Arvi's pov:

The soft click of my heels echoed in the grand hallway as I stepped into the Oberoi Mansion, a wide smile still dancing on my lips. Rayaan had dropped me off just a few minutes ago, and though he left in a hurry for some urgent work, my heart felt usually light.

There was something about today he make me feel gentle by his voice and actions too, something different in the way he looked at me. I didn't feel like an outsider in my own life.

But that fragile bubble of warmth burst the second my eyes fell on her.

"Nia?" I breathed out, blinking twice as I took in the sight in front of me.

She was standing near the living room, her back turned to me, her shoulders trembling slightly. And then, she turned her eyes red, tear-stained, the raw emotion on her face enough to wipe the joy right off mine.

"What's wrong?" I rushed forward, my voice trembling, the smile long gone. "Why are you crying?"

She looked at me really looked and that's when it broke. "Why didn't you tell me?" she whispered, her voice barely holding together. "About your health... about what you're going through?"

My steps faltered.

My heart sank.

She knew.

I held her tighter, letting her cry against my shoulder. Her pain felt louder than mine in that moment.

"You were in the hospital, Arvi," she said between sobs. "You had surgery. And I had no idea..."

I gently cupped her face and pulled back just enough to look into her eyes. "It was minor, Nia. Nothing life-threatening. The doctors handled it well, and I recovered quickly. That's why I didn't tell you I didn't want to scare you over something that's already behind me."

"But you went through it alone," she said, shaking her head.

I smiled softly through my own tears and tucked a strand of her hair behind her ear. "I'm not alone. I had myself. I had my family... I have you. That's all that matters."

She sniffled, trying to steady her breathing, and I gently led her to the couch. "Come on. Sit. Breathe."

Just as she calmed down a little, the sound of footsteps echoed in the hallway. I turned my head instinctively, and there he was.

Vivaan.

He stopped at the threshold, his usual cheerful energy dimmed as his eyes landed on Nia red eyed, fragile, and tucked close beside me.

His brows drew together. "Nia?" he said, voice soft, almost confused.

She quickly wiped her cheeks, trying to compose herself.

Vivaan took a step forward, concern evident on his face. "What happened? Why are you crying?"

And for the first time, I saw something shift in his eyes not the usual teasing, not the mischief.

Something gentler. Something... curious.

Vivaan's eyes flickered from Nia to me, silently asking for an explanation.

"She found out about my surgery," I said gently, my voice low.

For a moment, his expression didn't change. Then he gave a small nod understanding, quiet, and unreadable. Without another word, he turned and walked upstairs, his footsteps fading into the silence he left behind.

I watched him go, a strange tightness in my chest. Vivaan was always full of words jokes, comments, laughter. But just now, he'd chosen silence. And somehow, that said more.

Before I could process the thought, I heard the shuffle of footsteps again.

Aleesha was the first to reach Nia, her arms already outstretched as she knelt beside her. "Hey... don't cry like that. It's going to be okay."

Arekha sat on the other side, gently rubbing her back. "I didn't even know you two were this close," she said softly, "but seeing you like this... it's clear how much you care."

Vanisha, usually the most aloof of the three, surprised me by handing Nia a tissue and sitting right beside her. "Arvi's bhabi's strong, Nia. You know that. And if she says she's fine now, she means it."

Nia looked around at all of them blinking through the tears, a soft sob escaping her throat.

"I just... I hate that she went through it without me."

I squeezed her hand. "And now I won't have to go through anything else alone. Because I have all of you."

For once, the Oberoi girls weren't bickering or teasing. They were just... there. With warmth. With sincerity.

After Nia left still teary eyed but smiling faintly thanks to girls they helped me to console her now i am going towards one specific place,

The kitchen.

It was quiet, warm, and smelled faintly of haldi and home.

I rolled up my sleeves, already picturing the dishes in my head. Today, I wanted to do something for him. For Rayaan. A small thank you, maybe. Or maybe just an unspoken gesture of how much his love care meant to me.

But as soon as I picked up the apron, I heard a voice.

"Arvi, no." maa appeared in the doorway, arms folded but her eyes full of concern.

Choti Maa wasn't far behind. "You're not even fully recovered. Why are you stressing yourself, beta?"

I turned to face them, offering a small, reassuring smile. "I'm not stressing. I promise. I just... I want to cook something for Rayaan. Just one meal. Please."

They exchanged a look. Protective. Motherly. But eventually, with a soft sigh, Maa walked over and cupped my cheek.

"One hour. And if you so much as feel dizzy call one of us."

I nodded quickly, relieved. "Thank you."

The moment they left, I called in one of the kitchen staff, Rayaan's personal chef who usually prepared his meals.

"Bhaiya," I asked softly, "what's his favorite dish?"

He looked surprised but smiled. "Sir doesn't say much, but I've noticed he never skips the palak paneer when it's served. And he always takes a second helping of dal tadka with jeera rice. Also he likes his food just mildly spicy."

My smile grew. Simple tastes. Strong preferences. Just like him.

