50
The long dining table looked like something out of a royal feast. Silver plates, bowls stacked like a pyramid, colorful chutneys, steaming dhokla, fluffy theplas, puran polis, khandvi, undhiyu, dal, rice, and sweets that sparkled like gemstones.
"This is not a thali... this is a whole festival," I whispered to Datta as we sat down.
He chuckled lowly, "Welcome to Gujarat."
I sat between Datta and Utsav, and little Sharaa curled into my lap like royalty, his tail flicking gently.
Across the table sat Mr. Dhanraj Patel (Swarna's father), exuding calm intimidation.
Next to him was Mrs. Bina Patel, all smiles but with the sharp eyes of a woman who's definitely broken some noses in her youth.
Their three sons-Yash Patel (the flirty one), Dhaval Patel (the quiet one), and Nikhil Patel (the dramatic one)-were chatting loudly across from us.
We all started eating, and the first bite hit my tongue like... sugar.
I paused. Blinked.
Utsav leaned toward me, lips barely moving, "Di... the food is... not spicy."
I gave him a stern side glance and whispered, "Eat silently. We'll escape later. I'll get you spicy food."
His eyes lit up like Diwali and he grinned. "You're the best."
From the other side, Bhairava Bhaiya whispered to Arya Bhabhi, "I miss blood curry."
Arya, still half asleep on his shoulder, muttered, "I miss butter chicken. And chilli."
Across from us, Dyan Bhaiya was eating slowly, eyes only on Swarna, who ignored him with grace.
"So, Dyan," Mr. Dhanraj said, looking at him with a teasing smile, "You sure you want to marry our daughter after seeing her throw a man off the balcony?"
Dyan Bhaiya wiped his mouth, confidently, "Sir, I fell in love with her after I saw her slap a professor. This was a bonus."
We all groaned.
Mrs. Bina laughed heartily. "I like this one. He'll cry when she stabs him, but he'll still call it love."
Garud leaned toward Nikhil. "Is your family always this... dramatic?"
Nikhil just smirked. "We haven't even started the evening session yet."
That's when Yash Patel-aka Mr. Flirty-decided to open his mouth again. "You know, Katha, if you ever get tired of all that tattooed mafia intensity, I'm great at poetry and peaceful dates."
Before I could reply, Gyan Bhaiya coughed pointedly, and Datta put his spoon down.
The look he gave Yash.
Utsav immediately leaned into me again. "He's dead."
Datta didn't speak, but the air turned cold. Even Yash paled slightly and raised his hands.
"A joke. Just a joke. Relax, Romeo," he muttered, going back to his food.
I couldn't help it-I giggled. Sharaa, who had been quietly curled up in my lap, lifted his head, growled softly, and gave Yash a long, slow side-eye, the kind of look that says, try again and I'll chew your knee.
I giggled harder, but the moment Datta turned to look at me, I shut up and picked up my spoon obediently.
"Eat," he muttered, "before I decide the table isn't the only thing that needs silence."
"Yes, husband," I said sweetly, shoveling more undhiyu into my mouth with a very serious expression.
After dinner, I quietly poured some milk and placed a bowl of meat for Sharaa, who immediately munched with satisfaction, still occasionally glancing at Yash like he was prey.
Swarna finally looked at Dyan Bhaiya, who was still eating with hope in his eyes.
"You've got sauce on your shirt," she said flatly and turned to help her mother serve sweets.
He looked down, disappointed, and wiped the spot.
Utsav leaned toward me again. "This marriage is going to be the biggest drama since Bhairava bhaiya cried watching K3G."
"He did not!"
"He did. I have proof."
I snorted, nearly choking on my gulab jamun.
And just like that, dinner at the Patel mansion turned into the warmest chaos-with family, food, flirting (misguided), and a snow leopard giving mafia glares.
Bliss.
The night air was just right-cool but not chilly-and the bonfire crackled like music in the middle of the grand garden behind the Patel mansion. Stars glittered above like witnesses to our little chaos, and the smell of roasted peanuts, woodsmoke, and mischief lingered thick.
We were all gathered in a large circle around the bonfire: Me, Datta, Bhairava Bhaiya with Arya Bhabhi resting her head on his shoulder, Utsav hugging a giant tub of popcorn, Adya and Gyan Bhaiya cuddled on one side, Garud and Athira comfortably squished next to us, and even Mr. Dhanraj and Mrs. Bina had joined us with amused curiosity.
Surprisingly, even Nikhil and Dhaval were present.
Yash, of course, was the self-proclaimed host. He stood up dramatically. "Since two of our main stars are currently missing in action," he smirked, "let's ignite the night with... Truth or Dare!"
We all groaned, but nodded.
"I'll spin first!" Utsav declared, setting his popcorn down as if this was a matter of national pride. He spun the empty bottle in the center, and it landed on-Gyan Bhaiya.
"Truth or dare?" Utsav grinned.
"Dare," Gyan said, cool and calm.
"I dare you to dance like a Bollywood heroine to Sheila Ki Jawani."
We all howled.
Gyan groaned but stood up and committed. He flipped his invisible hair, twirled like a drama queen, and did a seductive arm roll. Adya clapped like a kid at a candy shop, and I laughed so hard I nearly fell on Datta.
"Next!" Yash yelled, spinning the bottle.
It landed on me.
"Katha," he grinned. "Truth or dare?"
Datta's eyes narrowed at him immediately.
