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CHAHAT MEHRA is a 25-year-old woman living in the fast-paced city of Delhi. She seems strong and independent, building a...
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AAKARSH VOHRA (One week later)
As the clock struck 11:59 pm on December 31st, I couldn't help but feel a rush of excitement. The whole gang was at our place, and the atmosphere was electric. Rishabh, Shubhangi, Prisha, Karan, Preeti bua, and Aaru were all chatting and laughing in the garden.
I got up from my seat, leaving the revelry behind, and made my way to the kitchen. I knew Chahat was busy arranging snacks for everyone, and I couldn't resist the opportunity to sneak up on her.
As I entered the kitchen, I spotted Chahat, her back to me, expertly arranging the snacks on a tray. I crept up behind her, my heart racing with anticipation. I wrapped my arms around her waist, pulling her close, and nuzzled my face into the crook of her neck.
"Happy New Year, my love!" I whispered, my lips brushing against her ear.
Chahat turned around, a bright smile on her face, and our lips met in a soft, gentle kiss. "Happy New Year, darling!" she replied, pecking my lips once more.
I was about to deepen the kiss when Chahat placed her palm on my lips, her eyes sparkling with mischief. "Everybody is in the garden, and I guess we should be there too," she said, her voice husky.
I pouted, feeling a little disappointed that our moment was interrupted. "Tsk, Chahat, you are silly!" I teased.
Chahat chuckled and pecked my cheek. "Whatever I am, but I am yours," she said, her voice filled with affection.
I couldn't help but smile at her words. I loved the way she always knew how to make me feel better.
Chahat handed me a tray loaded with snacks. "Come on, help me now!" she said, already heading out to the garden with another tray in her hands.
I followed close behind, feeling grateful for this new year, and for the love of my life, Chahat.
As we stood in the garden, surrounded by the lively chatter of our friends and family, Chahat turned to me with a concerned expression. "Arsh!" she called out, her voice gentle.
