Chapter 17

Her breath hitched at his confession, and her eyes widened. She opened her mouth to say something but couldn't find the words.

He knows.

How?

She had never told anyone about the ring—the only ring with her name engraved on it and a blank space beside it reserved for her loved one. She had always made sure that no one knew about it; it was a secret between her and her grandma.

Suddenly, the hot air that had been tickling her ear faded, pulling her out of her thoughts. Her eyes fluttered open, realizing she had closed them for a moment.

His face came into view as he pulled back to see her clearly. His curious eyes scanned every inch of her face: her flushed cheeks, her wide-open eyes.

Her lips parted to say something, but she stopped as the sound of a throat clearing caught her attention, making both of them turn their heads.

Ahaan appeared in their peripheral vision.

Hurriedly, she removed herself from Veer's hold and stepped back, catching a glimpse of Veer clenching his fist.

Ignoring the warmth on her cheeks, she stood in her place beside Veer, and welcomed the guests as they came up to the stage to offer their good wishes.

After the process was done, she stepped down from the stage with Avni, but her mind remained focused on his confession.

Suddenly, Avni nudged her. "Where were you lost?" Avni's genuine concern about her zoning out was evident.

She simply shook her head at Avni's question. "Nowhere," she whispered, and took a seat beside her sister. Her eyes wandered until they fixed on the sky.

The sun was about to set, leaving an orange hue behind, transforming the sky into a canvas: birds flew around the sun, and large green trees with off-white decorative lights enhanced the scenery.

She smiled, looking up at the sky and admiring its beauty.

It was a perfect picture for her.

But what she hadn't expected in this perfect picture was seeing herself dancing with Veer on the beautifully decorated open stage—white curtains draped around and tangled together at the top in a knot.

It all happened in a couple of minutes as the announcer revealed that there would be a couple dance featuring the main couples of the event, which took Siya by surprise—she hadn't anticipated this for the evening.

A strong pair of hands twirled her around, bringing her back to the present. Her hands instinctively landed on his broad shoulders, and her eyes locked with his.

The rhythm of the song continued, and they moved their bodies along with it. "Nazam-Nazam" played in the background. After the first verse, other couples emerged from the crowd and began to dance.

She watched them: dancing with grace, smiles on their faces, and hints of love in their eyes.

Turning her head back to face him, she saw him smiling at her, just like those other partners. But instead of smiling back, she continued to stare at him, still contemplating how he knew about the ring.

To end her overthinking, she decided to ask him directly. "What were you talking about earlier?" she asked, even though she knew what he was referring to.

His intense gaze made her nervous. She bit her lower lip, maintaining eye contact. Slowly, his right hand slid an inch lower on her waist, almost reaching the start of her hips, before he leaned in closer.

Breaking the distance between their faces, he stopped a few inches away and grinned. "What do you think I was talking about?" he answered nonchalantly.

"A ring," she replied, somewhat dumbly.

"Exactly—" he paused, holding out her left hand and spinning her around. He then pulled her back against him, more closely this time. "—then why are you asking me?" he added.

The closeness made her cheeks warm, almost making her forget how to speak. Instead of saying something, she moved along with the rhythm of the song, taking a few steps forward before stepping back.

After a few beats, she felt his fingers tapping lightly on her waist, and his eyes were fixed on her face, as if he was waiting for her to respond. Inhaling deeply for courage, she finally spoke:

"I know you were talking about a ring, but I'm asking about what you said about the ring—the one where you mentioned engraving a name beside mine. I'm pretty sure you said something like that." Her voice was a whisper, but with a touch of mockery.

Veer shook his head, a chuckle escaping his lips. Holding both her hands, he gently pushed her back before turning her around, as the sound of the music turned a little louder.

She leaned her back against his chest, their hands intertwined around her waist. He leaned in until his left cheek pressed against her right one, and murmured slowly in a deep, husky tone:

"Oh, you mean the ring with your name engraved and a blank space beside it? I'm pretty sure you gave me that when you were desperate to get engaged." Her eyes widened in surprise as she heard him.

She turned her head abruptly, almost knocking their heads together, but stopped herself in time.

"So you saw that? I thought no one really noticed—" She paused, lifting her eyes to glare at him before continuing, "—and I wasn't desperate to get engaged. It—it was all the wine's fault."

He smiled at her, his dimple deepening as he said, "Believe me, I know you weren't desperate to get engaged and all. After all, I was the victim there."

