Chosen Love

16. Two Homes,One Life

Morning sunlight filtered through sheer white curtains, painting golden stripes across the petal-strewn bed.

Ruhika stirred first, eyelids fluttering open to the unfamiliar surroundings

Then reality settled. The warmth beside her.The unfamiliar weight of Shivansh's arm resting loosely near her stomach.

Their bodies closer than when they had fallen asleep. Her hand—somehow—still half-tucked against his chest from the night's unconscious drifting.

Heat rushed to her cheeks.

For a moment she stayed completely still, trying to piece together the last memory she had before falling asleep. She remembered lying carefully on her side, the respectful distance between them. Somewhere during the night that distance had quietly disappeared.

Just... gradually.

There was no panic in the realization. Only a shy awareness that made her heart beat a little faster.

Carefully, she tried easing her hand away, lifting her wrist slowly so the chooda wouldn't chime too loudly.

But the movement stirred him.

Shivansh shifted slightly beside her, his brows knitting faintly before his eyes opened halfway. The morning light entering the room made him squint for a second as he adjusted.

For a brief moment they simply looked at each other.

Sleep-rumpled.

Unprepared.

Both suddenly aware of how close they were.A soft flush rose slowly along his neck.

He cleared his throat slightly and pushed himself up on one elbow.

"Good morning," he murmured, voice rough with sleep.

"Good morning," Ruhika echoed softly.

She sat up quickly, smoothing the edge of her kurti instinctively as if the simple motion might restore some sense of composure.

For a second neither moved.Then both of them attempted to get out of bed at the exact same moment.

The blanket instantly tangled around their legs.

Ruhika froze mid-step. "Oh—"

Shivansh looked down and laughed quietly."Sorry."

He bent slightly, untangling the edge of the blanket from around her ankle. "After you."

He stepped back first, holding the fabric aside so she could move forward.

Ruhika carefully slid free, trying not to trip over the folds of the sheet.

"Thanks," she said, letting out a small, embarrassed laugh as she stood upright. The tension that had lingered for a moment dissolved almost instantly.

Still new.

Still careful.

But easier.

Ruhika ran her fingers quickly through her hair, glancing once more at the bed where the blanket still held the faint impression of where they had both slept.

Morning light continued to spread slowly across the room.

Somewhere downstairs a door closed and faint voices drifted upward—relatives already awake and moving about the house.

Ruhika glanced toward the bathroom. "I should probably get ready."

Shivansh nodded. "Yes. Before the entire house comes looking for us."

She paused near the doorway and looked back briefly.

"You can go bathe first," she said.

"Sure?"

"Yes," she replied matter-of-factly, "I still need a few minutes to remember how to exist in front of twenty relatives."

He smiled slightly. "Fair."

And just like that, the quiet awkwardness of their first morning slowly gave way to something softer—two people beginning to learn the rhythm of sharing a life, one small moment at a time.

Ruhika freshened up next, emerging to face the mirror.

By the time she stepped out again, the bride of the previous night had softened into something.

She slipped into a red suit with circular motifs, the broad woven at the end border catching the morning light.

A simple red dupatta rested over her shoulders.

Her hair was tied neatly, parted with a fresh line of sindoor.The mangalsutra lay quietly at her throat.

She paused in front of the mirror, the morning light spilling soft and unforgiving across the vanity, illuminating every subtle shift in her reflection.

Minimal makeup—just kohl-lined eyes and soft eyeshadow that deepened her gaze with quiet intensity, softly coloured lips parted slightly in thought.

The woman looking back wasn't the veiled bride from the night before, swathed in opulence and ritual haze.

She looked calmer. Grounded.

A married woman in daylight—sindoor bold, chooda bridal yet everyday.

This is me now, the realization settled quietly in her chest, not thunderous but steady, like roots taking hold.

Behind her, the door creaked open softly.

Shivansh stepped back into the room after changing in the next room , still fresh from his shower—hair damp and tousled, dressed casually in fitted jeans and a simple solid beige shirt that hugged his shoulders just so sleeves rolled to elbows.

He stopped mid-stride when he saw her, towel slung over one arm, movement halting as if caught in a frame.

For a second, he didn't say anything. His gaze moved slowly, deliberately—from the vibrant sindoor threading her parting like a river of commitment, down to the mangalsutra's delicate gold chain catching the light against her skin, lingering on the red suit's soft drape

It wasn't a stare. Just a quiet moment of taking her in.

A small, appreciative warmth softened his expression.

"You look..." he started.

Ruhika turned slightly, catching his reflection beside hers in the mirror, eyebrow quirking playfully to mask the flutter in her stomach. "Different?"

He nodded, stepping a fraction closer—not crowding, just drawn in—hands in pockets, a small smile tugging his lips. "Very. Good different. Like... you, but..."

A beat, his eyes crinkling. "Settled and Beautiful."

Heat bloomed faint in her cheeks, unfamiliar flattery from him landing softer than expected amid the shy newness.

She faced him fully, Thank you."

Her lips curved into a faint smile, genuine, the mirror now holding them—two halves reflecting whole.

A charged beat passed, air humming with unspoken ease. Then after a moment he added, almost casually,"Red suits you."

Her fingers brushed unconsciously against the chooda.

"Well," she said softly, "good thing I'll be wearing it for a while then."

A faint yet genuine smile appeared on his face.

For a brief second they simply stood there—two people adjusting to the quiet, unfamiliar reality of seeing each other not as bride and groom in ceremony, but as husband and wife in the calm light of morning.

Then distant voices floated up the staircase.

Relatives.

Laughter.

The house waking up around them.

He cleared his throat lightly, glancing at the door. "Ready for downstairs chaos?

"Yes"

____________________

The moment they stepped downstairs, the quiet intimacy of their room dissolved into cheerful, boisterous chaos—the kind only an Indian joint family could muster before noon.

The aroma of ghee-laden aloo parathas, spiced chai, and fresh dhokla wafted from the kitchen, mingling with laughter echoing off the high ceilings.

Relatives filled the living room: aunties perched on sofas nursing chai cups, uncles flipping newspaper pages with mock seriousness, cousins sprawled on floor cushions scrolling phones.

