Where is bride mr. Mehra his father asked?
There parents are looking down they don't have words to say to them that there daughter run away from her own marriage...
Sorry Raghuvanshi sahab mai aapke hath judta ho mujhe maaf karde .
Ab kuch nhi ho sa...
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AUTHOR POV
Abhimanyu & Anika after returning home at 4 a.m. from the beach
The house is silent when they enter, the kind of silence that belongs only to deep night dense, soft, wrapping around them like a blanket. It’s already 4 a.m., but the world still feels like that beach… the echo of rain, the taste of their kiss still lingering on their lips, and the way their breaths had matched like they were made for each other.
Anika’s fingers are loosely curled around Abhimanyu’s wrist as they walk inside, tired but glowing. Her steps are slow, almost sleepy, her voice barely leaving her lips when she whispers his name. It pulls something tender inside him, something protective, something that makes him feel like she belongs exactly here wrapped in his arms, not the world’s.
He doesn’t even think. He simply bends, lifts her in his arms, and she melts against him like she trusts him with her entire weight, her entire world. Her head gently rests on his chest, her eyelashes brushing his shirt as they fall shut.
The door closes behind them, and the home is filled with the soft shuffle of Abhimanyu carrying her straight into their bedroom.
He sets her down gently on the bed, brushing a few wet strands of hair away from her forehead. She looks fragile like this, exhausted from the long night, but peaceful in a way that tightens his heart. He pulls the blanket up to her shoulder, taking a moment to just stare like she’s something he still can’t believe is his.
He bends, presses a soft kiss to her forehead, and whispers her name like a promise.
Sleep tugs at him too. Three hours. That’s all he gets. But he sleeps beside her, keeping one arm under her pillow, like even in sleep he refuses to let go.
Three hours later…
The soft morning light creeps into the room. Abhimanyu wakes first, his body trained from years of discipline. But for a moment, he forgets everything office, meetings, responsibilities. His gaze goes straight to Anika, who is still curled against him like she belongs there.
Her hair is messy, her lips a little swollen from the night, her breathing soft and steady. She looks untouched by the world, untouched by anything but him.
He runs a thumb across her cheek, slow enough to not wake her but enough to calm something burning inside him.
He gets up reluctantly, the cold air touching him as soon as he leaves her warmth. By the time he reaches the wardrobe and pulls out his shirt, he hears movement.
Soft. Slow. A stretch. A breath. Then, her sleepy voice murmurs his name.
When he looks toward the bed, she is sitting half-awake, blinking at him like she’s still in a dream.
