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POV AUTHOR
The morning sun filtered through the gauzy curtains of Tara’s bridal suite, spilling a soft, golden glow that wrapped the whole room in a dreamlike shimmer. Everything looked slightly blurred around the edges-like the universe itself had softened its breath for her.
Today was the day.
The day they once whispered about giggles in school corridors.The day they had painted in their teenage imaginations with stolen glances and secret hopes. The day they cried for when life separated them, when fate tested them, when the world seemed determined to keep them apart.
The day that destiny had almost taken away…
And yet-Here it was.
Warm. Glowing. Alive.
Tara sat before the ornate mirror, wrapped in deep red and molten gold. Her bridal lehenga wasn’t just fabric-it felt like a blessing draped across her skin. Every thread of zari, every tiny pearl, every swaying tassel looked like it held a memory, a promise, a prayer.
Her hair was half-pinned, soft curls cascading over her shoulder, jasmine buds tucked into them like tiny moons. Around her, the makeup artists moved carefully-dusting her cheeks, blending her eyeshadow, adjusting her dupatta-yet Tara remained completely still.
Because she wasn’t here.
Not really.
Her body sat in that gilded room…but her mind drifted somewhere between the past thirteen years and the fragile, trembling magic of last night.
Her chest rose and fell in a shaky rhythm.
How did we get here?
How did life… somehow… return him to me?
Her fingers trembled slightly, the bangles chiming like soft wind chimes. The reflection in the mirror blurred for a second-and then sharpened again-as memories flooded her.
And then came the one memory she couldn’t stop replaying.
Last night’s call.
Tarun’s voice-warm, steady, boyish in a way only she knew-echoed in her mind as if he were standing beside her right now.
“Okay jaana, bye… see you tomorrow at our wedding mandap.”
The world had gone still when he said that.
Her breath had caught in her throat.
Her heart had skipped once, then again.
Because once upon a time…back when they were just two clueless kids with too much love and too little courage…they’d always say:
“Okay jaana… bye… see you tomorrow at school.”
And now-now those same words had transformed into something unimaginable.
“See you tomorrow at our wedding mandap.”
It wasn’t just a sentence.
It was a lifetime.
A miracle wrapped in seven simple words.
A shy smile stretched across Tara’s lips, unbidden.
Her cheeks warmed.
Her eyes softened.
We used to meet in classrooms…
Now we meet at a mandap.
A tear wobbled in her lashes before the makeup artist rushed in.
“Ma’am, please don’t cry yet! At least let me set your liner first!”
Tara let out a tiny, helpless laugh.
But inside her heart, emotions swirled-not chaotic, but beautifully overwhelming.
Gratitude.
Awe.
Disbelief.
Love so deep it almost hurt to hold it.
She lowered her gaze to her trembling hands and breathed:
Tarun… after everything… we made it.
We’re really here.
We survived fate… and now fate is finally being kind.
And in that quiet golden morning-surrounded by silence, shimmering fabric, and the scent of jasmine-Tara realized something:
She wasn’t just getting ready for a wedding.
She was getting ready for the ending she had once begged God for-and the beginning she never stopped believing in.
But her thoughts shattered-like glass catching a burst of sunlight-when the door suddenly flew open so hard it banged against the wall.
“TARAAAAAAAAAA-“
The shout echoed through the room, loud enough to shake Tara out of her memories.
And then…
Silence.
Pin-drop.
Six grown adults stood frozen at the doorway-
mid-breath, mid-gasp, mid-drama-their eyes stretched comically wide, jaws hanging open like someone had pressed a universal pause button.
For a moment, no one blinked.
No one moved.
No one even inhaled.
If someone dropped a pin, it would’ve echoed like thunder.
Tara stared at them, suddenly shy, her fingers curling in her lap, her lips tugging into a nervous, almost childlike smile.
“Uh…” she whispered, voice tiny, “…say something?”
Nothing.
Zero response.
Until-
A soft, tiny gasp broke the silence.
One filled with pure wonder and baby-magic.
Everyone looked down.
Little footsteps pattered across the marble floor.
Vihaan.
Her four-year-old tornado. Her heartbeat. Her tiny man.
He waddled in, rubbing his eyes dramatically like he’d just woken from a fairytale nap.
His sleepy gaze lifted.
Landed on Tara.
And he froze too.
His small rosebud mouth opened in a perfect “O”.
Silence stretched again.
Then-in the softest, most breathy baby voice that felt like a warm cookie melting inside a heart-he whispered:
“Maa… you are looking sooo pretty…”
The awe was soo real.
His big brown eyes sparkled like he had just seen a Disney princess walk out of his favorite cartoon.
Tara felt her chest burst.
Her lips trembled.
Her eyes glistened.
Her smile bloomed like it had been waiting just for his words.
“Come here, baby,” she whispered, arms opening automatically.
Vihaan didn’t walk.
He zoomed.
Like a tiny rocket, straight into her lap.
He grabbed her cheeks with his chubby hands and planted the wettest, happiest kiss on her face.
“You pretty pretty pretty Maa!” he squealed, giggling into her neck.
Tara laughed through her tears, hugging him so tight it felt like her heart was wrapped in warmth.
For a moment-with Vihaan’s arms around her, his laughter buzzing in her ears-she felt her world click into place.
Perfect.
Whole.
Complete.
Behind her, her friends finally remembered they were humans and not statues.
“OKAY WHAT THE-WHAT IS THIS FAIRYTALE?!” Ishita shrieked.
“Tara Sharma,” shivi declared dramatically, “YOU-LOOK-ILLEGALLY BEAUTIFUL.”