The moment Ruhika and Shivansh appeared on the staircase, a few heads turned immediately.

Then many more.

Sunita spotted them first. "Aa gaye!" she announced happily, setting down the tray she had been carrying.

She walked toward them, and dotted a tiny mark of kajal behind Ruhika's ear. "Kitni pyaari lag rahi hai!"

Ruhika tried to smile politely while adjusting the edge of her dupatta.

Across the room, Aarav leaned back dramatically against the sofa, folding his arms like a judge preparing to deliver a verdict.

"So..." he said slowly.

A few heads turned toward him.Mostly the cousins clan and Rohan

"First night survived?"

Ruhika almost choked on air.

Rohan, seated beside him, leaned forward instantly. "Look at him," he said, squinting exaggeratedly at Shivansh. "Zombie mode."

Aarav tilted his head, studying his brother. "Did you sleep at all?

He pointed accusingly."See? Dark circles already."

Shivansh shook his head. "Five minutes in this house and I already regret everything."

Rohan leaned forward again. "Serious question though."

Everyone leaned in. Clearly Enjoying "Who woke up first?"

Ruhika froze. But Shivansh answered calmly, "The sun."

Aarav snapped his fingers. "Avoiding the question. I see"

Sunita clapped her hands lightly. "Bas, bas. Enough teasing."

And amid the laughter, chatter, and endless jokes, the nervousness of the first morning slowly melted away—replaced by the warm chaos of a family

______________________

Sunita gently placed a hand on Ruhika's arm."Come, beta," she said warmly. "Kitchen dikha deti hoon." Your first Rasoi today

Ruhika smiled nervously, the kitchen's warmth wrapping around her like a tentative embrace—ghee sizzling softly, chai steam curling from nearby kettles, aunties' chatter a comforting hum.

Sunita guided her toward the stove with a gentle hand on her shoulder, placing a small steel kadhai in front of her.

"Nothing complicated, beta," she reassured softly, her voice steady amid the chaos. "Just suji ka halwa."

Ruhika nodded, rolling up her sleeves, chooda bangles clinking like wind chimes in the morning quiet.

She'd made halwa before—countless Diwali mornings with Ma, late-night study fuel for exams—but today, the simple dish carried ritual weight, every stir a step into this new role.

She poured a generous spoonful of ghee into the pan,it melted instantly, releasing that golden, nutty aroma that promised comfort.

Sunita handed her the bowl of semolina, eyes watchful but kind. "Slowly roast it—no rush."

Ruhika stirred carefully with the wooden spoon, grains toasting to a fragrant golden hue, her chooda sliding down her forearm with every rhythmic motion—the soft, melodic clink filling the kitchen like a bridal soundtrack.

One of the aunty leaned forward from her stool, peering intently while the cousins near the pantry whispered conspiratorially, eyes sparkling.

Ruhika added sugar and water in careful measure, the mixture bubbling to life, cardamom pods infusing sweet earthiness that spread through the room like an invitation, and said. "I think it's ready"

Sunita watched quietly from the side, a faint smile playing on her lips at the familiar auntie debate, arms crossed contentedly.

Just then, a shadow fell across the doorway. Ruhika glanced up mid-stir, wooden spoon pausing.

Shivansh leaned casually against the frame, arms folded and shirt hugging his frame, a half-amused smile tugging his lips.

He'd clearly been there for at least a minute, observing the semolina magic and auntie commentary with quiet entertainment.

One aunty noticed instantly, clapping her hands with a laugh. "Arre, yeh kya! Ek ghante me hi kitchen mein?

Sunita turned around, feigning sternness. "You're not supposed to be here, Shivansh

Shivansh ignored the warning, eyes locking on Ruhika's instead, playful spark in his gaze.

"Taste test? Smells like a win from here."

Ruhika paused, raising an eyebrow over the steaming kadhai, spoon hovering. "You're very brave walking into a kitchen full of aunties." She met his eyes, a teasing lilt creeping in. "Wait like everyone else

Shivansh raised both hands in surrender, backing away with a grin. "Fine, fine."

But before vanishing, he added quietly, just for her ears amid the clatter, "Smells good.

The compliment lingered like extra cardamom, warming her faint smile as she returned to stirring. A few minutes later, the halwa was ready—golden, glossy, fragrant perfection.

Sunita nodded approvingly

Ruhika carefully transferred it into small katoris, steam rising invitingly. Cousins swarmed the counter instantly. "Can we Taste, bhabhi!"

Sunita scolded lightly, swatting them away. "Wait your turn—elders first!"

Ruhika carried the first bowl to the living room, where elders sat regally on sofas, newspapers folded. She bent slightly, offering it to Sunita's elder sister with joined hands. The woman took a deliberate bite, nodding thoughtfully.

"Bahut achha—bilkul ghar jaisa."

Another aunty savored hers. "Bilkul perfect. Yeh toh roz banao!"

Aarav swooped in for seconds, bowl in hand. "Bhabhi's a professional—add this to the menu."

Rohan nodded solemnly after his taste. "Chef approved.

Ruhika's nervousness had evaporated somewhere between the roasting semolina and the teasing cousins, replaced by a quiet glow.

As bowls emptied, aunties and Sunita gathered around with shagun gifts

Sunita's elder sister beckoned her closer. "Idhar aao, beta."

Ruhika stepped forward and bent slightly out of habit.

The older woman slipped a small envelope into her hand, patting her cheek affectionately."Pehli rasoi ka shagun."

Another aunt immediately followed."Arre meri taraf se bhi."

Soon a small line formed—each elder offering blessings, envelopes, or small token gifts.

"Khush raho."

Ruhika accepted each one shyly, murmuring soft thank-yous.

Behind her, Aarav whispered loudly to Rohan,"Note karo. Halwa business profitable lag raha hai."

Rohan nodded in mock seriousness. "Return on investment excellent."

Shivansh, leaning casually against the wall, shook his head. "Please stop calculating my wife's revenue stream."

"Too late," Aarav replied. "We support entrepreneurship."

Laughter spread across the room again.Then Sunita stepped forward.

She held a small velvet pouch in her hand and spoke ."This is from me."

