The Malhotra house in London was unusually serious that evening.
“Aarav, baitho,” his father said.
Aarav didn’t like that tone.
He closed his laptop slowly and sat down.
“What happened?”
His mother exchanged a glance with his father before speaking,
“Ek rishta aaya hai.”
Aarav’s expression didn’t change.
“No.”
“Tumne ladki dekhi bhi nahi,” she said softly.
“I don’t need to.”
His father’s voice was calm but firm,
“Shaadi har baar love se nahi hoti, Aarav. Kabhi kabhi samajh se hoti hai.”
“I don’t believe in this.”
“We’re not asking you to fall in love. Just… trust us.”
Silence filled the room.
Aarav exhaled slowly, running a hand through his hair.
“…Fine,” he said finally, “but don’t expect anything from me.”
Across the city…
The Sharma house felt completely different.
“Iraaa!” her mother called from the kitchen.
“Coming!” Ira replied, half running, half sliding into the room.
“Careful!” her dad laughed.
“What happened?” she asked, grabbing a piece of snack.
Her mom smiled slightly,
“Ek rishta aaya hai.”
Ira paused… then shrugged.
“Okay.”
Her parents blinked.
“Bas… okay?” her dad asked.
“Hmm. Aap log dekh lo. Aapko pasand hai toh mujhe bhi hoga,” she said casually.
“Aur tumhe koi problem nahi hai arranged marriage se?” her mom asked gently.
Ira smiled, soft and calm,
“Har cheez love se start ho ye zaroori nahi hota… kabhi kabhi baad mein bhi ho sakta hai.”
The families met.
Formal talks.
Tea.
Polite smiles.
Background judgment from aunties.
Aarav and Ira?
Barely spoke.
Just one glance.
Bas.
Aur rishta fix ho gaya.
💍 Wedding Functions Begin
The house transformed overnight.
Lights, flowers, music—everything felt alive.
Mehendi
Ira sat in the center, hands covered in intricate designs.
“Naam chhupa hai kya?” her cousin teased.
“Pata nahi, dhundhna uska kaam hai,” Ira laughed.
“Arre wah, already flirting,” another one giggled.
Ira just smiled.
No nervousness.
No hesitation.
Just… acceptance.
Haldi
Yellow everywhere.
“NAHIII!” Ira screamed as her cousins attacked her with haldi.
“Shaadi hai madam, glow toh karna padega!”
She laughed, trying to run away, but failed miserably.
On the other side…
Aarav sat quietly during his haldi.
His friends tried to joke around.
“Bro last few days of freedom,” one of them smirked.
Aarav didn’t laugh.
He just sat there, letting the rituals happen.
His mind was somewhere else.
Sangeet Night
Music echoed through the hall.
Ira danced like she owned the stage.
Full energy.
Full chaos.
Full life.
People clapped, cheered.
She laughed freely.
Aarav stood at a distance.
Watching.
Observing.
Trying to understand.
“How can someone be this… alive?” he thought.
“Go dance,” his sister nudged him.
“No.”
“At least pretend you’re human.”
He sighed.
But his eyes didn’t leave Ira.
For the first time…
He didn’t feel annoyed.
Just… curious.
🌺 Wedding Day
Red.
Gold.
Lights everywhere.
Ira walked towards the mandap, calm, graceful, a small smile on her face.
No fear.
No doubt.
Just quiet acceptance.
Aarav stood there, waiting.
Still.
Controlled.
But when he saw her…
For a second…
He forgot to look away.
The rituals began.
Mantras echoed.
Fire burned between them.
Saat pheras.
Promises they didn’t fully understand yet.
When Aarav tied the mangalsutra…
His hands paused for a moment.
Not because he was unsure.
But because…
Something about this moment felt real.
Too real.
Ira glanced at him.
Softly.
As if saying—
“It’s okay.”
And strangely…
That made it easier.
🌙 After Marriage
The room was quiet.
Decorated beautifully.
But filled with silence.
Ira sat on the bed, playing with her bangles.
Aarav stood near the window.
Same distance.
Same unfamiliarity.
“Hi,” she said softly.
“…Hi.”
“Relax. Main tumhe force nahi karungi ‘perfect husband’ banne ke liye,” she smiled lightly.
He looked at her.
Surprised.
“And I won’t expect anything… jo naturally hoga, woh theek hai.”
A pause.
“…Thank you,” he said.
Days passed.
They lived together.
Strangers.
But respectful.
Ira filled the space with lightness.
Aarav filled it with silence.
But never once…
Did he disrespect her.
“Tum thak gaye ho?” she asked one evening.
“Yes.”
“Chai bana du?”
“…Okay.”
Small things.
Tiny moments.
No love yet.
But no discomfort either.
One night—
Ira fell asleep on the couch.
TV still on.
Lights dim.
Aarav walked in.
Stopped.
Looked at her.
Peaceful.