Rahul placed a hand on his chest and staggered back. “Someone hold me. I’m about to faint.”
Mahi covered her mouth. “Tarun is DONE for. He won’t survive this. Cancel the mandap, the groom will pass out.”
“No no,” Rohan announced, “he’s going to CRY. I swear. I bet 5000 rupees he cries the moment he sees her.”
Tiya clutched Tara’s dupatta. “How do I look at you and not start sobbing?”
“STAND BACK!” Shivi shouted, throwing her hands up dramatically. “LET HER FACE BREATHE! HER BEAUTY IS DANGEROUS FOR US COMMON PEOPLE.”
The room erupted.
Laughing.
Screaming.
Mock fainting.
Tara’s cheeks flushed a soft pink as she tried to hide behind Vihaan, who proudly puffed his chest like a loyal baby bodyguard.
“Bas bas, bohot hogaya!” Tara giggled shyly, covering her face. “Stop na, yaar!” (Okay okay, that’s enough!)
But her friends refused.
Rohan circled her like a fashion critic. “No. I am sorry. You cannot look like this and expect us to behave normally.”
Mahi fanning herself with a tissue: “I need a moment. Is anyone else sweating?!”
Ishita leaned closer. “Are you even real? Because you’re glowing like you were hand-delivered from heaven.”
Shivi added, “Tara, why-WHY-do you look like you swallowed the sun, the moon, and the entire Milky Way?!”
Rohan pretended to wipe a tear. “I taught her everything she knows. My child. My angel.”
Tara snorted. “Shut up, Rohan!”
Chaos. Sweet, loud, chaotic love filled the room.
And Tara-surrounded by laughter, wrapped in affection, holding Vihaan close-felt her heartbeat steady.
This was it.
This was the love she grew up in.
The people she cherished.
The warmth she’d carry with her to the mandap.
The teasing, the chaos, the laughter-it all filled the room like confetti. Someone was trying to fix the pleats of Tara’s lehenga, someone else was clicking photos, Vihaan was still lodged on her lap like a stubborn koala, refusing to let go.
And then-
A new sound sliced through the noise.
A slow, deliberate tap… tap… tap of footsteps from the doorway.
Not rushed.
Not shy.
Not hesitant.
Confident.
Like someone who knew they were about to make a dramatic entrance.
“Guys, did anyone else hear-” Ishita began.
But she didn’t finish.
Because the next second…
The doorway darkened for a moment.
And then a familiar voice-warm, teasing, annoyingly smug-called out:
“HATTO ZARA. Let me see the bride.”
Everyone turned.
Tara didn’t.
She snapped her head so fast she almost dropped Vihaan.
Her heart stopped.
Her breath vanished.
Her eyes widened-
Because infront of her stood-
Aditya.
Her LA best friend.
Her late-night confidant.
The boy who wiped her tears when she had none left.
The man who became her home 12,000 kilometers away.
His hair messy as usual, denim jacket slung over his arm, that same arrogant-adorable “I’m cooler than gravity” smirk on his face.
For a moment…
Tara thought she was hallucinating.
“…Aditya?” she breathed.
He raised a brow. “Nahi, Santa Claus. Of course Aditya!”
Tara shot up so fast the makeup artist yelped. Vihaan stumbled off her lap with a soft “oof” but immediately grabbed her dupatta to steady her.
“How-HOW are you here?! When did you-“Tara cried, eyes watering instantly.
Aditya stepped forward, arms spreading dramatically.
“Madam, I literally flew 26 hours. You better cry on me.”
Tara rushed into his arms.
He hugged her back, tight, warm, familiar-the kind of hug that carries years inside it.
“You’re here…” she whispered against his shoulder.
“Of course I’m here, idiot,” he muttered, flicking her forehead the moment they pulled apart. “Tu toh mujhe bhool hi gayi thi! Agar Tarun ne call nahi kiya hota toh tujhe yaad bhi nahi hota ki main bhi zinda hoon!” (You had completely forgotten me! If Tarun hadn’t called, you wouldn’t even remember that I’m still alive!)
Tara smacked his arm. “Shut up, Adi! I did NOT forget you-“
“Haan haan,” he rolled his eyes dramatically. “Bride mode mein who remembers best friends? Only Tarun, Tarun, Tarun.”
From the floor, a tiny voice squeaked:
“BUDDYYYYY!!”
Everyone’s head snapped toward Vihaan.
He was standing with arms in the air, eyes sparkling like fairy lights, bouncing on his toes.
Aditya’s expression melted instantly.
“My little MONSTER!” Aditya yelled, opening his arms dramatically.
Vihaan didn’t hesitate for even half a second-
he launched himself across the room like a tiny rocket, legs flying, arms stretched, his giggles already bubbling even before he reached Aditya.
Aditya scooped him up mid-air with practiced ease, spinning him around in a wide circle. Vihaan shrieked in pure delight, his laughter bouncing off the walls like tiny bells.
“BUDDYYYYY!!” he squealed, clinging to Aditya’s neck.
Aditya gasped exaggeratedly. “Ohhh, NOW you remember me?”
Vihaan blinked innocently, still laughing. “Of course!”
“You also forgot your buddy, right?” Aditya asked, narrowing his eyes in fake drama, voice thick with mock hurt.
“No! I didn’t forget you!” Vihaan rushed out immediately-too quickly. Too defensively. Too adorably.
Aditya gasped again. “AHA! Caught you!”
“Noooooo!” Vihaan protested, burying his face into Aditya’s shoulder.
