Chapter 36

The house was transformed.

The scent of fresh flowers filled the air, and garlands of vibrant blooms adorned every corner. The soft glow of candles added a golden warmth, casting shadows that danced across the walls.

And then I saw her.

Tara stood near the doorway, wearing a stunning red saree. The fabric hugged her curves, the deep cut of the blouse making my breath hitch. She looked radiant, confident, and utterly mesmerizing.

I froze for a moment, unable to look away.

"Welcome home, Mr. Mehra," she said with a soft smile, stepping closer.

She held out a bouquet of roses, their petals a vivid red. "Roses are my favorite," she said, her eyes glinting with mischief. "And you're my favorite person, so these are for you."

I took the flowers, a smile tugging at my lips. "Thank you," I said softly.

Then she held up another bouquet, this one filled with white lilies. "Lilies are your favorite," she continued, her voice quieter now. "And you're my favorite person, so these are for you."

My chest tightened, her words simple but heartfelt. "Tara," I murmured, reaching out to brush a strand of hair away from her face.

"Come inside," she said quickly, taking my hand and pulling me forward.

The dining table was a feast for the senses. Every dish she had prepared was laid out with care—dal makhani, paneer, stuffed parathas, and even gulab jamun for dessert.

"You made all this?" I asked, touched by the effort.

She nodded, her cheeks turning pink. "I wanted to do something special."

Dinner was filled with laughter and conversation. She told me stories from her day, and I found myself relaxing in her presence, the weight of work and life falling away.

When the plates were cleared, I took a deep breath, knowing it was time.

"Tara," I said, pulling out the small velvet pouch from my pocket.

She looked at it curiously. "What's this?"

"It's not much," I said, my voice faltering slightly. "But... I made it myself."

Her eyes widened as I placed the locket in her hands. It glinted under the soft candlelight, the gold polished to perfection.

"You made this?" she whispered, her fingers tracing the engraved pattern.

I nodded, swallowing the lump in my throat. "Tara, I—" I hesitated, then pushed forward. "I've been trying to find the right words for a while now, but the truth is, I love you."

Her gaze snapped up to meet mine, her lips parting slightly in surprise.

"I've loved you for a long time," I continued, my voice thick with emotion. "You've changed everything for me, Tara. You've shown me what it means to care, to trust, to let someone in. I don't just love you—I need you. You're my light, my strength, my everything."

"Tara," I said softly, taking her hands in mine, "you've given me so much, and I want to spend the rest of my life giving you the same."

"Open the locket," I added, my heart pounding.

She did, her breath catching when she saw the photo inside—a picture of us from Diwali, both of us smiling, captured in a moment of perfect happiness.

Tears welled in her eyes, spilling down her cheeks as she looked back at me. "Veer," she whispered, her voice breaking.

She leaned forward, her lips finding mine in a kiss that was tender and filled with unspoken emotion. Her tears brushed against my skin, but I didn't care. I kissed her back, pouring everything I felt into that moment.

When we finally pulled apart, she wiped her tears and reached into a nearby drawer, pulling out a small box.

"I wanted to give you something too," she said, handing it to me.

I opened it to find a pocket watch, its design intricate and beautiful.

"It's custom-made," she explained, her voice soft. "Time keeps moving forward, and so do we. We'll face good days and bad, but we'll do it together. Just like time, we'll keep moving forward."

I turned the watch over in my hands, marveling at the craftsmanship. "It's beautiful," I said.

"Change the date to our wedding day," she said, her eyes shining.

I did as she instructed, and a small compartment opened, revealing a photo of us from our wedding day.

"Time never ends," she said, her voice trembling. "And I don't want us to end either. I don't want our time to end."

Her words struck something deep within me, and before I could respond, she added, "I love you too, Veer. I've loved you for so long."

Tears welled in my eyes now, and I pulled her into my arms. We kissed again, slow and deep, both of us overwhelmed by the sheer weight of the moment.

She took my hand, leading me to the bedroom. The soft light illuminated her face, her expression one of quiet determination.

She stopped in front of me, taking my hand and placing it gently on her waist. "I'm ready," she whispered, her voice barely audible.

"Tara," I said, searching her eyes. "Are you sure?"

She nodded, a soft smile gracing her lips. "Yes."

I reached for the edge of her saree, carefully unwrapping the fabric to reveal her. Beneath it, she wore a hot pink set that made my breath catch.

"Tara," I murmured, unable to find the right words.

