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“Marry me,” he says, holding the ring between us, his gaze boring into mine.

I hadn’t expected him to propose. Not now. Now here!

“Are you proposing or ordering?” I tease, my voice trembling slightly.

His signature smirk appears.

“It’s just a formality. I don’t need your reply to put this ring on your finger.”

Before I can find the words, he takes my hand and slides the ring onto my finger with deliberate tenderness. His eyes never leave mine as he steps closer.

“From this moment, you are my wife—my everything,” Vishnu says, his voice warm and steady, yet filled with so much emotion. “I’ll spend every day striving to bring a smile to your face because you will always be my top priority, my partner, my better half. From now on, it’s no longer you and me—it’s us. I’ll give you my world, Simran, and embrace yours as my own with every breath I take.”

I blink back the sudden tears that threaten to spill as he continues.

“Every joy you experience, I will celebrate; every tear you shed, I will share. I’ll hold your dreams as my own and walk every path with you, no matter how uncertain or challenging it may seem. You are not just my wife but my strength, my solace—the one who makes my life whole. Today, I vow to love you in ways words cannot fully express. I’ll prove to you every single day that you are—and will always be—the best decision of my life. Welcome to the family, Mrs. Simran Vishnu Walia.”

Oh my. That’s so romantic.I hadn’t pegged Vishnu to prepare such a romantic speech for our wedding.

I’m blushing furiously as I slip the ring on his finger. Before I can fully process that we’re married, he cups my face in his hands and kisses me. It’s not the chaste kiss I expected—it’s deep, passionate, claiming. His lips move against mine with a possessive tenderness that makes my toes curl, and I can feel his smile against my mouth. Every nerve in my body ignites as I kiss him back, fully aware of everyone watching, but too lost in the moment to care.

We’re interrupted by Veer’s excited squeals. I scoop him up, showering his chubby cheeks with kisses before passing him to Vishnu, who holds him with such pride it makes my heart ache. Watching him kiss our son’s forehead, knowing Veer now officially bears his father’s name, brings tears to my eyes.

The photographer captures everything—our family portraits, our couple photos, where Vishnu is adorably awkward at first, until he gets the hang of it. But all through, his attention keeps drifting to Zane, and I can’t help but pout.

“My newly wedded husband should have his eyes on me, not on the man he’s jealous of,” I whisper.

Vishnu holds me close for the next pose, and we both smile for the camera. “I’ll give you all my attention during our wedding night.”

I flush at his boldness. He was so loud that I believe the photographer heard it too.

“I’m already too sore for any action today,” I protest weakly.

“Bailing out on our wedding night already, Simran? Not done. It’s, after all, an important ritual, and we Walias are very particular about following every ritual. We never ever skip any, you see.”

Really? I know he’s just teasing me, and as I’m about to reply, his phone rings. The change in his demeanour is instant. Vishnu’s entire body tenses as if he’s been waiting for this exact call.

“I need to take this,” he says, excusing himself and gestures for Abhay to keep an eye on things before stepping out.

I roll my eyes as he signals Abhay to watch over me specifically. Really, who would harm me here? It’s just Claire and Zane, along with our ever-present security guards. I look at Abhay, who stands there with a fierce expression on his face. My gaze veers towards where Vishnu went. There was something in the way he looked at that phone that makes me wonder what else is happening on our wedding day.

VISHNU

I’ve been waiting for this call all day. Excusing myself from our wedding photos, I step outside the chapel. My instincts are on high alert as I swipe to answer, walking toward a quieter corner.

“What’s the update?” I demand, not one for pleasantries when it comes to matters this serious.

The voice of my man on the other end is sharp and to the point.

“Sir, we found the cap. It’s the same one—a black cap with the letter ‘Z’ on it, just like the one the man wore when delivering the package to Ms. Thakkar’s boutique. It was in Zane’s apartment.”

The response makes my blood run cold. Just then, my phone pings with a notification. My man has sent pictures. My eyes narrow as the image slowly loads on my phone. The first image is unmistakable—a black cap with that incriminating letter ‘Z.’ But it’s the second picture that shocks me. It’s a picture of a white sedan. There’s no mistaking it. It’s the same car that had tried to run us off the road the other day.

“And the car?” I ask.

“We found it in his parking lot. The same white sedan that tried to ram your Raptor. The dent marks and scraped paint match perfectly. It’s parked under a cover in his designated spot in the building.”

My blood boils. My suspicion is no longer just a theory. It’s a reality. Zane is the masked man. The one who dared to put my family at risk. The bas*ard had been right here, smiling at my wife, pretending to celebrate our wedding; all the while, he was the one who was terrorising her. The masked man who’s been haunting her, sending her those threatening messages, ‘My eyes will always be on you,’was right under our noses, playing his twisted game.