“You little liar,” Aditya teased affectionately, before tossing Vihaan gently up in the air-
-and catching him perfectly.
Vihaan’s laughter exploded, echoing off the room, bright and loud and full of unfiltered happiness.
Across the room…
Tara watched them.
Her eyes softened.
Her heart melted.
Her lips curved into the kind of smile only love-for a friend, for a child, for a moment-could create.
Because this sight…Vihaan in Aditya’s arms-safe, giggling, adored-this was her LA life wrapped in one single frame.
And seeing it bloom here, in her bridal room, on her wedding day…made everything feel whole.
Her friends stood stunned.
Rohan whispered to Ishita, “Who… who is this? And why is he so cool?”
Ishita hissed, “Shut up, don’t embarrass us. He looks like he walked out of a Netflix series.”
Mahi whispered, “I mean… I’m just saying… entrance solid tha.”
Tara laughed and finally cleared her throat.
“Guys,” she said, placing a hand on Aditya’s shoulder, “this is Aditya. My crazy head.My-“
“Her emotional support idiot,” Aditya added.
Tara glared. “HER BEST FRIEND.”
Her friends nodded in unison, impressed.
“And everyone,” she continued, “this is the man who took care of Vihaan whenever he was with me in LA.”
Vihaan snuggled closer into Aditya’s neck and whispered proudly:
“Buddy always play with me.”
“And Buddy always will,” Aditya said, booping his nose.
Rahul nudged Tara. “Damn girl, LA life was fun, huh?”
Tara rolled her eyes. “Shut up!”
Aditya looked at all of them, smirk returning.
“Alright, introduction ho gaya. Now someone tell me-” He pointed at Tara dramatically.
“-how the hell do we take this literal goddess downstairs without causing a riot?”
Everyone laughed.
Tara’s blush deepened instantly, coloring her cheeks like rose petals.
She swatted at him shyly. “Shut up, Adi…”
“NO,” he declared loudly, “I will not shut up. Have you SEEN yourself? You’re glowing like a mythological apsara who just stepped out of the clouds.”
Rohan nodded seriously. “He’s right. The baraat isn’t ready for this level of shock.”
Tiya added, “Poor Tarun. Someone hold him when he sees her.”
And just like this the room filled again with giggles, squeals, and teasing-
-until suddenly, the whole atmosphere shifted in an instant.
BOOM.
A loud burst.
Then another.
And then-
DHOOM DHAM DHOOM DHAM
Dhol. Firecrackers. Music. Cheers.
Everyone froze.
Shivi gasped dramatically, eyes widening. “GUYS-BARAT IS HERE!!”
That was it.
The room turned into a stampede.
Tiya screamed.
Mahi jumped.
Rohan and Rahul tripped over each other trying to run toward the door.
Ishita nearly fell but caught herself by grabbing shivi’s braid.
Aditya threw his hands in the air. “COME ONNNNN, LET’S GO!”
Within seconds, all of them bolted out like excited kids-leaving Tara completely alone in the center of the room.
The sudden silence felt deafening.
For a moment, she just… blinked.
Then it hit her.
The baraat is here.
Her breath stuttered.
Her heart thudded faster than it had all morning.
She slowly stood up, lehenga rustling like soft thunder, her bangles chiming nervously.
Her feet moved before her mind did.
Almost as if something inside her-something ancient, something instinctive-was pulling her toward the window, toward the moment waiting outside.
Her hands trembled as she pushed aside the sheer curtain, the soft fabric brushing her fingers like a whisper.
She leaned closer.
And then…her heart forgot how to beat.
Because she saw him.
Tarun.
Her Tarun.
Sitting atop a white ghodi that looked straight out of an old royal tale, dressed in an ivory sherwani threaded with deep maroon and heavy gold-each stitch catching the sunlight like sparks.
His saafa matched perfectly, the deep red making the warmth of his skin glow.
But his eyes…oh god, his eyes.
Even from the rooftop window, miles of air and people between them-she could see everything.
The shine.
The disbelief.
The overflowing love.
The quiet reverence of a man who had dreamed of this moment his entire life.
He wasn’t just smiling.
He was glowing.
A man in love, fully, completely, unapologetically.
Around him, the baraat was chaos-glorious, messy, hilarious chaos.
Dhol beats shook the ground.
Flower petals filled the air.
Lights flashed.
Her friends-her absolute circus-were in the middle of it all.
Rohan and Rahul were doing steps that should’ve been declared illegal.
Ishita and Shivi were spinning like an Instagram reel.
Tiya was zooming her camera so close to random aunties that it was concerning.
Mahi, naturally, was throwing petals at literally anyone, including dogs.
Tara pressed her forehead softly against the glass, laughing silently.
But then-
she froze.
She blinked.
Then blinked again.
And then a sound escaped her-half laugh, half gasp.
Because Aditya… and Rajveer…
HAD PICKED TARUN OFF THE HORSE.
Yes.
Lifted him.
As if he weighed the same as Vihaan.
One moment Tarun was sitting royally on the ghodi-the next moment he was dangling mid-air, yelling for his life.
His friends literally kidnapped the groom.
Tara clamped a hand over her mouth, a choked laugh bubbling out.
Below, chaos unfolded:
Aditya: “BHAI, RELAX! HUM GIRNE NAHI DENGE TUJHE!” (We won’t let you fall)
Tarun, horrified, clutching both their heads desperately: “SHUT UP!! PUT ME DOWN NOW!! I SWEAR I WILL YOU BOTH IF I FALL DOWN!”
Rajveer: “RELAX MR AMGRY MAN NOTHING WILL HAPPEN SO CHILL AND ENJOY YOUR WEDDING!”
