."

Isha stood with hands on hips, inspecting her like a project she had personally managed.

And then—

Ruhika turned toward the mirror fully. The midnight navy lehenga fell around her like it had been waiting for this exact evening.

It wasn't loud. It wasn't traditional . It didn't scream engagement.

It held the room instead.

The blouse was structured and elegant, three-quarter sleeves detailed at the cuffs. The dupatta—soft net with a silver border—rested over one shoulder, pinned neatly but flowing naturally.

Her hair was left open in loose waves. No necklace—just statement silver earrings framing her face.

The colour made her skin glow warmer.

Her eyes darker.

Her expression steadier.

"You're not bridal," Isha murmured.

Ruhika met her reflection.

"I'm not trying to be."

She wasn't stepping into a wedding. She was stepping into a choice. And somewhere in the back of her mind—she remembered when he said I like it when you wear blue

She hadn't immediately agreed but already decided on the colour of her engagement lehanga.

________

Across the city, Shivansh adjusted his cufflinks for the third time.

They were already straight. He still rotated one slightly.

Then the other.

"You're overdoing it," Aarav said lazily from the bed, one leg crossed over the other, watching like this was prime entertainment.

"I'm not."

Shivansh glanced at his wrist again instinctively.

Aarav burst out laughing. "See? You're not meeting the Prime Minister. You're getting engaged."

Shivansh straightened his collar.

"I'm aware."

"You look like you're about to negotiate a merger."

He paused. "This is more serious than a merger."

That wiped the grin off Aarav's face for half a second.

Then it came back, softer.

"Ah," he said quietly. "So it's like that."

Shivansh didn't answer.

He was calm.

Externally.

Measured movements. Steady breathing. No visible nerves. But beneath it—something steady and loud beat against his ribs.

Not fear. Not doubt.

Responsibility. Anticipation.

He was about to place something permanent on her hand. In front of everyone.

And he didn't want to rush it.Didn't want to fumble it.

Didn't want to look at her and forget how to function.

Aarav sat up properly now, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees. "You like her," he said simply.

Shivansh shot him a look. "That's the point."

"No," Aarav shook his head. "You like her."

A beat passed. Shivansh adjusted his watch strap this time.

"I respect her," he said after a moment.

"That wasn't what I asked."

"I admire her."

Aarav waited.

Shivansh exhaled quietly. "She listens."

Aarav blinked. "That's your romantic confession?"

Shivansh leaned back against the dresser slightly, arms folding loosely. "I say things casually," he admitted. "In passing. And she remembers them."

Aarav's teasing expression shifted again—this time into something closer to approval. "Oh,Okay. Who are you and what have you done with my brother?"

Shivansh rolled his eyes but couldn't fully suppress the small smile tugging at his mouth.

Aarav stood up now and walked over, adjusting Shivansh's collar properly this time. "You're good," he said quietly. "You've always been good at being steady."

He paused. "But today, don't be steady."

Shivansh frowned slightly. "What?"

"Feel it."Aarav stepped back. "Don't treat it like a responsibility checklist. When you put that ring on her finger—look at her. Not the crowd. Not the photographer. Not Anyone but her."

Shivansh held his gaze. "And if my hand shakes?" he asked lightly.

Aarav grinned."Good. Means you're human."

A small silence settled between them. Not heavy. Just honest.

"You sure Right?" Aarav added, softer now.

"Yes."

"No dramatic escape plans? No last-minute existential crisis?"

Shivansh smirked faintly."If I run, you're handling it for me."

"Absolutely not. I can't cover for any such drama, and what if they ask me to marry her instead ? Aarav visibly shivered

That pulled an actual laugh out of Shivansh, "You're top notch crazy, you know that right?"

Aarav clapped his shoulder firmly. "But I'm serious, You're not boarding a flight," he repeated. "You're walking toward someone who chose you back."

That hit differently. Shivansh nodded once.

Then reached for the small velvet ring box on the dresser.

He didn't open it. Didn't need to.

He already knew what was inside.And who it was for.

"Let's go," he said.

Aarav grinned, falling into step beside him.

"Finally," he muttered. "Before you adjust those cufflinks again."

______________

The venue glowed under warm fairy lights. Marigold strings framed the entrance. Soft instrumental music floated above the low hum of guests.

He was already on the stage when she arrived.

Polite smile in place.Hands clasped loosely in front of him.

Listening to an uncle narrate a story he had heard twice already.He nodded at the right places. Responded when required.

And then—the music near the entrance shifted slightly.

Not louder.Just different. Conversations dipped.

Heads turned toward the entrance.He didn't.Not immediately

And then—almost absently— his eyes lifted.