Ruhika opened it carefully. Inside was a delicate gold bracelet, simple but elegant.

Sunita took it from the pouch and fastened it around Ruhika's wrist herself.

Ruhika's smile turned warmer. "Thank you... Mummy ji."

From the sofa, Shivansh's father cleared his throat.

"Humari taraf se bhi kuch hai, handing a neatly packed box to Ruhika

She opened it carefully .Inside was a beautiful Banarasi silk saree folded neatly, and a necklace tucked inside.

"For pag phera," Sunita explained.

Ruhika looked up, touched. "It's beautiful."

Rohan suddenly stood up with exaggerated seriousness. "One second."

He walked over and dramatically produced a small wrapped package from behind his back."From the elder brother," he announced.

Rohan ignored him and Ruhika opened the box.

Inside was a pair of elegant jhumkas.

"They looked pretty ," he explained awkwardly. "So... I thought..."

"They're lovely,Thankyou Bhai, Ruhika said sincerely.

Before she could say more, Aarav groaned loudly.

"Now my reputation is ruined."

He walked over to Ruhika, pulling a thin rectangular box from his pocket.

He sighed dramatically. "My turn." and handed it to her.

Inside lay a sleek watch with a slim gold dial and leather strap—elegant, understated.

"For when bhai makes you late everywhere," Aarav said casually.

Shivansh scoffed. "That has never happened."

Aarav ignored him and winked, "I bet it will"

"Also... so you can remind him that someone is waiting at home."

The teasing tone softened the sincerity underneath.

Ruhika smiled warmly. "Thank you."

Aarav shrugged. "Welcome to the madness, bhabhi."

Sunita clapped her hands again lightly. "Ab bas."

Then she turned toward Ruhika gently."You also have to go for pag phera today.

Ruhika blinked. "Oh."

"So go upstairs, rest a little before getting ready."

________________

When Ruhika stepped back into their room, the quiet felt almost surprising after the lively kitchen.

She set the cash envelopes and gift boxes neatly on the dresser and sat down on the edge of the bed, flexing her wrists slightly.

A knock sounded.

Then Shivansh stepped inside. "You survived the kitchen"

He leaned against the desk, arms folded."Aarav says your halwa has already become family legend."

She rolled her eyes and laughed lightly. "I'm sure he said that after his third serving."

Then Shivansh walked toward the bedside table and opened the drawer. "I actually had something for you."

Ruhika looked up. "You too?"

He pulled out small rectangular velvet box."Open it."

She lifted the lid carefully.

Inside lay a delicate pair of silver anklets, tiny bells attached that caught the light softly. The small ghungroos chimed faintly when the box moved.

Her eyes widened. "They're beautiful."

He shrugged slightly, suddenly looking less composed.

"I saw them last week."

"And bought them then?"

Ruhika lifted one anklet gently between her fingers, the tiny bells ringing softly.

"For today?"

She looked at him again, breath hitched

"I love them but you didn't have get anything" She started to place the anklet back into the box.

"Wait."

She looked up."What?"

"Sit Comfortably "

She blinked.

He gave a small shake of his head and gestured toward the centre of the bed.

There was a small hesitation before she shifted closer to the edge of the mattress, her feet brushing lightly against the floor.

Before she could ask again, Shivansh bent slightly and knelt in front of her.

The movement startled her.

"Shivansh What...Her protest faded halfway.

There was something unexpectedly grounding about the way he was doing this—without ceremony, without making a big moment out of it.

Just quietly.

He picked up one anklet from the box.

Ruhika instinctively drew her foot back slightly.

"I can put it on myself."

He glanced up briefly. "I know."

Then, after a beat, he added gently, "But I'd like to."

The simple honesty of it made her pause.Slowly, she extended her foot forward.Her ankle rested lightly against the floor.The red fabric of her suit shifted slightly as he lifted the chain.

The tiny bells chimed softly in the quiet room.

He carefully wrapped the anklet around her ankle, fingers steady as he fastened the clasp.

For a second his hand remained there, adjusting it slightly so it sat comfortably.

"Too tight?" he asked.

Ruhika shook her head. "No."Her voice came out softer than she expected.

He reached for the second anklet.

This time she didn't hesitate.Her foot moved forward again naturally.

He secured the second anklet the same way, the small bells chiming again when he let go.When he finished, he straightened slowly.

Ruhika looked down at her ankles.

The silver gleamed softly against her skin.She moved her foot slightly.

The payal chimed delicately, filling the quiet room with a light, musical sound.

"They sound nice," she said.

"They do."

She stood up slowly.The anklets chimed again as her feet touched the floor.

A soft, delicate sound.Different from the louder music of her chooda.

Lighter.

She took a few small steps across the room, almost experimentally.The tiny bells followed each movement, the gentle rhythm filling the quiet space between them.

For a moment she simply walked once across the carpet, then back again, the silver glinting softly against her ankles.

Then she turned toward him."You realize everyone will hear these."

He leaned back lightly against the dresser, arms folding loosely as he watched her. "That was part of the idea."

Her brows lifted. She tilted her head slightly. "And what exactly is the idea?"

His gaze dropped briefly to the anklets again as they chimed when she shifted her weight.

"With these...I'll know when you're around."

The answer was simple.But something about the way he said it made the moment pause.

Ruhika looked down at the anklets again.

Then back at him, her fingers moved instinctively to adjust the edge of her dupatta, though it didn't really need fixing.

Her cheeks warmed slightly.

"Well," she said after trying to sound casual, "Then I suppose you'll hear it a lot

"I won't mind." He said cheekily

For a moment neither of them moved. The faint sound of voices downstairs drifted up the hallway.

But in the room the quiet lingered, filled only with the soft chime of silver bells and the slow, careful awareness growing between them

____________

By late afternoon, the house had settled into a quieter rhythm after the morning bustle. A few relatives had stepped out, some were resting after the long wedding festivities, and the air carried the faint comfort of chai brewing somewhere downstairs.

Sunita knocked lightly on the door before peeking in.

"Ruhika, beta," she said gently. "Pag phera ke liye ready ho jaana. Your parents must be waiting."

Ruhika nodded. "Ji, Mummy ji."