And then-
They actually made him dance.
Tarun, a fully grown man, dangling on his friends’ shoulders, flailing like a tortured puppet, trying not to fall, his face a mix of: fear, rage, disbelief, and that “I am questioning all my life choices” expression.
He kicked the air helplessly.
Everyone around was laughing.
Someone recorded it.
And Tara…
Oh, Tara.
She bent forward, forehead touching the glass, laughter shaking her entire body.
My god, he looks terrified.
He’s actually going to cry.
Her eyes softened as she watched the love of her life being tortured by love itself.
His saafa was slipping.
His sherwani was moving dangerously.
His sword was pointing at the sky like it was protesting.
He looked helpless and adorable in the same breath.
Her heart melted.
He came for me.
He’s dancing for me.
He’s terrified for me.
He’s here… for me.
Something warm and overwhelming rose inside her chest.
A feeling she couldn’t name-bigger than happiness,.deeper than relief, stronger than love.
This was more.
This was destiny-finally, finally giving back what it took.
She whispered into the quiet room:
“I can’t believe… he’s really mine.”
******
The dholbeats softened from downstairs as footsteps approached her door.
A gentle knock.
And then-
The door opened.
Standing there, framed in warm light-
Manav.
Her brother.
Her protector.
Her first friend in the world.
Behind him-
Rohan
Aditya
Rahul
And then…
Her father.
Tara froze.
Emotion rushed to her throat so fast she almost gasped.
Manav stepped in first, eyes instantly glassy as he took her in.
“Rabit…” he whispered, voice cracking, “you…look soo…”
He didn’t finish the sentence.
He just hugged her.
Tight.
Shaky.
Silent.
Her father stood still for a long moment… just watching her.
His little girl.
Dressed as a bride.
About to become someone’s wife.
His eyes filled.
His hands trembled slightly.
“Tara…” he whisper-breathed, like her name itself had turned holy.
She slowly walked toward him, lehenga swaying, jewelry chiming softly.
“Papa…” she whispered, her voice trembling like a child’s.
Her father turned toward her slowly, as if he were afraid that seeing her as a bride would break something inside him.
And it did.
The moment his eyes landed on her, his breath faltered.
His lips parted.
His eyes softened with a depth only a father can hold.
He stepped closer.
Gently-so gently-he cupped her face in both his hands, as if she were still the little girl who used to run around in pigtails asking for ice cream.
His thumbs brushed her cheeks, trembling.
“You’re… looking so beautiful, beta,” he whispered, voice thick with unshed tears. “As beautiful as the day you came into this world.”
That was it.
The dam inside her broke.
Her eyes overflowed instantly, tears spilling fast, silently, helplessly.
He pulled her into his arms, crushing her against his chest, his hand stroking her hair like he had done a thousand times before-when she was scared, when she was sick, when she got her first heartbreak.
“My princess…” he murmured into her hair.”My blessing… my pride…”
His voice cracked.
“Today I’m giving you away… but you’ll always be my little girl. Always.”
Tara squeezed him harder, her fingers curling into his kurta, holding on like she wasn’t ready to let go. For a moment, she wasn’t a bride. She wasn’t a grown woman.
She was just his daughter.
His heartbeat steady.
His arms safe.
His presence home.
Manav cleared his throat dramatically behind them.
“Arre bas, bas!” he said loudly, wiping his eyes with the back of his hand. “Rona-band karo dono!” (Stop crying, both of you!)
He pointed accusingly at Tara. “Makeup kharab ho jayega, rabbit ki.” (Your makeup will get ruined, you little rabbit)
Then he pointed at their father. “Aur papa, agar iski asli roti chudail wali shakal bhar aayi, toh bechara Tarun mandap se bhaag na jaye.” (And Papa, if her real witch‑face shows up, poor Tarun might just run away from the mandap)
Tara gasped and hit him lightly on the shoulder.”Monkey!”
Manav put both hands up as if surrendering.”Main toh sirf sach bol raha hoon. Iss stage pe beauty filter hi bacha sakta hai tujhe.” (I’m just speaking the truth. At this stage, only a beauty filter can save you)
Their father finally laughed through his tears, pulling both his children close-one on each side.
The heaviness in the air lightened.
Her heart steadied.
The moment shifted from emotional… to perfect.
*******
Tara’s soft laughter blended with her father’s, their foreheads gently touching for a second-a small, intimate moment that somehow held her entire childhood, her entire life, inside it.
Her father cupped her face again, his hands warm and steady against her cold, trembling skin. He looked at her the way only a father could-equal parts awe, pride, protectiveness, and heartbreak.
Then, with a voice that was low, soft, and shining with emotions he wasn’t even trying to hide, he whispered,
“Ready, meri jaan?”
The words weren’t loud.
They didn’t need to be.
Tara felt them all the way to her bones.
Her breath stuttered.
Her eyes softened.
Her fingers searched for his hand and held it tightly-so tightly the veins on her wrist stood out.
She nodded.
But inside…inside she was shaking.
Her palms were sweaty.
Her throat felt too small.
Her heartbeat was too loud, too fast, too everything.
This is it.
This is the walk.
This is the moment every girl dreams of.
This is the moment I thought I lost forever… the moment destiny took away and somehow-miraculously-gave back.
Her father squeezed her hand, grounding her.
Behind them, Aditya and Rohan exchanged a concerned glance.
“Tara is about to faint,” Rohan whispered.
