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Shaurya had laughed then, shaking his head in mock exasperation, but deep down, he’d known that Varun was not kidding.

“And this time,” Varun had added, poking Shaurya in the chest for emphasis, “I want to see you dance. Khulke. None of those stiff, polite, ‘Shaurya Ahuja’ moves like you did at your own sangeet. I want rhythm. Madness. Let yourself loose kind of dance. So, you better surprise me.”

So yes, whether he liked it or not, he and Nandini were going to have to be the life of that baraat, not just for the sake of tradition, but to meet Varun’s challenge head-on.

Shaurya snapped back to the present and smiled at Grandpa, who now looked ready for the event.

“Well, now that you are all set, I will go check on my wife. She’s been a busy bee today,” he said, then turned to Lakshmi. “Lakshmi, could you please help Daadu downstairs while I go get Nandini?”

Lakshmi, already dressed for the event, quickly assisted Grandpa downstairs while Shaurya hurried out to his villa.

Moving between the two villas now felt like second nature to him, as if they were simply two wings of the same home, sharedby a single family. Since their wedding, life had settled into a comfortable routine. Nandini’s parents had returned to London, and it wasn’t long before Shaurya, Nandini, and Grandpa had joined them there for the couple’s honeymoon. It had been a quiet, healing trip for Grandpa. He’d enjoyed the time with his son and daughter-in-law, who’d ensured his every need was taken care of before he even asked.

Shaurya and Nandini, meanwhile, enjoyed quiet moments together, basking in their new marriage, while never too far away from their family, dropping by every few days to spend time with them.

Six months later, Nandini was ready in her home studio at Shaurya’s villa, carefully testing the final batch of mango-based skin-care products—mango-pulp hydrating masks, leaf-extract toners, under-eye creams, and peel-away scrubs—all inspired by her late Daadi’s handwritten notes and age-old formulations.

It was awe-inspiring to think that in just six months, she had researched, developed, and launched her own brand,Ambika Organics, named after her Daadi, as a tribute to her legacy.

The mango-based line was not just nostalgic, it was powerfully effective too. Packed with vitamin-rich mango pulp and seed butter, each product was a perfect blend of tradition and science. Her under-eye cream, in particular—a mix of mango butter, caffeine, and aloe, became an instant bestseller, with sales soaring off the charts the moment it was launched.

Finally, Ambika Organics had taken off. The digital launch had been a smash hit, and social media buzzed with snapshots of radiant skin, unboxing videos of mango-filled skincare kits, and glowing reviews. Within weeks, the demand skyrocketed.

And whenElise & Co.,a famous e-commerce company, offered to onboard Ambika Organics onto its platform, with nationwide distribution and exclusive promotional campaigns, it marked a turning point for the brand. Her products had slowlystarted building a loyal customer base. Reviews poured in, not just filled with praise for the product’s effectiveness but also for the emotion behind the brand.

And now, Nandini was knee-deep in the next chapter of her company—launching the first set of offline stores for Ambika Organics. She was no longer just a woman with a dream to kickstart her company. She was an entrepreneur in every sense, one whose vision had come to life, piece by piece.

Despite her growing business, Nandini never let her home take a backseat. Her mornings began with Grandpa, enjoying tea and warm conversation under the mango tree, while her afternoons were devoted to her work calls and product planning. Evenings were reserved for her husband, and she and Shaurya often cooked dinner together in their cosy kitchen.

And the best part? They never let Grandpa eat alone. Now, all his meals were shared with Nandini and Shaurya at their villa.

The old mango tree had now become the family’s favourite gathering spot. A new wicker sofa had been added beneath its shade, making room for early morning chai and sunset chats. On most days, Lakshmi and Meera would join in too, not wanting to miss out on gossips and gupshups.

Now, back inside his villa, Shaurya walked over to his bedroom door and knocked softly. It was locked. A muffled “Just a second!” came from inside.

Moments later, Nandini swung the door open, still in her bathrobe. The saree she’d planned to wear for the evening ceremony lay neatly folded on the bed, completely untouched.

“Is Grandpa ready?” she asked.

Shaurya nodded silently. She turned away with a huff. “Great. Of course he is. And you’re ready too. Why is it always you two who manage to be on time for everything? I swear, I try to be early, but somehow, I always end up racing against the clock.”

She moved across the room, still talking as she rubbed lotion into her arms. Shaurya watched her, captivated. One year into their marriage, and she still had this pull over him. That same inexplicable pull he’d felt the first time he saw her. It hadn’t faded a bit. If anything, it had only deepened.

They had spent the whole morning at Priya’s home, where all of the day’s festivities were being held, staying close to Varun and Priya, helping them get ready, calming pre-event jitters, and keeping everything running smoothly. Even Daadu had been there until lunch, proudly supervising every little detail. But Nandini had to leave earlier than planned for a vendor call that she simply couldn’t postpone any longer, no matter how much she wanted to stay.

Now, they were just about to head back for the main event:the engagement.

“I can’t believe this whole thing starts in under an hour,” she said, her words tumbling over each other. “I should’ve just worn an Anarkali suit or something. What was I thinking with this saree—”

Shaurya walked in, smiling, and made his way to the dressing table, where Nandini was seated on the ottoman. He pulled up a chair beside her, made himself comfortable, and reached for the bottle of lotion in her hand.

“Here,” he said softly, uncapping it. “Let me.”

She blinked. “Shaurya, there’s no time—”

“Which is exactly why you need to stop rushing. Let me take care of this,” he interrupted, squeezing a little lotion into his palm.

Without a word, he took her arm in his hand and began rubbing in the lotion with slow, deliberate strokes, his thumbs circling over her forearm. She watched him silently, the tension in her shoulders slowly beginning to ease.