The best one till now I guess

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Samiksha was on cloud nine.

The realization that Abeer read books was already exhilarating, but the fact that his favorite author was actually her? It sent a surge of pride through her veins. She had always wished for recognition—not just as a writer but for someone to truly see her, to acknowledge her potential. And he did.

A delighted smile stretched across her lips, her bunny cheeks rising adorably as she fought the urge to giggle like a little girl. Her happiness was so apparent that a few guests couldn't help but ask, "Kya ho gaya? Itni khush kyun hai?" But Samiksha was someone who believed in "jitna hasta hai utna rona bhi padta hai" and "log nazar lagaa dete hain." So, she quickly toned it down.

But no matter how much she tried, the ecstasy was too overwhelming.

Before she even realized it, she started humming, then singing—

" Adhoori thi Zara si, ab puri ho rhi hun

Teri saadgi me hoke churr....."

Soft at first. Then, as the excitement bubbled in her chest, her voice became clearer, louder.

People turned, astonished.

Some guests gaped at her in pleasant surprise, completely unaware that she could sing this well. Her family watched with pride, her mother’s face lighting up like a thousand diyas. Her father gave a small approving nod, while her younger cousins nudged each other, whispering about how cool she sounded.

And Abeer?

Abeer was captivated.

His mother, admiring her with warmth, instinctively lifted her hand and did the traditional nazar utarna gesture, murmuring, "Meri bachi ko kisi ki nazar na lage."

But Abeer couldn't take his eyes off her.

He watched her in awe, thinking—How did I get so lucky?

How did fate align so perfectly that this girl, this pure-hearted, generous, sunshine-wrapped-in-human-form girl, happened to love him?

He could worship the ground she walked on, spend his whole life just looking at her, and it still wouldn't be enough.

She was ethereal.

A thought slipped into his mind, unbidden but strong—

"She deserves the whole world."

She was always beautiful to him, but seeing her this happy, singing with abandon, eyes twinkling like a million stars—he decided, in that moment, that he would never let this smile fade.

If she smiled like this, he would always make efforts to keep her happy.

He loved her.

Maybe it was more than love—something beyond it, something indescribable.

And he never wanted it to end.

But then, Samiksha snapped out of her trance. Realizing that she had just sung aloud, she flushed, her cheeks turning a deep crimson as she noticed all eyes on her.

The groom chuckled, his tone playful yet affectionate, "Ek performance toh banta hai, Samiksha."

Her eyes widened. "Nahi, nahi, nahi—"

An aunty joined in, smiling warmly. "Beta, please ek baar."

Her mother nudged her. "Haan, beta, aunty ko gaana gaake dikhao."

Samiksha mentally groaned. "Aunty ko gaana gaake dikhao? Jaise mein koi bachi ho jo drawing dikhane ja rahi hai."

she let out a slow breath, trying to steady herself. Took the guitar from the band who was supposed to perform here and stood infront of everyone.

She looked up—straight into Abeer's eyes. There eyes locked

And suddenly, her nerves melted away.

Because this was their love language— conveying to eachother through songs.

So, without thinking much, she strummed the first chord and began—

"Dil kahe kya raaz hai, jaane kya kar gaye..."

Her voice was soft but steady, laced with emotions.

"Jaise andheron mein tum chandni ban gaye..."

Abeer inhaled sharply. The lyrics—they fit her so perfectly.

Like a hidden moon illuminating the night, she had unknowingly brought light into his life.

"Aur chand taaro ko mehfooz itna kyun..."

He swallowed.

Because she was rare. Precious. Irreplaceable.

"Kambakht dil se bhi khoobsurat hai tu..."

" I-

But then—she stopped.

Her fingers stilled over the guitar strings.

The next lyrics—she couldn't sing them. Not here. Not now.

It was too much. Too soon.

What if she was reading too much into this? What if he didn’t feel the same? What if—

As if sensing her hesitation, Abeer smiled and softly took over—

"I love you... ahmm ahmm he he he..."

A soft gasp left her lips.

Her breath hitched.

The teasing tone in his voice, the way he smirked, the way his eyes never left hers—God, she couldn't breathe.

Heat spread across her cheeks, her fingers tightening around the guitar. But she wasn’t going to back down.

So, gathering her courage, she sang—

"Kabhi kabhi main khud se yeh puchti..."

Her voice dropped, quieter, vulnerable.

"Main tere kaabil bhi hoon kya?"

Because—was she?

Abeer was perfect in every way—smart, kind, compassionate, adored by everyone. And she? She was just Samiksha.