“Shh!” Aditya smacked him. Then, softer, he bent slightly toward Tara. “Breathe, Tara. Trust me… he’s more nervous than you. I literally saw him chanting Hanuman Chalisa because Rajveer was making him dance.”
Tara let out a tiny laugh.
It steadied her.
Rahul folded his hands dramatically. “Are we ready to escort our Queen, or should we call a wheelchair?”
Manav slapped the back of Rahul’s head. “Shut up and hold the chunni properly.”
The playful chaos broke the tension-just enough for Tara’s lungs to finally start working again.
And then…
The heavy red phool ki chaddar, was gently lifted above her head.
One end held by Manav.
Another by Rohan.
One by Aditya.
And the last by Rahul.
Her father stood at her side, offering her his arm.
“Chalein?” he asked softly. (Shall we go?)
Tara nodded, swallowing the lump in her throat.
And they began to walk.
*******
The hallway outside her room had never felt so long. Every step echoed inside her chest-thudding, trembling, overwhelming.
Her lehenga brushed against the marble floor in soft whispers. Her bangles clinked like tiny bells. Her anklets chimed with every careful step.
Her father kept his hand over hers comfortingly, but she could feel the slight tremble in his fingers too.
He’s nervous too.
He’s letting me go.
He’s giving me away.
The thought made her eyes sting.
As they reached the top of the staircase, the music below swelled-the dhol, the shehnai, the murmur of hundreds of guests.
The world beyond the staircase shimmered in warm lights-gold, maroon, ivory, glowing like a dream.
Aditya whispered from behind, “Bas. Two minutes. Then prince charming.”
“More like drama king,” Rohan added.
“Hey!” Tara protested weakly.
They chuckled.
But then… the joke stopped.
Because the moment Tara stepped to the top step-everyone below turned.
And the world fell silent.
Gasps.
Whispers.
Stunned smiles.
The bride had arrived.
She felt the heat rise behind her eyes.
Focus.
Walk. Just walk.
You’re going to him.
You’re going to Tarun.
Her knees felt like water.
Her father whispered, “I’m right here.”
And then-slowly, gracefully, trembling-they descended the staircase.
Flower petals rained lightly.
Soft music flowed like a blessing.
The crowd parted as she walked.
Everyone stared-not at her lehenga, not at her jewelry, not at her beauty…But at the raw emotion on her face.
*****
Tarun was standing near the mandap, laughing with Rajveer and some cousins, adjusting his sherwani, acting as if he wasn’t dying of nerves.
And then-the dhol slowed. People turned. A hush spread through the air.
Rajveer nudged him. “Bhai… look.”
Tarun frowned. “What-?”
He turned.
And his world…his world stopped moving.
His breath left his body in one sharp exhale, like someone had punched the air out of him.
Because there she was.
Tara.
In red.
In gold.
In light.
In everything he had ever dreamed of.
His bride.
Her eyes glistened the second they met his.
His lips parted.
His chest tightened painfully.
He blinked once.
Twice.
But the tears still escaped.
Tarun Verma-the man who had held himself together through heartbreaks, responsibilities, separation, destiny’s cruelty-stood there with tears rolling openly down his face.
The crowd murmured in shock.
Even the pandit paused.
Tarun didn’t care.
He couldn’t.
Because Tara was walking toward him.
After thirteen years.
After losing each other.
After grieving.
After impossible pain.
After destiny tore them apart.
She was walking toward him again.
Tara.
His first love.
His last love.
His only love.
Her vision blurred as she saw him crying.
She smiled-broken, soft, overflowing.
Her father squeezed her hand. “Go, beta,” he whispered.
She stepped forward-slow, trembling, sacred.
Tarun took a step too-instinctive, emotional, helpless-only to be held back by Rajveer.
“Wait for the entry, Romeo.”
Tarun wiped his cheeks impatiently.
But the moment she stood before him-under the mandap, under the flowers, under the heavens-they forgot the world.
Tara looked up.
Tarun looked down.
And the universe finally exhaled.
*******
Her voice trembled, almost a whisper.
“Hi…”
Tarun let out a broken laugh.”Hi…?” He shook his head with disbelief. “Noori… main- I… I can’t-“
His voice cracked.
She smiled, tears falling freely. “I know.”
He swallowed hard. “You look like…” He struggled for words. “…like everything I ever prayed for.”
Tara’s breath hitched. “Tarun…”
He reached out-slowly, gently-and she let him hold her hand.
For a second… they just stood there.
Holding hands.
Crying.
Laughing.
Breathing each other in.
Finally.
Finally.
After everything.
After all the storms.
They were home.
********
The world seemed to melt away around them-blurred faces, music, petals, murmurs-nothing existed except the fact that Tara and Tarun were finally standing face-to-face.
Even the pandit had paused, allowing them this sacred moment before the rituals.
The long white varmala thaal was brought forward, marigold and roses woven with soft jasmine chains.
Rajveer cleared his throat dramatically. “Alright, lovebirds. Time for the varmala.”
Aditya smirked. “And time for us to bully them.”
Tara looked at Tarun nervously, the garland resting heavy in her hands.
Tarun’s eyes softened at the sight-the slight shake in her fingers, the way her smile fluttered like a whisper, the tears that still lingered in her lashes.
He leaned closer, just enough for only her to hear.
“Don’t worry…” he whispered, voice warm, breaking, loving, “I’m not going anywhere now.”
Tara blinked rapidly, warmth blooming in her chest so fiercely she thought she might burst into tears for the hundredth time today.
******
The moment Tara raised the varmala-
Tarun’s entire group CHEERED.
“NOOOO!”
“Lift him up!”
