Samriddhi’s POV

The wedding felt like a dream I hadn’t woken up from.

The vidai… my mother’s teary smile… my father’s quiet blessing… and then his hand—firm, warm, steady—holding mine as I stepped into a new life.

When we reached the Khanna house, the doors were adorned with flowers and lights. The air smelled of incense and celebration. I performed the grahpravesh, gently kicking the kalash, my heart pounding—not with fear, but with something softer… anticipation.

After the rituals ended, laughter filled the house. Someone teased, someone clapped.

Then his mother smiled knowingly.
“Ab tum dono apne room jao.”

Before I could even process her words, I felt his arm slide behind my knees.

“Vaibhav—” I gasped.

He had already lifted me in a bridal carry, effortless, confident.

The house erupted in cheers and laughter.
“Doctor sahab ka style dekho!”
“Careful, bhabhi!”

I hid my face in his shoulder, embarrassed—and smiling far too much.

He carried me down the corridor, his steps steady, his grip secure. I felt safe. Cherished.

Our Room

The door closed softly behind us.

He lowered me gently onto my feet, but neither of us moved away. We just stood there—too close, too aware.

His eyes held mine.
Mine searched his.

A fond smile curved his lips before he leaned down and pressed the softest kiss on my forehead—slow, reverent, full of promise.

“Welcome home,” he whispered.

My heart melted right there.

Before I could say anything, he stepped back.
“Wait here… just for a minute.”

He returned moments later holding a blindfold.

I raised an eyebrow.
“Ye kya hai?”

He smiled—mischievous, boyish.
“Trust me. Bas thoda sa wait.”

Before I could protest, he tied it gently around my eyes, careful not to disturb my hair or jewellery.

“Can you see?”
“No.”
“Good.”

I felt his hand slip into mine as he guided me forward.

“Vaibhav, kaha le ja rahe ho?”
“Shhh… bas chalo.”

The Surprise

He stopped me.

I heard a cupboard open.

Then I felt him step behind me, his presence warm and familiar. Slowly—very slowly—he untied the blindfold.

“Open your eyes.”

I did.

And I forgot how to breathe.

Rows and rows of jhumkas—silver, gold, oxidised, meenakari, temple style, minimal, heavy bridal ones. Every design I had ever loved… and more.

My chest tightened.

My eyes filled instantly.

Without saying a word, I turned and hugged him tightly, my arms wrapping around him as if I’d never let go.

“Thank you… thank you… thank you,” I kept whispering.

He chuckled softly, his arms circling me.
“There’s no need to say thank you,” he said gently.
“Ab main tumhara husband hoon. Aur tumhari har wish… meri zimmedari hai.”

I pulled back slightly, wiping my tears, and moved toward the cupboard. My fingers trembled as I touched the jhumkas—each one more beautiful than the last.

“You remembered…” I whispered.
“Everything,” he replied quietly.

Suddenly, his arms scooped me up again.

“Vaibhav!” I squealed, shocked.

He laughed—a full, carefree laugh—and carried me back toward the room.
“Enough emotional moment for one night,” he teased.
“Ab meri biwi ko araam chahiye.”

I rested my head against his chest, smiling, my heart impossibly full.

This wasn’t just love.

This was home.