And the world seemed to reorganise itself.

She stood at the entrance for half a second before stepping forward.

Her hair fell in loose waves over her shoulders. No heavy necklace.Just silver earrings that brushed against her neck every time she turned her head.

Someone beside him said something.He didn't hear it.

Because she started walking toward the stage.And he realised— she actually was wearing what he said he liked on her, not wanted but liked

Something in his posture changed.His shoulders straightened unconsciously. His jaw tightened slightly.Like his body recognised something his mind was still catching up to.

And found him already looking.Not scanning the crowd.Not distracted.

Her steps slowed for a fraction of a second.And in that half-second pause—something passed between them.

Not nervousness. Recognition.

______________

She reached the steps of the stage.Lifted her lehenga slightly to climb.

He stepped forward instinctively. Offered his hand.

She took it. Warm.Steady

But her fingers tightened just a little more than usual.

When she was standing in front of him—close enough now that the noise blurred into background hum— he let his gaze travel properly. Not hurried.Not shy.

From the embroidery at her sleeve.To the curve of her shoulder.To her eyes.

He exhaled quietly. You look..." he began.Then stopped.

Searching. Not for a polite compliment. For accuracy.

"You look like you knew exactly what you were doing to me."

Her brows lifted faintly. "Oh?"

He leaned a fraction closer. "I'm going to spend the rest of this evening pretending I'm not staring."

He exhaled through his nose, pretending to be offended. "If I were staring, it would be obvious."

She shook her head, the silver of her earrings catching the light as she did. "You dropped whatever Uncle was saying mid-sentence."

"You look nervous," she added.

"You wore the one colour I can't ignore on you"

A small silence settled between them, comfortable and charged at the same time.

"You remember everything I say?" he asked, quieter now.

"Not everything."

She held his gaze. "The things that matter."

That landed somewhere deeper than teasing.He looked at her again—this time not playfully, not defensively.

Just honestly.

____________

The crowd around them resumed its rhythm.Music swelled. Voices rose again.But for that one suspended moment—

they weren't thinking about the ceremony.Or the cameras.Or the applause waiting to happen.

They were thinking about the fact that—in a room full of people they had already chosen each other quietly.

And tonight— they were just letting the world catch up.

Just then a voice cut cleanly through the moment.

"Okay."

Both of them turned.

"Before I approve this, I need to ask questions."

Ruhika closed her eyes briefly. "That's Isha."

She stepped forward like she had been waiting for her cue all evening. She looked stunning in emerald green, but her expression was pure investigative authority.

She extended her hand toward Shivansh and said

"It's important that you know me, Briefly I am the Best friend. Emotional historian. Keeper of secrets. Occasional threat."

He took her hand without hesitation. Firm. Respectful.

"Shivansh," he replied evenly. "Applicant." He was clearly enjoying this

Isha narrowed her eyes. "Confident."

"Prepared," he corrected.

She circled him once—not dramatically, but enough to make a point. "You made her wear navy?"

Ruhika sighed. "He didn't make me—"

Isha's brows lifted. "And she listened?"

He glanced at Ruhika, something softer passing through his expression. "She listens."

Isha caught that. And something in her teasing shifted—just slightly.

"She doesn't listen to anyone," Isha said pointedly. "Not even me. I once told her not to text someone back and she wrote a thesis."

Shivansh nodded mildly biting back a smile . "Citations included?"

Ruhika stared at him. "You're not helping."

Shivansh glanced at her, amused. "Good. Then I'll know any reply I get has been peer-reviewed.

Isha folded her arms. "So. Let's be clear. You suggested navy. She archived it. And tonight you're standing here looking like someone just handed you the moon."

He didn't even flinch."I'm standing here," he said quietly, "because she stands beside"

That silenced her for half a second.She studied him again—but this time not playfully. Carefully.

"You know she overthinks?" Isha asked.

"Yes."

"She pretends she's calm when she's spiraling?"

"And I'll stay anyway." He said. It wasn't a declaration meant for applause. It was simple.

Isha's expression softened visibly now. "You don't get to hurt her," she said quietly. Not teasing. Not smiling.

He held her gaze. "I won't."

A beat passed.

Isha exhaled. Then clapped her hands lightly. "Okay! Emotional intensity achieved. Approved."

Ruhika swatted her arm. "You're impossible."

"I'm necessary," Isha corrected. Then she leaned closer to Shivansh and lowered her voice. "She won't say it, but she was nervous today."

His expression shifted instantly. "About what?"

"About whether you'd look at her the same way once it was public."