Before Tara could even gasp, Rajveer and Rahul lifted Tarun high off the ground.
“ARE YOU SERIOUS?!” Tara yelled, half laughing, half panicking.
Tarun jolted upward, arms flailing. “RAJVEER! PUT ME DOWN!” he shouted.
Rajveer grinned. “Nope.”
Rohan folded his arms. “Haan bhai, thoda tadapna banta hai itta easily sab kaise hone de hum?” (Of course, brother – a little suffering is necessary. How can we let everything happen so easily?)
Tarun glared down at him. “I have a sword, idiot!”
“You can’t reach me,” Rohan sang.
The crowd roared with laughter.
Tara tried not to laugh, but her lips curved anyway. Her groom-her handsome, royal-looking, ivory-and-gold-sh sherwani-clad groom-looked like a panicked child on a Ferris wheel.
“Taraaaa,” he whined dramatically. “Save me!”
She placed a hand on her waist. “Oh? But I thought you’re brave? Rajveer bhai told me you danced like a ‘true warrior’…”
Rajveer and Aditya high-fived.
Tarun’s face fell. “Oh you guys are the WORST!”
Tara giggled, stepping closer.
She tiptoed-barely reaching-but the varmala was still too low.
Tarun’s heartbeat went CRAZY at the sight of her trying.
Her lehenga shimmering, her anklets ringing softly, her eyes sparkling with mischief and love-
God.
He wanted to marry her ten times over.
He whispered urgently, “Rahul… NEECHE!”
Rahul grinned. “Say ‘Rahul and all my friends are the best’.”
Tarun’s jaw dropped. “WHAT NO-!”
“Say it,” Rohan insisted.
“Rahul and my all friends are-” Tarun sighed, defeated. “-the best.”
All the friends cheered.
AND FINALLY-they lowered him enough.
And Tara slid the varmala around his neck.
The crowd erupted.
Tarun looked down at the garland touching his chest-his throat tightened.
It felt symbolic.
Powerful.
Final.
Like destiny being completed.
Rajveer wiped an imaginary tear. “Beta bada ho gaya.” (The kid has grown up)
Tarun elbowed him.
*******
Tara waited, breath unsteady, as someone handed Tarun his varmala.
She looked up at him-eyes big, shining, nervous.
For a moment… Tarun forgot to breathe.
She was so stunning.
So delicate.
So impossibly his.
He lifted the varmala.
And THAT is when Tara’s girl gang STRUCK.
Shivi shouted, “HEIGHT! HEIGHT! HEIGHT!”
Tara was suddenly yanked upward-Manav and Aditya lifting her by the elbows like she weighed nothing.
Tarun’s eyes widened in betrayal.
“Oh COME ON!”
Tara was laughing uncontrollably, trying not to fall backward.
“Guys stop!” she begged through giggles.
“NEVER,” Ishita declared proudly.
Tarun tried placing the varmala but could barely reach her chin.
He glared at her helplessly. “Tara… please?”
She smiled sweetly, leaning just a little lower.
He took a tiny step closer-their faces inches apart-their breaths mingling-their eyes locking-
And then…
Tarun gently placed the varmala around her neck.
Slow.
Tender.
Like a vow.
Her eyes dropped for a second-overwhelmed, emotional, softening into something entirely unguarded.
Their foreheads almost touched.
For a second-just a heartbeat-
it was only them.
The cheers faded.
The noise blurred.
The world dimmed.
And Tarun whispered, barely audible-
“Mine.”
Tara blinked-slow, teary, breathless.
“Yours,” she whispered back.
*******
The pandit cleared his throat softly, and the world snapped back into motion.
The rituals resumed-pheras… blessings… chants…everything flowing seamlessly, beautifully, without unnecessary delay.
Neither of them paid much attention.
How could they?
Tarun kept stealing glances at her like a man still unsure if she was real.
Tara kept touching her mangalsutra as if confirming she wasn’t dreaming.
And just like that-in a blur of sacred words and warm firelight-they were married.
Husband.
Wife.
Finally.
Tarun stared at her hand in his, barely able to breathe.
“Tara…” he whispered, stunned, “…we actually did it.”
She smiled softly and squeezed his fingers.
********
By the time vidai preparations began, the sun was already dipping low, painting everything in warm honey-gold.
Tara wasn’t crying.
Not even a little.
In fact-she was smiling. Laughing. Glowing.
She hugged her father, her mother, tightly-warmly-but without tears.
“Always be happy meri jaan” her parents said while kissing her forehead.
She hugged Tiya next, pulling the girl in by her cheeks.
“Call me every day,” Tiya sniffed.
“Daily video call, warna I’ll kidnap you.”
Vihaan ran straight into her arms.
“Maa!!! Don’t go! Who will steal chocolates with me?”
“Your buddy Aditya,” she teased, and Vihaan immediately turned to glare at the man.
Then came Manav, wiping invisible tears dramatically.
“Finally! Chudail is someone else’s responsibility!”
Tara smacked his chest lovingly while moving forward to meet her friends.
Aditya strolled up with his usual swagger,
arms wide open.
“My love…” he sighed dramatically. “You broke my heart. I truly thought you’d marry me”
Tara chuckled at his words.
But Tarun-Tarun stepped closer between them, one brow arching sharply, hand automatically sliding to Tara’s waist.
“Try again,” he said coolly.
Aditya grinned.”Relax, majnu. I’m just messing with your wife.”
Tarun didn’t blink. “My wife, yes. Emphasis on my.”
Aditya looked at Tara. “Control your husband. He’s scary.”
“I like him scary,” she said sweetly.
Tarun smirked.
