His Wife

Chapter 8

🌼 To my lovely Daisies, 🌼

Wow, we did it! We've reached 1k views! 🎉 I just wanted to take a moment to thank each and every one of you for supporting my story and being such a wonderful part of this journey. Your love, comments, and votes keep me going and inspire me to write more for you all! 💛❤️🧿🧸

Every time you turn a page, leave a vote it truly means the world to me. I hope my story brings you as much joy as you all bring to me. Stay tuned for more twists, turns, and heartfelt moments coming your way!

Keep shining, keep smiling, and always remember, you're the brightest daisies in my garden! 🌼✨

With all my love,

starrymoon

Advika's POV

The cool morning breeze drifted through my open window, filling my room with the fresh scent of the Shekhawat mansion's gardens. I lay in bed, wrapped in the last moments of sleep, feeling the gentle rustle of the wind as it caressed the sheer curtains. The soft light of dawn filtered through, bathing the room in a pale glow. For a moment, I just stayed there, listening to the early morning sounds—the distant chirping of birds, the faint rustling of leaves, the creak of old wood that seemed to whisper the secrets of the mansion.

Eventually, I pulled myself up, feeling the coolness of the marble floor beneath my feet as I moved towards the bathroom. The chill against my skin was oddly comforting, waking me up more fully, yet my mind wandered back to last night, replaying those moments over and over again. As I turned on the faucet, the water splashing into the sink, my thoughts drifted back to the dinner with the Shekhawat family.

It had been such a warm, joyful evening, the kind that made you forget everything outside those walls. The way everyone had laughed, and teased each other—it felt like I was witnessing a piece of their everyday life, a slice of their world that was both unfamiliar and comforting. Meera Aunty, always so gentle and kind, had a special glow last night, and Tara Aunty's laughter seemed to fill every corner of the dining room. It was the sort of night that reminded you why family gatherings could be so special.

But the part that lingered most in my mind was Amar Dadaji's announcement. I could still see him at the head of the table, his voice steady yet filled with warmth as he shared the news. The words echoed in my mind—his decision to host a party to celebrate papa's recovery and discharge from the hospital. It was touching, the way he carried that sense of responsibility for his family, wanting to ensure that this milestone was marked with joy.

And then there was Meera Aunty and Tara Aunty's reaction—how their faces had lit up with excitement at the thought of hosting a party. They had immediately started sharing ideas, talking over each other in their enthusiasm about the food, the decorations, the guest list. It was clear that this meant a lot to them, maybe even more than it did to the rest of us. I could still hear their voices in my head, filled with a kind of joy that made the whole idea of a celebration feel even more special.

As I stepped out of the restroom, the warmth of the steam still lingering in the air, I tightened the belt of the bathrobe around me and made my way to the small couch by the window. My gaze fell on the bag that Meera Aunty had given me last night. I couldn't help but let my thoughts drift back to our conversation before bedtime.

It all started after we wrapped up the discussion in the lawn. The night had been filled with laughter, shared stories, and even a bit of teasing from Tara Aunty. I had mentioned that it was getting late, and my father and I should head back home. But Meera Aunty had been insistent, her gentle yet firm voice saying, "Advika, it's too late for you both to leave now. The roads won't be safe, and it's better if you stay here tonight."