He didn't answer Isha. He looked at Ruhika. Directly.

Like he needed her to hear this. "I haven't looked away once."

Her breath caught.

Isha watched that exchange and smiled—this time without mischief. "Fine," she declared. "You may proceed."

Then she leaned toward Ruhika and whispered loudly enough for him to hear, "If he makes you cry, I know where he lives."

"Good."

And just like that, the tension dissolved into warmth.

______________

Then came the ceremony.

The music softened into something instrumental and expectant. Families instinctively moved closer. Someone whispered instructions about standing a little to the left. Phones lifted like a field of tiny glowing moons.

And the noise blurred. It was just her.

Standing opposite him.

For a second, she became hyperaware of everything—

the weight of her earrings,

the softness of her dupatta against her arm,

the faint tremble in her fingers she hoped no one could see.

This was it

Her hand felt lighter and heavier at the same time as she lifted it toward him. She told herself not to shake, to breathe.

Told herself this was the man she was becoming sure of sharing her life.

And yet— her fingers trembled. Just slightly.

He noticed and stepped closer, closing the distance in a way that felt protective. When he took her hand, his touch wasn't powering, It was warm.

His thumb brushed lightly over her knuckles once—barely there—but enough.

Her breath steadied.

The ring caught the light as he lifted it. He slid the ring onto her finger. The metal met her skin and settled there with quiet finality.

It fit. Perfectly.

Applause burst around them. Cheers. Laughter. Someone clapping too enthusiastically.

But what startled her wasn't the noise.It was the weight.

A small circle that suddenly meant explaining things together. Showing up together. Making decisions that wouldn't be singular anymore.

She looked down at her hand instinctively. It looked the same.

And yet—it didn't.

When she lifted her gaze back to him, he wasn't smiling for the cameras.He wasn't acknowledging the crowd.

He was watching her almost cautiously. Like he needed to see whether she was overwhelmed. Whether she regretted it. Whether she was okay.

And without thinking, he let his thumb rest lightly over her ring—pressing it gently into place as if to say, I'm here.

She squeezed his hand back gently. A silent answer.

Then someone nudged her lightly from behind. It was her turn. She exhaled slowly and reached for the ring resting in the velvet box.

For a brief second, the reality of it hit her— this man, who was usually so composed, so contained, was offering her his hand in front of everyone.

She wrapped her fingers around his lightly, steadying herself as much as him.

His skin was warm. Warmer than she expected.

She slid the ring onto his finger carefully. The band moved past his knuckle and settled into place.

She pressed it down gently with her thumb to make sure it sat properly. And when she did—

She didn't look up immediately. Instead, she let her thumb linger over the ring, smoothing it into place like she was memorising the shape of it there.

He watched her the entire time. She could feel it.

Anyone could see the ring on his hand. But only he would feel the engraving against his skin.Only he would know it was there without looking. He would carry that private reminder every single day.

Her chest tightened—not with overwhelm, but with a deep, steady emotion she didn't have a dramatic word for.

Not for a function. Not for photographs.But for life that would happen after this— work days, tired evenings, ordinary mornings.

Her name would sit against his pulse through all of it. She felt suddenly aware of how intimate that was.

The thought that when he curled his hand into a fist, when he rested his chin on his knuckles, when he reached for her in a crowd—her name would be pressed quietly between metal and skin as a constant

Deeper.

Because she had just realised—he hadn't only asked her to wear him.

Their eyes met and his thumb brushed once over the ring she had just placed on him.

She didn't need to ask. He didn't need to explain. In that eye contact, something settled.

_________________

Then the world rushed back in. Music grew louder.

Relatives surrounded them. Hugs. Laughter. Too many photographs.

Isha dragged her into a quick side-hug.

Aarav thumped Shivansh's shoulder dramatically. Someone insisted on feeding them sweets at the same time.

There was dancing. Uncoordinated cousins forming a circle. An aunt trying to match steps to a remix she didn't understand.

Shivansh got pulled into it reluctantly, then surprisingly didn't resist.

She watched him attempt a half-serious, half-awkward move and laughed openly for the first time that evening.

For a while, it was light. Easy. Celebratory.

And then— the music shifted.

"Couple dance!" someone announced far too enthusiastically.

There were cheers. Whistles. A dramatic push from both sides until they were standing in the center again.

This time, there was no ritual. No ring box.

Just the two of them.

He stepped closer first. One hand resting at her waist—careful, respectful, but firm enough to guide.

The lights felt softer now.The crowd blurred into silhouettes.

They began to move—not perfectly, not choreographed—just swaying gently to the rhythm.For a few seconds, neither of them spoke.The lights blurred into gold around them.