Aditya groaned.”Great. Now both are unbearable.”
Everyone laughed.
Just then, a distant relative aunty appeared,
lips pursed, tone judgmental.
“Beta, vidai pe ladki ko thoda rona chahiye.
You’re smiling so much… yeh theek nahi.” (Beta, at the farewell, a girl is supposed to cry a little. You’re smiling so much… that’s not right)
Silence fell.
All eyes turned to Tara.
Tara folded her hands politely, expression sweet… too sweet.
“Aunty,” she said calmly, “rona aa nahi raha. Toh kya karu? Vaseline laga kar aansu nikaalu?” (I just can’t cry. So what should I do? Apply Vaseline to squeeze out tears?)
The aunty’s face turned three shades of red.
The entire crowd exploded with laughter.
“Love marriage perks!” someone yelled.
“Tara sahi jaa rahi hai!” another added. (Tara
Tarun looked at Tara with so much pride he didn’t even bother hiding it.
Just then-
His mother approached, gentle and emotional.
“Tarun… at least stay till tomorrow, beta. Ek raat toh ruk jao.”
“Maa, the jet is already prepared. We’re leaving today.” tarun simply denied.
Tara frowned.
She wanted more time with everyone-but before she could say a word, Tarun turned to her.
His expression softened instantly.
He held out his hand.
“Shall we go?”
That one look-that soft smile-that quiet confidence-
Made her heart calm.
She nodded.
*******
Hand in hand, they walked out of the gate together.
Outside-a long line of black luxury cars waited,
engines running, headlights glowing.
Security guards stood in formation, alert, disciplined, shielding the path.
Tara blinked, stunned.
“Tarun… what is all this?”
He squeezed her fingers, leaning close to whisper in her ear-“Protection. And…”
He kissed the back of her hand.
“…because my wife deserves nothing less.”
She blushed-hard.
But then her curiosity returned.
“And where exactly are we going?”
Tarun chuckled, opening the car door for her.
“It’s a surprise, babygirl.”
Her heart fluttered.
She slid in.
He followed.
The door shut.
The convoy began to move.
And Tara felt it-
The beginning of a new life.
A new chapter.
A new adventure.
With him.
Always him.
*******
The cars glided through the private lane of the airport, their headlights carving soft arcs across the tarmac. Tara pressed her forehead lightly against the window, confused and fascinated at the same time.
She expected a hotel.
She expected a venue.
She expected… something normal.
But not this.
Not the airport.
Not a private jet.
“Tarun…” she whispered, her lehenga rustling as she turned to him. “What is happening?”
He didn’t answer with words.
He just held her gaze.
A quiet smile.
A warm squeeze to her hand.
A nod that said Trust me.
“Come, baby,” he whispered, stepping out and opening her door like she was royalty.
And then she saw it-
The jet.
Sleek, elegant, basking in floodlight glow.
Crew members lined at the stairs.
The door open, as if waiting only for them.
“Tarun?” she asked again, softer this time.
He tucked a strand of hair behind her ear-gentle, slow, designing warmth into her skin.
“You’ll soon know, meri jaan,” he murmured.
“For now… just hold my hand.”
So she did.
And he led her up the stairs, into the jet, into a chapter she didn’t know she had been writing her whole life.
*******
The jet soared into the evening horizon, the air golden, calm, quiet.
Tara didn’t blink much. Not because of the altitude-but because Tarun sat across from her and kept stealing glances.
Every time she caught him, he looked away.
Every time he looked away, she looked back at him.
Their fingers slowly found each other on the seat between them-light at first, then firm, then interlocked, like they had always belonged.
It felt like minutes.
It felt like moments stitched with breath and heartbeat.
And then-
The jet began to descend.
“What? Already?” Tara asked, surprised.
He didn’t reply.
Instead, he reached inside the seat pocket, pulled out a black silk ribbon, and without warning-
Held it near her eyes.
“Tarun-“
“Shh.”His voice dipped lower, deeper. “No arguing. Blindfold on.”
“But-“
He tied it anyway, the silk brushing her cheek like a secret.
Her breath caught. “Tarun!”
He chuckled.
And then-in one swift, unbelievable move-
He lifted her in his arms.
“Tarun!! Put me down!”
“No chance.” His lips brushed her forehead. “Wife privileges.”
Her heart sprinted.
Her fingers clutched his shirt for balance.
His grip stayed secure, confident, like she weighed nothing and meant everything.
He carried her off the jet.
Down the stairs.
Through the cool air.
Into another waiting car.
“Tarun, seriously-where are we-“
“Almost there, baby,” he whispered. “Just trust me.”
********
The air changed first.
Cooler.
Sharper.
Scented faintly with pine and wet earth.
The car slowed.
Then stopped.
Tarun opened the door, stepped out, and gently guided her to stand.
“Okay,” he whispered.”Ready?”
“No,” she admitted, trembling. “I’m nervous.”
He smiled.
Warm.
Full.
Reassuring.
“Good,” he murmured, placing a kiss on her forehead. “Means your heart knows something beautiful is coming.”
He slipped behind her, fingers brushing the knot of the blindfold.
The world was still.
A single tug-
And the silk fell away.
Tara blinked.
Once.
Twice.
And everything inside her… cracked open.
Because standing before her-bathed in soft mountain mist, cradled by tall whispering pines,
with warm yellow windows glowing like a living heartbeat-was a home.
Her dream home.
Not big and loud.
Not extravagant.
But soulful.
Built on a slope where clouds floated low.
Balcony rails carved with delicate patterns.
A stone path lined with tiny flowering shrubs.