"Relax, I'll be a gentleman," Yash assured, and I rolled my eyes.
"Truth."
Yash smirked. "Is it true your husband once made love to you on a courtroom desk?"
I choked on air. "WHAT?!"
Adya squealed, Arya covered her mouth, and Bhairava Bhaiya muttered, "Datta... really?"
Datta looked unbothered, leaned back, and said flatly, "It was locked, and she wore a saree that made me forget laws existed."
Everyone gasped. I covered my face. "I hate you all."
Next spin. It landed on Arya Bhabhi.
"Truth or dare?" Athira asked.
"Truth."
"Did Bhairava bhaiya cry when you told him about your pregnancy?"
Arya looked at her husband, smiled sweetly. "He fainted. Then cried."
Bhairava: "I was overwhelmed!"
We all died laughing again.
Spin. Garud.
"I'll take dare," he said confidently.
Yash grinned, "I dare you to propose to Datta with full drama."
I blinked.
Garud stood, went on one knee in front of a very stoic Datta. "Oh mighty mafia man, ruler of Italy and destroyer of peace... Will you accept my undying bromance?"
Datta gave him the coldest stare. "Touch me and I'll break your kneecaps."
Garud backed away with a salute. "Still worth a try."
Next spin. Datta.
Utsav cackled. "DARE!"
Datta smirked. "Give me your best."
Utsav grinned like a gremlin. "Kiss your wife in front of everyone for five seconds."
I gaped. "Utsav!"
"Too late!" Bhairava declared.
Datta leaned toward me, grabbed my face, and kissed me slow, deep, and absolutely shamelessly. I could hear whoops and whistles, but all I knew was the fire crackling inside me, matching the one outside.
When he pulled back, he whispered, "You taste like roasted peanuts."
"You're insane."
"I know."
Finally, the bottle spun again and just then, from the shadows-
"Ahem."
We all turned as Swarna Bhabhi and Dyan Bhaiya walked in, both looking freshly... flushed.
"Ahhhh, look who finally returned from their... balcony activities," I teased with a smirk.
Everyone turned and burst into cheers and whistles.
"Lovebirds are back!" Utsav called.
Swarna turned beet red. Dyan Bhaiya? Grinned like a fox.
"Shut up, all of you," Swarna muttered, hiding behind her curls.
"Truth or dare, Swarna?" Yash teased.
She shot him a look. "Dare."
"I dare you to kiss Dyan jiju."
She didn't even blink-just walked to Dyan, pulled him by his collar, and kissed him hard.
Now he was the one who turned red.
We screamed.
"Okay, okay," Swarna said after, wiping her lips with a victorious smirk. "Next dare-Utsav... go dance with Sharaa."
Utsav: "WHAAAAT-"
But it was too late. We were all laughing, the fire was warm, love was in the air, and as I leaned into Datta again, he kissed the top of my head and whispered, "I could live in this moment forever."
"So could I," I whispered back.
Let's continue the story with the same romantic tone while keeping it emotionally intimate and sensual, without explicit details:
-
Wrapped in the warm haze of laughter and crackling firewood, I was barely conscious when Datta scooped me into his arms. I let out a sleepy hum, curling into his chest, breathing in the familiar scent of sandalwood, spice, and something uniquely him.
Sheraa, clearly too used to our routines by now, trotted off obediently with Utsav, tail flicking and yawning wide enough to show off his tiny fangs. Utsav shot us a wink, mumbling something about "parent privileges" as he disappeared into his room with our spoiled snow cub.
Datta carried me up the staircase silently, his steps steady and slow like he wanted to savor the moment. I felt every heartbeat of his under my cheek, every breath he took like it belonged to me.
But as soon as our bedroom door closed with a gentle click, my body stirred.
Sleep?
Forgotten.
I looked up at him, and he stopped in place. Our eyes met. The shift was instant. Something deeper than desire flickered between us-understanding, want, love... and fire.
He didn't ask.
I didn't need to answer.
He placed me down on the bed gently, reverently, as though I were something sacred. Then he hovered above me, his forehead pressing to mine, breath warm on my lips.
"You're sure?" he asked softly, voice rough, eyes locked on mine like I was his whole universe.
I smiled. "Always. You're mine."
His lips crashed onto mine, and the world melted around us.
The kisses were slow at first-lazy and warm-like a fire taking its time to spread. His hands roamed like they knew every inch already but still worshipped every curve like it was the first time. I tugged him closer, and he growled softly into my neck, like he could barely hold himself back.
Clothes disappeared. Words turned to whispers. Time became meaningless.
We moved together in that silent, sacred rhythm that only true love knows.
It wasn't just passion-it was a connection so raw and honest that it stripped us bare in more ways than one.
He looked at me like I was a goddess. I touched him like he was a miracle.
We loved like we were made to burn together.
And he didn't stop.
Not once.
Even when the moon faded and the soft light of dawn poured through the curtains, he was still tangled with me-pressing kisses on my shoulder, brushing my hair back, whispering my name like it was a prayer.
By the time morning arrived, my voice was lost somewhere between sighs and soft moans. My body ached in the most beautiful way. And yet, as he wrapped his arms tightly around me, pulling me into his chest, I had never felt more safe, more full, more alive.
"I love you," I whispered against his chest, eyes fluttering shut.
His lips grazed my temple. "Forever. And I'm still not done with you."
I giggled tiredly, smacking his chest. "Let me walk first."
He only laughed, low and deep. "No promises, sunshine."
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