Her lehenga brushed lightly against his leg with each step. His thumb moved absentmindedly over the back of her hand.

"You're quieter now," he murmured.

She glanced up at him. "There are at least eighty people staring at us.You're quiet too."

He lifted their joined hands slightly. "Getting used to this."

She watched the movement. The ring. The quiet confidence in the way he wore it already.

Her thumb brushed lightly over the band before she looked up at him and said, "Why... my name?"

He didn't pretend not to understand.He held her gaze as they continued to sway, slow and unhurried.

"Because it's yours," he said simply.

She gave him a look. "That's not an explanation."

A faint smile touched his lips. "I didn't want something vague. I didn't want a symbol that could mean anything. I wanted the actual person I'm standing with."

"If it did, I wouldn't have done it like that," he replied. "It's inside. It's not for display. It's just... mine to carry."

Something in her expression shifted. "I didn't expect that," she admitted. "I thought we were just picking rings."

That one slipped past her defenses. Her fingers tightened around his without her realizing.

He noticed, but didn't comment. Instead, he adjusted his hold at her waist—subtle, grounding.

"Thankyou, It felt..." she hesitated, searching. "It felt safe. Seeing it there."

His expression softened in a way only she seemed to notice. That's exactly what it's meant to be. He said quietly

"For who?"

He shook his head. "If I'm wearing this every day, it should mean something every day."

"I liked that you didn't make a show of it," she admitted quietly.

They naturally swayed closer now, unaware that the music had faded into its last notes.Her smile grew softer not surprised anymore. Just warmed.

And when the applause suddenly rose around them, breaking the moment, they both blinked slightly—realizing the song had ended a while ago.

Neither of them had noticed.They had been listening to something else entirely. And only then did they finally step apart—still smiling, still holding on for half a second longer than necessary.

___________

For a second after the song ended, neither of them moved.

Instead, his fingers slid slowly from hers — not abrupt, not awkward — just a reluctant release. As if separating because they had to, not because they wanted to.

She felt it. That almost-second. That almost-hold.

And when she stepped back, he adjusted the edge of her dupatta where it had slipped from her shoulder during the dance.

"You survived," he murmured lightly.

"So did you," she replied.

Before either could say more "Okay, enough of this private concert energy!" Isha appeared out of nowhere, hands on hips.

Aarav followed behind her, grinning. "You two realise the song ended ages ago? We were debating whether to start another one."

Ruhika narrowed her eyes. "You could have warned us."

Aarav leaned closer to Shivansh. "Should we leave you both alone? Or are we allowed back into your lives now?"

Shivansh deadpanned, "Limited entry."

Ruhika felt warmth rush to her face. "There was no— don't make it weird. It was just a normal dance. A ritual you made"

Isha froze dramatically. "Did she just call that normal?"

Ruhika shot her a warning look — one that clearly said stop before you say more.

"Too late," Isha declared. "We're making this embarrassing."

And they did. Photos followed. Too many.

Posed ones first. Stand straight. Chin up. Look here. Smile properly.

Then the candid ones began. The photographer told them to "just be natural," which somehow made both of them more aware of their hands.

They stood side by side — close, but not fully touching.

For a second, Shivansh leaned slightly toward her, then paused.

She looked at him. "If you what?"

Her cheeks warmed again — ridiculous how that kept happening today.

"You're asking me?" she whispered back.

He nodded once. "I should."

She hesitated only a second before giving the smallest nod. "Okay."

She instinctively held onto the edge of his blazer near his chest, fingers curling into the fabric like she needed something steady.

The photographer clicked.

"Closer," he instructed.

They both glanced at each other, half-embarrassed.

Shivansh leaned in a fraction more. Enough that their shoulders aligned. Enough that she could feel the warmth of him through the layers.

In one shot, she looked up at him by mistake instead of the camera.

He was already looking at her.

That pause — that soft almost-smile he gave her — wasn't staged.

Captured.

In another frame, she adjusted his collar because it had shifted again, and he looked down at her with quiet amusement while she concentrated.

The photographer clapped lightly. "Okay, one different pose. Sir, stand behind her."

They both froze for half a second.

"Behind?" she repeated before she could stop herself.

"Yes," the photographer grinned. "Just slightly. Very elegant."

Shivansh stepped back first, giving her space to adjust her dupatta. Then he moved behind her slowly

She nodded, though her heartbeat had definitely picked up.

Not touching fully. But near enough that she could feel his presence at her back.

Shivansh hesitated only long enough to let her adjust her bangles.

Then, slowly, he reached around.