Once the door closed again, she opened the wardrobe where Sunita had neatly placed the saree meant for the visit.

It was deep magenta silk, heavier than the suit she had worn earlier. The fabric held a quiet richness, woven with subtle gold thread along the heavy embroidered border that caught the light every time it moved.

She draped it carefully over the bed and began changing.

A few minutes later, she stood in front of the mirror, trying to manage the pleats. The silk was beautiful—but stubborn. Every time she gathered the folds neatly, one would slip loose again.

On One more attempt her fingers pinched the fabric, folding, tucking—only for the pleats to cascade free again, pallu pooling at her feet. Ruhika sighed, a soft exhale of exasperation, hands on hips, mirror reflecting back at her half-draped form

The pleats collapsed. And she was trying again, this time watching a YouTube tutorial

When it still did not look the way it should, she released a tired sigh.

Just then there was a soft knock."Come in," she said, not turning, thinking it was probably her mother in law calling her again

Shivansh stepped inside and paused.

For a second he simply watched her standing there, the magenta silk wrapped loosely around her waist, the rest of the saree still unfinished over her shoulder. Her hair had been tied again neatly,

She was still adjusting the pleats with visible frustration.

His breath caught subtly, gaze tracing her form with unguarded reverence—not bold, but deepening, the room's air thickening like honey.

She hadn't noticed yet, fingers still battling a pleat.

"Need backup?" he asked, voice low and warm, laced with that teasing lilt masking deeper intent.

Ruhika looked up through the mirror's reflection—their eyes locking in the glass, her surprise melting into shy realization.

Heat bloomed slow in her cheeks, the saree's intimacy amplifying the moment.

On considering help from him, brief hesitation flickered, thinking of him- this close, hands on her saree?

But trust from knowing him as much as she did, the night's hand-hold, the anklet gift, tipped the scale.

She nodded, turning slightly toward him, pallu slipping another inch. "Yes. These pleats hate me."

He walked closer, steps measured, stopping a respectful distance at first—close enough for his cologne to mingle with jasmine, far enough for choice.

"May I?" A gentlemanly question, palm extended, eyes holding hers steady—brown depths promising care, no rush.

She dipped her head, pulse quickening, handing him the pallu end like a sacred thread.

Shivansh circled behind her slowly, movements deliberate poetry.

His touch was feather-light through the fabric, knuckles grazing her hip bone fleetingly as he smoothed a fold—electric spark, unspoken.

The mirror captured it all: his focused, tall frame enveloping her space without crowding, her breath shallow, lips parted in quiet thrill.

Pallu draped last—his hands lifting it reverently over her shoulder, settling it in perfect cascade, a final adjustment brushing her nape where stray hair curled. While she could focus more clearly on the pleats and tucked them in, he bent down smoothening its ends with precision.

He stepped back half a pace, still close, hands lingering at her sides before falling away. Their eyes met again in the mirror—his softened, appreciative fire.

"There," he murmured, voice husky velvet. "Perfect.

She turned toward the mirror again.The saree sat perfectly now.

Ruhika exhaled, turning to face him fully now, saree flawless, heart thudding visible in her throat.

The magenta glowed against her skin, gold threads shimmering

"Thank you," she whispered, faint smile blooming, fingers twisting her bangles nervously.

Charged silence stretched—his gaze dropping to her lips for a heartbeat, hers tracing his jaw—air humming with what if

"Ready to visit home?" he asked softly, breaking the spell gently, offering his arm.

She slipped her hand into the crook of his elbow, payal tinkling first step. "Yeah

__________________

The drive this time was quieter.

Only the two of them sat in the car, the soft hum of the engine filling the space between them as Delhi's afternoon traffic moved steadily around them.

Shivansh drove quietly, one hand resting loosely on the steering wheel while the other occasionally shifted the gear. The almost evening sun filtered through the windshield, casting warm light across the dashboard.

Ruhika sat beside him in the passenger seat, carefully gathering the magenta silk saree around her knees so it wouldn't catch near the pedals. The gold border shimmered softly each time she moved.

Everything felt familiar. And yet slightly distant.

Her fingers absently adjusted the edge of her pallu again.

Shivansh noticed. "Nervous?" he asked without looking away from the road.

"A little."

She looked out the window for a moment before answering. "I walked out of that house yesterday."

"And today you're walking back."

"But it's different now.I walked out of that house yesterday. I'm not just their daughter anymore. I'm... not me alone, but us.

He let silence breathe, then tilted his head, voice warm gravel. "They'll love seeing you like this. Glowing. And we're in it together

She recognized the turn even before Shivansh slowed the car. The lane leading to her house appeared ahead.

Her posture changed slightly.

Shivansh noticed immediately.He didn't comment on it.Instead he slowed the car gently as they turned into the quieter street.

Marigold strings from the wedding still hung near the gate of her house, a few petals scattered on the ground from the previous day's celebrations.

Ruhika watched the house grow closer through the windshield.She opened the door carefully, the anklets chiming softly as her feet touched the ground.

And for the first time since the wedding she walked back into her childhood home not as a bride leaving,

but as a daughter returning.

As the car stops, the gate opens almost immediately.

Someone has clearly been watching for them.

Her mother Naina appears first.

Not rushing.

But unable to hide the emotion in her eyes which betrayed her composure, eyes shimmering wet under the porch light, lips pressed in a smile that trembled at the edges, the mother ache, raw yet restrained.

Her father Dev, followed close behind, pretending to be calmer than he feels. But his eyes gave him away crinkling soft at corners, a subtle throat bob as he nodded

The moment Ruhika stepped out of the car, the twilight air seemed to pause, her magenta silk saree catching the porch light like a living flame.

The anklet chimed its silver song with her first step, chooda bangles stacking a bridal melody on her wrists, mangalsutra gold resting elegantly against her collarbone, fresh sindoor parting her neatly set hair with vivid crimson poise, soft lips curved in a tentative smile—dolled up yet grounded, the picture of a radiant new bride returning home.

Her mother's breath catching audibly as her eyes welled instantly. "Meri Ruhika... kitni sundar lag rahi hai!" stepping forward to cup her daughter's face—thumbs tracing her cheeks as if memorizing the bridal glow.

