Page 130 of Drunk On Love

Meeta started crying and was somehow eating at the same time. “I’m already hormonal, and now this? Do you people want me to give birthnow?”

Myra threw her cheesecakeinto the airlike it was rice at a wedding. “WHY DIDN’T YOU WAIT FOR US TO HIDE IN THE BUSHES AND RECORD IT?! I WAS READY WITH A DRONE!”

Kartik… was still holding his flashlight like a mic. “How could you propose without me giving an awkward toast?”

Roy? Oh, Roy just shook his head and walked over, patting Manav on the back.

The group let out a collectivegaspof approval. Then everyone rushed in for a chaotic group hug, squeezing us until my ribs cried for help, and someone stepped on my foot.

I looked up through the blur of laughter and limbs and floating balloons, and found Manav’s eyes across the huddle. Calm. Steady. Mine.

He mouthed,“Drunk on love?”

I mouthed back,“Wasted.”

♥?Bonus Epilogue(Kiara)

Fiveyears later

“I hate this… I hate this. Why on earth did they grow avocados?” I groaned, slumping over the counter like the weight of the world—and my avocado-infused diet—had finally broken me.

Across the kitchen, Manav chuckled, eyes sparkling with entirely too much amusement as he stirred some pink abomination in the blender.

“Your cheeseballs are ready, baby,” he called out.

Then, holding up a glass of smoothie like it was sacred, he added with a smirk,

“But you don’t eat them anymore… remember?”

Murder, I decided, was still illegal. Unfortunately.

Oh, right. Did I forget to mention?

After Dadi gave us her heartfelt blessings—and called us both “emotionally constipated idiots”—Manav took her advice about staying close to natureveryseriously.

So now? He’s a full-time farmer, part-time businessman… and 100% insane.

And what does this beautiful lunatic grow?

Organic. Freaking. Avocados.

Endless, eww-worthy, green mush balls that he proudly harvests and lovingly feeds me like it’s foreplay.

I hate how much I’ve started to like them.

Help.

If someone had told me five years ago that my life would revolve around avocados and love stories, I would’ve laughed them straight out of the room.

But here I am—living on a farm, drinking smoothies I once considered a punishment, and somehow… happier than I’ve ever been.

Three months after our dramatic, tear-soaked confession, we got married at The Cape House in Beaufort—the most magical place on Earth. And we never really left.

Manav runs the business remotely, his phone buzzing with a hundred calls a day from Justin and Sasha. Yet, he still finds time to grow vegetables, charm the village committee, and make me feel like the center of his universe.

My publishing house in France is thriving—elegant, independent, and somehow running like clockwork. I visit once a year, and every time, I beam with quiet pride as thousands of books roll off the press.

Books that matter. Stories that deserve to be heard.