Was she really worthy of him?

But before she could drown in her own thoughts, his voice interrupted—

"Thoda thoda tujhse sikha..."

Her eyes flickered to his.

"Pyaar karne ka saleeka..."

Her breath hitched.

"Zidd meri... tu hi meri aayat hai tu..."

She felt the lump in her throat rise.

As if—he was answering her doubts.

As if—he was telling her that she was enough. That she was everything.

Their eyes stayed locked, something intense, something unspoken passing between them.

And then—

The chorus kicked in.

Across the venue, Ekansh caught Avya’s gaze and, sneaking a hand into hers, started singing along.

Vidyut and Aarohi, their voices softer, joined in too.

But for Abeer and Samiksha—

It was just them.

Everything else faded into the background.

"I love you......."

It felt like they were standing in their own little universe, with nothing but their intertwined voices and racing hearts.

A round of applause snapped them back to reality.

The elders chuckled, brushing it off as "Bachpan ki dosti hai, samiksha toh Abeer ki behen jaisi hai."

Samiksha almost choked.

Abeer’s jaw clenched.

Behen jaisi??? Seriously????? Wtf???

[Only if they had watched ‘Culpa Mia’. Or 'My fault'…😏]

He let out a small, amused huff,at his own unholy thoughts glancing at her. She looked back, trying so hard not to burst into laughter.

If only they knew.

If only they knew.

The wedding rituals continued in full swing, the air thick with the scent of fresh flowers and sacred chants as the priest recited the mantras. The bride and groom sat in the mandap, surrounded by the warmth of flickering flames, while Ekansh and Avya stood close to each other, witnessing the sacred union. Avya’s eyes were glued to the delicate traditions unfolding before her, taking in every little detail—the clinking of bangles, the soft rustling of silk, the flickering diya casting golden reflections on the bride’s face. But Ekansh? He only looked at her.

His gaze was unwavering, tracing the soft glow of excitement in her eyes, the way her lips curved slightly in a quiet smile as she admired the rituals. She looked enchanting under the warm glow of the wedding lights, and he memorized her every expression, as if committing them to memory for a lifetime.

Then came the moment of the sindoor daan, where the groom applied the sacred vermillion to the bride’s forehead. A small amount accidentally dusted her nose, and Avya gasped in delight, her hands clapping together like a child who had just been gifted an ice cream.

"It’s so beautiful, Ekansh!" she squealed, pure joy laced in her voice.

Ekansh, who had been watching her with an affectionate smile, responded softly, "Indeed... the most beautiful thing."

His words were simple, yet they carried a depth she couldn’t ignore. And when she turned to look at him, she realized he wasn’t looking at the bride—he was looking at her.

A warmth spread across her face as she lightly smacked his arm, shaking her head at his antics, but her heart had already begun racing. Their laughter blended into the wedding bells and distant chatter, an unnoticed melody between them.

But something felt different.

She sensed it in the way his smile faltered for just a second, in the way his fingers flexed slightly as if holding back an emotion too heavy to speak. Her brows knitted together in concern as she softly asked, "Koi problem hai?"

Ekansh exhaled, his voice barely above a whisper. "Bohot badi problem."

Avya’s stomach twisted. "Kya?"

"You know na… shaadi khatam hote hi I have my flight tomorrow. 10 PM."

And just like that, reality crashed over her.

She knew this. She had always known. But knowing something and feeling it were two very different things.

She nodded, forcing a smile, but her fingers curled around the fabric of her dress. She refused to let him see how much this affected her. She couldn’t afford to be that selfish. But before she could say anything, he leaned in slightly, his voice softer now, raw and unguarded.

"Can I just look at you the whole night?" His eyes searched hers, and something tightened in her chest. "I want to savour this moment with you because I’m going to miss you so damn much. I don’t want to leave you, Avya."

Her breath hitched.

She bit her lower lip, willing the stinging in her eyes to disappear. Of course, he had to go. Of course, work was important. But a part of her—a small, selfish, hopelessly in love part—wanted to ask him to stay.

Instead, she swallowed her emotions and whispered, "I’ll miss you, Ekansh."

A single tear betrayed her, slipping down her cheek before she could stop it.

Ekansh saw it instantly.

And in true Ekansh fashion, he immediately changed his demeanor, his lips pressed together. "Please don’t cry, bacha. If you cry like that, your makeup will get ruined." He paused dramatically, brushing his thumb near her eye as if to wipe away the invisible damage. "And you know I don’t want to ruin your mascara… I want to ruin your innocence."