Shivansh hovered close, sharing their awe—his bride shining under her parents' gaze.

The new son-in-law entering their sacred threshold for the first time.Shivansh approached her mother first bending gracefully to touch her feet, "Namaste, Ma," he said softly.

The word slipped out naturally.Ruhika's mother blinked in surprise for a second before quickly placing her hands on his head in blessing.

"Khush raho, beta," she said gently

Her voice carried the same affection she had shown him throughout the wedding days, but now there was something deeper in it—a quiet acceptance of him as part of the family.

Shivansh straightened, offering her a small, respectful smile.Then he turned toward her father who watched him approach with a thoughtful expression.

When Shivansh bent to touch his feet as well, he instinctively stopped him midway, placing a hand firmly on his shoulder. "Arre, beta—no need," he said warmly.

But Shivansh still bowed slightly in respect.

Dev shook his head with a faint chuckle before pulling him into a brief embrace instead. "Bas khush raho dono," he murmured.

Shivansh nodded. "Yes, Papa."

Ruhika stood nearby, watching the exchange quietly.

Something warm spread through her chest as she saw her father's hand rest briefly on Shivansh's shoulder—a small gesture that said more than any words.

Her mother glanced between them with quiet satisfaction.

"Ab bas," she said gently, wiping the corner of her eye with the edge of her dupatta. "Enough standing at the door. Come inside."

As Ruhika and Shivansh stepped closer to the doorway, her mother lifted a small silver thali that had been resting on the side table.

The plate carried everything arranged with quiet care—a small diya flickering gently, grains of rice, a little bowl of kumkum, and a few marigold petals scattered across the edge. The warm light from the flame reflected softly against the polished metal.

"Ruko, ek minute," her mother said gently.

Ruhika paused automatically, smiling faintly.

Her mother moved the diya closer and began circling the thali slowly in front of them.

After finishing the aarti, her mother dipped her finger lightly into the kumkum and placed a small tilak on Shivansh's forehead.

"Khush raho," she said warmly.

Then she turned to Ruhika and placed a softer, familiar tilak on her forehead as well before touching her cheek briefly.

"Thak gayi hogi."

"A little," Ruhika admitted.

Her mother smiled knowingly before stepping aside.

"Ab andar aao dono."

Ruhika stepped inside first.

Her anklets chimed softly against the marble floor, the sound echoing lightly through the hallway she had grown up in.

Shivansh followed just behind her.

And as the door closed gently behind them, the house seemed to embrace the moment quietly.

Inside, it still carried the soft aftermath of the wedding.

Garlands of marigold still hung loosely along the hallway staircase, their petals slightly wilted but still bright.

A few unopened gift boxes sat neatly stacked near the corner table.

The faint scent of incense and fresh flowers lingered in the air, blending with the comforting familiarity of home.

For a moment, Ruhika simply stood there.

The same living room.The same cushions on the sofa her mother never allowed anyone to disturb.

The same photo frames on the wall—school awards, family holidays, birthdays.

Something in her shoulders visibly softened. She slipped off her sandals near the entrance the way she always had growing up.

Come sit, her mother said quickly, already guiding them toward the sofa. "No formality here."

Ruhika sat down beside Shivansh while her mother disappeared briefly into the kitchen. Within minutes she returned with a tray of tea, placing cups carefully in front of them.

"Drink before it gets cold."

Her father settled into the armchair opposite them.

There was a moment of quiet as everyone adjusted to the new dynamic.

Ruhika could tell her parents were watching Shivansh s

Not critically. Just... learning him.

Learning the man their daughter had married.

Shivansh, for his part, seemed completely comfortable. He sat easily, answering questions naturally, asking a few of his own.

Gradually the conversation flowed.

Soon the tea turned into dinner preparations.And dinner itself became something warm and familiar.

The table had been laid with far more food than four people could reasonably finish.

"Ma," Ruhika protested when another bowl appeared beside her plate."This is too much."

"Shaadi ke baad pehli baar aa rahi ho," her mother replied firmly. "Thoda toh khana padega."

Her father chuckled."Translation: You have no choice."

Ruhika groaned quietly.Shivansh tried not to laugh.

As the meal progressed, the conversation turned lighter.

Her mother served another spoon of dal before glancing toward Shivansh thoughtfully.

"Tell me something," she asked.

"Yes, Ma?"

Ruhika nearly choked on her roti.

"Ma!"

Her father leaned back, clearly enjoying the moment.

Shivansh didn't hesitate."She woke up early today."

Her father burst out laughing. "That's a miracle."

Her mother shook her head fondly. "College se leke ab tak subah uthna iski sabse badi weakness hai."

Ruhika dropped her head into her hand."This is character assassination."

The table erupted into soft laughter.

But somewhere in the middle of the conversation, something shifted quietly.

Shivansh leaned back slightly in his chair, watching the exchange with quiet amusement.

The way her parents spoke about her—half teasing, half proud—felt so effortless, so lived-in.

He noticed the little things.

How her mother automatically reached across the table to tear another piece of roti and place it on Ruhika's plate.

How her father refilled her water glass without even asking.

Years of habits that came from raising her.

Ruhika finally lifted her head again, pointing accusingly at both of them."I see how it is. The moment I get married you two start exposing my childhood."

Her mother laughed softly and turned to Shivansh.

"Don't believe her innocent face. When she was in school she would stay up till two reading novels and then refuse to wake up in the morning."

Ruhika gasped. "Ma!"

Shivansh's lips curved into a smile. "That explains a lot."

"You're supposed to defend me," Ruhika muttered.

"I'm gathering evidence first." He said

Her father chuckled, clearly enjoying the moment.

The warmth around the table had settled into something deeper now.

Her mother served him another spoon of sabzi before he could protest. "Bas bas," he said politely. "It's already a lot."

Ruhika watched the interaction quietly for a second.

There was a natural ease in the way Shivansh spoke with her parents—respectful but not stiff, comfortable without overstepping.

Her father noticed it too then said, "Kal... sab Alag lag raha tha, the house grew quiet. Weirdly

For a moment the table softened. The light teasing paused, replaced by something quieter—an acknowledgement of the shift that had happened the night before.