She stepped closer, her hands resting on my chest as she leaned up to kiss me.

That night, we became one—not just in body, but in heart and soul. Every touch, every whisper, every moment was filled with a love that was undeniable and eternal.

And as we lay tangled together afterward, I knew that this was just the beginning of our forever.

I woke up before Tara, the soft light of morning casting a warm glow over her sleeping form. Her hair was a mess of curls against the pillow, her cheeks flushed with a faint pink.

She looked peaceful, utterly beautiful, and completely mine.

As I sat up, stretching the stiffness from my muscles, I couldn't help but notice the faint red marks scattered across her skin, evidence of the passion we'd shared last night. My chest swelled with both pride and a pang of guilt.

She had given herself to me completely, trusted me with every part of her, and though I'd tried to be gentle, I knew I'd been unforgiving at times.

I leaned over, brushing a soft kiss to her temple. She stirred slightly, her brow furrowing as she began to wake.

Her eyes fluttered open, and she blinked at me sleepily. "Morning," she murmured, her voice still thick with sleep.

"Morning," I replied, smiling softly.

She shifted to sit up, but the moment she moved, a wince crossed her face, and she let out a soft gasp.

"Tara?" I asked, immediately concerned.

"I'm fine," she said quickly, though the way she held her side said otherwise.

I raised an eyebrow. "You're sore, aren't you?"

Her cheeks flushed, and she avoided my gaze, which was all the confirmation I needed.

She tried to get out of bed, wrapping the blanket around herself for modesty, but the moment her feet touched the ground, her knees buckled.

I was at her side in an instant, catching her before she could fall. "Careful," I said, my tone firm but gentle. "You should've stayed in bed."

"I can manage," she muttered, her voice tinged with embarrassment.

I looked at her, my lips twitching with amusement. "Clearly," I said dryly.

Her attempt to adjust the blanket only caused it to slip slightly, revealing one of the marks on her shoulder. Her face turned bright red, and she scrambled to pull the blanket back up.

"Tara," I said, chuckling softly. "After last night, do you really think there's anything left to hide?"

Her flustered expression was so endearing that I couldn't help but smile.

I lifted her into my arms effortlessly, carrying her to the bathroom. She protested, of course, but I ignored her, setting her down gently on the stool near the shower.

"Veer, I can do this myself," she said, crossing her arms.

I crouched in front of her, meeting her gaze. "I know you can," I said softly. "But let me take care of you. Please."

Her resistance faltered, and she nodded reluctantly.

I turned on the shower, testing the temperature before letting the warm water cascade over her. My hands moved carefully, washing away the soreness and tension from her body.

She was quiet, her cheeks pink, but there was a trust in her eyes that made my chest tighten.

Afterward, I dried her off gently, helping her back to the bedroom. I had her sit on the edge of the bed as I reached for the ointment I'd retrieved from the first-aid kit.

"This will help with the soreness," I said, my voice low.

She nodded, watching me silently as I applied the ointment to the red marks on her skin. My fingers moved carefully, my touch as light as I could manage.

Every wince, every small flinch, made me want to curse myself for not being gentler last night.

Once I was done, I grabbed one of my T-shirts, holding it up for her. "Here," I said. "This should be comfortable."

She slipped it on with my help, the oversized shirt swallowing her frame. It made her look small, delicate, and unbearably beautiful.

"Stay still," I said as I grabbed her hairbrush.

She looked at me, surprised. "You don't have to—"

"I want to," I interrupted firmly.

I brushed through her damp hair carefully, untangling the knots with gentle strokes. The intimacy of the moment wasn't lost on me, and I found myself marveling at how deeply I loved this woman.

When her hair was done, I left briefly to bring breakfast. The tray was simple—toast, sandwiches, and orange juice—but it was enough to bring a small smile to her face.

"You made this?" she asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Don't sound so surprised," I said, smirking. "Eat."

She took small bites, her movements still a bit stiff. I watched her closely, making sure she didn't push herself too much.

"How are you feeling?" I asked after a while.

"Sore," she admitted, her voice quiet. "But... happy."

Her words made something warm settle in my chest.

As she finished her meal, I took the tray away and returned to sit beside her. She looked up at me, her expression soft and full of something I couldn't quite name.

"You're too good to me," she murmured.

I shook my head, cupping her cheek gently. "You deserve all of it, Tara. And more."

And as I pulled her into my arms, holding her close, I realized that there was nothing I wouldn't do for her. She wasn't just my wife—she was my everything.