Meri Jaan

Epilogue

The morning sun filtered gently through the sheer curtains of the Malhotra mansion, scattering golden streaks across the polished wooden floor. The once “house of chaos and preparations” now carried a softer rhythm — the sound of children’s laughter, the occasional clatter from the kitchen, and the hum of a family that had grown in love and in size.

Nandini stood in front of the mirror of her spacious bedroom, her dupatta draped loosely across her shoulders. A strand of hair fell on her face, and she tucked it back as she adjusted her earrings. Ten years. She still found it hard to believe how far life had brought her. From the hesitant young woman who once resisted change to the woman she was now — confident, loved, respected, and the anchor of her family.

Behind her, the bed was unmade, sheets tangled. Manik had dragged her into one of his late-night conversations — equal parts teasing and possessiveness — until they both fell asleep around dawn. She smiled at the thought. He hadn’t changed much. The same fiery temper, the same stubbornness, but also the same intensity in love. If anything, marriage had made him more expressive, and fatherhood had softened edges she once thought unshakable.

“Good morning, Mrs. Malhotra,” came that deep voice she knew so well.

She turned. There he was, leaning against the doorframe, still in his joggers from the morning run, hair slightly damp from the shower, and that infuriatingly charming smirk playing on his lips.

“Late again,” Nandini teased, picking up the hairbrush from the dresser.

He walked in, took the brush from her hands, and began combing her hair himself. “Tumhari wajah se. You kept me awake half the night, Mrs. Confession Queen.”

She rolled her eyes but her cheeks warmed. “It’s not my fault you don’t stop talking once you start.”

He leaned closer, whispering in her ear. “And it’s not my fault you look so irresistible when you’re sleepy and blushing.”

She swatted his arm, but the blush deepened. Some things never changed.

Malhotra mansion was buzzing louder than ever. The courtyard was decorated with balloons; it was Nandini and Manik’s 10th anniversary celebration, combined with a grand family reunion.

Children darted everywhere — Faiza’s three, Mukti’s two, Aliya’s little one, and finally, Nandini and Manik’s own daughter, Aayat, seven years old and the absolute princess of the household.

Nandini watched Aayat tug at Manik’s sleeve, demanding his attention while he tried to hold a serious conversation with Ibrahim. In the end, Aayat won — she always did — and Manik carried her on his shoulders, declaring she was his “queen.”

Zoya and Asad sat nearby, proud grandparents, while Ayesha’s eyes shimmered as she took it all in — her family, her legacy, her happiness complete.

Later in the evening, after cake cutting and endless photographs, Nandini found herself alone with Manik in their room.

“Do you realize,” she said softly, “this is exactly what your father wanted? His last wish. That we be together.”

Manik pulled her close, his voice husky. “And do you realize, tum meri life ki sabse badi blessing ho. Without you, none of this would’ve made sense.”

Her eyes filled, and she hugged him tightly.

“Here’s to the next ten years,” she whispered.

He kissed her forehead. “Here’s to forever.”

✨️
Mystery