Shivansh set his glass down gently before speaking,

" Papa, I know it's not easy, but believe me when I say you've not sent your daughter to me yesterday, if anything you've gained a son, if you let me be one".

Ruhika's mother blinked rapidly, her fingers tightening slightly around the serving spoon she was holding.

Her eyes had softened in a way Ruhika had rarely seen—proud, touched, and a little overwhelmed all at once.

Across the table, her father watched Shivansh carefully.

Just... absorbing the weight of what had been said.

There was something deeply sincere in the way Shivansh sat there—no grand gesture, no dramatic emphasis, just quiet certainty.

Her mother moved next.Without saying anything, she placed another warm roti onto Shivansh's plate.

"Phir aur khao," she said gently. "Beta bhookha nahi jaata."

The sentence made Ruhika blink back a sudden rush of emotion.She hadn't expected this moment.

Not so naturally.

Not so quickly.

She looked at Shivansh across the table.And for the first time that evening, she saw him not just as the man she had married—but as someone who had just stepped, with quiet respect, into the center of her world.

He glanced toward her then.

Just for a second.

And in that look, there was no pride in what he had said.

Just calm certainty.

But something had shifted permanently.And everyone at that table felt it. Even if no one said it out loud.

______________

After dinner, the house settled into a quieter rhythm.

The plates had been cleared, tea cups pushed aside, and the comfortable silence of a familiar home returned.

For a second she stood there, looking between her parents and Shivansh, as if remembering something.

Then she turned toward him."Come," she said quietly.

He looked up from where he had been listening to her father describe some old neighborhood anecdote "Where?"

She hesitated just a fraction before answering. "I'll show you my room."

Until now, Shivansh had seen only parts of her life that existed outside this house—her work, their meetings, the wedding preparations, the world she had stepped into as an adult.

This was different. It was where she had grown up.

Where every version of her still lived quietly in the corners.

Her mother noticed the exchange and smiled faintly.

"Jaao," she said.

Shivansh paused midway, surprise flickering in his brown eyes—genuine, boyish. She led the way toward the staircase.

The house grew quieter as they moved away from the living room. The soft hum of conversation faded behind them, replaced by the familiar creak of the wooden steps.

Halfway up the staircase, Shivansh slowed slightly.

Framed photographs lined the wall—Ruhika at different ages.

A school annual day picture.

A college farewell photograph.

One frame showed her holding a large debate trophy, smiling brightly.

Ruhika glanced back."Don't stop at every embarrassing stage of my life."

He smiled faintly but continued walking.

At the end of the hallway she stopped in front of a door.

For a moment she didn't open it.Her hand rested lightly on the handle.

"This room," she said quietly, "has seen every version of me."

He looked at her curiously. "Good versions or dangerous ones?"

"Mostly dramatic ones."

That made him laugh softly.

Then she pushed the door open.The room looked exactly like someone had simply stepped out for a few days rather than years.

The bookshelf was still full.

Stacks of novels and old textbooks leaned neatly against each other.A study table sat near the window, covered with a few framed photographs and carefully arranged stationery.

A shelf on the opposite wall displayed trophies, medals, and certificates.

And above the bed hung a small collage of pictures with Tara—school events, birthday parties, random college selfies.

Shivansh stepped inside slowly.For a moment he simply looked around.

This wasn't the Ruhika he knew from work meetings and quiet coffee conversations.

This was the girl who had grown up here.The one her parents had raised.The one who had studied late at night at that desk, who had probably argued with Tara over the phone while sitting on that bed.

Ruhika watched him take it all in. And somehow, standing there in the quiet of her childhood room—it felt like she had just introduced him to a part of herself that very few people had ever truly seen.

He picked up a framed photo.

Ruhika stood on a college campus lawn, hair freely loses, a white flower tucked above her ear, while she was holding one for the camera, smiling.

"You looked exactly the same."

She walked over and glanced at the picture.

He set the frame back gently.

For a moment they both stood there quietly.

Then Ruhika turned toward the wardrobe."I should take a few things back," You can rest for a bit, she said casually.

"You didn't bring everything?"

I just had two suitcases yesterday, she said and opened the wardrobe doors, Inside hung a familiar mix of clothes—old kurtas, casual dresses, a few sarees she hadn't worn in years. She began pulling out a couple of folded tops and placing them neatly into a bag.

From the lower shelf she pulled out a stack of books.

He glanced down at the covers.Most of them were novels. And Almost all of them had unmistakably romantic titles.

His eyebrow raised slightly, a playful glint sparking in his brown eyes as he tilted his head. "Interesting reading material," he teased,

Ruhika froze for half a second, cheeks warming under the kohl as realization hit—romance novels in front of her husband of one day. Heat bloomed faint but fierce, her fingers tightening on the books. Then, quick as a heartbeat, she slid them into the cloth bag with exaggerated nonchalance

Shivansh chuckled softly.

He stepped a fraction closer to the wardrobe, the movement subtle but enough that the small space between them shrank. The faint scent of his cologne mixed with the jasmine in her hair, the quiet closeness making the room feel suddenly more intimate.

"Too late," he murmured.

Reaching past her shoulder, he picked up the novel that had slipped out of the stack.

Pride and Prejudice.

His arm brushed lightly against her shoulder as he lifted it, the contact feather-soft but impossible to ignore.

"Mr. Darcy fan, huh?" he said, flipping the book over casually.

Ruhika groaned under her breath."Give that back."

But he was already studying the cover with exaggerated seriousness.

She swatted his hand playfully, bag zipped half-heartedly, laughter bubbling real now—heart fluttering at the cute invasion, his playfulness wrapping her vulnerability in safety. "Hand it over, or no balcony tour."

He pushed himself away from the wardrobe.

But just before they turned toward the balcony door, his eyes fell briefly on the stack of books again. And there was something quietly fond in his expression— as if the small, ordinary secrets of her childhood room had just made her even more real to him.

__________

When they stepped out onto the balcony, the night had deepened into that quiet hour when the neighborhood softened into gentle sounds—distant conversations, a scooter passing somewhere down the lane, the faint rustle of leaves in the warm breeze.

For a moment they simply stood there.It felt oddly peaceful.This balcony had witnessed so many versions of her life. Now she stood there beside the man who had become that future.

