9. Signed With Heart
Rakshit was sitting on the sofa, reading his newspaper, when Shivika's room door opened.
His gaze lifted casually—only to freeze.
The newspaper slipped from his hands.
She was wearing the same red suit she had worn the day he filled her hairline.
Rakshit stood up instantly.
His heartbeat wasn't normal anymore; his hands trembled before he tried to steady them into a fist.
The veins on his neck stood clear.
Shivika saw everything. She felt nervous too, but today… today she had decided it was about them.
This day wasn't good a month ago, but now… I want it to become ours, she thought.
"Rakshit…" her voice brought him out of his trance.
His eyes dropped to the papers in her hands — marriage papers.
"Rakshit… I don't know how to say it but I need to," Shivika whispered, looking down, trying to control her emotions.
He stepped toward her, silently took the papers, and placed them aside. Then he made her sit on the sofa and knelt in front of her, holding her hands gently on her lap.
Her tears fell before she could stop them.
How am I this lucky? she thought, heart aching.
She placed her hand on his mouth, cutting him off.
"Kitna bolte ho aap," she muttered in frustration.
(How much do you talk?)
He blinked, shocked. She was crying a moment ago, then frustrated — and now she almost looked annoyed at him.
He stared at her — this mess of emotions that felt like home to him.
"Rakshit," she said softly once her laugh faded.
"Hm?"
"Are you really sure?" he asked again, still careful.
Her temper flared.
(If you ask me one more time, I'll slap you!)
He jerked back in shock, falling on his bum, and she burst out laughing.
His heart, tight seconds ago, suddenly relaxed seeing her laugh like that.
"Sorry," she managed between laughs.
"I just got irritated. I told you I'm sure and you still asked again."
Rakshit rubbed his neck awkwardly, stood up, trying not to smile too wide.
"Sorry," he murmured.
Shivika stood up, picked the papers and a pen, then intertwined her fingers with his and led him towards the dining table.
She placed the papers in front of him and handed him the pen. Rakshit looked at her again, not searching for hesitation, but to be sure.
All he saw in her eyes was trust.
She blinked softly and nodded.
Rakshit finally took the pen. His fingers tightened around it as he bent down to sign. His hands trembled.
Shivika gently rested her hand on his wrist, not to stop him, but to steady him.
To tell him without words that he was doing the right thing. That she was with him.
Rakshit's name appeared on the paper. A tear slipped from his eye the same moment one slid down hers.
He handed her the pen. Her hands had been steady while supporting him, but now holding the pen herself, they began to shiver.
She looked at him.
And that one line gave her all the courage she needed.
Shivika signed.
And just like that — they were married.
Not with rituals yet, but this bond, this decision, felt no less sacred.
Overwhelmed, Shivika threw her arms around him.
Rakshit held her tight, rubbing her back gently.
She knew he didn't only mean this hug — he meant every step of life, every storm, every tomorrow.
Shivika pulled back slightly to look at him.
His heart flipped. He didn't even try to hide it.
"Thank you, Shivika," he said softly.
She frowned. "For what?"
But he didn't say any of that. He simply murmured,
"Bas aise hi."
(Just like that.)
He loosened his hold. She didn't ask again.
"Let's have breakfast, I'm hungry," Shivika said, trying to sound normal as she sat down.
Rakshit picked up the papers.
He went to his room, opened his locker, paused. His fingers traced her signature gently, like it was something precious.
Then he placed the papers inside and locked them securely before returning.
Shivika waited. She hadn't started eating.
He sat next to her, served food on his plate and not on hers. She frowned and reached to serve herself, when he stopped her hand and lifted the spoon toward her lips.
But it wasn't normal for her.
Heat bloomed across her cheeks.
They didn’t say anything after that. They just ate quietly — a silence full warmth, and the beginning of forever.
They were sitting on the sofa — Shivika reading, Rakshit quietly scrolling through his phone.
The room was peaceful until Rakshit spoke, breaking the silence.
"Shivika… I wanted to ask something?"
She hummed in response, eyes still on her book.
"Do you want to change your surname or not?" he asked slowly.
"I mean… I have no problem if you don’t want to. I was just asking."
Shivika looked up, calm and certain.
She said it like she had already decided long ago. Like it was never even a question.
Rakshit shifted, sitting straighter. A hint of hesitation tugged at his voice.
"Shivika… before you decide anything, you should know one thing."
