MOHABBAT-E-DIWAANGI ( Book 1)

45. A Gift

Aadish smiled softly, putting the box aside on the table. He carefully and gently slid the green bangles onto her wrists.

Yes, it was the bangles - the green bangles.

[Easy to carry and wouldn't hurt his Mrs.]

He had always been an observant man, quiet yet keenly aware of the little things that brought joy to his wife’s heart. Jewelry wasn’t just an ornament to her—it was a language, a reflection of love, tradition, and beauty. And though she never voiced her desires, her eyes spoke louder than words.

Every day, as they passed the small stall on their way to his office, he noticed how her gaze lingered on the delicate glass bangles, shimmering under the golden sunlight. She never reached out to buy them, never even hinted at wanting them, but the way her eyes lit up at the sight told him everything he needed to know.

So, before she could ever ask—before even she could realize she wanted them—he had already taken the first step. He had gone to his Maa Sa, seeking her blessings, because he knew how much it would mean for his wife to receive something that carried both love and tradition. And then, with quiet determination, he bought the bangles himself, choosing the ones he had seen reflecting in her eyes for days.

That evening, as he placed them in her hands, he didn’t need her words to know he had made the right choice. The way she held them, the soft gasp of surprise, the way her fingers traced over the smooth, cool glass—these moments were worth more than any spoken gratitude. Because love, after all, wasn’t always in grand gestures. Sometimes, it was in the smallest details, in the things left unsaid but deeply felt.

"Wow, they are looking so beautiful, Aadish!" she exclaimed, her voice laced with pure delight as she wiggled her wrists, making the delicate glass bangles chime in a sweet, rhythmic melody.

Aadish watched her, completely mesmerized. Her happiness was infectious, spreading warmth through him like a flame that needed no fuel but her joy.

"Yes... because of you, Jaan," he murmured, his voice deep yet gentle, carrying the weight of emotions he rarely put into words.

He remained on one knee, one hand resting there for balance, while the other lightly supported his face. The way he looked at her—soft, intense, completely lost in the moment—made it seem like a picture from a dream, one where love wasn’t just spoken but felt in every unspoken gesture. She was happy because of his gift, and he was adoring her because her happiness was his greatest treasure.

Avantika's eyes refused to leave the bangles, her fingers tracing the smooth glass as if committing every color, every shimmer, to memory. She was lost in their delicate beauty until a sudden touch at her feet pulled her back to the moment.

Startled, she looked down to find Aadish, his strong hands gently cradling her ankle as he slipped off her sandal with the utmost care, as if even the mere act of touching her required reverence.

A sharp jolt ran through her, an unexplainable current sparking beneath his fingertips. Reflexively, she pulled her leg back, her breath hitching in surprise.

Aadish’s gaze snapped to hers, concern flashing in his deep, intense eyes. "Kya hua, Jaan?" (What happened, my love?) he asked, his voice laced with worry.

But Avantika didn't answer. She only shook her head, her brows slightly furrowed, a whirlwind of emotions flickering across her face—confusion, hesitation, something even she couldn't name.

He understood. Maybe not the exact feeling, but the depth of it. His lips curved into a soft smile, one that held patience, warmth, and a silent reassurance.