Shivansh leaned lightly against the railing too, but his posture carried a faint hesitation.

He looked out at the street for a few seconds.

Then glanced at her.

Then back at the street again.

Ruhika noticed.

"You're thinking about something," she said quietly.

He exhaled softly.

"I am."

She turned slightly toward him, "Want to share"?

"I was just trying to figure out how to ask something without making it sound like a bucket list checkmark Or... pressure"

Everyone keeps asking about the honeymoon.

The word hung there.

Ruhika blinked once.

"Oh."

It wasn't resistance.

It wasn't excitement either.

Just... a pause.

He caught the shift immediately. "I get it if you're not there yet. But... we could use some time away?

"Just us. Before work drags us back.

Nothing happens until you want it to. I mean that. No expectations. Just... breathing. Figuring this~ US

He noticed her thinking.

"You don't have to answer now,or ever, I'm not pressuring you."

She shook her head.

"I know."

Then she leaned back slightly against the railing, looking out at the quiet street again.

After a moment she said~ "Somewhere near the beach. I could really use the calm, after the wedding chaos"

He laughed softly under his breath. For a moment he simply studied her expression.The fact that she had agreed at all seemed to surprise him slightly.

"You're okay with this?"

She glanced softly at him, "I'm okay that you asked, and we're not just being handed over the tickets to somewhere.. she laughed and added, "Besides No checklists...sounds like us"

Shivansh watched her for a moment.

The way she said it wasn't dramatic, but it carried something deeper—an acknowledgment that neither of them was trying to force their marriage into a predefined script.

They were figuring it out as they went.

She leaned her shoulder lightly against the railing again, folding her arms loosely.

"I think if someone had planned everything for us," she continued, "I would have felt like I was just following instructions."

"And now?"

He nodded slowly. Alright."

She looked at him again. "You're surprisingly agreeable."

"That's because I've just handed the entire responsibility to you."

She laughed. "That's not how this works."

"It does today."

He shrugged lightly.

"Book whatever you want."

The casualness of the offer made her pause.

"You're serious."

She shook her head faintly, though the corner of her mouth curved upward.

"You're taking a big risk."

She stared at him.

"You're very calm about this."

He met her gaze evenly."That's because it's not about the place."

His answer came without hesitation."Going with you."

The simplicity of the sentence caught her off guard.

For a moment they simply stood there again, the quiet between them softer now.

Not uncertain.Just quietly building—like two people slowly learning how to choose each other, one small decision at a time.

Shivansh glanced at his watch, it was almost 11 at night, "Do you want us to stay here tonight?" he asked first, voice hushed and careful

Ruhika watched him quietly.

Then she shook her head. "No."

Are you sure?"

She nodded. "Yes."

Then a small smile appeared on her face "If I stay..."

She paused, looking back through the open balcony door toward her room.

"...I might not leave tomorrow."

He understood immediately.

This place still had gravity for her.Still had the ability to pull her back into the life she had just stepped away from.

"And I think," she added softly, turning back to him, "we're supposed to go back together."

The sentence landed quietly between them.

He nodded once."Alright."

They stood there another moment. Neither rushing to move.The night air had cooled slightly now, and the edge of her pallu fluttered again in the breeze.

Without thinking, Shivansh reached out and caught the fabric before it slipped from her shoulder.His fingers lingered for half a second as he adjusted it back into place.

The contact was light.

Almost accidental.

But enough for Ruhika to feel it.

She glanced up at him. "Thank you."

As Ruhika zipped the small bag and turned back toward the room, Shivansh's attention drifted to the desk beside the window.

A few framed photographs were scattered there.

Most of them familiar—family gatherings, a school award ceremony, one with her parents from a Diwali evening.

But one photo caught his eye. He picked it up carefully.

It was the same photo from her college, he described looking at earlier, same smile-same eyes

before she could ask, Shivansh spoke again

"Can I keep it?"

She looked at him. "You want to keep this?"

She blinked once, surprised. "Why?"

He studied the photograph for another moment before answering."Because this is you before I knew you."

The simplicity of the explanation caught her off guard.

He lowered the frame slightly, glancing back at her. "And I think I should know that version too."

For a moment she didn't say anything.Her eyes softened in a way that hadn't been there a second ago and looked at him for a bit longer

Then shook her head with a quiet smile.

"Come on," she said, picking up her bag again.

"Before my parents think we've moved back in."

He nodded and followed her toward the door, tucking the frame inside her bag.

_____________

Their journey back home was quieter, Delhi at night always felt different—less hurried, softer somehow.

Ruhika leaned back against the seat, the weight of the day finally settling into her shoulders.

Her parents' house had faded behind them, the warm yellow porch light disappearing in the rearview mirror.

For a few minutes neither of them spoke.

Shivansh drove steadily, one hand resting lightly on the steering wheel, the other occasionally adjusting the AC.

The car turned onto a wider road.The city lights moved across the windshield in slow waves.

After a moment she said quietly,"You made it easier for them, my parents. I was surprised how naturally all of you warmed up. Thankyou

he said simply, "They've trusted me enough to let me be with you, this is the least I can do, besides they're not just your parents anymore"He winked

Her gaze lingered on him for a moment longer. Something in her chest settled a little more. The day had been full of noise—rituals, relatives, emotions layered over one another—but here, in the dim quiet of the car, everything felt slower.

After a while she leaned her head lightly against the seatThe bangles on her wrist slid softly down toward her hand.

Shivansh noticed the movement from the corner of his eye.At the next red signal he slowed the car and glanced toward her again.

The seatbelt had twisted slightly against the thick stack of her chooda, pressing awkwardly between the bangles.

Without making a fuss about it, he reached across gently.

"Careful," he said quietly.

His fingers moved slowly, lifting the belt away so it wouldn't scrape against the ivory bangles.

The movement was deliberate.

Patient.

He adjusted the belt properly across her shoulder before letting his hand drop back toward the steering wheel.

Ruhika watched him the entire time.A faint smile appeared on her lips.

Not amused.Just... warm.

He didn't respond immediately.The light outside turned green and the car began moving again.

After a moment he said simply, "You're still getting used to it."