I got to work slowly, carefully. Every stir of the spoon, every sprinkle of masala felt like I was pouring a piece of myself into it.

Cooking for him wasn't just about food it was about being seen. It was about care. And love, in its earliest, quietest form.

The evening settled in with a calm hush over the Oberoi Mansion. The living room was softly lit, filled with the usual chatter

I sat quietly, smoothing out invisible creases on my dupatta, my heart beating a little faster than it should.

And then I heard the door.

His footsteps were distinct measured, confident. I didn't even have to look up to know it was him.

But I did anyway.

Rayaan entered the room in his usual composed manner, slipping off his watch as he walked in. His eyes scanned the space for a brief second before landing on me.

And then he smiled.

Not wide. Not dramatic. Just that soft, subtle lift at the corners of his lips. But it was real.

I smiled back instinctively, my nerves calming just a little.

Maa noticed him and rose with a warm smile. "Rayaan, freshen up beta. Dinner's almost ready."

He nodded, his eyes flickering to mine once more before he disappeared upstairs.

I exhaled slowly, feeling like I'd been holding my breath the whole time.

He was home.

And tonight... he would eat something I made with my whole heart.

Rayaan walked in, freshly changed into a crisp white shirt, his hair still slightly damp from the shower. He looked relaxed, sleeves rolled up just the way he liked, and his eyes scanned the room until they landed on me.

Our gazes locked again and this time, it lingered.

I quickly looked away, pretending to adjust a napkin, but my heart thudded loud enough to drown out every voice in the room.

"Come, Rayaan," Maa called with a smile. "We've been waiting for you."

He took the seat besides me, nodding politely to everyone as he settled in.

I could feel his presence more than ever solid, calm, and too close. My hands rested on my lap, trying not to fidget.

Because tonight, he wasn't just about to eat dinner.

He was about to taste me in every bite my effort, my feelings, my silent thank you wrapped in flavors and warmth.

And for the first time... I truly wanted him to know.

The servers began placing food onto everyone's plates, starting with the elders and then moving around the table. I waited silently, barely touching my water, watching from the corner of my eye as Rayaan's plate was filled.

Palak paneer.

Dal tadka.

Jeera rice.

Just as I'd planned.

He didn't say a word at first. Typical of him. He simply picked up his spoon, scooped a bit of dal and rice, and took the first bite.

I held my breath.

He paused.

It was barely noticeable just a flicker of something in his eyes, a moment of stillness but I saw it.

Then, slowly, he picked up the spoon again, this time going for the palak paneer. Another bite. Another pause.

He glanced across the table, his eyes meeting mine for a second too long.

My stomach fluttered.

"It's good, isn't it?" Choti Maa smiled, not noticing the silent exchange. "Arvi made dinner today. She insisted, even though she's still recovering."

He looked at her, then back at me.

And then he spoke. Quietly, but clearly.

"It's perfect."

The words were simple. But from him, they carried weight. Recognition. Approval. Maybe even something more.

My heart warmed, and I quickly looked down at my plate, hiding the smile that tugged at my lips.

He didn't know how much that one word meant to me.

Or maybe he did

Dinner had ended, and the house slowly settled into its night-time calm. Laughter had faded into soft murmurs, and footsteps grew quieter as everyone retreated to their rooms.

I walked upstairs slowly, my fingers trailing along the banister, still thinking about that moment at the dinner table. His words Its perfect replayed in my mind on a loop. It had meant more than just food. I could feel it.

I pushed open the door to our room gently, expecting silence.

But I didn't even get a step in before I felt his presence behind me.

Before I could turn, I was pinned his hand on the door I'd just closed, the other slipping around my waist as he pressed me gently against the wall.

My breath caught.

"Rayaan..." I whispered, startled, my palms instinctively finding his chest.

He didn't say a word. His face was so close just inches from mine, eyes dark and unreadable, breath warm against my cheek.

"You cooked for me," he murmured, voice low, intimate.

I nodded slowly, my throat dry. "I... wanted to."

He leaned in even closer, so close I could feel his heart beating beneath my fingertips. "It was more than food, Arvi. It was you. Every bite."

My heart thudded painfully in my chest. I couldn't look away from him.

"You didn't have to," he added, softer this time, "but you did. Even when you're still healing."

I swallowed hard. "I wanted to do something for you."

His thumb brushed my cheek, slow and warm, tilting my face up toward him. "You don't even know what you're doing to me."

I barely managed a whisper. "Then show me."

And in the next breath, he closed the space between us his lips brushing mine, gentle but deep, a kiss that made my knees weak and the world fall away.

It was soft.

Then firmer.

Then desperate.

All the tension, all the unsaid things, poured into that one stolen moment under the quiet glow of the room, with the scent of him and warmth of us tangled together.

When he finally pulled back, his forehead rested against mine, and he whispered, "Don't ever tried to bite your lips."

I nodded, eyes still closed. "I won't".

And in that moment I wasn't just his wife.

I was his.

Completely.