She connects the dots, and finally concludes that he must've seen it when she gave him the ring on that night. and she felt so dumb after this, anybody could've known that if they had the ring.

He twirled her around again as the last verse of the song finished and the song 'Ishq Wala Love' started to play in the background.

This time she locked her hands behind his neck without hesitation, and his hands held her waist more firmly. They moved in sync with the beat as a question invaded her mind.

"How did you find my apartment that day? What are you, a stalker?" she asked, her face showing she was joking about the last part.

For a moment, they just looked at each other. Her eyes fluttered at the intense eye contact, and she didn't realize her fingers were unconsciously playing with the locks of his hair.

But he noticed.

And it made his heart race. Biting his inner cheek, he muffled a chuckle at her behavior and continued the conversation.

"Do you want one?" he asked playfully.

Her brows knitted in confusion. "What?" Her confusion made him smirk. He then glided his hands a little higher on her waist, and her soft hair brushed against his skin.

"A stalker. Do you want one?" he queried, keeping up with the playful conversation. His steps came to a halt when he noticed his fingers were unknowingly playing with the end of her hair.

Just like hers.

She smiled, eyeing him with surprise that he was actually talking to her playfully and keeping the conversation alive.

Her legs moved in sync with his, the part 'Kyon Na Aise Hota, Jo Milte Tum Ho Jaate Gum Saath Mere' playing in the background, their eyes locked.

And then she felt that dancing with him in the perfect picture of hers wasn't a bad thing because she began to like it: the weather, the music, the dance, and her partner.

"Why, are you willing to be my stalker if I say yes?" Her voice filled the small silence, and she smiled at him.

"If that makes my soon-to-be wife happy, then yes. Tell me, do you want a stalker, a bodyguard, or—umm, how about a mafia? Do you want a mafia husband? Because I can be that too if you want." His reply amused her, and she broke into a small chuckle.

"I'm happy with a businessman. They seem to have a playful side, you know," she shrugged her shoulders and kept up with the dance.

"I see," he whispered against her forehead, heat rising to his neck where her hands were. Then the song came to an end.

Suddenly, he held her right hand, hooking a finger in her hand, he twirlers her a couple of times before holding her waist and tilting her back as he leaned closer to her face.

Her eyes widened at his sudden move. Her hands clutched his broad shoulders tightly, afraid she might fall if she let go, but little did she know he would never let her fall.

"Smile, Siya. It's time for us to end the dance. So, let's show them that we're happy, hmm?" Her mind barely registered his words when she felt a soft pair of lips on hers.

He kissed her.

It was a peck, but she named it a kiss.

If her heart had been fluttering while dancing before, then it skipped a whole song after the unexpected kiss—a peck.

𖤐

Two days later, the Mehndi ceremony began, and the servants were bustling around the Malhotra mansion.

The main door was adorned with orange flowers and green leaf garlands. The arrangements were set up in the backyard, where a large wooden swing chair and wooden benches were placed.

Meanwhile, Siya was taking a bath, as Avni had instructed her to get ready for the henna application on her hands and legs.

Stepping out of the bathroom, she retrieved her dress—a green Anarkali suit with a golden border.

Effortlessly slipping into the suit, she chose a simple set of green diamond pendant earrings and braided her hair into a single braid. She applied minimal makeup—kohl on her eyes, deep cherry lip tint, blush, and finished with a golden bindi.

After getting ready, she made her way to the backyard, where the other women of the house were waiting for her. She sat in the center of the swing, with two women of her age sitting on either side.

After greeting the ladies around her, she fell silent as the two women began applying henna to her hands.

Her thoughts drifted back to the engagement ceremony, where she had enjoyed the perfect dance with her contracted husband. Over the past two days, she had been frequently preoccupied with thoughts of that evening and felt frustrated because she couldn't get them out of her mind.

Suddenly, she heard a sweet voice ask, "Where do we hide the groom's name?" from the woman sitting on her right.

She looked down at her hands. The henna had reached around her wrists, and her heart fluttered at the thought of writing his name on her hand. She remembered seeing in movies how grooms struggled to find their names on the brides' hands.

Turning her right hand, she thought deeply about where to hide his name so that he would have difficulty finding it.

"There, and write only 'Veer,'" she said, pointing to the side of her wrist.

The woman nodded with a smile and began writing his name there—perfectly hidden. She wrote it in small letters so that it would be hard to see.

After a while, Avni arrived with a tray full of food and began to feed her. Siya initially declined, saying she wasn't hungry, but Avni's insistence led to a playful tantrum.