She looked down at them.The ivory and red circles felt heavier now that the day had ended.But also strangely comforting.

"They make everything slower," she admitted quietly.

"Harder to do simple things."

He nodded. "Then we'll take things slower."

The words were spoken casually.But something about the way he said them made her glance at him again.

Not just about the bangles.About everything.The marriage.The adjustments.The newness of sharing space and life.

For a moment she didn't say anything.The car moved steadily through the quiet road.Then she rested her hand lightly against the armrest between them.

Not reaching for him.Just close enough that their fingers almost touched.Shivansh noticed the small movement.His hand shifted slightly on the console.

Not quite holding hers.But near enough that the warmth of it was unmistakable.

Neither of them commented on it.Outside, the city lights passed slowly by.And inside the car, the quiet felt less like distance—and more like something gentle beginning to grow between them.

__________

By the time they reached home, the house had already grown quiet. The corridor lights were dim, most of the relatives left, his parents were asleep, Aarav was with Rohan at his apartment, helping him settle as he came back to India after months of travel a few weeks ago.

Ruhika slipped off her sandals near the staircase and followed him upstairs.

Their room felt strangely familiar now.She set her bag down near the bed while Shivansh placed his keys on the side table.

They quickly went on changing into simpler comfortable night clothes , when they were finally relaxed thy sat side by side on the bed. The day had stretched so long it almost felt unreal.

"I think I'm finally tired." She voiced

He nodded. "Same."

But instead of dozing off immediately, he pulled his laptop from the table and sat down beside her comfortably

"You still have the responsibility."

She looked at him blankly."What responsibility?"

"The trip."

She blinked."Oh."

She had almost forgotten she had to choose. "You're serious?"

She sighed dramatically but leaned closer, taking the laptop from him. "Fine.What kind of places do you like?"

He leaned back against the headboard."Today is about what you like."

She opened the travel app slowly, shifting closer so they could both see the screen.The room was quiet now, the only light coming from the soft glow of ther laptop and the night table lamp.

It illuminated both their faces faintly as she began scrolling.

Each destination flashed briefly across the screen before she moved past it again.

Shivansh didn't interrupt. He simply leaned back against the headboard beside her, watching quietly as she browsed.

Occasionally his shoulder brushed lightly against hers when she adjusted her position.

Ruhika scrolled slowly through the travel page, occasionally pausing to enlarge a picture.

Turquoise water.

White sand.

Wooden walkways stretching across the sea.

Every time she stopped on a photo, Shivansh leaned in just slightly to look closer. Their shoulders brushed once or twice without either of them moving away.

"This one," she said softly after a while.

The Maldives travel page filled the screen.A quiet resort surrounded by water that looked almost unreal.

She opened a few more pictures.

The small villa stood alone over the ocean, its deck stretching directly into the sea.

"This looks peaceful," she murmured.

Shivansh watched the screen for a moment.

Then glanced at her. "You like it?"

She nodded slowly. "I think so."

Her fingers hovered over the keyboard as she checked the available dates."Three days from now... they have a villa available."

She looked at him again, as if asking one last time.

"Should I just book it?"

He didn't answer immediately.Instead he watched her for a second longer—the way she leaned forward slightly when she concentrated, the loose strand of hair falling near her cheek.

Then just as her fingers moved toward the Book button, he reached forward and gently shifted the laptop toward himself.

"Hey," she said, surprised. "What are you doing?"

He adjusted the laptop back into his lap and started entering the payment details to finalise the booking "Your part is done."

She blinked. "My part?"

"You chose the place."

Ruhika watched him with mild disbelief."You're just... taking over?"

He glanced up briefly."You already did the half part."

"And what was that?"

She folded her arms slightly, though the corners of her lips curved. "You realize that's not how normal planning works."

He reached the payment page and confirmed the booking

Ruhika stared at it for a moment longer before leaning back slightly, she said slowly, "I would've paid, at least half of this trip if not more."

Shivansh glanced sideways at her. Then he leaned back against the headboard again, looking far too calm for someone who had just booked a fairly extravagant trip.

"You didn't even give me the chance" She added

He turned his head toward her, the faintest smile touching his face. "You just paid."

She frowned. "What?"

"With my card," he added mildly.

For a second she simply stared at him.Then realization dawned.

He shrugged. "You're my wife."

The way he said it wasn't dramatic.

Just quiet.

Matter-of-fact.

As if it explained everything.

Ruhika opened her mouth to argue, but the words didn't come.

Then said gently, "You're allowed to get used to it."

The room fell quiet again. Ruhika looked down at the laptop, then back at him.

"You're making it sound very normal."

The certainty in his voice made her chest warm unexpectedly.She looked away for a second, trying to hide the smile that was forming.

He reached forward and lightly tapped the closed laptop on the bedside table.

"you can choose where we go next time too"

She narrowed her eyes. "Next time?"

She looked at him for a moment longer.

Then shook her head with a quiet smile. "Fine."

He tilted his head slightly. "We'll see."

He nodded. "Three days."

For a moment they simply sat there.Then she stretched slightly and leaned forward to switch off the bedside lamp.

The room dimmed instantly.Only the faint glow of the city outside the window remained

She slid under the blanket slowly, still careful of the chooda on her wrists.

Shivansh followed a moment later, settling on his side of the bed.

There was still a little space between them.But not as deliberate as the night before. Not as careful.

Ruhika shifted once, adjusting the pillow beneath her head.

The mattress dipped slightly when he turned onto his side.

For a moment they were both quiet again. She shifted slightly again, turning toward him. This time their shoulders brushed naturally beneath the blanket.

Neither of them moved away.

After a moment he said quietly, "Goodnight, Ruhika."

The room settled into silence again.

And somewhere between the quiet rhythm of their breathing and the faint chiming of her anklets against the sheets—they both drifted to sleep a little more comfortably than the night before.

A little closer

A little less hesitant

_____________________________________

Aesthetic

Her morning look

First Rasoi Gifts

Her Pag Phera Look

Her Maternal House and old bedroom

Her pictures

The picture he decides to keep

Please ?? and leave lots of comments

Hope you're liking the story!

See you in the next chapter!??????