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A large heart made of rose petals lay on the table, and over it was the same brass cake stand that Grandpa and Shaurya hadonce fought over. And perched atop was a beautifully frosted cake in her favouritemango flavour.

Tears sprang in Nandini’s eyes, leaving her speechless. “Shaurya, this is…” she whispered.

“You like it?” He stepped closer and brushed a stray tear from her cheek.

“I love it,” she replied, her eyes shining.

Shaurya then wrapped his arms around her from behind, resting his chin lightly on her shoulder.

“All my doing,” he murmured. “No Meera, no Varun. Just me, my brain, and a desperate need to impress my wife.”

Nandini blushed and laughed softly. “You’ve outdone yourself,” she said, pointing towards the rose-petal heart. “Consider me officially floored.”

He grinned and guided her to the table, and together, they cut the delicious looking cake. He picked one slice and held it out to her, his eyes never leaving hers. She leaned forward and her lips parted to eat, eyes locked with his.

His gaze darkened, and a flicker of heat sparked in his eyes.

Without a word, he reached out, his thumb dabbing at a bit of frosting stuck at the corner of her mouth. But instead of pulling away, his hand remained glued to her skin, as if he wasn’t ready to let go.

His gaze was fixed on her lips, resisting the urge to lean in and lick it away. Instead, he placed another bite onto a fork to feed her, motioning her to sit atop the table, just like she had on that New Year’s night. The gestures were deliberate, loving, playful.

Nandini settled on the table, the reflection of the fairy lights dancing in her eyes.

“I thought you would take me straight to the bedroom,” she teased.

He brought the fork to her lips, then touched her cheek instead. “There’s no rush,” he whispered. “Every moment with you is perfect.”

Nandini leaned closer, her eyes gleaming with a newfound boldness. Without a word, she reached up, her fingers instinctively curling around the collar of his sherwani. And then, she kissed him—a deep, passionate kiss.

Shaurya responded instantly, cupping her face in his hands. But this time, she didn’t want tenderness. She pushed forward, her kiss growing bolder, more urgent, her fingers tugging at the back of his hair as if she were pulling him straight into her fire.

She whispered between kisses, her breath brushing his lips, “Enough of this sweet version of you, Mr. Ahuja…”

Before he could process, her hands slid down his chest, slow and purposeful, until her fingertips rested just above his waistband. She leaned in closer, her voice a soft purr.

“You do remember I have a thing for dark romances, right?”

Shaurya froze, his eyes narrowing with knowing heat. The look he gave her then was pure fire, understanding exactly what she meant without needing her to spell it out.

A smirk curved his lips. “Careful what you wish for, Mrs. Ahuja…”

She simply raised an eyebrow, challenging him with her gaze.

“Who said I’m not ready for it?”

He kissed her again.

Their hands explored each other, and every inch of space between them disappeared as Nandini’s fingertips brushed against the buttons of his sherwani. Shaurya broke the kiss, not to stop her, but to speed things up. His hands moved to unfasten the rest of the buttons and pulled the sherwani over his head in one swift motion.

The moonlight spilling through the sheer curtains caught his skin, highlighting every line of muscle she had only admired from afar.

Now, he was hers to see, to touch, to claim.

Her eyes devoured his chiselled torso, the lines of both strength and softness carved into his frame. His chest rose and fell with restrained desire, surrendering to the moment.

She ran her palm slowly over his heart. “I want my lips here,” she teased in a whisper.

That was it. The final thread of Shaurya’s patience snapped. Without another word, he scooped her into his arms, and she gasped, laughing softly as her arms wound around his neck.