Seeing Avni feeding her like a baby, the other ladies laughed. Their laughter soon spread to both sisters, filling the surroundings with joy and merriment.

Later in the evening, the Sangeet ceremony began, and the Malhotra mansion was awash with colorful lights, loud music, and ladies dancing on a small stage in the backyard.

Exhausted from the day's events, Siya slumped onto her bed with Avni, who had danced for an hour straight. Her eyes fluttered closed, pleading for sleep, and soon both sisters drifted into a peaceful slumber.

'Another day, another function,' she thought, glancing at her yellow suit with a heart-shaped neckline. She didn't bother with any makeup because it was her haldi today.

and as she had expected, within an hour of getting ready, she was drenched from head to toe in the yellow haldi water.

Rushing into her room, she carefully made her way to the bathroom, trying not to make the floor too wet, and stood in front of the mirror.

"Wow, what a mess I've become," she muttered to herself, looking at her reflection. Cold water streamed down her wet locks and cascaded onto the floor.

Her cheeks and hands still had some haldi paste on them. Suddenly, a question popped into her mind 'Does Veer also have haldi on his face, just like hers? Does he think about her as she thinks about him?'

Shaking her head, she pushed away the unnecessary thoughts. Her eyes met her own in the mirror as she removed some wet strands from her face and pushed them behind her ear.

Turning on the faucet, she washed her face and hands before stepping into the shower. After her shower, she jumped onto her bed and grabbed her phone from the side table.

She opened the page she had been looking at every night before going to sleep: a photo of her and her soon-to-be husband. It was taken by the photographers after their dance, with her in his arms and him kissing on her lips.

Seeing the photo made her cheeks warm. She threw the phone aside, closed her eyes, and tried to sleep, knowing that tomorrow her life would change.

She would become the wife of Veer Singh Oberoi.

And with that thought, she felt a surge of hope—hope that she had made the right decision.

𖤐

— special scene from Veer's side.

His hand clutches the brakes of his bike, stopping at the left side of the road. Dropping the helmet on the handlebars, he makes his way into the studio—a tattoo studio.

It's been almost three years since he last came here, having had his slightly tanned back adorned with an inked sword entwined with a rose because he won an award that day.

And today?

Today, someone is etching his name into their delicate palm, marking him—owning him. To him, it's no less than an award, which is why he decided to get a tattoo.

"Hey, long time no see!" a cheerful voice breaks the chain of his thoughts, and he lifts his head to look at the person calling him out.

He smiles, offering his hand to greet the man before him. "Time flies, Harsh."

"Oh, I know that. Well, what brings you here?" Harsh waves him off, gesturing him to sit down.

"Seriously, Arsh! It's a damn tattoo studio, what do you think he's doing here?" a female voice interrupts them, snatching their attention. It was Sneha, shouting from the other side of the curtains.

Harsh ignores Sneha and engages in a conversation with Veer. They are friends, not close ones, but friends nonetheless since Veer started getting tattoos at this studio.

He has four tattoos on his body,

First; The sword with the rose on his lower left back.

Second; His date of birth in Roman numerals on his right bicep.

Third; A single flash of lightning that starts from the side of his waist and ends just an inch above his hip bone.

And fourth; The word "Elysium" behind his right ear.

Today, he's adding another tattoo to his collection. Initially, he wasn't planning to, but the thought of her initial engraved on his skin sends shivers down his spine, and he likes that.

"Where do you want it to be?" Harsh asks, preparing the ink pen and adjusting his chair.

Veer lifts his right hand, staring at it as his uncertain eyes glance at every inch. He rotates his hand, and after a few seconds, a smile takes over his lips as he tells Harsh, holding out his hand.

"Right here, and make it pretty." He points to the side of his wrist, near his pinky finger, and then drops his hand back, waiting for Harsh to start.

Harsh does his job efficiently, finishing in ten minutes. Harsh nudges him as if he were sleeping—he was. It's strange to Harsh because, while other clients weep in pain, Veer seems to sleep peacefully, not feeling any pain.

"Done?" he asks Harsh, straightening himself. Harsh answers with a silent nod.

Veer takes a clean napkin from the side table and wipes away the cooling gel, revealing the tattoo he just got.

It's a letter 'S' in medium bold size, surrounded by sparkling rhombus-shaped designs, with a single stringed tiny bow on the upper curve of the 'S'.

He likes it.

Smiling, he fishes out his phone from the pocket of his black leather jacket, opens the camera, and takes a photo of his new tattoo.