MY AVERAGE LIFE

Part 78

Shivani Pov:

I clenched my phone tightly, my heart racing as the dial tone echoed in my ears, I am calling them daily so that they can accept Sharath and I know they did when I talked to them last but  I knew what I was walking into—my father's ever-present fear of things going wrong, and my mother's disappointment, not because she disapproved of Sharath, but because I hadn't asked for their blessing before deciding. Yet, I had to do this. I wanted to marry him, and I needed them to understand why.

When my mother's voice finally came through, soft and warm yet tinged with uncertainty, I felt a pang of guilt. "Shivani, is everything okay?"

"Yes, Amma," I replied quickly. "I wanted to talk to you and Nana (father) about something important."

There was silence, and then my father's deep voice joined. "What is it, kanna?"I took a deep breath. "I want to get married. To Sharath. Soon."

The silence that followed was deafening. It was almost as if the air itself had frozen, waiting for their response. Finally, my father spoke, his tone edged with the hesitation I had anticipated. "Shivani... are you sure? Why the sudden rush? You know how risky things can be."

"Nana," I began, trying to keep my voice steady. "Please don't look at Sharath only as a businessman. I know he's intense and ambitious—he has to be to stay on top. But that's not all of him. Look at how he treats me, how he cares for me. Isn't that what matters most?"

I could feel them wavering. I knew they had seen what I had seen—Sharath's quiet, thoughtful gestures, the way he would take a call during dinner but make it a point to check in on me afterward. Still, my father's fears lingered like a shadow.

"And why marriage now?" he pressed, his voice softening slightly but still guarded."Because I want to," I said firmly. "Because I'm the one who brought up marriage this time. It's not his fault. I'm the one who proposed. And I'll be happy with him—trust me on that."

There was another long pause, but this time it was less heavy, less daunting. I could almost picture my mother glancing at my father, silently urging him to let go of his worries. Finally, my mother broke the silence. "If you're sure, Shivani... if this is what will make you happy..."

My father sighed, the weight of a thousand worries evident in that sound. "When were you thinking of getting married?" he asked reluctantly.

I opened my mouth to answer, but before I could, Sharath's voice rang out from across the room, loud and commanding. "Baby! We should go dress shopping. I need to find the best dress for you in a week."

My eyes widened in horror as I realized I was still on video call. I glanced back at the screen to see my father shaking his head, a mix of disbelief and annoyance on his face. "Does he have no intention of asking us properly?" he muttered.

"Sharath!" I shouted, my voice sharp with both embarrassment and frustration.He strolled into the living room, completely unaware of the situation, his confidence radiating as always. "Yes, baby?"

"Talk to my parents," I hissed, gesturing at the phone. His eyes flickered to the screen, and in an instant, his demeanor shifted. The playful tone he'd used just moments ago vanished, replaced by something much sharper, more composed.

"Good evening, sir, ma'am," he said, nodding respectfully as he sat beside me. His hand rested lightly on my shoulder, but his voice was steady and firm. "You already know about me. I want you to trust me with her. I will keep her safe, and I will keep her happy. She is mine."

His words were bold, unapologetically so, and while I admired his confidence, I could see my father's unease. "Is this how you ask for my daughter's hand?" my father retorted, his tone calm but pointed.

Sharath didn't flinch. "Sir, I tried to ask like u wanted when I first visited your house, and you know what happened then. I respect you, but my soft side is reserved only for her. I don't sugarcoat things, and I won't start now."

I could feel the tension thickening between them, and before I could intervene, Sharath turned to me, his expression softening instantly. "Go and get ready, baby. We need to leave soon if we want to pick out your dress. We'll be late otherwise."

I blinked at him, torn between frustration and amusement at how seamlessly he switched back to his usual self. Glancing at my parents, I stood up reluctantly. "Be careful," I warned him, my tone firm. "They are my parents, and they need to give you their blessing. Don't forget that."

He smirked, a mischievous glint in his eyes. "Yes, ma'am," he said with a mock salute.

As I walked away, I glanced back just in time to see my parents' stunned faces. My father looked at Sharath with a mix of grudging respect and disbelief, while my mother's expression was softer, almost amused. Sharath's duality—the sharp, no-nonsense businessman and the affectionate, playful partner—was on full display, and it was clear that my parents were beginning to see what I saw in him.