Epilogue
Surbhi
If someone asked me what love looked like, I don't think I would describe it with grand gestures, expensive vacations, or extravagant surprises.
To me, love looked like waking up beside the person who had patiently stitched together every broken piece of my heart without ever asking for anything in return.
Today marked one year since Ranbir and I had been married.
One year.
Sometimes it felt impossible that so much could have changed in such a short span of time.
The frightened bride who had walked into his home believing she would never be able to trust another man seemed like a different person now.
I still carried my past with me, but it no longer controlled my present.
I had continued therapy, filed my statement against Lalit a few months earlier, and although the legal process was still underway, I was no longer afraid of facing it.
For the first time in my life, I knew I wasn't fighting alone.
And that made all the difference.
People had suggested countless ways to celebrate our first anniversary.
Vihaan had insisted that Ranbir should take me on an international vacation.
Yasha wanted us to close the bakery for a day and throw a party.
Even Nitin had spent an entire week trying to convince us to organize a grand family celebration.
But neither of us wanted any of that.
We wanted something simple.
Something that felt like us.
So after closing the bakery for the evening, I stayed back alone in the kitchen, doing what I loved most.
I baked.
The scent of vanilla, butter, and freshly whipped cream filled the air as I carefully frosted a small strawberry almond cake, the very first cake I had ever baked for Ranbir after our marriage.
It had become our tradition ever since. Every anniversary, every birthday, every achievement—no matter how small—I celebrated it by baking something with my own hands.
Perhaps that was my love language.
Some people expressed love through words.
Some through gifts.
Mine had always found its way into warm meals, handwritten recipes, and cakes made for the people who mattered most.
By the time Ranbir arrived, dinner was already laid out on one of the small tables by the window. The bakery lights were dimmed, candles flickered softly between us, and outside, the city continued its endless rush while our little corner of the world felt wonderfully peaceful.
He stepped inside, still wearing his office suit, and looked around before smiling.
"You closed the bakery early."
"I wanted it to be just us."
"I was hoping you'd say that."
His eyes wandered toward the table before stopping at the cake.
"You made this."
"I did."
He laughed softly.
"I should have guessed."
I walked over to him, straightened the slightly crooked collar of his shirt, and smiled.
"Happy anniversary."
He leaned down and kissed my forehead before whispering, "Happy anniversary, Mrs. Raichand."
Even after a year, hearing him call me that still made me smile.
We cut the cake together before sitting down for dinner. Every dish on the table was one of his favorites, from the creamy pasta he loved to the garlic bread he always claimed tasted better than anything he had ever eaten at a restaurant.
"I'm beginning to think you spoil me too much," he said after taking the first bite.
"I disagree."
"Oh?"
"I think I spoil you exactly the right amount."
He laughed, shaking his head.
"I have absolutely no argument against that."
Dinner passed the way most of our evenings did—with stories, laughter, and memories.
We spoke about the disastrous cookies I had baked during my first week at the café, which Vihaan had heroically eaten while insisting they were "artistically crunchy."
We laughed about the day Ruhaan had accidentally accepted an order for a five-tier wedding cake without asking whether I was available.
We remembered Yasha crying at the opening of my bakery while pretending that dust had somehow gotten into her eyes.
We even talked about the first strawberry almond cake I had nervously served Ranbir, the one he had praised so enthusiastically that I had accused him of lying.
"I wasn't lying," he reminded me with mock seriousness.
"I know."
"You still don't believe me."
"I do now."
The conversation drifted from one memory to another until he suddenly leaned back in his chair with a thoughtful expression.
"You know," he said, "I've already received my anniversary gift."
I looked at him innocently.
"You have?"
"Of course."
He pointed toward the table.
"This dinner."
"The cake."
"The evening."
He smiled warmly.
"I couldn't ask for anything more."
I reached across the table and squeezed his hand.
"I'm glad you liked it."
He narrowed his eyes playfully.
"Although..."
I couldn't help smiling.
"Although what?"
"You still haven't told me what my actual gift is."
I laughed.
"So impatient."
"I've been patient for an entire year."
"I'm not sure that's true."
"It absolutely is."
I reached into my handbag resting beside my chair and took out a small gift box.
It was simple.
Wrapped neatly with a pale blue ribbon.
His curiosity immediately grew.
"So there is a gift."
"There is."
I placed it in front of him.
"Open it."
He carefully untied the ribbon before lifting the lid.
For a brief moment, he simply stared inside the box without saying a word.
Then he looked at me.
Then back at the box.
Inside lay a single pregnancy test.
Two clear pink lines.
Positive.
His eyes widened so much that I couldn't stop smiling.
"Surbhi..."
His voice cracked.
I nodded, tears already filling my own eyes.
"We're going to have a baby."
The chair scraped loudly against the floor as he stood up.
Within seconds, he had crossed the distance between us and wrapped me in the tightest embrace I had ever received.
He laughed and cried at the same time, holding me as though I were the most precious thing in the world.
"Are you serious?" he whispered.
I nodded against his shoulder.
"I found out two days ago."
He cupped my face with trembling hands before kissing my forehead, my cheeks, and finally my lips with a tenderness that made my heart overflow.
"This..." he whispered, his eyes shining with tears, "...this is the best gift anyone has ever given me."
He rested his forehead against mine and laughed softly.
"I don't even know how to thank you."
"You don't have to."
"I do."
He kissed me once more.
"Thank you for trusting me."
"Thank you for choosing me."
"Thank you for giving me a family."
I smiled through my tears and gently placed his hand over my stomach.
"I think we've both wanted the same thing from the very beginning."
He looked at me with quiet affection.
"A happy family."
I nodded.
"When I married you, I thought my life was ending. Instead, you gave me a home, a dream, a future, and a love I never thought I deserved."
I intertwined my fingers with his and looked around the little bakery that had witnessed so many milestones in our journey.
"It may not be the biggest family in the world," I whispered, "but it's ours."
Ranbir smiled before leaning down to kiss my forehead once again.
"And I wouldn't trade it for anything."
As we stood there together, surrounded by the comforting scent of freshly baked cake and the quiet warmth of the place where so many of our memories had begun, I realized that sometimes the happiest endings were not found in fairy tales.
Sometimes, they began with two strangers brought together by an arranged marriage, who slowly, patiently, and wholeheartedly chose to become each other's home.
The End