A view that overlooked valley after valley after valley.
Exactly like she had once described when she was sixteen, sitting with Tarun on a cold hillside rock during their school trip.
Her knees weakened.
Her breath left her.
Her heart…
Her heart forgot how to beat.
But it wasn’t over.
To the right of the house-small, wooden, perfect-stood a cozy cabin with fairy lights twinkling softly in the dusk.
And on its front board, carved in elegant letters-
NOOR CAFÉ
Her dream.
Her childhood fantasy.
Her teenage confession.
Her secret wish.
Alive.
Standing.
Waiting for her.
Like it had been built out of her own heartbeat.
She covered her mouth with both hands.
A soft, broken sound escaped her.
“T-Tarun…” she whispered, choking on emotion.
“You… remembered?”
He stepped behind her, arms sliding around her waist, holding her gently against him.
His voice was barely a breath.
“I remembered everything, meri jaan.”
She closed her eyes.
A tear fell.
He caught it with his thumb.
“When we were sixteen,” he murmured, voice trembling, “You told me you wanted a quiet life in the hills…a home with wooden floors…a little café selling Maggi and chai…a dog…and a husband who loved you more than the world.”
His breath warmed her ear.
“That day, Tara… you didn’t just share a dream.”
He turned her slowly to face him. “You gave me a direction.”
Her tears fell harder.
He cupped her face.
“I promised myself-if fate ever gave you back to me, I would build your dream before you arrived.”
She sobbed-raw, trembling, overwhelmed.
And then-a tiny bark echoed.
Tara’s eyes widened as a fluffy golden retriever puppy bounded toward her, tail wagging like he had been waiting his whole life.
The tag on his neck read:
“For Mama.”
Tara dropped to her knees instantly, scooping the puppy into her arms.
He licked her face happily.
She cried harder.
Tarun knelt beside them, one arm around her shoulders.
“Meri jaan,” he whispered, brushing her hair back, “This is our beginning. Our place. Our peace.”
She looked up at him-eyes wet, heart overflowing.
“Tarun… I don’t deserve this much love.”
He shook his head.
“No, baby.” He lifted her chin gently. “You deserve a lifetime of it.”
She threw her arms around him, burying herself in his chest.
He held her tight.
Tighter.
As if he could keep every broken part of her safe between his hands.
The mountains stood silent around them-as if bearing witness to a love story that refused to die.
The same place he had proposed to her as a boy…was now the place he brought her home as his wife.
Mussoorie.
The beginning.
The return.
The completion.
Tarun kissed her forehead, the puppy snuggled between them.
“Welcome home, Mrs.Verma” he whispered.
And for the first time in her life-Tara felt every dream she had ever buried finally exhale into reality……the end!
********
My dear Karan,
I don’t know if words can ever carry everything I feel,but tonight… my heart is calling your name in a way I can’t silence.
There are moments when life becomes too quiet, too still…and in that stillness, you return to me.
Not in pain.
Not in longing.
Just… in presence.
A soft warmth.
A memory breathing.
A love that refuses to fade.
Karan…sometimes it still feels unreal that our story stopped on this side of the world,
that you had to continue yours somewhere I cannot reach.
I still remember the life we talked about-
two stupid teenagers dreaming under the sky,
believing love alone could build mountains.
Our house in the hills…
our little café…
our peaceful world.
The home we painted with words.
The future we stitched out of hope.
The love we thought was invincible.
And sometimes…I ache so deeply it feels like my bones remember you.
Because we didn’t just dream a life together-
we became that dream.
A part of me died the day you left, but a bigger part…the part you touched…kept breathing only because you once loved me.
You were the safest place I ever knew.
The softest.
The purest.
Even today, when I think of you, my heart doesn’t break out of regret-it breaks out of gratitude.
Because I got to love you.
And I got to be loved by you.
Not everyone gets a first love they can never forget.
Not everyone gets a love that becomes a heartbeat, a memory, an entire universe.
But I did.
And Karan…I’m glad it was you.
I miss you in ways words don’t understand.
I miss the boy who held my dreams like they were fragile glass.
I miss the laughter we never got to grow old into.
I miss the future we whispered about,
the one life never allowed us to reach.
But I’m also at peace knowing this: Where you are now… is gentler. Kinder. Peaceful.
This world-this complicated, cruel, heavy world-never deserved a heart like yours.
Sometimes I think God saw you struggling to stay soft here and decided He wanted you back-somewhere your innocence would not bleed.
It hurts.
Oh God, it hurts.
But somewhere within that hurt,
there is a strange comfort.
Because you…you are safe now.
Untouched by pain.
Untouched by people who take without giving.
Untouched by the storms life would have thrown at you.
And Karan…I will love you for the rest of my life.
Not in a way that stops me from living.
Not in a way that makes me trapped.
But in a way that honors the boy
who taught me what love could be.
You were my first love.
My truest softness.
My safest memory.
And nothing…not distance,not time, not even fate-can take that away from me.
There will be other people, other faces, other chapters-but there will never be another you.
No one will ever fill the space in me that belongs to you. Because it isn’t just a space-it’s a wound that healed into a beautiful scar.
One I will never hide.
If I could talk to you one last time, I wouldn’t ask “Why did you leave?”.
I would simply say: Thank you. For loving me. For being mine. For giving me something so pure that even loss couldn’t ruin it.
And wherever you are, my Karan…I hope you’re smiling. I hope you’re light.I hope you know-some way, somehow-that a part of my heart will always beat with your name.
Always yours,
in this life and in every echo of it-
Yours Noori!
-the end-
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