𝐇𝐈𝐒 𝐃𝐀𝐑𝐊𝐄𝐒𝐓 𝐎𝐁𝐒𝐄𝐒𝐒𝐈𝐎𝐍

Chapter 45

I don't remember the last time I felt this giddy at 5 a.m.

Wrapped in a thick jacket, a fuzzy beanie Rudra forced on my head, and a suitcase in one hand, I stood at the airport gate, watching my husband argue with the airline staff about legroom. Again.

"Sir, it's an economy ticket, not a throne," the woman tried to explain.

He shot her a flat look. "I'm 6'2. If my knees suffer, your airline's ratings will too."

I rolled my eyes, tugging his arm. "Mr. Khadoos, leave the poor lady alone."

"She started it," he muttered but gave up the fight.

Hours later, we landed in Manali—and I swear, I forgot to breathe for a second. Snow glittered across the hills like powdered sugar. The air was crisp, biting, and beautiful.

"God," I whispered, spinning slowly in the white wonderland.

"Careful," Rudra said behind me, grabbing my waist before I slipped. "The snow's not your runway."

"But I could totally rock a snow runway," I grinned.

He pulled me close. "You already do."

Our cabin sat nestled between pine trees, with a view that looked like a painting. Rustic wooden interiors, a fireplace, soft rugs, and windows that framed the mountains perfectly. I instantly fell in love.

I was sipping hot chocolate wrapped in a blanket when he came up behind me and kissed my shoulder.

"You like it?" he asked.

"I love it."

"Good," he said, voice low. "Because we're not stepping out till we make use of every inch of this cabin."

I raised a brow. "Are you threatening me with cuddles?"

He grinned. "Among other things."

We spent the day like two teenagers on vacation—snowball fights, slipping down slopes, selfies with snowmen, and laughter echoing through the woods.

By evening, we were back in front of the fireplace, wrapped in one blanket, hands tangled, cheeks pink from the cold.

"I can't believe we're here," I whispered, tracing patterns on his palm.

He looked down at me, his voice soft. "I can. I planned it."

I smacked his chest lightly. "You're such a dork sometimes."

He caught my hand and kissed my knuckles. "Your dork."

Outside, the snow kept falling softly. Inside, our hearts were warm.

And in that moment, curled up against Rudra, watching the fire dance...

...I realized this wasn't just a honeymoon.

This was home.

Note to self:

Never... ever let Maya have more than two glasses of wine.

It started with her saying she wanted to "just taste" the local apple wine. Ten minutes later, she was on her third glass, cheeks flushed and eyes sparkling like the snow outside.

"Rudrraaa," she slurred dramatically, poking my cheek. "Why's your face so serious? You know you look like one of those mafia heroes from Wattpad when you frown?"

I blinked. "You read mafia Wattpad stories?"

She gasped. Gasped.

"You weren't supposed to find out! Now I'll have to kill you." She attempted to threaten me with a pillow. "Death by fluff."

I chuckled, grabbing the pillow and tossing it away. "Okay, tipsy assassin. Bed. Now."

She stood up with all the drama of a Bollywood heroine, placing one hand on her hip and the other on her chest. "No! I refuse to sleep until you dance with me, Mr. Khadoos!"

"I don't dance."

"You danced at our sangeet!"

"That was emotional blackmail and peer pressure."

She stomped her foot and swayed slightly. "Then I shall dance alone."

And dance she did. Spinning in circles, her laughter echoing in the wooden cabin, hair flying everywhere, cheeks flushed like strawberries. I leaned against the wall and watched—utterly, hopelessly in love.

She twirled once, twice, and then... fell face-first onto the couch with a loud "OOF."

I rushed to her. "Maya!"

"I'm alive," she said with her face buried in a cushion. "But your couch just tried to kill me. Sue it."

God. This woman.

I helped her sit up, and she leaned her entire weight against me, resting her head on my shoulder.

"I love you, Mr. Khadoos," she mumbled, sleepy and drunk. "Even if you never smile. Or laugh. Or show feelings like a robot."

I looked down at her and smiled—genuinely, softly. "I smile around you, don't I?"

She blinked up at me, eyes droopy. "Oh. My. God. Are you flirting?"

I chuckled, kissed her temple, and stood up with her in my arms. "Let's get you to bed before you threaten the furniture again."

She clung to me like a koala. "Carry me forever."

"Gladly."

Once I tucked her in, she held my hand tightly, refusing to let go. Even in sleep.

And as the snow continued to fall outside, I lay beside her, brushing hair from her face, my heart full.

Drunk Maya was a mess.

But she was my mess.

And I wouldn't have her any other way.

I woke up with the mother of all hangovers. Ugh.

My head throbbed, and my mouth felt like sandpaper—but then I turned my head and saw him.

Mr. Khadoos. Shirtless. Hair messy. Eyes closed. Breathing steady.

How dare he look so annoyingly attractive at 7 in the morning?

A mischievous smile curled on my lips.

I had embarrassed myself last night—dancing like a cartoon character, threatening the couch, calling him a mafia Wattpad hero. But did I regret it?

Not even a little.

I leaned over, propping myself on one elbow and whispered, "Good morning, hot stuff."

He didn't open his eyes, but his brow arched. "You're still drunk, aren't you?"

"Nope. This is me sober. Which is honestly more dangerous," I said, trailing my fingers down his arm. "Why are you so warm? Are you made of sunlight or something?"

He finally opened his eyes and gave me a flat look. "Maya..."

"What?" I blinked innocently. "You married me. You signed up for all this chaos."

His lips twitched—he was trying not to smile. I loved that stupid smirk he got when he was annoyed but also amused.

I crawled closer, placing a kiss on his shoulder. "Mr. Khadoos?"

"Hm?"

"You know you look really sexy when you're annoyed?"

His hand shot out and grabbed my wrist, pulling me flush against him. His eyes darkened instantly. "You keep pushing me this early in the morning, Mrs. Khadoos, and you might not be able to walk by noon."

Butterflies. Everywhere.

I swallowed. "Is that a threat or a promise?"

He smirked. "You tell me."

I laughed and rolled off the bed, grabbing his shirt and pulling it over my head. "Come on, hot professor. Let's make some breakfast before I decide to have you for breakfast."

"Maya!"

"What? Just saying..."

He groaned into the pillow while I skipped out like the absolute menace I was.

But hey—he married me.

No refunds now.

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