Quiet.
Different from her usual self.
He picked up a blanket.
Covered her gently.
Adjusted the TV.
Turned off the lights.
“Good night…” he whispered without thinking.
And for the first time…
It didn’t feel like responsibility.
It felt like… something else.
The first few weeks of marriage felt… normal.
Too normal.
No drama.
No romance.
Just two people sharing the same space like polite strangers.
Mornings were quiet.
Aarav would already be dressed for work, scrolling through his phone while sipping coffee.
Ira, on the other hand, would walk in half-asleep, hair messy, still yawning.
“Good morning,” she said one day, dropping into the chair.
“…Morning.”
She stared at his coffee.
“You made it?”
“Yes.”
“Wow. Impressive. Mujhe bhi bana dete 😒”
“You can make your own.”
She gasped dramatically.
“Such a gentleman. Wah.”
But the next morning…
There were two cups on the table.
Ira noticed.
Didn’t say anything.
Just smiled softly.
Little things started changing.
Without announcements.
Without realization.
One evening—
Ira was in the kitchen, struggling.
“Why is this not working 😭”
Aarav walked in.
“What happened?”
“This stupid jar won’t open.”
He took it from her.
Opened it easily.
“Lo.”
She narrowed her eyes.
“Show off.”
Another day—
She was talking non-stop about something random.
“…and then she literally said—are you even listening??”
“Yes.”
“What did I just say?”
“…You were talking about your friend.”
She blinked.
“Okay… you are listening.”
Slowly…
Their conversations grew.
From one word… to sentences.
From silence… to comfort.
One night—
Ira sat on the floor, surrounded by papers.
“What are you doing?” Aarav asked.
“Writing.”
“What?”
“Stories.”
He leaned slightly, looking at the pages.
“Romance?”
“Obviously.”
“Unrealistic.”
She rolled her eyes.
“Tum na… impossible ho.”
But he didn’t walk away.
He stayed.
Reading silently.
After a few minutes—
“This line is good,” he said.
She froze.
“Wait… you liked something I wrote??”
“It’s… decent.”
“DECCENT???” she shouted.
“Main itni mehnat karti hoon aur tum ‘decent’ bolte ho???”
He almost smiled again.
And she noticed.
Every time.
Days passed.
The house started feeling different.
Warmer.
Lighter.
One rainy evening—
Ira stood near the balcony, watching the rain.
“London ki baarish bhi na…” she smiled,
“thodi filmi lagti hai.”
Aarav stood beside her.
Silent.
But present.
“Tumhe baarish pasand hai?” she asked.
“Yes.”
“Really? Mujhe laga tumhe bas spreadsheets pasand honge.”
He glanced at her.
“…You talk too much.”
“And you talk too less. Balance ho raha hai.”
Thunder echoed.
She flinched slightly.
Without thinking…
She stepped closer.
Aarav noticed.
But didn’t move away.
For a moment…
Neither of them spoke.
Just the sound of rain.
And something unspoken between them.
Then suddenly—
“Pizza order kare?” Ira said.
Moment ruined.
Aarav blinked.
“…Seriously?”
“Emotional moment ho raha tha, bhook lag gayi 😭”
He shook his head.
But this time…
He didn’t walk away.
Another day—
Ira laughed loudly at something on her phone.
“Sun na!” she said, running to him.
He looked up.
She sat beside him.
Too close.
But neither of them moved.
“Yeh dekho…” she showed him a meme.
He stared.
“…This is not funny.”
She stared back.
“You have no soul.”
But a second later…
A very small, very real smile appeared on his face.
And Ira noticed again.
That night…
She lay on her bed, staring at the ceiling.
“Why do I feel… comfortable around him?” she whispered.
Across the room…
Aarav was thinking too.
“She’s… not as annoying as I thought.”
Pause.
“…Or maybe I’m just getting used to her.”
Days turned into something softer.
Routine turned into something warmer.
One evening—
Aarav came home late.
The house was quiet.
Too quiet.
“Ira?” he called.
No response.
He walked into the room.
She was asleep.
On the couch.
Book still in her hand.
Lights still on.
He stood there for a moment.
Just looking at her.
Peaceful.
Calm.
Not loud. Not chaotic.
Just… her.
Slowly…
He walked closer.
Picked up the book.
Placed it aside.
Covered her with a blanket.
As he turned to leave—
She moved slightly.
“…Aarav?”
He paused.
“Yes?”
“Tum aa gaye…” she murmured, half asleep.
“…Haan.”
She smiled faintly.
And went back to sleep.
Something about that moment…
Stayed with him.
The next day—
She didn’t mention it.
Neither did he.
But something had shifted.
Again.
Now—
He waited for her voice.
And she…
Started noticing his absence.
And somewhere between chai, random talks, and silent moments…
Something unfamiliar was growing.
Not love.
Not yet.
But definitely…
Not nothing.
