An arranged love story of two independent souls who hold their family traditions and culture close to their hearts. What happens when their worlds collide? When they meet, bringing with them their own dreams, ambitions, and past experiences, and ent...
The ten days in Greece had passed in the blink of an eye, leaving behind memories that would forever be etched in our hearts. The sunlit shores, the endless laughter, the quiet moments of love—all of it had created a world of our own. But now, it was time to return to reality, to India, to our families, and to the life we were about to build together.
As we boarded the flight, Hukum intertwined his fingers with mine, his grip firm yet tender. "Excited to go home?" he asked, his voice laced with warmth.
I smiled, leaning my head against his shoulder. "Yes. But I'll miss this—us, away from the world."
He kissed the top of my head. "We'll always have this, Jaana. And now, we have our whole life to create more memories."
The long flight home felt shorter with Hukum by my side. We reminisced about our trip, our hands never leaving each other's grasp. As we landed in Jaipur, a rush of emotions flooded me—home, the place where it all began, where our love had taken root.
Our families welcomed us with open arms, the warmth of their embrace making our return even sweeter. That evening, they had planned a grand dinner to celebrate our return. The long dining table was adorned with flowers, candles, and an array of delicacies that spoke of home and nostalgia.
Maasi Maa cupped my face, her eyes shining with love. "(Binni Beta, aap to aur bhi zyada sundar lag riya ho) you look even more radiant than before. Greece has added a glow to you."
I blushed, sneaking a glance at Hukum, who smirked knowingly. Papa Hukum (father in law)patted his shoulder. "And you, Ayu, look like a man who has truly found his happiness."
Throughout the dinner, stories were shared, laughter echoed, and love flowed freely. Hukum's fingers occasionally brushed against mine under the table, a silent reminder that no matter where we were, our connection remained unchanged.
The week in Jaipur was filled with warmth and nostalgia. We spent time with our families, revisiting childhood memories, and savoring the comfort of home-cooked meals. Every night, when we finally retreated to our room, Hukum would pull me into his arms, his fingers tracing lazy patterns on my back as we whispered about our future. His lips would brush against my forehead, my cheek, lingering just long enough to set my skin ablaze, yet never rushing—just cherishing the intimacy between us.
One evening, as we sat on the terrace under the soft glow of fairy lights, he pulled me onto his lap, his hands resting on my waist. "Are you ready for Mumbai? For our new home?" he murmured, his lips grazing the shell of my ear.
I shivered under his touch, my fingers instinctively threading through his hair. "With you? Always."
His thumb brushed against my lower lip before he leaned in, pressing the softest kiss there, stealing my breath. "I can't wait to start our life together, Jaana," he whispered, his forehead resting against mine.
The next morning, with heavy yet excited hearts, we bid farewell to Jaipur and boarded our flight to Mumbai. The city greeted us with its familiar hum of life, the promise of new beginnings lingering in the air.
Our new house, a beautiful blend of modern elegance and warmth, awaited us. As we stepped in, hand in hand, a sense of belonging washed over me. Hukum also got a lbrary in our balcony in our home.
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