Her mouth fell open slightly before she let out a soft laugh, shoving him away playfully. "Shut up, idiot."

But the ache remained.

Her heart clenched at the thought of what came next. The day after tomorrow was her birthday—the one day she had secretly hoped he would be there for. Every year, she had celebrated it with her loved ones, but this time, all she wanted was him. She had imagined a dozen different scenarios—maybe he would surprise her, maybe they would sneak away for a little while, maybe he would sing so terribly just to annoy her. But now, none of that would happen. He wouldn’t be there. And she couldn’t even ask him to stay. Because how could she? How could she tell him that her birthday without him would feel incomplete? That no matter how many people surrounded her, she would still be searching for him?

Aarohi sat on the steps of the venue, kicking off her heels with a dramatic sigh. The wedding was beautiful, sure, but it was also painfully long, and her feet were dying. She had just started massaging them when a shadow loomed over her.

"Should I call an ambulance?" Vidyut’s teasing voice broke her out of her misery.

She looked up to find him smirking down at her, hands in his pockets, eyes twinkling with mischief.

"Shut up," she muttered, rubbing her sole aggressively. "You try wearing heels this high and standing for hours."

"Yeah, no thanks," he chuckled, before crouching down next to her. "I have a solid relationship with my sneakers."

Aarohi narrowed her eyes. "You should try heels. I mean, gender norms are outdated. I think you'd rock a good pair of stilettos."

Vidyut placed a hand over his heart. "Are you saying I’d look hot?"

She smirked. "I’m saying you’d look like a newborn giraffe trying to walk."

He let out a dramatic gasp. "I feel attacked."

"You should," she grinned, enjoying his exaggerated reaction.

Before she could protest, Vidyut reached out, gently grabbing her foot. Aarohi stilled, eyes widening as his fingers expertly kneaded her aching arch.

"Vidyut, what are you—"

"Relax," he said, voice softer now, a stark contrast to their playful banter. "Your feet are literally crying for help."

Aarohi wanted to argue, wanted to make some sarcastic remark about how he was being weirdly nice, but—oh my god. His hands were magic.

"Okay," she breathed out, melting slightly. "That’s... unfairly good."

He chuckled, continuing the massage like it was the most normal thing in the world. "See? I can be useful sometimes."

Aarohi bit her lip, trying not to focus on the way his fingers moved with precision, the warmth of his touch, the fact that her stomach was doing actual somersaults.

After a moment, she couldn’t help but mumble, "If you keep this up, I might have to marry you."

The words left her mouth before she could stop them.

Silence.

Her eyes snapped up to meet his, and she instantly regretted it.

Vidyut was staring at her, one brow raised, an unreadable expression on his face. Then, slowly, too slowly, a smirk spread across his lips.

"That a proposal, sweetheart?"

Aarohi nearly choked on air. "No! Oh my god, I didn’t—I meant—" She groaned, covering her face with her hands. "Why do I talk? Why do I ever talk?"

Vidyut chuckled, gently prying her hands away. His voice dropped, teasing yet soft. "For the record, if you did propose, I wouldn’t say no. But yeh seriously bohot kharab tha I mean you can do better."

Aarohi’s breath hitched. Her heart was doing that stupid, traitorous thing again—beating too fast, too loud.

She glared at him, trying to salvage her dignity. "You just want to keep me around for free foot massages."

Vidyut grinned, standing up and offering his hand. "Maybe."

She took it, and as he pulled her up, their faces ended up way closer than expected.

For a second, neither of them moved.

Neither of them spoke.

Aarohi could hear the faint sounds of wedding music in the distance, the murmur of guests, but all she could focus on was him. The way his eyes softened, the way his fingers lingered against hers, the way the world just... faded.

Vidyut tilted his head slightly, his voice barely above a whisper. "Or maybe, I just really, really like having you around."

Aarohi sucked in a breath, her entire brain short-circuiting.

What the hell was she supposed to do with that?!

Before she could respond—before she could do something reckless like, say, kiss him—he smirked and stepped back.

"Come on, Cinderella," he said, nodding toward the venue. "Let’s get back before people start thinking I actually kidnapped you."

Aarohi exhaled sharply, rolling her eyes to cover up the fact that she definitely needed a minute to recover.

"You're the worst," she muttered, slipping her heels back on.

"And yet," Vidyut winked, "you love me."

She turned to snap back, but he was already walking ahead, leaving her standing there, heart pounding, wondering if maybe—just maybe—he wasn’t wrong.

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