Chapter 78 When His First Gift Was Red
Rimjhim pouts, but inside, she is thrilled. She takes the lehenga and walks out, her face glowing with a mix of excitement and satisfaction. Vihan walks alongside her, silently happy that Rimjhim's smile and joy are all that matter to him.
At that moment, shopping isn’t just about clothes for Rimjhim it is an experience where her preferences and comfort are completely considered, and Vihan’s discreet attention makes her feel truly special. Holding the lehenga, she walks out with a heart full of happiness.
After shopping, when Riya, I, and Rimjhim show all the things to Mrs. Shobha, the happiness on our faces is unmistakable. Every girl has a sparkle in her eyes, a smile that radiates joy. Riya and I are completely immersed in the excitement of the wedding preparations, our hearts full of glee.
Rimjhim, however, feels a subtle sadness, a quiet restlessness. She goes to her room, silently arranges all the shopping items in their proper places, and then lies down on the bed.
Lying there, she closes her eyes, and tears slowly stream down her cheeks. Even though it is her wedding day, a day that should have been filled with pure joy, Rimjhim feels an unusual heaviness in her heart. She cannot fully understand how she has fallen so deeply in love with Vihan, and this confusion and intensity of emotion make her feel restless and somewhat melancholy.
Meanwhile, Samar enters the room and freezes in surprise. I have spread out all the shopping items across the bed, the sofa, and even the floor. Sitting there amidst the chaos, I look deep in thought. Samar asks, astonished, “What are you doing?”
I make a small pout, a mix of playfulness and slight embarrassment, and reply, “I was thinking about which dress to wear tomorrow… you got me so many.”
Samar picks up one of the dress packets from the bed and smiles warmly, saying, “Wear anything you like… you look beautiful in every dress.”
I make a slightly annoyed but playful face and say,
“Huh, talking to you is pointless anyway.”
Still smiling, Samar moves the shopping items aside and gently holds my hand, drawing me into his lap. He asks softly, “You’re happy, right?”
I look into his eyes, unable to imagine that I have found such a loving husband. Softly, I say, “I am really happy… but…”
Samar strokes my waist and brushes my hair back, asking, “But what, sweetheart?”
I whisper, “I want to know everything about you. I want to understand my husband better.”
Samar pauses for a moment, then says lovingly, “Of course you have the right, sweetheart. I’ll tell you everything soon, I promise.”
I smile and hug him tightly. A sense of calm and fulfillment washes over Samar’s heart as our love and trust merge in that one quiet moment.
Then Samar speaks in a gentle, affectionate tone, “Sweetheart, remember… tomorrow is our wedding night, and I want that moment to be truly memorable for both of us.”
My cheeks turn a soft shade of pink, and I shyly turn my face away. Samar simply laughs, his hand still resting gently over mine, our eyes locked.
At Shekhawat Villa, the room is bathed in the soft glow of the evening light. Neeti stands in her room, pulling out clothes one by one, her face clouded with confusion and mild frustration. In front of her, Shorya stands with a curious and slightly mischievous look on his face.
Widening her eyes slightly, Neeti speaks in a mildly irritated tone, “What should I wear? I just can’t figure it out… I don’t have a single thing I like.”
Shorya glances toward her wardrobe in disbelief. All three of them are overflowing with clothes colorful dresses, elegant gowns, casual and formal wear, everything neatly folded or hung in perfect order.
With a small amused laugh, he says, “You girls are such drama queens… even with so many clothes, you still claim you have nothing to wear.”
Neeti pouts, her voice a mix of shyness and irritation. “Not a single dress is worth wearing… I don’t like any of them.”
With a confident and affectionate smile, Shorya stands up. He walks over to his own cupboard, takes out a small gift box, and holds it out to her.
Looking at him with a mix of surprise and curiosity, Neeti asks, “What’s this?”
Shorya’s voice softens as he replies with a warm smile, “For you… tomorrow’s outfit.”
A wide smile spreads across Neeti’s face. Her heart skips a beat, and her eyes light up. She quickly takes the box and carefully begins opening it. Inside is a stunning maroon saree, its fabric rich and luxurious, its design graceful yet modern.
Teasing slightly, Shorya asks, “Do you like it?”
“It’s beautiful!” Neeti replies instantly, her joy obvious.
She carefully places the saree inside her cupboard, then hurriedly gathers her scattered clothes before lying down on the bed. Feeling a wave of sleepiness, she murmurs softly, “I’m going to sleep now… I’m really tired.”
With that, she switches off the light. Shorya remains standing nearby, his gaze holding a mix of admiration and quiet affection. For him, this is a peaceful, intimate moment with her.
Neeti closes her eyes, settling into the comfort of rest. But suddenly, she feels the cool touch of someone’s hand on her stomach. Her eyes fly open in an instant, surprise and alertness flashing across her face. Her heartbeat quickens, and her breathing grows slightly faster.
She turns sharply. Her surprise is still fresh on her face, but when she sees who it is, her heartbeat quickens.
Shorya is right there, close enough for her to feel his breath, his eyes locked on her with a deep, unspoken longing. It is the kind of gaze that makes her feel as though, in that very moment, the entire world has shrunk down to just the two of them. Neeti understands the meaning behind that look, but trying to mask her racing heart, she forces a faint smile and says softly, “Go to sleep… it’s very late.”
But Shorya doesn’t step back. Instead, he pulls her gently into his chest, his voice carrying a mix of tenderness and quiet reproach. “Have you… not forgiven me?”
TO BE COUNTINUE...!!!