His hands found hers — warm, steady — guiding them forward together. Their fingers intertwined naturally this time, no awkward searching.

The rings caught the light.

"Lift slightly... yes, perfect."

She was acutely aware of how close he was now. The faint brush of his sleeve against her arm. The quiet steadiness in the way he held her hands — not possessive, not showy. Just certain.

"Ma'am, lean back just a little."

Her breath stalled. Just a little.

New.

Unfamiliar.

His grip adjusted immediately — firmer, grounding. Not pulling her closer, just ensuring she felt balanced.

"I've got you," he murmured so softly only she could hear.

And somehow that made her relax more than the pose itself.

Perfect," the photographer said. "One last pose."

They stepped apart.

"For the final one — sit." There was a low decorative bench placed near the stage backdrop.

Ruhika blinked. "Sit?"

"Yes. Ma'am sit. Sir, beside her — slightly turned toward her."

She gathered her lehenga carefully and sat, smoothing it over her knees. Shivansh sat beside her, leaving a respectful inch of space at first.

The photographer tilted his head. "Closer."

They both glanced at each other again — that almost-smile shared between them — before Shivansh shifted slightly nearer.

Not enough to crowd. Just enough that their shoulders touched.

"Sir, rest your forearm behind her — on the bench."

He did, carefully placing his arm along the backrest behind her. Not around her. Not pulling her in. Just there.

The pose naturally created a quiet enclosure.

"Ma'am, turn slightly toward him. Show your ring hand on his chest." Her breath hitched softly at that instruction.

But she lifted her left hand — the ring catching light — and rested it lightly against his chest near the lapel. She could feel his heartbeat beneath the fabric.

But his hand — the one resting on his knee — turned subtly until his fingers brushed against the edge of her lehenga.

In that frame, it didn't look like two people trying to figure out where to stand. It looked like two people who had chosen to sit beside each other — and meant to stay there.

The camera lowered. "That's it," the photographer said softly.

And when they stood up, there was no awkward rearranging.No sudden distance. The space between them no longer felt unfamiliar. It felt... claimed.

___________

The evening began thinning slowly. Guests drifted toward exits. Elderly relatives called out blessings. Someone insisted on one last sweet.

They ended up near the driveway almost unintentionally — their families gathering separately around their respective cars.

For a moment, there was space between the clusters. And space between them. Not stage-managed. Not posed.

Ruhika adjusted her dupatta again out of habit. Neither seemed in a hurry to step back toward their families.

From behind, Isha's voice rang out dramatically, "Say bye properly! You're engaged now!"

Ruhika closed her eyes briefly. "Ignore her."

She looked down at their hands — not touching.

Then back at him. Something shifted. She stepped half a step closer. Close enough that their shoulders brushed once more.

He didn't overthink it this time. His fingers reached for hers naturally — a quiet, brief squeeze.

Not long. Just enough to say this is ours now.

"Call me when you reach," he said.

She nodded. "You too."

Aarav shouted from across the driveway, "Bhai! Let her go, we can't have a vidaai tonight!"

Shivansh didn't react outwardly — but his jaw tightened faintly in amusement. His grip on her hand didn't loosen immediately either.

Ruhika laughed, then looked up at him, eyes glinting.

"You're getting very comfortable," she said quietly. "Already acting like a future husband."

The words slipped out before she could filter them. For half a second, she blinked — realizing what she'd just called him.

His expression changed. "Really ?" he repeated mildly.

She tried to recover. "I mean— I just meant—"

"I know what you meant," he said, a faint curve touching his mouth.

He leaned slightly closer, voice low enough only for her "Careful," he added. "If I'm the future husband..."

He let the sentence hang deliberately.

Her pulse jumped. "Then?"

"Then that makes you something too." Her cheeks warmed instantly.

He didn't smirk. Didn't gloat. Just held her gaze steadily. "Don't start titles you're not ready to answer to," he finished calmly.

She exhaled a soft, embarrassed laugh, shaking her head. "You're impossible."

Aarav called his name again. This time their hands parted — slower than necessary.

As she stepped back, she glanced at him once more. He was still standing there, composed as ever.

But his eyes held that same quiet promise.Future husband had slipped out as a joke. It hadn't sounded like one.

And for the first time that night, the word didn't feel ceremonial. It felt real. They weren't just dressed for a function anymore.

They were engaged. Halfway to something permanent.

And somehow, that felt both terrifying and completely right

__________

Aesthetic (outfit in some pictures differs than the description as it's just to give a better idea of the candid poses)

Author's Note

So they are finally engaged!!!!

Please ?? and leve comments if you're liking it so far! ??

See you in the next chapter!: