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Tears sting my eyes, but before they can fall, Vishnu steps forward and cups my face, his thumbs gently wiping them away.

“We can’t change the past, Simran,” he says gently, his voice steady and reassuring. “What we can do is focus on the present. Just ignore what we can’t control and move forward. Today is special—let’s not allow anything to ruin it.”

His words hit home. Dwelling on the past will only poison our present—and I won’t let that happen to the people who truly care about me.

“Are you heading upstairs, or should I transport you there?” His eyes twinkle mischievously.

I laugh. “You wouldn’t dare... not here—”

Before I can finish, I’m in his arms, clutching his shirt as he carries me toward the stairs.

“Vishnu! Put me down! Someone might see!”

“Let them. You are my wife. It’s my right,” he murmurs possessively.

I can’t resist nuzzling against his stubbled jaw, inhaling his familiar scent.

“I never pegged you for such a romantic.”

When I playfully nip his cheek, his grip tightens.

“Do that again,” he warns, voice low and husky, “and I’ll show you how romantic I am. Just don’t complain when you’re sore later.”

My giggle echoes in the hallway as he sets me down inside our bedroom, his hands lingering at my waist.

“Oh! I almost forgot to ask—what is your favourite colour?”

His brow furrows in thought. “Hmm… I’ve never really thought about it...”

“Come on, Vishnu,” I press, smoothing my hands over his chest. “Everyone has a favourite colour. Even you—Vishnu Walia, the mission-driven protector of the family—must have one.”

After a moment, a soft smile touches his lips.

“When I was small, my mother had this maroon saree. I remember that she looked divine in it. So... maroon, I suppose.” His eyes meet mine. “Why do you ask?”

I grin wickedly.

“Just planning my lingerie selection for tonight.” My fingers trail down his chest. “Though it’s a shame you won’t get to see it—I still haven’t forgiven you for the Zane situation.”

His hands slide to my hips, pulling me flush against him.

“How much longer will you torture me?”

“Until I find a new fashion consultant to replace him.”

He groans, the sound vibrating through me as he nips at my neck. “You don’t mean that...”

“I mean every word…” I gasp, but before either of us can take it further, a knock at the door interrupts us.

It’s Meher. She casually opens the door without realising what she’s walking into, her eyes widening when she sees us tangled together.

“Oh… I am sorry!” she stutters, quickly turning away. “The door was unlocked... I just came to help Simran dress...”

Vishnu clears his throat, adorably flustered at being caught by his sister. He heads for the door where she is standing and looks at her.

“You didn’t see anything, okay?” he says sternly.

Meher’s lips twitch.