She closed her book and faced him properly.
"What?"
Shivika listened quietly.
"So?" she asked, without a blink of hesitation.
Rakshit frowned, confused at her simplicity.
"You don't have any problem with that?"
Rakshit went silent. He hadn't expected that. He didn't even know how to respond — so he just nodded lightly and stood up.
"Going to the office?" she asked, closing her book properly now.
"I told you I'm not going today," he said. "Just have to call my PA. I'll be back."
He walked toward his room. Shivika watched him leave, a soft smile on her face.
You don't know how to express yourself, Rakshit… but it's alright.
Now I'm here. And soon you’ll laugh, smile, talk, and feel all those little joys that were never little for me.
She had already seen it — how he barely ever smiled. How life never gave him reasons to.
But she promised herself silently:
Now I will.
I will fill his life with reasons.
Rakshit entered his room and quietly closed the door behind him.
For a moment, he just stood there, staring at nothing, hands on the door — breathing slowly, like he was trying to steady something inside.
He didn't know why his chest felt tight.
He had heard people praise him before… admire him for strength, discipline, success.
But no one ever spoke the way she did. No one ever made his past sound like something worth respecting.
He walked to the mirror, placed both palms on the table in front of it, head slightly bowed.
Mahajan.
A name that once felt like a reminder of emptiness — of not having a family, of not belonging anywhere — suddenly felt heavier.
Not painful heavy… meaningful heavy.
He touched his reflection's cheek lightly, as if feeling a version of himself he didn't recognize.
His throat burned, and before he could turn away, a tear slipped down. He didn't wipe it. For once, he let himself feel it.
It felt unreal.
For so many years, he had lived like he didn't expect anything good to stay. Happiness was something he saw happening to others — never to him.
But now…
He lightly smiled, barely there, but genuine.
A smile that looked new on his face — like it belonged to someone learning how to live again.
He took a deep breath, straightened up, and whispered softly to his reflection, voice full of quiet promise:
Wiping his face gently, he walked out.
Shivika looked up the moment he stepped out. She didn't speak, didn't move — but her eyes searched his.
Not for answers, not for explanations, just to make sure he was okay.
Rakshit sat beside her again, same place, same distance but the silence felt different now. Warmer.
He rested his forearms on his knees and stared ahead for a few seconds, breathing like he was trying to settle something inside.
Then, without looking at her, he spoke softly, honestly like the words were coming straight from somewhere he never opened before,
Shivika didn't interrupt. She waited.
He wasn't complaining. He was just stating a truth that had shaped his life.
Shivika slowly turned her body towards him.
The room went still.
Rakshit closed his eyes for a second, not to hide, but because her words landed somewhere deep.
Somewhere nobody ever reached.
When he opened them, he turned his head a little toward her.
Shivika held his gaze.
His throat tightened, but he didn't look away this time. He didn't hide.
Slowly, almost unsure, he lifted his hand and placed it over hers on the sofa.
Not holding, not gripping… just resting his palm there.
Shivika didn't move. She just smiled softly and placed her other hand over his.
He turned his hand and laced their fingers properly, holding it this time. Not hesitant. Solid.
Shivika looked down at their joined hands and let out a tiny breath of relief — the kind that escapes when your heart finally rests.
A few seconds passed before Rakshit spoke again, voice low but steady,
She blinked at him.
"What do you mean?"
He gestured vaguely around the room, then to himself.
There was a softness in his eyes, something new, gratitude mixed with surprise.
Shivika's throat tightened slightly, but she didn't cry. Instead, she smiled — small, warm, like sunshine sneaking through a window.
"Good," she whispered.
He didn't answer.
He just looked at her — really looked — as if memorising the moment.
A few moments passed, comfortable and quiet.
Suddenly, her eyes lit up with a thought.
"Rakshit," she said softly but excitedly, turning to him, "let’s go to buy a mandir for our home in the evening."
He looked at her, startled for a second — not because of the idea.
His heart tightened in a strange warmth.
Rakshit nodded slowly, voice steady but eyes speaking more than his lips ever could.
"Okay," he replied, his tone low, sincere. "We will."
Shivika smiled, a small but glowing one — the kind that reached the soul instead of the lips.
And Rakshit, without meaning to, let a tiny smile tug at his own.
For the first time, the future didn’t feel heavy.
It felt warm.
Safe.
And maybe…
just maybe, forever had already begun.